Tim (Dave Franco) and Millie (Alison Brie) are having relationship problems as writer/director Michael Shanks’ Together begins. What couple doesn’t have woes, though, right? Still, these two seem especially frayed as they uproot their life to the countryside for Millie’s new job. Tim, not ready to let go of rock star dreams, is quietly hostile to their dynamic. He’s especially frustrated at how dependent he’s become, right down to needing Millie to drive him places.

A whole new set of issues flares up after the pair chugs down some mysterious cave water in a nearby forest. Suddenly, Tim and Millie can’t live without each other, and not in a poetic sense. The two are psychologically connected, a precursor phenomenon to their bodies fusing whenever they get too close. Some people remark, “I can’t tell where one of you begins and the other ends!” about especially intimate romantic pairings. For Tim and Millie, that’s becoming a gruesome reality.

While David Cronenberg/Julia Ducournau/David Yauza-inspired body horror imagery comes to dominate Together, much of the runtime is more Long Day’s Journey Into Night than The Fly. If that sounds like a recipe for viewers lamenting, “When are they gonna get to the fireworks factory?”, fret not. Shanks has a skillful grasp of engaging interpersonal dynamics. Especially darkly entertaining are the moments when hostility punctures their “everything’s good” veneer. For instance, dinner with the pair’s new neighbor Jamie (Damon Herrimann) rapidly becomes a cringe-inducing affair.

Tim and Millie’s back-and-forth sparring is sharply written without feeling overly polished. Shanks pulls off the precarious balance effortlessly, as when Tim compares his plight to that of a hostage. This bit of squirm-inducing dialogue effectively communicates the shattering of a boundary. Everything’s gone from being darkly amusing to genuinely awkward in seconds, just like real social events with strained couples. These down-to-earth details ensure emotional investment before all the grisly body horror transpires. When such mayhem does materialize, it’s realized largely through a bevy of superb practical effects work.

These sequences also strongly showcase the feature’s sound department, including foley artist Sam Rogers, sound mixer Dane Cody, and others. Sickening and distinctive squelching noises fill the soundtrack when Tim and Millie’s first stick together. It’s so effective that no dialogue or orchestral music is necessary to hammer home the discomfort. Just hearing it makes your toes curl up in discomfort. Those noises gruesomely tee up the subsequent auditory horrors of spine-tingling crunching, peeling, and gurgling.

It isn’t just the sound department that excels once Together gets freaky. The script’s tonal intricacies continue to shine even as bodies begin to merge. Most notably, Shanks agilely incorporates dark humor (like a tremendously tormented Tim informing Millie of Valium’s new name) into harrowing sequences without undercutting tension. They work primarily because they accentuate the chaos. Anything can happen, including brief off-the-cuff humorous remarks. Laugh-worthy moments don’t capsize drama, but rather chillingly reaffirm a world of inescapable unpredictability.

Given that initial commitment to chaos, it’s a pity that Together’s third act intertwines with predictable storytelling material. Frustratingly, Shanks dedicates much of the last 30 minutes to explaining the mysterious, including a heaping helping of cave water lore. Horror films always work better when they thrive on ambiguity. Highlighting every detail of what goes bump in the night doesn’t make things scarier. Similarly, relationships and romantic interactions are full of unexplained phenomena. Over-explaining these elements, as the film’s third act does, undermines both its scary and romantic aspects. By resolving its mysteries too thoroughly, Together loses both narrative tension and the authenticity of uncertainty that makes relationship stories compelling.

That third-act detour into explanations intersects with an easy-to-see quasi-“plot twist”. Frustratingly predictable revelations undermine the tension and fail to enhance the relationship drama. Body horror’s greatest features went all-in on surrealism as the end credits drew nearer. Tidy narrative impulses were eschewed to emphasize squishy imagery, oil-covered bed sheets, and contorted fleshy vessels. Together’s more narrative-driven script, meanwhile, never feels as excitingly out of control as the films it’s clearly channeling.

Even with that caveat, Shanks does concoct a fittingly bizarro finale for this movie, combining the musical sensibilities of Chicken Little’s karaoke scene, sensually tinged intimate camerawork evoking Hiroshi Teshigahara’s movies, and messed-up images bound to impel squeamish audience members to bolt for the exits. Third-act screenwriting shortcomings make it a sometimes bumpy road getting there, but Together at least concludes with a fittingly unhinged piece of spectacle.

This mayhem is another memorable display of Franco and Brie’s strong performances. The latter is especially fun, leaning into the chipper, sparkly-clean acting persona associated with her most famous characters like Annie Edison. Juxtaposing that aura with her slow descent into a Brian Yuzna movie is both surface-level entertainment and a metatextual kick. Franco, meanwhile, shows subtle care in framing Tim as a schmuck, but not insufferably so. He’s no Andrew Tate, but rather a dude stuck in limbo looking for external sources to blame his woes on.

These realistic nuances to Franco and Brie’s work reaffirm how well Together works as a down-to-earth production. An impromptu sex scene in public is plenty engaging on its own terms. The fact that it soon devolves into cringe-inducing body horror is an extra cherry on top. It’s frustrating that those stronger writing impulses didn’t translate to the entire runtime. Frequently, though, Together uncovers creative visual and sonic manifestations of relationship turmoil.

Together joins with cinemas starting August 1.

Together Trailer: