Ex-Husbands (2023) – Three Men, One Divorce, and a Journey of Unexpected Healing 📰

Three divorced men, one Mexican beach, and a crash course in letting go

Ex-Husbands, directed by Noah Pritzker, is a dramedy that flips the script on midlife crises with wit, charm, and a surprising amount of emotional resonance. Starring Griffin Dunne as Peter Pearce, the film dives into the chaotic aftermath of a long marriage falling apart—not through bitterness, but through a string of dry one-liners, awkward silences, and the quiet yearning for connection. When Peter’s ex-wife remarries, and both his sons pull away emotionally, he spirals into an existential haze, setting off on an impulsive trip to Tulum that becomes far more than a tropical escape.

Unlike typical divorce stories that focus on messy battles or romantic rekindlings, Ex-Husbands zooms in on something rarer: male vulnerability. Peter isn’t a perfect man—he’s neurotic, melancholic, occasionally clueless—but he’s also deeply human. The film captures him in moments of inertia and reflection, placing him among a loose constellation of fellow divorced men, all licking their wounds beneath the Mexican sun. What starts as a pity party becomes a strange form of group therapy, complete with tequila, emotional breakthroughs, and the clumsy tenderness of men trying to figure out who they are without someone else to define them.

The screenplay walks a fine line between satire and sincerity, never mocking its characters outright but also refusing to idealize their pain. Pritzker’s direction allows humor to rise organically from character rather than contrived gags. Dunne's performance is the film’s linchpin—his eyes carry a weariness that’s both comedic and touching, as if he’s constantly surprised by how sad he feels and how funny that sadness can be. Supporting performances from Miles Heizer and James Norton add texture, showing how divorce can ripple through generations in unexpected ways.

Visually, the film contrasts New York’s cold detachment with the vibrant, almost surreal palette of Mexico. It’s a metaphor made literal: Peter is drowning in gray until life, in all its absurdity, crashes back in with waves and warm sunsets. But Ex-Husbands is careful not to wrap things up with a neat bow. The characters don't “solve” their problems—they just begin to understand them. And that, the film argues, is healing in itself.

At its core, Ex-Husbands is a meditation on loss, identity, and the quiet, often ridiculous ways we try to make sense of endings. It’s a film that laughs with its characters, not at them, and invites viewers—men especially—to look at their own emotional baggage with both empathy and a raised eyebrow. Funny, melancholic, and oddly hopeful, Ex-Husbands proves that sometimes, to move on, you first have to fall apart.