Theo

Audiences once adored big adult comedies. Jay Roach’s champagne-fizzy “The Roses” is a seductive attempt to lure them back into theaters.

As bright, mean and ambitious as its lead characters, Theo and Ivy Rose (Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman), this resurrection of the ’80s-style R-rated crowd-pleaser is a remake of — or really, an across-the-room nod to — the 1989 hit “The War of the Roses,” which starred Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner as divorcees who fight to the death over their fancy chandelier.

Inspired by the venomous novel by Warren Adler, both films are metaphors for building a home and then tearing it down, although the chandelier this time is merely incidental. This snarky, self-aware couple is the type to build themselves a smart house and name its system HAL.

The Roses meet-cute in a posh London restaurant when Theo asks to borrow Ivy’s knife to slash his wrists. He’s a morose architect who aspires to build risky, revolutionary designs. She’s a kooky chef whose signature seasoning is a mix of powdered anchovy and blueberry. In the cocktail of their marriage, he adds the bitterness and she adds the spice, qualities that can be either overbearing or harmonious. Their version of sweet talk is Ivy chirping, “Never leave me — but when you do, kill me on the way out.”

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Brutal humor and obstinacy bind these malcontents together for almost 15 years. Then her career takes off and his flops, upending their equilibrium. Now, they’re battling over who gets custody of their California dream mansion. Twins Hattie and Roy are secondary. (Delaney Quinn and Ollie Robinson play their kids at 10; Hala Finley and Wells Rappaport at 13.)

The script by Tony McNamara (“Poor Things”) unleashes the hilarious spouses to aim insults at each other like explosive corks. (McNamara is so skilled at putting cruel words in Colman’s mouth that he’s already helped win her an Oscar for “The Favourite.”) Theo and Ivy open the film skewering each other at marriage counseling, only to be aghast when the therapist advises them to split up. For a while, they stick together mostly to stick it to her, in defiance of the fact that contempt is the No. 1 indicator of divorce. “In England, we call that repartee,” Theo insists.

You wonder if their jokes keep them from honest communication and then you wonder if Roach, who came to fame as the director of “Austin Powers” and “Meet the Parents,” has ever been afraid of that himself. (For the record, Roach has been married to the Bangles’ Susanna Hoffs since 1993 and she here sings two cover songs for the soundtrack, “Happy Together” and “Love Hurts.”)

Mostly, you just enjoy the jokes. Colman, who burst into my awareness in the 2003 TV cringe comedy “Peep Show,” is fantastic throwing jabs around in costume designer PC Williams’ nouveau hipster wardrobe of bold, baggy lines. The actor even does an Ian McKellen impression just because. Yet, the surprise here is Cumberbatch, who seizes his rare opportunity to be flat-out funny, while occasionally rolling over to show Theo’s vulnerable belly. Flirtatiously pouting his lips at Colman, he coos, “How about a three-hour circular argument that goes nowhere?” How about three more Cumberbatch comedies for every awards-baity drama he does?

The story originally satirized materialistic baby boomers stymied by shifting gender roles. Both make interesting time capsules of the traditional man and the liberated woman who revert to smashing fusty china figurines like Neanderthals, although my sticking point with the first movie is that both Roses are too despicable. It’s hard to care about either one once you see how they treat each other’s pets.

But Roach has insightfully made this about people, not societal scapegoats. He and McNamara have changed up nearly everything in this disaster except its vibrations of dread. Since we already know that Theo and Ivy are in for a world of hurt, the film spends much of its running time rewinding to the past to prove how wonderful they could be together — and, more painfully, how sincerely they’ve tried to work out their kinks. We like Cumberbatch and Colman’s Theo and Ivy, even after they’ve become tantrum-throwing twits.

The details of their dissolution — career pressures, childcare clashes, petty jealousies — and its credible tit-for-tat dynamic are discomfitingly relatable. If this version has a larger sociological statement, it’s an indictment of how today’s quest for success is so all-consuming and exhausting that even if you can fit two egos in one house, you probably can’t merge their day planners. In the modern, highly visible, online-viralized game of life, earning money is merely Stage 1. Both Roses are driven to leave their permanent mark on the world.

