Oliver and Barbara Rose have everything. A sprawling mansion. Two kids. A collection of expensive Staffordshire dogs. And a burning, soul-deep desire to see the other person dead. If you’ve ever watched War of the Roses the movie, you know it’s not just a dark comedy. It’s a horror film disguised as a domestic dispute. Directed by Danny DeVito and released in 1989, this movie took the concept of a "messy divorce" and turned it into a literal battlefield where the casualties included chandeliers, luxury cars, and a very unfortunate gourmet dinner.
Honestly, it’s hard to imagine a studio greenlighting this today. Not because of the violence, but because of the sheer, unadulterated cynicism. It refuses to give you a hero. You can't really root for Oliver (Michael Douglas) because he's a self-absorbed blowhard who thinks his wife is an extension of his ego. But you can't exactly cheer for Barbara (Kathleen Turner) either, especially once she starts using her gymnastic skills to trap her husband in a sauna. It’s a 116-minute descent into madness that remains the gold standard for cinematic marital strife.
The Chemistry of Mutual Destruction
Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner were the "it" couple of the 80s. After Romancing the Stone and The Jewel of the Nile, audiences expected them to fall in love, trade witty banter, and ride off into the sunset. War of the Roses the movie took that expectation and set it on fire. Danny DeVito, who also stars as the cynical lawyer Gavin D'Amato, used that established chemistry to make the vitriol feel real. When they scream at each other, it doesn't feel like acting. It feels like years of suppressed resentment finally boiling over.
The plot is simple enough. Barbara realizes one day that she doesn't love Oliver anymore. In fact, she wants him out of the house. But Oliver bought that house. He is that house. Neither will budge. Because of a loophole in the law (at least within the world of the film), they both stay in the mansion, carving out territories like rival warlords. It starts with petty insults. It ends with a chandelier-crushing finale that redefined "til death do us part."
Why the Pacing Still Works
The movie is a masterclass in the "slow burn." It doesn't start with blood. It starts with a sneeze. Seriously. The catalyst for Barbara's realization is Oliver's health scare, where she realizes she doesn't care if he lives or dies. From there, DeVito cranks the tension.
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One minute, they are arguing about the placement of a vase. The next, Barbara is driving a GMC Jimmy over Oliver’s prized Morgan sports car. The escalation is rhythmic. Short, sharp scenes of verbal sparring are punctuated by long, silent sequences of physical sabotage. It mimics the way real arguments spiral. You start talking about the dishes and end up questioning your entire existence.
The Visual Language of a Crumbling Marriage
DeVito’s direction is surprisingly expressionistic. He uses wide-angle lenses to make the Rose mansion feel like a cavernous, lonely tomb. The house is the third main character. As the marriage dies, the house is physically dismantled. Walls are smashed. Floors are littered with glass. By the third act, the once-beautiful home looks like a bunker in a war zone.
The lighting shifts too. Early scenes are warm and affluent. By the end, the palette is cold, blue, and shadow-heavy. It’s a visual representation of the "death of the heart."
Common Misconceptions About the Ending
People often remember the ending as a shock, but the movie tells you exactly what’s going to happen in the first five minutes. Gavin D'Amato is telling this story to a client who wants a divorce. He’s a warning. The entire film is a cautionary tale about the "thin line between love and hate."
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Some viewers think Barbara is the villain for starting the conflict. Others think Oliver is the villain for refusing to leave. The reality? They are both monsters. The film argues that obsession—whether it’s obsession with a person or obsession with property—leads to total annihilation. There is no winner in War of the Roses the movie. There is only the survivor who gets to tell the story, and in this case, that’s their lawyer.
Practical Lessons from the Roses
If you're watching this as more than just a piece of 80s nostalgia, there are some weirdly practical takeaways. It’s a textbook study in "sunk cost fallacy." Both characters have invested so much into their lifestyle and their grievances that they would rather die than "lose" the house.
- The 50/50 Myth: The movie mocks the idea that everything can be split down the middle. Some things, like a home or a heart, just break when you try to divide them.
- Emotional Intelligence: Or the lack thereof. The Roses fail because they stopped seeing each other as humans and started seeing each other as obstacles.
- Lawyer as Narrator: Gavin’s role is crucial. He represents the only sane path—walking away. When he tells his client to go home and try to make it work, or at least leave with his dignity, he’s speaking to the audience.
The Legacy of a Dark Masterpiece
Released during a decade of excess, War of the Roses the movie felt like a critique of the "have it all" culture. It took the perfect American family and showed the rot underneath the expensive wallpaper. It’s more relevant now than ever in a world obsessed with curated "perfect" lives on social media. We see the polished exterior, but DeVito shows us the screaming match happening behind the closed Italian-carved doors.
The film's influence can be seen in everything from Mr. & Mrs. Smith to Gone Girl, but none of those quite capture the specific, mean-spirited glee of the Roses. It’s a comedy that isn't afraid to be ugly. It’s a romance that turns into a autopsy.
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What to Do After Watching
If you’ve just revisited this classic or watched it for the first time, don't just let the credits roll and move on. Look at the craftsmanship.
- Analyze the Sound Design: Notice how the house sounds quieter and more menacing as the movie progresses.
- Check Out the Source Material: The movie is based on the 1981 novel by Warren Adler. It’s arguably even darker than the film.
- Observe the Wardrobe: Barbara’s transition from soft, floral patterns to sharp, angular suits mirrors her hardening resolve.
To truly appreciate why this film sticks in the collective memory, you have to look at your own attachments. What do you own that you would be willing to die for? Hopefully, the answer isn't a Staffordshire dog.
Next Steps for the Viewer
Stop viewing the film as a simple comedy. Watch it again as a psychological thriller. Pay attention to how the camera stays low to the ground during the fight scenes, making the characters look like giants or monsters. If you are going through a conflict yourself, take Gavin’s advice: "A civilized divorce is a contradiction in terms." Sometimes, the only way to win is not to play. Read up on Warren Adler’s other works if you enjoy this specific brand of domestic dread, and look into Danny DeVito's other directorial efforts like Matilda or Death to Smoochy to see how he weaves darkness into seemingly light subjects.