There’s something quietly compelling about Ex-Husbands, a film that sneaks up on you with its depth, though from the outside, it appears terrifically shallow.  On paper, it’s a familiar story—divorce, generational baggage, the awkward process of moving on—but in execution, it’s sharper, funnier, and more emotionally layered than you might expect.  Rather than falling into the usual self-indulgent tropes of otherwise privileged men struggling with their feelings, director Noah Pritzker finds the bittersweet humor in unraveling relationships, balancing heartache with unexpected levity in a way that feels natural rather than forced.

The story follows Peter Pearce (Griffin Dunne, With/In: Volume 2), a New York dentist reeling from the end of his 35-year marriage as he cares for his elderly father (actor/director Richard Benjamin, Mermaids), who also divorced his wife—Peter’s late mother.   Meanwhile, Peter’s two sons are caught up in their own complicated love lives: Nick (James Norton, Nowhere Special), an underachiever with commitment issues, is on the verge of marriage, while Mickey (Miles Heizer, Love, Simon), newly out, is cautiously dipping into the dating world.  Their entanglements—past, present, and future—collide during an ill-fated bachelor party trip to Tulum, where regrets and anxieties bubble to the surface in startling ways.

This could have easily turned into a self-pitying slog about middle-aged men in crisis, but Pritzker’s script sidesteps that trap.  Instead, he approaches his characters with wry empathy, letting them be flawed without asking for unearned sympathy.  Peter, in particular, feels like a man caught between eras—baffled by modern dating, yet aware that his old ways aren’t serving him anymore.  Dunne plays him with a weary charm that makes even his most frustrating moments feel relatable.  His chemistry with Norton and Heizer (both of whom are also solid) is effortless, capturing a father-son dynamic that oscillates between exasperation and genuine tenderness.

The supporting cast is just as strong.  Rosanna Arquette (Presumed Innocent) brings warmth to Peter’s ex-wife, Maria, a minor role that could have been one-note in less capable hands.  As Peter’s father, Simon, Benjamin delivers a performance in a few scenes that’s both funny and poignant—his late-life “romantic rebellion” complicated by the creeping onset of dementia, adding an extra layer of heartbreak to what he thought would be his golden years.  The bachelor party crew—including Pedro Fontaine as the enigmatic Arroyo and Simon Van Buyten as the reckless Lowry—provides a range of perspectives on masculinity, from performative bravado to quiet insecurity.

Visually, the film is polished but understated.  Alfonso Herrera Salcedo’s cinematography captures the shifting emotional tones with an effortless naturalism, while Petra Larsen’s costume design subtly tracks each character’s evolution—Peter’s crisp but increasingly disheveled wardrobe reflects his unraveling, while Mickey’s growing confidence is mirrored in his changing style.  The score stays in the background, with composer Robin Coudert allowing the dialogue and performances to do the heavy lifting.

What makes Ex-Husbands ring truer than its contemporaries isn’t just its sharp writing or strong performances but its ability to capture the small, messy moments of human connection.  It doesn’t try to deliver grand revelations about love or masculinity; instead, it observes how romantic, familial, and platonic relationships shift and evolve over time.  The Pearce men are all dealing with their own personal crises, but what binds them is the unspoken understanding that none of them really have it figured out—like all of us.

In a way, Ex-Husbands is a “dad movie” in the best sense of the term—not the kind that leans on cheap sentimentality or dramatic fireworks, but one that recognizes the often bizarre irrationality of life’s second (or third) acts.  It doesn’t try to be more than it is, and in doing so, becomes something unexpectedly important.  The result is a story of loss, reinvention, and the unavoidable, sometimes maddening pull of family—one that feels as familiar as an old regret yet as refreshing as a new beginning.