REVIEW. THE ROSES Blooms in a Garden of Dry Wit and Marital Underbrush.

Olivia Colman and Benedict Cumberbatch in The Roses.

Whenever I hear the word "re-imagined" in reference to a new movie's relationship to a previous one, I cringe a little. So when I read The Roses was being promoted as a re-imagining of 1989's The War of Roses (based on Warren Adler's 1981 novel of the same name), AND as a remake, I threw up a little in my mouth. Which is it?

What, exactly, are we re-imagining, and how is that different from a "remake"? 1983's neo-noir thriller, Body Heat was a called a remake of 1944's Double Indemnity though the characters, setting, plot, and ending were entirely different from the original. Both films centered on the seductively sinister things unhappily married women do to rid themselves of older, wealthy husbands, but the motives, details and resolutions of each story varied greatly. Body Heat was clearly an inspired re-envisioning of Billy Wilder's cult classic, but not technically a remake.

The Wiz (1978), basically The Wizard of Oz (1939) with a Black cast and Motown-inspired music, was much more closely aligned to its predecessor's plot and characters. But, since it was targeted to appeal to a more diverse audience, it was instead called a re-imagining.

Go figure. For me, a remake is a do over, like the numerous film versions of Alexandre Dumas' historical novel, The Three Musketeers, not a redesign. But sometimes I think the word "re-imagining" feels more like a marketing ploy to snag a wider audience. Once you start tinkering with characters, story, themes, and outcomes, you've inevitably move away from the origin story. In this case, I'm guessing some corporate genius figured that Boomers who remember The War of Roses might be intrigued by a retelling with a British cast, and Gen X, Y, and Z's will see it as a fresh tale for a younger audience.

Unfortunately, that leaves critics, who find any sort of remade re-imagining a cause for comparison with the original. This week's review in the NYTimes did just that, and for absolutely no good reason. The only similarity between The Roses and its 36-year old prototype is the surname of the married couple in question. Oliver and Barbara Rose (Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner in the 1989 version), and Theo and Ivy Rose (Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman in the current movie) have nothing more in common that their floral moniker and its intentional metaphor between their growing marital discord and the celebrated conflict between the Houses of York and Lancaster in the fifteenth century. Everything else, including the cause of their connubial strife, is different.

I remember well seeing the original three-plus decades ago: a searing black comedy that took no prisoners and left no room for a conventional Hollywood ending. Sheila Benson of the Los Angeles Times called it "Biting and vicious, a styptic pencil on the battered face of 'civilized divorce'." Reuniting Douglas and Turner (and director/co-star Danny DeVito) from their Romancing the Stone days earlier in the 80s, the film's unrelenting cynicism ultimately became unsatisfying and unfunny by movie's end. And the gender stsereotypes involving a successful workaholic husband and his bored stay-at-home wife were already becoming clichéd, as was the battle over joint finances and possessions, which becomes the contentious cornerstone of their divorce.

This time around, director Jay Roach and playright/screenwriter Tony McNamara (Oscar-nominated for The Favourite and Poor Things) have teamed up to take a deeper dive into marital discord, with results that are as compelling as Noah Baumbach's 2019 film Marriage Story, but also infinitely more witty and entertaining.

When Theo (Benedict Cumberbatch), a brilliant, if unorthdox architect, meets Ivy (Olivia Colman), an up-and-coming, if unrecognized, chef, sparks fly between the two self-described misunderstood artists and they decide to run off to America and move in together (though first they shag in a walk-in cooler). Ten years later, they are married with two pre-teens and living comfortably in Mendocino, CA. Ivy seems happy creating all sorts of tasty, if unhealthy, treats for her kids, and Theo is on the cusp of realizing his architectural masterpiece: a naval history museum. Buoyed by his impending celebrity and determined to help Ivy achieve her culinary dreams, Theo buys a piece of property that she can turn into a restaurant.

And so she does, blissfully opening "We've Got Crabs" a few days a week so she can continue to be present for their children and partner to Theo. Then then unimaginable happens: a freak storm hits the Bay Area, destroying Theo's newly opened nautical creation, sending him to architect purgatory: his career seemingly unsalvageable. That same night, a food critic wanders into Ivy's restaurant, looking for shelter, writes a rave review of Ivy's gastronomic fare, and the rest is history.

