Together

“Be a little bit wiser baby
Put it on, put it on
'Cause tonight is the night when two become one” – Spice Girls - 2 Become 1

Michael Shanks' debut feature film, Together, is a crazy and grotesquely romantic mix of body horror and relationship drama, carried by two performances so authentic and instinctively connected that they could only come from a real couple. Dave Franco and Alison Brie, married in real life since 2017, play Tim and Millie, a long-term couple who haven't yet taken the plunge into marriage and find themselves in that liminal zone where affection and resentment mix in dangerous proportions. The move from the city to the countryside, motivated by Millie's new teaching job, was supposed to be a fresh start, but it becomes the setting for an intensifying nightmare that brings to the surface all the fears associated with codependency, commitment, and the slow erosion of individuality in a relationship.

The success of Together lies in the speed with which Michael Shanks strips away the subtext and lays the metaphor bare, dissecting it with a scalpel that alternates between affectionate humor and David Cronenberg-esque grotesquery (think of the cult film The Fly). The beginning establishes a charming but stagnant dynamic: Millie, pragmatic and career-driven, is secretly frustrated that Tim, after nearly a decade, still refuses to grow up; Tim, a musician pursuing dreams that are slipping away, silently harbors resentment that her career is advancing while his stagnates. The tension is already palpable at their farewell party, where Millie asks him to marry her—without a ring, in front of their friends—and Tim's awkward hesitation reveals a crack in their facade. The fact that this crack is about to be widened by something supernatural only accentuates the pain.

During a hike in the nearby woods, they fall into a cave that resembles the remains of a collapsed chapel, with hanging bells and half-buried benches. Running out of water, Tim drinks from a stagnant pool, unknowingly sealing the same fate as the two dogs we saw in the disturbing prologue, animals whose heads eventually fused together to form a two-muzzled monster. In the morning, Tim and Millie's calves are literally stuck together by a fleshy adhesive substance. Separating is painful, but the distance proves even worse: as soon as they are apart, an invisible force propels them toward each other, their bodies expressing a “total thirst” that is both erotic and terrifying. The metaphor—attachment, dependence, the terror of separation—couldn't be more direct, but Together works precisely because it plays the card of exaggeration, audacity, and uncompromisingness.

What makes it work is the total commitment of Dave Franco and Alison Brie. Neither is afraid to look ridiculous, to play the slapstick pain of being thrown against walls, stuck together in the middle of sex, or dragged across the floor by invisible forces. There's a date scene in Millie's school bathroom that's as scandalous as it is funny, and a cross-cut between the shower and the car that transforms the couple's unnatural bond into a moment of pure physical cinema. Yet amid the grotesque prosthetics and sticky soundtrack, there is an emotional truth: the unspoken comfort of a long-standing love, the security of a shared history, and the danger of letting that security turn into complacency.

Michael Shanks maintains a brisk pace, alternating between domestic squabbles, moments of genuine tenderness, and explosions of bodily horror that escalate to the point of absurdity without descending into parody. He has a knack for shifting focus—casting doubt on Jamie, the couple's neighbor (played with good-natured menace by Damon Herriman) — and creating visual effects, from Chekhov's electric saw to a late visual gag involving a certain Spice Girls anthem from the 1990s that turns into one of the film's most perversely romantic moments. There's an underlying current of folk horror in the bells and the collapsed chapel, allusions to local legends and past victims, but Michael Shanks wisely chooses to keep this on the sidelines. The point isn't tradition, but what happens to people when they literally can't separate.

The film isn't without its flaws. Attempts to over-explain the supernatural element in the final act dilute some of the mystery, and certain visual cues, such as a macabre rat king discovered early on in the new house, have such obvious metaphorical significance that they border on heavy-handedness. Yet the journey is so joyfully deranged and the performances of the main actors so open and responsive that these issues seem minor. It's rare to see a horror film so willing to oscillate between disgusting comedy and moments of poignant vulnerability without losing its tonal balance.

Together is a love story, even if it's covered in bodily fluids and punctuated by violence with power tools. In the character of Tim, played by Dave Franco, we see a man grappling with grief, insecurity, and stunted development; in Millie, played by Alison Brie, we see a woman trying to reconcile her ambition with her fear of outgrowing her partner. Their situation is funny, sexy, heartbreaking, and, in the final frame, strangely comforting. To love someone, Together suggests, is to accept that you will change each other in ways you cannot control, and that the line between intimacy and control is dangerously thin. Sometimes it's worth getting your hands dirty.

With its mix of sincere reflections on human relationships, creepy prosthetics, and a resolutely romantic thread, Together deserves its place among the most surprising and moving horror films of the year. It may be sticky, strange, and often disturbing, but it will stick with you, just like its characters. Michael Shanks is undoubtedly one of the future great masters of horror.

Together
Written and directed by Michael Shanks
Produced by Dave Franco, Alison Brie, Mike Cowap, Andrew Mittman, Erik Feig, Max Silva, Julia Hammer, Timothy Headington
Starring Dave Franco, Alison Brie, Damon Herriman
Cinematography: Germain McMicking
Edited by Sean Lahiff
Music by Cornel Wilczek
Production companies: Picturestart, Tango Entertainment, 30West, 1.21, Princess Pictures
Distributed by Neon (United States), Metropolitan FilmExport (France)
Release dates: January 26, 2025 (Sundance), July 30, 2025 (United States), August 13, 2025 (France)
Running time: 102 minutes

Seen on August 8, 2025 at Gaumont Disney Village, Theater 12, seat A20

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