Allen’s camera lings longingly, the lens being used to explore the space rather than the splice. The absence of editing makes us feel that we have happened upon a domestic nightmare instead of a film.

Those who say that Woody Allen hasn’t made a good movie since “Hannah and Her Sisters” haven’t seen his often overlooked “Husbands and Wives” (1992). The film tells us that there is no such thing as a perfect relationship, and even adults can act childish when it comes to love.

The hand-held camera style in the film’s opening shot, which goes on forever without a single edit, is disorienting and nauseating. We learn that Sally and Jack (Judy Davis and Sydney Pollack) have just decided to get a divorce, an announcement that upsets Gabe and Judy Roth (Woody Allen and Mia Farrow).

The film then turns into a docudrama: static, grounded shots alternate with imperfect, handheld ones. An omnipresent narrator, or perhaps psychiatrist, always heard but never seen, interviews the various players, treating the whole story as a work of truth.

While Jack moves on quickly from the relationship and finds a new woman in a matter of weeks, Sally takes it much harder and becomes quite depressed, that is until she meets Judy’s younger co-worker Michael Gates (Liam Neeson). Sally and Jack’s breakup shakes Gabe and Judy to the core, and causes them to question even the minutest aspects of their relationship, especially when Gabe begins to pay special attention to one of his English students, Rain (Juliette Lewis). After she introduces Michael and Sally, Judy realizes that she has feelings for Michael and becomes resentful.

While she only plays a supporting role, Davis shines brightly through the character of Sally. She plays Sally with a mixture of composure and fragility. She is intelligent (the wheels in her brain are always turning), yet she is not completely attached. The scene in which she is on the phone at a co-worker’s apartment, talking to her ex-husband who has just moved in with another woman, is emotional charged and overwhelming.

The editing is at times jarring and strange. We never get the luxury of finding our footing in the film. The rawness of “Husbands and Wives” is terribly unsettling. There is always a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness.

Allen’s camera lingers longingly, using the lens to explore the space rather than the splice. The absence of editing makes us feel that we have happened upon a domestic nightmare, instead of a film.

The most volatile scene in the film occurs when Jack and his new girlfriend Sam are leaving a party and are in the middle of a terrible argument. He’s a little drunk and doesn’t take nicely to her wanting to leave. He’s extremely rough and almost abusive with her, tossing her around.

She is screaming, while he’s just trying to get her in the car. By the time the whole ordeal is over, a crowd has grown and Jack becomes concerned with just trying to save his dignity.

Relationship problems are so private, to be discussed behind closed doors. But Allen puts them all out in the open, right in our face. We’ve all been privy to marital spats at some point in our lives, and can remember how we felt as we watched or heard. We bring that to the table when watching “Husbands and Wives.”

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