Splendor (1999)

Splendor is that rare romantic comedy that feels both playfully naughty and oddly sincere, taking a potentially gimmicky premise and treating it with a breezy, sunlit confidence that’s pure late-’90s L.A. Gregg Araki’s direction gives the film a glossy, vibrant pulse, and Kathleen Robertson anchors the whole thing with a likable mix of yearning and self-awareness as she’s pulled between a tender poet and a magnetic punk drummer—both of whom have real chemistry with her and with each other. The vibe is light, stylish, and a little mischievous, more about the messy comedy of desire than heavy moralizing, even when the complications start stacking up. It’s not for viewers who need their romances neat and traditional (or their characters flawlessly mature), but if you’re open to a cheeky, surprisingly warm spin on love’s many shapes, it’s an easy, charming watch.

Splendor is aiming for a cheeky, sex-positive romantic comedy that treats a ménage à trois like a sincere relationship rather than a punchline, and that’s a genuinely refreshing idea. The problem is it often feels more like a glossy fantasy than a sharp emotional story, with characters who can come off shallow or hard to root for once the novelty wears off. If you’re expecting Gregg Araki’s edge or anything particularly surprising, the plot plays it pretty safe and heads toward a finale that can feel silly rather than satisfying. Still, the cast has charm, the LA vibe is breezy, and if you’re in the mood for light, slightly naughty late-’90s wish-fulfillment, it can be an easy watch.