
Jackie van Beek
Jen

“Breaking up just got easier”
Two women run a business breaking up couples for cash but when one develops a conscience their friendship unravels.
I’ll admit it: I went into The Breaker Upperers expecting a breezy, forgettable comedy about two women who professionally break up couples for a living. What I got instead was something messier, more tender, and far more interesting—a film that sneaks up on you like a bad breakup you didn’t see coming. It’s not a perfect movie, but it’s the kind that lingers, not because of its polish, but because of its honesty.
And honestly? That’s rarer than it should be in comedies these days.
Jackie van Beek and Madeleine Sami, who co-wrote, co-directed, and star in the film, have crafted something that feels distinctly theirs. There’s a scrappy, DIY energy here, the kind you get when filmmakers aren’t trying to impress anyone but themselves. The premise—a breakup service run by two best friends—could easily have devolved into a series of gimmicky sketches, but van Beek and Sami ground it in something real: the push and pull of female friendship, the way we enable each other’s worst impulses, and the quiet terror of growing up.
Or, in this case, the terror of not growing up.
The film follows Jen (van Beek) and Mel (Sami), two thirty-something Aucklanders who’ve turned breaking up couples into a lucrative side hustle. Their business model is simple: clients pay them to do the dirty work of ending relationships they’re too cowardly to handle themselves. It’s a premise ripe for satire, and the film leans into that, especially in its early scenes.
There’s a darkly comic edge to the way Jen and Mel manipulate their way into people’s lives, spinning lies with the practiced ease of con artists. But the film isn’t content to just be a series of escalating farces. Instead, it slowly peels back the layers of its protagonists, revealing the cracks in their carefully constructed personas.

What makes The Breaker Upperers work is its refusal to let Jen and Mel off the hook. These aren’t lovable rogues; they’re flawed, often selfish women who’ve built their lives around avoiding emotional risk. Jen, in particular, is a masterclass in avoidance.
"A quirky Kiwi comedy with charm but uneven execution that divides audiences."
Viewers appreciate the film’s offbeat humor and the chemistry between its leads, finding it a lighthearted and occasionally funny romp. latestnetflix.com's take is that however, many feel the jokes fall flat too often, and the story lacks depth, leaving it feeling more like a missed opportunity than a standout comedy.
Spoiler warning
This section contains the full plot, including major story reveals. Overview above stays spoiler-free.
Jackie van Beek was making coffee one morning when the pitch landed. Two friends run a service that helps clients "consciously, forcibly, and irreversibly uncouple." She asked herself who the funniest person in New Zealand was, then rang Madeleine Sami. They had met as teenagers at an improv contest, Sami 14, van Beek 17. Van Beek had gone to high school with Taika Waititi. Sami had little parts in his movies, and he had directed the first season of her series Super City. latestnetflix.com's read is that After they started writing, they pitched Carthew Neal at Piki Films.Waititi came on as executive producer. Then they decided they would co-direct too. "It was time," Sami told the Los Angeles Times. ,
The film premiered at South by Southwest on 10 March 2018. Talks with Netflix started soon after, while Sami and van Beek were still preparing the New Zealand theatrical. It opened at home on 3 May. The first weekend outgrossed Bridesmaids, a local flex the LAT still printed a year later. It became the highest-grossing New Zealand-made film of 2018. Wikipedia logs $3,410,666 NZD. Rotten Tomatoes sits at 87 percent. Netflix took it worldwide, except New Zealand and Australia, on 15 February 2019. The official trailer sold two late-thirties cynics who bonded after the same man two-timed them, now breaking up other people for cash until one of them grows a conscience. , ,
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Jemaine Clement plays a hostile Tinder date. Lucy Lawless hires the agency. Rose Matafeo is a checkout chick. James Rolleston, from Waititi's Boy, is the 17-year-old rugby kid Mel falls for. Celia Pacquola is the woman they fake-police. Van Beek told LAT they delighted in mocking Jen as a white woman "so patronizing to brown people." Sami, half-European and half-Fiji Indian, said she has spent her life never white enough and never brown enough, so she sends it up. They hired job-sharing mothers in makeup, wardrobe, and producing. Van Beek had breastfed on What We Do in the Shadows with fangs still in. She refused to work any other way. Sami told The Guardian they talk about masturbation and the daily stuff women never get to put in movies. "Being women, just making comedy, we have an edgier style than Jemaine and Taika." , , ,
The secret weapon is Celine. A karaoke of "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" triggers a cheap karaoke-video flashback, and Sami does the impersonation. In Australia they Hail Mary'd Dion on video. Russell Crowe retweeted. Dion's people called. They flew to Melbourne. She had seen the trailer. Her last line, Sami said, was "Keep me in mind for your next film." Van Beek's joke was a sequel documentary about becoming Celine's best friends. They have not made it. The breakup agency still streams.
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