Olivia Wilde, director of the perfect teenage comedy Booksmart and the infuriating Don’t Worry Darling, returns with her third feature, The Invite, a remake of the Spanish comedy The People Upstairs (2020). The Invite features Olivia Wilde and Seth Rogen as Angela and Joe, a couple whose marriage is clearly strained. Joe, a musician who isn’t quite living his dream, returns from work as a music teacher to find that his wife invited two of their neighbors (Pina and Hawk, played by Penelope Cruz and Edward Norton) over for dinner. It’s clear from the start that Joe and Angela are not on the same page. Angela is flustered and Joe just wants a quiet night at home, which is hard to come by for the couple, as their guests have been frequently having loud sex which Joe and Angela can hear through the walls. Hawk and Pina arrive and the evening takes off from there, with Joe and Angela’s unresolved tension and the knowledge of Hawk and Pina’s robust sex life underscoring the entire event (coupled with the fact that Joe and Anglea’s sex life is…not robust).
As the evening progresses, the tension (internally between Angela and Joe, and sexually between all four of them) builds, punctuated by an inspired score from Dev Hynes of Blood Orange. The film moves from Wilde and Rogen needling each other in a relentless barrage of domestic discontent to a more relaxed free-flowing (albeit uncomfortable) dinner party where no one actually eats anything (Pina doesn’t eat meat. Or sugar. Or gluten. Or dairy). The camerawork shifts from tight and flashy, in what almost feels like a heavy-handed direction attempt to convince the audience that this is more than something that could have just been on a stationary set on a stage, to a little looser as the couples themselves loosen up. The camera is a lurking observer, following the foursome through the immaculately decorated apartment. During moments of great tension, the camera is trained on doorways and window frames, sometimes observing characters through layers of glass. By the middle of the movie, you feel like another guest at this gathering, whipping your head back and forth between their banter, holding a chilled glass of wine, curious to see where the night takes you.
Despite needing some time to really find its footing, The Invite immediately lets you know the kind of movie it’s going to be—it’s a tight exploration of domestic intimacy, featuring powerhouse performances from Wilde, Rogen, Cruz, and Norton. Wilde in particular is fantastic as the curious but repressed Angela, a woman who is so sexually frustrated and out of touch with her own body that it’s driving her to the brink of madness in the form of making a souffle for people she doesn’t even know. This performance is even more fun as it is a stark contrast from another powerhouse Wilde performance coming later this year in Gregg Araki’s I Want Your Sex, in which she plays an overly sexual dominatrix who is more than comfortable being naked all the time.
Not only are the performances strong, the dialogue is quick and natural, without being overly quippy and meme-able, which can be credited to the writing team of Rashida Jones and Will McCormack (writers of Celeste & Jesse Forever and Toy Story 4). It’s an homage to the great domestic comedies and sexual dramas like Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (1969) and Carnal Knowledge (1971) and The Ice Storm (1997), while being refreshingly modern, and frankly, a breath of fresh air.
And just as sex is not just about penetration, The Invite is not only about sex; it reveals something deeper about the current state of human relationships. The conversations happening within The Invite could not come at a better time, as adults are having less and less sex, and are generally being less social. As Pina and Hawk reveal their proclivities, Angela and Joe respond with curiosity, and Hawk and Pina take every question in stride. Even in moments that could come off as judgmental, that judgment is clearly rooted in personal insecurity, and not value judgment on the kinds of sexual acts that are being described.
This shouldn’t seem radical, but it is. In the Information Age, as technology is rapidly changing every day, we have more access to information—and each other—than ever. We can look up anything we want. We can explore kinks and fetishes and sexual desire on all corners of the internet. We can check the locations and digital activity of our friends and significant others and casual flings at any moment. We have an excess of access to other people and not only is it ruining relationships, it’s undoing the progress of the sexual liberation movements. Instead of more knowledge and more access to information unlocking true sexual liberation, it seems that people are shrinking away from human connection and becoming further repressed, sexually and emotionally.
In order to maintain true, intimate connection, we have to be intentional and be okay with sometimes being inconvenienced. But above all, we have to remain curious. To love and to know each other is to make the effort to understand each other’s motivations, dreams, desires, and insecurities. It requires showing up for each other, doing more than sending a meme every so often, or only putting in effort to impress someone instead of actually getting to know them. There is no substitute for human connection and communication.
The Invite reminds us that this kind of effort is especially important in long-term relationships, not just in shiny, new relationships. We watch as Angela puts forth more effort in one day to impress Pina and Hawk than she seemingly has put into her marriage in years. Similarly, Joe seems to be more curious about Hawk and Pina’s sex life than he is about his own wife and her desires. In a world where we feel like we can maintain connection with virtual strangers through a screen, we have to be extra intentional about focusing on the relationships that are right in front of our faces.
The beauty of The Invite is in its depictions of the little ways two people in a relationship can love and know each other—like in Angela and Joe’s inside jokes and Joe writing a song about her—but also all of the little ways two people can hurt each other, like in Angela and Joe’s needling of each other and how vicious they can be behind each other’s backs. The ways that we treat each other create a type of inertia—once we’re on a path, it’s difficult to be thrown off of that path. It either takes a big push of energy internally, or the presence of a disruption, like a pair of sexually-liberated people who aren’t afraid to force you to face the ways you’ve been willing to live on crumbs of affection. And it’s all done with strong direction, great performances (including some truly impressive improvisation from Norton), and beautiful visuals and set design. The whole thing is a testament to the importance of independent filmmaking. For the first time since Booksmart, I’m excited for what comes next from Wilde.
