It is the classic convention of marital comedies that couples’ attempts to spice things up with extra partners invariably end up sending them back, chastened, to each other. That’s not exactly how things work out in “You, Me & Her,” which doesn’t wag a moralizing finger at its protagonists’ flirtation with throupledom. But this pleasing collaboration between director Dan Levy Dagerman and writer-star Selina Ringel — who are duly married — ultimately proves less about sexy polyamorous hijinks than negotiating the sometimes daunting difficulties of long-term wedded domesticity.
It’s a small, slyly humorous movie that nonetheless ends on a note of more dramatic substance than you’d expect. The feature (which has been playing festivals since 2023) opens in U.S. theaters on Valentine’s Day as the first to be released utilizing Attend, a new digital and marketing platform for self-distributing makers.
Though they appear to live a fairly tony Los Angeles existence complete with toddler son (Kai Desai) and live-in au pair (Fiorella Vescovi), it’s immediately clear that seams are coming apart in the 10-year relationship of Mexican American Mags (Ringel) and Indian American Ash (Ritesh Rajan). Lying in bed, she’s glued to her laptop, while he sneaks off to the bathroom to wank — something she doesn’t fail to notice. Both suffer the criticisms of somewhat overbearing immigrant parents, with Mags getting the worse deal as she actually works for her unappreciative father’s (Hernan Mendoza) private equity firm. She disapproves of Ash’s pothead ways, though he’s managing to make a career of it, hoping to launch a large-scale operation selling weed grown from imported seeds. Securing the necessary funding has turned into a source of anxiety, however.
Therefore, they both have professional worries they think their partner is deaf to, plus other little irritations building into a steady hum of mutual discord. It’s a good moment for a restorative getaway to a luxe eco resort Ash has been tipped to in Mexico. Their first evening there is a bit of a fiasco: They get swept into the orbit of a hedonistic couple (played by Roberto Aguire and Marianna Burelli), who turn out to be married to different people, and are rather aggressively predatory swinger types besides. The day after fleeing that brief walk on the wild side, Mags attends a yoga class on the beach. It’s led by globe-trotting free spirit Angela (Sydney Park), with whom she immediately clicks. More than that, there is obvious attraction — Mags has a bisexual side that suddenly wakens from long slumber.
This development triggers enthusiasm rather than jealousy from her husband, and a night of shared partying suggests there might be a three-way in their immediate future. But Angela is shortly departing for a new gig in Thailand, the couple for home. Still, the flirty experience has brought some spark back to the marital bed. And both are giddy with excitement when it turns out Angela has an L.A. stopover on her way to the Far East. A night of carnal (and/or voyeuristic) bliss is anticipated … though it ends up going majorly off the rails, thanks in part to an untimely visit from Ash’s loudmouthed business partner (Graham Sibley) and his almost equally filter-free wife (Anna Campbell).
Most of this is lightly amusing, the tone of risqué but non-sleazy humor accentuated by a lively soundtrack and Michael Street’s colorfully warm widescreen cinematography. But Ringel’s script, which manages to skirt cheap laughs throughout, locates unexpected depth when a combination of carnal frustration, bad news and simmering resentments set the central pair against each other in earnest.
Their climactic argument is no joke, with the kinds of bitter accusations flung that a marriage can’t necessarily recover from. These characters aren’t the deepest (or least self-absorbed) people in the world, but as written and acted, their gripes have a stinging validity, which makes it all the more satisfying when the film manages to credibly orchestrate a sobered yet conciliatory, upbeat fade-out for them both.
With its sharply tuned performances and brisk pace (one gratuitous dancing-around-the-house interlude for Mags aside), “You, Me & Her” has modest aspirations that it nails with admirable skill. The closest thing to a significant flaw it’s got is that title — if only because, confusingly, there was a likewise throuple-centric U.S./Canadian TV series called “You Me Her” that ran for several seasons just a few years ago.