Meanwhile, their two sets of American friends, Amy and Barry (Kate McKinnon and Andy Samberg) and Sally and Rory (Zoë Chao and Jamie Demetriou), are equally miserable and toxic. All four are such shallow snobs that they can’t imagine why Ivy would want to own Julia Child’s old stove when it’s, well, old. McKinnon’s Amy toggles through obnoxious progressive stereotypes: She’s a self-professed empath who pretends to be in an open marriage to wheedle Theo into bed. Barry, a depressive, gives Samberg a chance to show a deeper level of comic maturity, and also eventually doubles as Theo’s personal attorney. Otherwise, the script prunes the couple’s legal battle down to one scene with Ivy’s viperous lawyer, played by Allison Janney, who brings a rottweiler to the showdown and claims it’s her service animal.

The gags can be silly. There are two vomit scenes and a pratfall where Colman lands on her face. Yet, Roach and his team have put serious effort into their lovely symbology: a shot of Theo glumly walking down an airplane aisle from first class to coach, images of the cold Pacific crashing against rocks that recall his confession of feeling “waves of hatred” toward his wife.

When the film finally gets to its Grand Guignol climax, it rushes through the barbarity, taking no delight in it. I wanted to laugh but realized I’d fallen too much in love with Theo and Ivy, who are both so pitifully certain they’re in the moral right. The schadenfreude is just sad. It stings how much we root for them to kiss and make up. Still, despite the hasty ending, this splashy comedy deserves to woo grown-ups back to the multiplex. The Roses are estranged, but they’ve reunited us with our love for a genre — and it feels so good.

There were three television characters who really mattered to me as a kid: Michael, Leroy and Theo.

In elementary school, “Good Times” was the television show that most closely resembled my family. And seeing reruns of Ralph David Carter’s portrayal of a precocious young boy learning what it means to be poor, gifted and Black is what moved his Michael from fiction to family for me.

By middle school, I was no longer wearing cornrows like Gene Anthony Ray, but I tried everything else to be like his character Leroy from the television show “Fame.” For some of my classmates, the performing arts were a fun way to express themselves, and the show was inspirational. For me, it was my way out of the hood, and Leroy was the blueprint. Through the Detroit-Windsor Dance Academy, I was able to take professional dance lessons for free and ultimately earned a dance scholarship for college.

But it wasn’t a linear journey. Despite being gifted, I struggled academically and required summer classes to graduate from high school. That’s why I connected with Theo, whose challenges in the classroom were one of the running jokes on “The Cosby Show.” The family never gave up on him, and more importantly, he didn’t stop trying.

Through the jokes about his intelligence, the coming-of-age miscues (and the dyslexia diagnosis), the storylines of Theo — like those of Leroy and Michael — often reflected struggles I foolishly thought no one else was experiencing when I was growing up. It is only through distance and time are we able to see moments like those more clearly. In retrospect, the three of them were like knots I held onto on a rope I had no idea I was climbing.

This is why the Black community’s response to the death of Malcolm-Jamal Warner this week isn’t solely rooted in nostalgia but also in gratitude. We recognize the burden he’s been carrying, so that others could climb.

When “The Cosby Show” debuted in 1984, there were no other examples of a successful two-parent Black family on air. We were on television but often trauma and struggle — not love and support — were at the center of the narratives. So even though Black women had been earning law degrees since the 1800s — beginning with Charlotte E. Ray in 1872 — and Black men were becoming doctors before that, the initial response from critics was that the show’s premise of a doctor-and-lawyer Black couple was not authentically Black.

That narrow-minded worldview continued to hang over Hollywood despite the show’s success. In 1992, after nearly 10 years of “The Cosby Show” being No. 1 — and after the success of “Beverly Hills Cop II” and “Coming to America” — the Eddie Murphy-led project “Boomerang” was panned as unrealistic because the main characters were all Black and successful. The great Murphy took on the Los Angeles Times directly in a letter for its critique on what Black excellence should look like.

However, Black characters like Michael, Leroy and Theo had been taking on the media since the racist film “The Birth of a Nation” painted all of us as threats in 1915. It could not have been easy for Warner, being the face of so much for so many at an age when a person is trying to figure out who he is. And because he was able to do so with such grace, Warner’s Theo defined Blackness simply by being what the world said we were not. This sentiment is embodied in his last interview, when he answered the question of his legacy by saying: “I will be able to leave this Earth knowing and people knowing that I was a good person.”

