The Roses is a film that’s very well made, but one that didn’t sit right with me—and I’ll be upfront about why.
From a technical standpoint, this is a strong movie. The pacing works beautifully with the subject matter, moving at the same slow, deliberate speed as the deterioration of a relationship. The characters, Theo and Ivy, are well-written and layered, with surprising depth in how they shift over the course of the story. The acting is equally strong—every glance, every hesitation, every sigh of frustration feels authentic. In terms of execution, the screenplay absolutely nails it.
But here’s the thing: the story itself is brutal, especially for someone who has recently gone through a break up. The way Theo and Ivy gradually stop showing affection, how their quirks evolve into irritations, how distance becomes resentment—it’s all portrayed with painful precision. For some, this realism will be the film’s greatest strength. For me, it hit too close to home.
That’s not a knock on the filmmaking. In fact, the ability to capture something so raw, so human, and so painfully familiar is a testament to how good this movie actually is. But enjoyment? That’s another story. This isn’t the kind of film you walk away from feeling uplifted—it’s the kind you sit with, maybe uncomfortably, for a while after. The silver lining is the comic relief, but if you blink you’ll miss it.
So while I can say The Roses is well-acted, well-paced, and beautifully written, I also can’t say I vibed with it. Not at all. For some, it will be a powerful watch. For others, especially those with their own scars, it might feel like salt in the wound.
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