Love, Brooklyn – BFI London Film Festival Review
Roger’s (André Holland) life revolves around two women. First there’s Casey (Nicole Beharie), a gallery owner he used to date. While they aren’t together romantically any more, neither of them seem to know why. And then there’s Nicole (DeWanda Wise), a single mom and widowed masseuse, with whom Roger has embarked on a tentative relationship. Against the background of a gentrified Brooklyn, the three pivot around each other, no-one sure where their lives will take them next.
Besides the romantic trio, Rachel Abigail Holder’s Love, Brooklyn is also, sporadically, a look at gentrification in the NYC borough that shares the movie’s name. Roger is a writer who’s struggling with an article about how the city has changed since he’s been living there, annoying his editor with his refusal to give her a draft. Gentrification in New York has been a preoccupation of romantic comedies as far back as 1998’s You’ve Got Mail, and the datedness of that trope, combined with the half-hearted ways in which its used in the film, are symptomatic of a production that feels tired and lethargic throughout. (Never mind that one third of the main love triangle has the most stereotypical of all rom-com jobs, a gallery owner).
More than anything else, the problem with Love, Brooklyn is that it’s so wishy-washy, it’s hard to know what eventuality we’re meant to root for. Although Roger, Casey and Nicole are played by appealing, skilful actors, there’s not an abundance of chemistry flying out in any direction. It doesn’t help that of the three, Roger’s character is drawn with the least texture. While he’s a charming guy, he only appears to exist in the context of the two women – all we know about him is that he’s a writer (one with tired ideas at that), who loves to ride his bike around Brooklyn. Neither Casey or Nicole – particularly Nicole, who’s dealing with both her own grief and raising a bereaved young daughter (Cadence Reese) – seem like their lives would be particularly enhanced by having him in them.
Perhaps these structural problems, and the general stakeslessness, might have been surmountable if there was some wit to Paul Zimmerman’s script. There is not. This is particularly egregious when it comes to a ‘comic’ subplot featuring Roy Wood Jr., who’s playing Roger’s best friend, Alan. For some reason, Alan wants to cheat on the kind, supportive wife, whom he loves. This subplot just hangs there, like a limp fish. As with the rest of the movie, it’s not the actor’s fault – Wood Jr., the funniest correspondent during the Trevor Noah era of The Daily Show, is a comedian by trade, and a good one. But he needs something to work with, and Love, Brooklyn gives him precisely nothing.
If you squint really hard, there are the bones of an interesting story here in the way the changing face of a city over many years mirrors the changing nature of relationships, and how adapting to both is both difficult and necessary. Unfortunately, the actual experience of watching Love, Brooklyn is so underwhelming, it’s difficult to care.
★★
