Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman’s ‘The Roses’ Fails to Bloom on Screen
Olivia Colman and Benedict Cumberbatch headline a film that promised biting marital mayhem but delivered little more than lukewarm spite.
Look, I don’t *want* to be the one to say it, but here we are: “The Roses” is the cinematic equivalent of lukewarm oatmeal—bland, unappetizing, and utterly forgettable. I mean, sure, you’ve got two of Britain’s finest actors squaring off in a battle of domestic bitterness, but instead of fireworks, you get a couple of soggy sparklers that fizzle out before they even hit the ground.
For those unfamiliar, “The Roses” is a remake of the 1989 dark comedy starring Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner, based on Warren Adler’s novel. This time around, Benedict Cumberbatch plays Theo, a once-celebrated architect whose career implodes after a disastrous storm collapses his latest project. Olivia Colman is Ivy, his wife, who trades in her chef’s whites for suburban domesticity—until a glowing review of her tiny restaurant, “We’ve Got Crabs,” flips their power dynamic into full-blown marital warfare.
On paper, it sounds like a recipe for delicious chaos. In practice? It’s like watching two master chefs try to cook a five-course meal using only a microwave and a bag of frozen peas. The chemistry? Nonexistent. The wit? Drier than expired cornbread. The stakes? Lower than a limbo contest at a retirement home.
Director Jay Roach, known for his work on the “Austin Powers” franchise and political dramas like “Recount,” seems to have lost his way in this glossy, tonally confused remake. The script, penned by Tony McNamara of “The Favourite” fame, is shockingly limp and devoid of the sharp satire that made the original so memorable. Instead of escalating tension, we get a couple of middle-aged parents bickering over a beachfront house like it’s the last parking spot at Whole Foods.
And let’s talk about the performances. Cumberbatch, who often plays characters with a certain air of intellectual superiority, is stuck in a role that barely scratches the surface of his abilities. He’s Basil Fawlty after a double dose of melatonin—constantly annoyed, but never truly dangerous or compelling. Colman, an actress of immense talent and range, fares slightly better but is ultimately wasted on a character that never evolves beyond shrill and manipulative.
Supporting turns from Allison Janney and Kate McKinnon feel like afterthoughts—Janney chewing scenery as a divorce lawyer with zero subtlety, and McKinnon delivering a performance so unsubtle it’s like watching a magician try to pull a rabbit out of a hat labeled “RABBIT INSIDE.”
Perhaps the most baffling moment comes when Ivy, who’s deathly allergic to raspberries, deliberately eats one to test how quickly Theo will save her. It’s a moment so nonsensical, so utterly devoid of emotional grounding, that it yanks you out of the story like a bad Wi-Fi connection during a Zoom call.
What could have been a biting satire on modern marriage, power dynamics, and ego becomes a glossy, empty shell of a film. It’s Nancy Meyers meets “Succession” and somehow ends up as “HGTV After Dark.”
And that, dear reader, is why we can’t have nice things.
Sources: Celebrity Storm and New York Post
Generated by AI
