From its lewd and ludicrous opening moments—featuring vehicular intercourse gone awry—Michael Angelo Covino’s Splitsville makes it clear that its take on the love square is something special. What other film dares place a full-frontal dick joke next to a fatal car accident without missing a beat? Blending witty, vulgar banter with painterly visual humour, Covino’s film feels European in sensibility but unabashedly American in spirit.

That mix yields inventive sequences that recall both the rat-a-tat interplay of His Girl Friday and the graceful staging of Eric Rohmer. Its love square quickly refracts into itself to create a comedic gem that skewers traditional relationship models while finding ironic beauty in them.

Told across multiple “articles,” the film follows two couples whose friendship implodes when Carey (Kyle Marvin) sleeps with Julie (Dakota Johnson), who is in an “open marriage” with Paul (Covino). Meanwhile, Carey’s ex, Ashley (Adria Arjona), and Paul grow jealous of the budding romance and plot to win back their partners.

From awkward housing arrangements to a kid’s birthday party from hell, Splitsville hurls its characters through a gauntlet of hijinks that, despite their absurdity, brim with relatability. Observant takes on our dependence on connection and the contradictions of modern romance keep the chaos grounded.

The film peaks with one of the most memorable fight sequences in recent memory: a house-demolishing brawl between Carey and Paul that pauses mid-fury to save fish from a shattered tank. As silly as it is sublime, it rivals any John Wick melee for sheer spectacle.

Bizarre yet beautiful, Splitsville smartly suggests that love’s enchantment lies in the difficulty of balancing the physical, spiritual, and emotional.