Ivy offers to expand her restaurant hours to help the family finances while Theo recovers from his professional setback and, three years later, we find Ivy's restaurant business thriving, while Theo has settled into his role as stay-at-home dad to their two children. The two teenagers have been transformed into fitness geeks, no longer craving Ivy's sugary treats, eating healthier meals and following a wholesome, if obsessive, routine. Ivy, hoping to restart Theo's still fading career, asks him to build their dream house on real estate she/they can now afford.

It's at this point, when Theo relies on Ivy for ongoing financing to realize his house (including a antique Spanish dining table - complete with a dagger from the Inquisition - and Julia Child's original stove for Ivy's gourmet kitchen), that little bits of built up resentment and envy begin to surface. That's not to say that Theo and Ivy haven't already engaged in some pretty pointed banter about themselves and their relationship, just that Theo's dependency on Ivy for financial support becomes the tipping point that sends them into paroxysms of scathing insults.

Under less savvy writing, this ostensible gender role reversal might seem like typical Hollywood fare (hello, Mr. Mom?), but McNamara instead offers something far more probing about relationships, marriage, and societal conventions. He doesn't just use Theo's growing resentment toward Ivy's success as the basis of their snide exchanges: he probes further and further into their individual personalities, their philosophies of life, and their sense of self to develop just how profoundly they can hurt each other (and themselves). On the surface, they may be battling over who gets the exquisite house Theo designed, but the root of their discord runs much deeper than money. McNamara hasn't just written jokes for their exchanges: he's used the essential trope of their steadfast love to dissect the components of those feelings, not all of which are warm and fuzzy.

The Roses is a movie you need to pay attention to, as the underlying themes about marriage and relationships are often embedded in an off-handed remark or gesture. Theo and Ivy's friends, Barry and Amy (a very funny Andy Samberg and Kate McKinnon), provide the necessary foils as a married couple long estranged emotionally, but committed to staying together "'til death do them part." Or, as McKinnon's Amy tells Theo, "When my body develops whatever Stage 4 thing I feel coming, it's Barry I want to drive me to chemo." McKinnon's performance alone, a deftly crafted cross between improv and stand-up comedy, is worth the price of a ticket (or the streaming rental, if you choose to wait that long).

And then there's Cumberbatch and Colman, both slightly adrift from their usual roles. Cumberbatch recently quipped that this role didn't require a cape or tights, as some of his previous films; and Colman, always agile moving between comedy and drama, has brought her quiet intelligence and sharp tongue to Ivy's blossoming restauranteur. It's their chemistry that really makes this film click, as their barbed exchanges feel like those of a couple long past the first blush of love, but still clearly aware of the sparks and passion that make their coupling special and enduring. Their determination to preserve the impenetrable shield they thought protected their relationship is, at times, frightening... but more often, hilarious.

If I must compare the two movies, the easy, if acid-tongued rapport between Cumberbatch and Colman is much stronger and far more believable than cinematic alchemy between Douglas and Turner all those years ago. I re-watched bits of The War of the Roses recently and, though its bitter acrimony still holds up all these years later, the exchanges feel more scripted than real, more Hollywood than real conversation. In these instances, I always go back to the source, and McNamara - who worked with Colman before on The Favourite (which, by the way, is the film that won her an Oscar) - really nails the biting satire of Alder's novel without reducing the story or the characters to caricature.

If you've been reading my blog posts, you know that I have an affinity for quirky humor that goes right to the jugular: I likedThe Favourite and loved Poor Things. McNamara's ability to capture dark motifs about human behavior with an uncanny and slightly skewed perspective keeps you thinking about the movies long after you've left the theater. And, though I thought the first iteration of The Roses had its moment, I found this latest version to be much sharper in its treatise on marriage, and far more entertaining as it built toward a different, but even more memorable conclusion.

The latest film incarnation of the contentious Roses is neither an endorsement nor a takedown of marriage. Rather, it is a funny, engaging, but still dark, exploration of what happens when two very smart, very creative, capable, independent people who at their core love each other very much, need to deal with everything life throws at them - success, failure, parenting, envy, contempt, disillusionment - while trying to maintain their individual sense of self and desire for happiness. And that, after all, seems reasonably typical of the world many of us inhabit.

Danish writer Isak Dinesen was right, "Sometimes it's best if we don't see too far down the road."

Fade to White.

*******

The Roses is rated R (mostly for language) and currently playing in theaters. It is not scheduled to stream anytime soon, but will likely be available on Hulu and Prime Video later this fall.