When Two Become One
“Have you ever been in a relationship so long that the line between you and the other person starts to blur?”
Written by Mariane Tremblay
Together marks writer-director Michael Shanks’s feature debut—and what a ride it is! Shanks describes the film as “a reflection of something deeply personal,” having based the screenplay on his own relationship with his partner.
“Have you ever been in a relationship so long that the line between you and the other person starts to blur?”
Together opens with a search party combing through the forest, looking for missing people. Backed by an unsettling score from Cornel Wilczek, the film creates a sense of unease from the very first scene. There’s something deeply strange and ominous unfolding — but you’re not quite sure what it is yet.
After landing a teaching job at an elementary school, Millie Wilson (Alison Brie) and her longtime boypartner, Tim (Dave Franco), are preparing to move to the countryside. But after an awkward going-away party where Millie proposes to Tim—who couldn’t even give her an answer, leaving her humiliated in front of all their friends—the tension between them becomes undeniable. Millie is left uncertain, unsure whether they’re still in love or simply used to being together.
There’s a growing disconnect between them. They barely touch, they don’t have sex anymore, and conversations feel tense or passive-aggressive. It’s clear they’re holding things in — resentments, regrets, maybe even doubts about the relationship. Something is off, and neither of them is willing to confront it directly.
One day, while hiking during a rainstorm, Millie and Tim fall into a cave and decide to spend the night there. As they land in the strange hole, Tim’s first concern is his phone and his precious demos — not Millie. “I’m fine, by the way,” she says sarcastically, clearly hurt by his priorities. Low on water, Tim drinks from a strange pool in the cave — even though, let’s be honest, he probably could’ve gone a night without it! As the night wears on, he unexpectedly opens up about deeply disturbing childhood memories, hinting at just how troubled he is. The next morning, they wake to find their legs stuck together with a glue-like substance, but they manage to pull apart and, weirdly, kinda brush the whole thing off. But the strange incident lingers, and it quickly becomes clear: nothing about their relationship—or their reality—is quite as it seems.
Brie and Franco bring a lived-in, layered chemistry to Millie and Tim. You believe they've been together for years (and, actually, they have been)—not just because the script says so, but because of the way they move around each other, the silences between them, the half-hearted touches, the glances filled with unspoken resentment or longing. Their dynamic is messy, painful, and deeply familiar. It’s that kind of natural, unforced connection that makes the emotional unraveling all the more affecting.
Together is a visually striking film, thanks to the stunning cinematography by Germain McMicking. Every frame is intentional, textured, and laced with a subtle strangeness that makes it all the more captivating. There’s something hypnotic about the way the camera captures the tension, the characters, and the atmosphere—making the visuals one of the film’s strongest assets. Honestly, it might be one of the most beautifully shot films I’ve seen this year — and one of my favourites overall.
The editing is another standout. It’s fast, sharp, and packed with strange, unexpected transitions that feel both hilarious and unsettling. There’s a kind of rhythm in the cuts — a chaos that’s controlled — that mirrors Millie and Tim’s increasingly unhinged dynamic.
And when the horror kicks in, it doesn’t hold back. The jump scares are sparse but brutally effective. I usually feel pretty immune to them, but Together got me more than once. It plays with tension in a way that feels fresh, using discomfort, intimacy, and timing to catch you off guard.
Despite a few flaws and minor plot holes, Together is easily one of the most original and affecting films I’ve seen this year. Shanks captures so accurately what it feels like to be in a relationship long enough that two people start to blur at the edges — merging emotionally, physically, even psychologically. That kind of closeness can become addictive, and also deeply disorienting. You start to lose sight of where you end and the other person begins.
“I was me because of him.”
That line lingers, because at some point in a relationship — especially if it began when you were young — your sense of identity gets wrapped up in that “we”, and trust me, it doesn’t take a decade to get there. Sometimes it’s just a few intense years of being glued to someone’s side — and suddenly, being apart feels unnatural. Like you’ve been split in two.
Together rubs shoulders (pun fully intended) with ancient Greek mythology — the idea that humans were once whole, with four legs, four arms, and two faces, until the gods split us in half out of fear. Ever since, we’ve been searching for our missing half. Shanks reinterprets this myth through the lens of body horror and psychological tension, but also with dark humour and tenderness. That myth still resonates — just like it has for centuries — because love, in all its terrifying intensity, continues to do the same.
If you’ve ever been in love — truly in it — this film will hit you hard. It captures how beautiful, terrifying, and all-consuming love can be. Sometimes, it feels like too much. Sometimes, it’s everything. And sometimes, you just have to let yourself sink into it and perhaps, let two become one.
Together is now playing in theatres!
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