Audiences who get their rocks off over a good fight should rsvp to The Invite. This explosively funny cringe comedy makes one squirm with delight. In the spirit of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Carnage, The Invite is a no-holds barred chamber piece with four high-calibre performance that will have audiences laughing, wincing, cringing, and crying at once. It’s a masterclass in suffocating awkwardness thanks to director/star Olivia Wilde, who commits to the bit with co-stars Seth Rogen, Penélope Cruz, and Edward Norton in a relentlessly funny tale of a dinner party gone awry. Or, rather, the soirée ends up a complete success depending upon one’s fancy. There’s no judgment here.
Wilde and company check their inhibitions at the door as Joe (Rogen) returns to his cavernously lived-in apartment. His wife, Angela (Wilde), reminds him that the new-ish neighbours are coming over for dinner. Joe can’t recall making plans while Angela scolds him for forgetting to pick up wine. This night of fun and games obviously hits a nerve for the couple looking for some fresh energy. The screenplay by Rashida Jones and Will McCormack (Celeste and Jesse Forever), based on the film Sentimental by Cesc Gay, provides a sharply funny and open-minded exploration of relationships and finding satisfaction as life goes on.
Wilde and Rogen immediately go head to head, like George and Martha after they’ve dipped into the sauce. As wife and husband immediately grate upon each other’s nerves and seize cheap shots wherever they can score them, Wilde moves the bickering spouses around their sort-of finished renovated apartment. A few paint splashes reveal that some rooms have yet to be finished. The green hue of one swathe that matches Angela’s new blouse, however, obviously indicates a preference. The messy abode has the foreboding sense of a Michael Haneke styled apartment. Angela’s décor carries a curatorial self-consciousness of being dressed to impress. Full bookcases create a space that seems to be closing in. As the night progresses, the home becomes more suffocating.
A blast of fresh air, however, enters the apartment. Neighbours Hawk (Norton) and Piña (Cruz) arrive just as Angela and Joe’s argument nears its climax. The interruption to the lovers’ quarrel provides the first bit of awkwardness for the night. Hawk and Piña recognize bad timing, but gently ease their hosts. But things are rocky from the start. Angela’s already guzzled most of the bubbly. Her jamón, bought just to impress Piña (a vegan) is barely prosciutto. Meanwhile, Angela’s soufflé registers the evening’s first fatality, but, thankfully, she ditches it into the bin with the ease of Knick tapping the ball through the rim. It’s a seamless bit of hosting—not to mention direction and performance—that seals an evening of mayhem.
However, just when the night appears wholly deficient in the fun department, it takes a twist. Awkward small talk leads Joe to broach—much to Angela’s protest—the matter of Hawk and Piña’s volcanically loud sex. Hawk and Piña don’t blush, though. Their lovemaking serves a source of pride. Simply put: they like to party. They assume their swinging ways are behind the invite. Given Angela’s overly eager query about double-penetration, their radar may be functioning properly.
Both Angela and Joe clearly crave change. Wilde and Rogen wear the spouses’ years of hard-fought grudges during their marriage. The apartment itself presents a site of tension and stagnation. For him, it’s a point of embarrassment that it’s an inheritance from his parents. For her, it’s a reflection of a stifled career, as her art (supposedly good) finds itself strategically hidden among over-priced “steals” from flea-markets. And for them both, the apartment—two units joined as one in a marriage of Nicole Holofcener-esque sensibility for bougie urban malaise—embodies a last-ditch attempt to put a fresh coat of paint on a strained relationship. But it’s only when they argue that the passion really sparks.
Wilde and Rogen volley acerbic blow/counter-blow barbs funnily and furiously. Wilde takes manic mood swings as Angela desperately tries to spice up her ho-hum marriage, while Rogen plays into his looser stoner persona. They clash spectacularly as the hubbies bicker incessantly, sparing each other the slightest white flags for the sake of their guests. Comedic fireworks fly as Angela basically edges Joe throughout the evening, bringing their fights to the point of eruption, but never conceding him a win. Neither actor has been better in a film, while Wilde rebounds as a director following the misfire of Don’t Worry Darling. The Invite delivers a ferociously funny, artfully messy, and authentic study of hormone-fuelled humour in the fashion of her debut Booksmart.
The quartet of actors masterfully plays into the squirmy dynamics that this scenario invites. Wilde uses the space of the dimly light apartment brilliantly to accentuate the bottled-up emotions. As Angela and Joe tour Hawk and Piña through their apartment, the spouses (un)consciously uncouple in breakout rooms—Angela shows Hawk her retiled bathroom; Joe invites Piña to his office for a joint—and they reconvene in the central living room. Wilde plays the dramatic energy with the sense of an exhalation, followed by an inhalation as the group converges. It’s suffocatingly awkward as the couples exchange chit-chat over two very different relationship dynamics, but hilariously so.
Moreover, Norton and Cruz provide the yang to their yin, offering calming and reassuring foils without decompressing the comedic base. Norton and especially Cruz frequently steal The Invite by playing it straight. Cruz particularly gets the sharpest moments as Piña presents the object of all parties’ desire. Piña’s sex-positive chakra lends her an air of authority that she uses to her advantage. There are brilliant comedic chops on display that Cruz hasn’t been able to flex this grandly since her Oscar winning turn in Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona and Piña seems a kindred spirit to her Maria Elena. Piña has Main Character Energy and Cruz knows it—but with the power of an artist who appreciates that solo play isn’t nearly as fun as doing it with a group.
The Invite offers a true showpiece in the dynamics of ensemble acting as each performance would not be complete without the others. It’s an invitation to let loose in a judgment-free space. Apply “don’t try this at home” labels at your peril.
