If you saw The Climb back in 2019, you know that Michael Angelo Covino and Kyle Marvin have turned toxic male friendship into an endurance sport into a high art form. In Splitsville, they’re back to poke at the bruises of the modern ego, this time with Neon backing the play and Dakota Johnson and Adria Arjona along for the ride to wonder why they ever let these two into their lives.

The film kicks off with the kind of chaotic energy that only Covino can direct: Carey (Marvin) and Ashley (Arjona) are attempting highway sex when they witness a horrific car crash. It’s the kind of traumatic inciting incident that makes most people cling to their partners. Instead, Ashley looks at the wreckage, looks at Carey and basically says, “Yeah, I want a divorce. Also, I’ve been cheating.“

Carey does what any broken man in a Covino/Marvin script does: he retreats to his best friend, Paul (Covino). But Paul and his wife Julie (Johnson) aren’t exactly the rock of stability he needs. They’ve gone enlightened with an open marriage. Naturally, Carey, in a mix of grief, confusion, and “why not?” ends up sleeping with Julie after she smashes a piece of pottery over a stranger’s head. If Dakota Johnson smashing things is your vibe, this is your movie.

What follows is a tangled web of ethical non-monogamy that is anything but ethical and mostly just hilarious. Carey tries to save his marriage by suggesting an open relationship to Ashley, then proceeds to move all of her lovers into their house just to be a passive-aggressive weirdo. The montage depicting their romantic encounters was filmed as a single, extended continuous take, with actors repeatedly changing wardrobe and staging positions off camera to create the illusion of multiple time jumps within a single shot.

Meanwhile, Paul’s life is cratering with bankruptcy, indictments and the realization that he only suggested the open marriage because he was insecure. It turns out everyone was lying. Paul and Julie weren’t actually sleeping with other people; they were just playing a high-stakes game of emotional chicken. By the time Nicholas Braun shows up as Matt the Mentalist, the movie has devolved into a glorious, fire-damaged mess of birthday parties, jail time and paternity questions.

Splitsville is a mean, lean, mid-budget comedy that reminds us that no matter how much we talk about boundaries and openness, we’re all just one stolen jet ski away from a total breakdown.