Spin Me Round (2022)

Spin Me Round is the kind of romantic comedy that starts like a postcard and gradually reveals a sly, deliciously strange underside, turning culture-clash whimsy into something sharper and funnier than you expect. Jeff Baena stages the whole trip with an off-kilter, slightly sinister vibe—like you’re laughing, but also leaning in—while Alison Brie keeps Amber grounded and human even as the situation spirals, and Aubrey Plaza arrives like a live wire who can change the temperature of a scene in one line. It’s subversive in the best way, poking at corporate “authenticity” and vacation fantasies without ever turning into a lecture, and it stays entertaining precisely because it refuses to behave like a normal rom-com. Fair warning: it’s raunchy, profane, and happily weird, so if you like your romance neat and cozy this may not be your flavor—but if you enjoy dark-comic curveballs, it’s a blast.

Spin Me Round wants to be a sunny rom-com that slowly curdles into a weird, satirical “what is going on here?” trip, and you can feel Jeff Baena aiming for awkward humor, corporate absurdity, and a dash of erotic intrigue. The problem is it never commits: the tone keeps swerving between romance, cringe comedy, and half-baked suspense, so scenes that should land as sharp or shocking often just feel messy and undercooked. Alison Brie and Aubrey Plaza are reliably watchable and there are moments of genuinely funny discomfort, but the script and editing make the whole thing feel like a first draft that wandered onto set. If you’re expecting a satisfying romantic payoff, a tight comedy, or a coherent thriller-ish escalation, this will likely irritate you; if you enjoy offbeat, vibes-first indie oddities and don’t mind unresolved weirdness (plus heavy profanity and some explicit sexual content), you might tolerate the chaos.