A frequent complaint about lesbian Tinder is the sheer number of straight couples looking for a third. Scroll through the “women only” section of a dating app, and one might assume marriage is between a man, a woman, and a so-called unicorn. And that’s not even taking into account other apps like Feeld that are explicitly for dynamics beyond vanilla monogamy.
Cinema — for straight and queer audiences alike — has often relished in the FFM threesome. But usually this is for titillation (Wild Things, Vicky Cristina Barcelona), from the perspective of the third (Appropriate Behavior, Shortbus), or, in one case, the premise of a beautiful historical romance (Professor Marston and the Wonder Women). Only once can I recall a romcom about the straight couple looking to spice things up and it was very, very bad (The End of Sex).
This is all to say I think there’s plenty of room for a “looking for a third” romcom to exist even if I’m not the target audience. There are clearly a lot of people having this experience and there’s a lot of comedy and pathos to mine from the dynamic. At its best, Dan Levy Dagerman’s You, Me, & Her (written by its star Selina Ringel) feels like it’s going to fill in this gap. It’s well-shot, has some good jokes, and it has a cast of attractive, charming actors. Unfortunately, like many couples on those apps, it’s held back by its own timidity, a desire to reinforce the conventions it’s pushing against.
When we meet Mags (Ringel) and Ash (Ritesh Rajan), they’re stuck in a rut. Mags is balancing her job and being a mom to their toddler, while Ash is struggling to pursue his dream of working in cannabis. He sometimes identifies as a stay-at-home dad, but he doesn’t do nearly enough work around the house to earn this title. With a cannabis deal finally about to close, he decides to take Mags on a trip to San Pancho, Mexico — his treat — to celebrate.
A couple with problems who go on vacation are just a couple with problems on a beach and Mags and Ash continue to fight despite the beautiful setting. Mags wants an organized plan, Ash just wants to get high. Mags wants to try new things, Ash… just wants to get high.
Enter Angela (Sydney Park), a queer yoga instructor who catches Mags’ eye. Ash doesn’t want to go snorkeling with Mags, but this is one adventure that has him excited.
The film is at its best when Angela is around. The same way she spices up the relationship, she also spices up the film. Ash and Mags are so mean to each other that it can often feel like being trapped with the worst couple in your friend group. Angela is fun! She has chemistry with Mags! Her lack of chemistry with Ash is funny! It’s a relief when she’s on-screen.
Unfortunately, the film isn’t about Mags connecting with Angela, but about her reconnecting with Ash. And I’m just not convinced this is the right move for her? Mags’ complaints with Ash feel totally justified while Ash’s complaints with Mags feel absurd. They also don’t seem to like each other. At one point, Mags says when their relationship is good, it’s so good. But we don’t see that.
There’s a lot to like about the film. Mags is half Mexican and her Spanish fluency creates a fun dynamic where she feels more comfortable in San Pancho than Ash. And I appreciate that Ash’s threesome fantasy and the reality of Mags exploring her newfound bisexuality are allowed to push against each other.
Selina Ringle has written herself a wonderful coming-out-age movie that’s trapped in the structure of a heterosexual romcom. I didn’t love You, Me, and Her but I’d happily watch a sequel set five years later after Mags has left her husband to run off with Angela.
You, Me, and Her opens in theatres tomorrow.