In the end, that is ultimately what made his character, along with Leroy and Michael, so important to the Black community. It wasn’t the economic circumstances or family structure of the sitcoms that they all had in common. It was their refusal to allow the ugliness of this world to tear them down. To change their hearts or turn their light into darkness. They maintained their humanity and in the process gave so many of us a foothold to keep climbing higher.

YouTube: @LZGrandersonShow

When Bill Cosby revolutionized television during the mid-1980s with “The Cosby Show,” the fictional Huxtables, the wealthy Black family at the center of the sitcom, were often referred to as “America’s family,” and riding the wave of that pop culture phenomenon was Malcolm-Jamal Warner.

The actor, who died Sunday at 54 in Costa Rica, charmed viewers of the NBC sitcom with his portrayal of Theodore “Theo” Huxtable, the middle child and only son of Cosby’s Cliff Huxtable. Theo was based on Bill Cosby’s son, Ennis William Cosby, who was a constant source of material in his comedy routines and the inspiration for many of the storylines involving Theo on the show. (And like Theo, Ennis, who died in 1997, was Cosby’s only son.)

The series would be the most notable highlight of his career, earning him an Emmy nomination in 1986 for supporting comedy actor. After “The Cosby Show,” Warner continued to work on various television series, including “The Resident” and “9-1-1.” He also dabbled in music and hosted a podcast exploring positives in Black culture titled “Not All Hood.”

But none of those endeavors matched the success of his “Cosby Show” profile.

The Huxtable children, played by Warner, Sabrina LeBeauf, Lisa Bonet, Tempestt Bledsoe and Keshia Knight Pulliam, were a key element of the series. As played by Warner, Theo was an engaging, fun-loving teen who also got into a variety of scrapes in the Huxtable household. He also struggled as a student.

The cast of “The Cosby Show,” clockwise from top left: Tempestt Bledsoe, Malcolm-Jamal Warner, Lisa Bonet, Phylicia Rashad, Keshia Knight Pulliam and Bill Cosby.

(NBC/NBCUniversal via Getty Images)

And while he would often frustrate his parents, the affection they had for him was palpable. The Huxtables were a family bonded by humor and love, as Dr. Huxtable and his wife, Clair (Phylicia Rashad), a lawyer, counseled their children how to be better people. Their interactions attracted millions of viewers each week.

In a 1992 New York Times interview, Cosby spoke of Ennis’ problems at school: “It bothered me that Ennis was not doing his schoolwork. I sat him down and said, ‘We’re going to talk, and I want you to say whatever is on your mind.’”

The dialogue became the basis for an episode in which Theo comes home with lackluster grades, explaining to his father that he was overwhelmed by the pressure to succeed.

Cosby’s family later learned when Ennis graduated from college that he was dyslexic. The discovery inspired the final episode of the series, in which Theo overcomes dyslexia and graduates from college. (Cliff Huxtable can’t get enough seats for the graduation ceremony.)

When “The Cosby Show” ended in 1992, some of the actors playing the Huxtable children had varying degrees of success. Bonet starred for one season on the “Cosby Show” spinoff, “A Different World,” and co-starred in the film “Angel Heart.” Bledsoe hosted a daytime talk show. Pulliam currently co-stars on “Tyler Perry’s House of Payne.”

Warner continued to work, finding some steady roles and making guest appearances on various shows over the course of his career.

He starred in 1992’s “Here and Now” on NBC as a psychology graduate student who helps run an inner-city Manhattan youth center. The comedy was canceled after one season.

His most successful venture was “Malcolm & Eddie,” which featured him and comedian Eddie Griffin as bar owners. That UPN comedy ended in 2000 after four seasons.

One of his last leading roles was in BET’s short-lived 2011 comedy “Reed Between the Lines,” in which he played an English teacher married to a psychologist (Tracee Ellis Ross).

Warner said in a Times interview that the show reflected his desire to continue the positive family values at the core of “The Cosby Show.”

“We were clear that there had not been a show like ‘Cosby’ since ‘Cosby,’” Warner said. “We are in no way looking to re-create that show, but we did want to re-create that universality and positive family values that ‘Cosby’ represented. Neither Tracee or I were interested in a ‘black show.’ We are telling family stories as opposed to black stories.”