The Invite (2026) – Review by Andrea Carnevali

The Invite

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

One of those increasingly rare films made for grown-ups: genuinely interested in adult relationships, long-term love, desire, frustration and all those awkward conversations that most films are too afraid to have

Adapted from a 2020 Spanish film (The People Upstairs, directed by Cesc Gay), it has a pretty bonkers premise (and the film knows it’s bonkers) as it unfolds over a single evening in a single apartment where a married couple, Angela and Joe (Olivia Wilde and Rogen), have invited their neighbours for dinner, Pina and Hawk (Penelope Cruz and Edward Norton): needless to say, the evening will spiral out of control and by the time dessert comes around, nobody will be the same they were at the start.

If you spend the whole running time asking yourself whether real people would actually behave like this, you’re probably watching the wrong film. This isn’t pure realism; it’s a playful, exaggerated relationship comedy that uses an absurd situation to talk about very real insecurities and desires.

Anyone who has seen Carnage (either Polanski’s film or the stage version), another dialogue-driven battle of relationships played out in a one apartment, will probably think of it at some point. The set up is certainly similar, but the two films are interested in rather different things.

Once you accept that, you can definitely enjoy the ride a lot more. The opening twenty minutes almost had me worried. The score is incredibly prominent, almost relentlessly so, constantly pushing the emotion of every scene.

At times it feels like the film is trying just a little too hard to convince you that what you’re watching is exciting, funny, dramatic, tense, neurotic. Even when it does settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the music never really steps back. It’s present throughout, almost acting as another character in the room.

Sometimes it works beautifully, occasionally it feels a little over-insistent, even covering some of the lines of dialogue, which is interesting because this is a dialogue-driven film (almost like a play).

And yet, thanks to Olivia Wilde’s direction (yes, she is both acting and directing here), the film rarely relies on people simply sitting around talking. The blocking is constantly telling its own story.

Characters are framed through doorways and windows, reflected in mirrors, separated by walls or left standing at opposite edges of the frame as emotional distances quietly emerge between them.

There are moments where you almost feel you could watch the film with the sound off and still understand the changing dynamics simply from where everyone is positioned. As a piece of visual storytelling, it’s surprisingly sophisticated.

The performances are equally strong. Seth Rogen continues to prove that he’s a far better dramatic actor than he’s often given credit for. His comic timing is perfect, of course, but it’s his restraint that makes the character so believable.

He plays disappointment, vulnerability and quiet resignation with remarkable subtlety.Edward Norton, meanwhile, once again reminds us why he’s one of the most versatile actors working today. He effortlessly shifts between charm, confidence, insecurity and manipulation, never quite allowing you to settle on who his character really is.

Penélope Cruz is having enormous fun playing what is essentially a sex therapist who seems to embody every fantasy she’s supposedly analysing. It’s an outrageous performance and yet, within the film’s heightened world, somehow strangely believable.

Beneath all the jokes and outrageous situations lies a surprisingly thoughtful exploration of relationships that have perhaps stopped growing, couples who have become more like flatmates than lovers, and the uncomfortable question of whether intimacy can ever really survive familiarity.

And then there’s the ending.I’ve always believed endings matter enormously. They’re the last conversation a filmmaker has with the audience. They’re what you carry home afterwards, long after you’ve forgotten individual scenes or clever dialogue.

The Invite saves its strongest and most poignant moment for last. I won’t spoil it, but it’s funny, touching, quietly hopeful and lingers in the mind in exactly the way a great ending should.I miss films like this. Four great actors, one apartment, a sharp script, and a director confident enough to let people talk.

It doesn’t reinvent cinema, but it reminds us how enjoyable intelligent adult filmmaking (with a really good script and great actors) can be and how much we’ve missed it.

Andrea Carnevali is a Bafta winning film maker who lives in Chiswick, and a co-creator of the Chiswick In Film festival.