By Jason Osiason

Together is one of those films that feels like it was born out of a single, weird, brilliant idea—what if a relationship was so intense, so consuming, that the couple actually started merging? Not just emotionally, but physically. It’s a high-concept, body-horror romance that plays less like a traditional horror film and more like a twisted comedy of intimacy gone too far. Not terrifying, but squirmy in the best way.

Tim and Millie, played by Dave Franco and Alison Brie, are one of those couples. The kind who finish each other’s sentences, share one fork at dinner, and have somehow made their entire personality about being together. Their friends find it a little unsettling, and honestly, so do we. When they decide to take a romantic getaway to “reconnect,” it’s not because they’ve lost their spark, but because they don’t know how to exist without one another. That devotion, that terrifyingly close connection, is what starts warping reality. It begins subtly with small, almost unnoticeable changes. A mannerism they didn’t have before. A thought that seems to pass between them without being spoken. And then, suddenly, their bodies aren’t quite their own anymore.

The horror here isn’t traditional as it’s not about survival or an external threat. It’s about the horror of losing yourself, of being so deeply intertwined with someone that you don’t know where they end and you begin. And yet, Together isn’t just some abstract metaphor—it has a wicked sense of humor about itself. Nowhere is that clearer than in the bathroom scene, a sex sequence so perfectly cringe-inducing that the entire theater was collectively squirming. It’s the kind of scene that starts off like any standard moment of passion, only to twist into something deeply unnatural and hilariously uncomfortable. It keeps building and building until the discomfort is unbearable, and yet you can’t look away. That’s the genius of the film—it plays on our expectations, our instinct to turn intimacy into something beautiful, and completely derails it into something grotesque and absurd.

Michael Shanks directs with a confident, playful touch, knowing exactly when to lean into the romance and when to let the body horror creep in. Franco and Brie are perfectly cast, bringing just the right balance of charm and unsettling codependency. They sell the film’s premise not just through their chemistry, but in the way they make that chemistry feel just slightly… off.

The film kicks off with an incredible concept, executes it with style, and keeps you engaged all the way through. If it stumbles anywhere, it’s in its final act, where the surreal logic gets a little loose, and the resolution doesn’t quite hit as hard as its setup. But when a movie delivers something this original, this funny, and this genuinely squirm-inducing, you forgive a little wobble at the finish line.

It’s weird, it’s fresh, it’s fun, and it’s the kind of film that lingers and not because it haunts you, but because you’ll never quite be able to shake that bathroom scene. [B+]