Olivia Colman and Benedict Cumberbatch Are a Perfectly Poisoned Pair in ‘The Roses’

What happens when envy becomes the third wheel in a marriage? The Roses doesn’t just ask that question—it shatters it, piece by piece, like fine china hurled across a marital battlefield. In director Jay Roach’s satirical riff on Warren Adler’s novel The War of the Roses, Olivia Colman and Benedict Cumberbatch portray a couple whose daily routine brims with crab claws, profane banter, and crumbling egos. While its 1989 predecessor offered a faithful film adaptation of its source material, Roach’s version trades ’80s decadence for modern discontent. The result? A biting dissection of love’s expiration date and the darkly hilarious lengths two people will go to avoid admitting it’s over. 

AFFECTION VS. AMBITION

At first glance, The Roses sets up like a classic rom-com. Ivy (Colman) and Theo Rose (Cumberbatch) meet in a London kitchen—she’s a budding chef, he’s a charming architect—and before you know it, they’re having passionate sex in the walk-in fridge. Fast forward a decade, and the pair are living in sunny California with two kids, a gorgeous home, and matching ambitions. But success, as it turns out, doesn’t like to share a bed.

When Theo’s career implodes after a freak storm destroys his architectural masterpiece just before its grand unveiling—an incident caught on video and turned into viral humiliation—his reputation collapses overnight. Meanwhile, Ivy’s culinary career takes off. Her seafood restaurant, cheekily named We’ve Got Crabs, becomes an overnight sensation thanks to a rave review from a food critic stranded, ironically, by that very same storm.

With the family dynamic flipped, what starts as mutual support slowly curdles into resentment. Theo can’t stomach his new role as a stay-at-home dad, especially when Ivy is basking in success. Screenwriter Tony McNamara seizes this turning point to peel back layers of ego and expectation: What happens when a man who built his identity on achievement is forced to face failure, and when the woman who was meant to “stand by” him dares to stand out instead? 

Theo’s struggle to accept his demotion from breadwinner to bystander lays bare his fragile masculinity, while Ivy’s rise—complete with glossy magazine spreads, industry accolades, and high-profile interviews—drives a widening rift between her ambition and their home life. She barely has time to watch her kids grow up, and it gnaws at her that Theo, once the distant parent, is now the one they run to first.

A MATCH MADE IN MAYHEM

Colman and Cumberbatch are electric together, their chemistry palpable even when their characters can barely stand to share a room. Roach keeps the tension simmering just beneath the surface, while McNamara’s script turns every marital spat into a duel laced with venom and wit. Colman and Cumberbatch hurl his barbed one-liners with precision—her C-words land like poetry, his wounded pride stings just as sharply. Together, they form a chaotic symphony of love, envy, and self-delusion.

The film shines brightest when it zeroes in on the two Roses. Their escalating feud, equal parts absurd and devastating, leaves you wondering: Will they make it out unscathed, or just keep tearing each other down until there’s nothing left to love? By the final act, as sabotage gives way to emotional ruin, the film reclaims the vicious energy of its predecessor. It’s both uncomfortable and oddly cathartic to watch.

The supporting cast, however, doesn’t fare quite as well. As the couple’s unhinged best friends, Andy Samberg and Kate McKinnon land a few laughs (no surprise given their comedic pedigree). Their subplot teases a clever mirror to the Roses’ marital dysfunction, but while we glimpse how differently each couple handles conflict, it never fully pays off.

Likewise, Zoë Chao, Jamie Demetriou, and Ncuti Gatwa add splashes of personality without much depth. Only Allison Janney, in a single, blistering scene as Ivy’s cutthroat divorce lawyer, manages to leave a lasting impression.

A PICTURE-PERFECT BATTLEFIELD

Visually, The Roses is a feast for the eyes. The South Devon coastline doubles effortlessly for sun-soaked California, its postcard-perfect ease setting the stage for domestic warfare. Theo and Ivy’s dream home, all glass, light, and architectural bravado, stands as both a triumph of design and a ticking time bomb. Roach leans into that contrast, turning pristine surfaces into reflections of emotional decay. The more beautiful their world becomes, the uglier their marriage gets.

Cinematographer Jim Denault bathes the scenes in crisp, natural light that almost mocks the couple’s growing bitterness. There’s a deliberate artifice to it all—the manicured lawns, the curated dinner parties, the house that looks too perfect to survive a single argument. It’s domestic warfare staged in a showroom, and Roach makes sure every broken plate lands right on cue.

FINAL VERDICT

The Roses may masquerade as a love story gone wrong, but what it truly examines is the myth of love as an equal partnership. Can affection alone hold it all together? There’s no tidy answer, and that’s precisely the point. Roach and McNamara offer no reconciliation, only the recognition that sometimes, the hardest battles we fight are with the people we love most. 

Call it a comedy, call it a tragedy, or call it what it really is: a modern autopsy of marriage. Because when pride, power, and resentment share the same home, love doesn’t stand a chance.

Rating: 8.5/10

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