The pearl ring in The Invite (2026)

I cannot stop thinking about the pearl ring Angela (Olivia Wilde) wears in The Invite (2026).

A comedy of manners about two couples circling each other across an evening of fantasies being shattered by reality. Joe (Seth Rogen) is a miserable man simmering in his resentment for drowning in a tasteful haze. This haze, cultivated by the anxious and lonely Angela, is where they have (or rather, she has) invited their neighbours after six months of renovations. Hawk (Edward Norton) is a former firefighter, while Pina (Penelope Cruz) is a sexologist, and their sexual escapades have been waking up the neighbours. The soirée collapses into various revelations and emotional truths, and everyone learns a bit more about themselves.

And that’s all I can say without spoiling the plot. Because you should see it, even if just on streaming. It is already a contender for my favourite film of the year. Directed by Wilde, The Invite is a masterclass in tension and release. Despite references to the size of the apartment, the truth is that the film is cramped and uncomfortable as people squeeze past each other and circle the space in an effort to both maintain distance and halt intimacy. The setting is half of the story.

Angela’s renovations to their home provide a facsimile of good taste. Or rather, a funhouse mirror of classic, vintage elegance. A bathroom redone to pretend it is original, despite the extensive changes. Walls she blends into with her new shirt as her palate seems painfully limited. Expensive carpets she lies about the price and sourcing of, pretending to have simply found it at a flea market for no reason. Joe calls out the expense and finicky nature of the whole set up, and retreats his his relatively messy office space in an effort to maintain himself in her space. The only creative outlet she has allowed herself to keep, with little remarks that things can always be improved. She mentions to Hawk that daughter’s room will need to be updated soon. The apartment is beautiful, but oppressive. It is a reflection of her anxiety.

So much of the script by Will McCormack and Rashida Jones circles Angela’s boredom. It is the catalyst for the night and the thing that drives her, even past her other quirks. Her need for constant movement and stimulation reflects a life that she has made deliberately small in an effort to salvage her marriage. She cries about a future where her daughter has moved for college and she is left with only Joe for company. That loneliness extends to her desire for adult friendship.

Wilde has such a tight control over the film’s tone and rhythms that it never collapses in the way films of this style can. The film never feels burdened by the setting or overly familiar in the style of “mumblecore” from the 2010s, which so often seemed burdened by “realism” without dropping the farce of it all. That is not to say these films are worse than this more traditional drama, but more that Wilde’s influences are vastly more technical and guide the audience, rather than dragging them along. Everything is there for a reason.

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The Invite has a lot of little details that tell us something important about the character. Another fun one is Pina’s double bird tattoo, that can be seen to suggest a commitment to her relationship (the pigeon and the hawk) that might otherwise seem ridiculous. Joe’s office is a cluttered, dark mess, where the general misery of his life is both allowed to thrive and put on display through French doors. Hawk’s habit of praising authenticity initially reads as pretentious nonsense, but quickly spirals into several other, more personal quirks. And Angela has the most details. It is her film.

Recently, the concept of “tasteslop” hit the internet and brought upon a new wave of pretentious cultural commentary about how we view the world. The online obsession with flattening the world into archetypes and drawing out psychoanalysis from every decision made by strangers. That tweet about “glamorous philosopher” as a new genre of person is true - most people do not have the capacity to say anything interesting. But there is value to this, even if the idea of renaming concepts we have been using for decades bothers me.

“Tasteslop” is just online speak to call someone or something gauche. Social media has recently discovered sociologist Pierre Bourdieu and some have decided to overlay his writing on class and capital to the internet. It takes this idea of class signifiers and suggests that there is a further layer of performance via online spaces. One that is further directed by algorithms that drive online tastes without allowing for personal expression. This is all the beginnings of interesting sociology that has no interest in going deeper. But the idea of mindless followers of “good taste”…that definitely plays into The Invite and Angela’s whole deal.

Everything in the apartment is reflective of Angela, from the new and expensive rug she has rolled out to her spread of cheeses too exhaustive for a casual get together. Walls are lined with tasteful art that is warm and contrasting on the cool walls. The furniture throughout is expensive and specific in a way that suggests pieces were bought with deliberateness. She lies about where the rug was bought to maintain an illusion of casual purchasing that ignores the truth of her neurotic planning. Her world is a series of performances and white lies meant to craft a flattering image that Angela hides behind. She cannot let Joe be her partner, and so everything about their world is curated and antagonistic to casualness and comfort.

Which you would assume extends to the pearl ring. At first you’d assume it is her engagement ring. But it clearly isn’t - it’s on her middle finger. A big, gaudy piece of jewellery right where we constantly can see it. Heavy in a life where everything else is so tasteful and delicately put together. Cool where the home exudes a false warmth. That minor discrepancy is a deliberate element of contrast to the film. The ring is a touch of the soul of Angela.

This pearl flashes across the screen every moment Wilde lifts her hand. It catches the light so strikingly that I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. The only other thing that matches is is Pina’s container of flan, which is also an item that reflects the core reality of it’s owner. Pina is sweeter than they give her credit for, and Angela is out of place in her own home.

I am definitely thinking harder about this one piece of costuming than I need to, but this ring feels like a choice she might have made and stuck with despite how little it matches with her wider aesthetic. Pearls as a popular gemstone had a swift resurgence in the early 2020s, and it feels fitting that Angela might have purchased a silver ring with pearl on it as one of many bored people at home online shopping during the COVID-19 pandemic. Something that quickly fell out of style that, despite herself, she held onto. A piece of her that suggests a personality beyond what she has outwardly cultivated.

The Invite tells us that Angela and Joe do not really know each other anymore. Do not like each other or themselves. Gives them a chance to filter out their resentment, even as everything they’ve clung onto is thrown aside in a wacky night of mischief. But mostly, it’s an opportunity to make decisions for themselves, beyond what looks nice. To create, rather than curate.

Give Olivia Wilde an Oscar.