There’s a certain type of horror story that begins with a knock at the door.
A stranger stands on your threshold, waiting to be asked in. And so you invite him to enter your home—which makes you at least partially to blame for what happens next, when your visitor reveals himself as some kind of monster, with some kind of monstrous proposition to make. A vampire, dangling the lure of immortality—a devil, ready to fulfill your darkest desires for a price.
Or perhaps, the he is actually a she: a sexy polyamorous psychotherapist who expertly applies just a bit of pressure to every existing crack in the foundations of your marriage . . . then steps back, smirking, to watch the whole thing collapse.
This last scenario is the premise of The Invite, a new comedy by Olivia Wilde. In theaters now, the film stars Wilde along with Seth Rogen, Penélope Cruz, and Edward Norton as four San Franciscans having the world’s most terrible dinner party. Not the kind where someone gets murdered, but worse, the kind where a murder would be a welcome development, given how socially awkward and sexually fraught the dynamic—and that’s before the tequila comes out.
