Ke Huy Quan gives this action romance warmth and some nimble fighting, but the script leaves him stranded between explanations and an unconvincing courtship. There is enough ability here to make the waste of it frustrating.
Love Hurts gives Ke Huy Quan a promising comic predicament: an estate agent whose former profession was killing people. Jonathan Eusebio draws an appealing performance from Ke Huy Quan, but the resulting action romance is a disappointment. The fights supply some pleasure, but criminal explanations keep holding things up. The love story offers little reason to care about the interruptions. Even at 83 minutes, there is too much waiting for the film to become fun.
Ke Huy Quan brings a sincerity to Marvin Gable that the writing badly needs, making his mild manners feel like something worth preserving. We enjoyed watching him fight, because the quick movement and inventive use of weapons allow his comic skill to emerge without another speech. Jonathan Eusebio understands how an unlikely fighter can keep a confrontation amusing through resourcefulness, and some sequences justify the casting on their own. Bridger Nielson’s photography gives us a clear enough view of the physical work to appreciate it, though the encounters rarely feel dangerous.
The screenplay, credited to Luke Passmore, Josh Stoddard and Matthew Murray, keeps returning to criminal family business as though additional explanation will make it more interesting. It does not give the people involved enough depth to reward the attention it demands. We were bored by these passages, and increasingly impatient with their habit of interrupting the action. A comedy can get away with an unlikely plot if its characters have something funny to say about it. Here the dialogue leaves the performers doing too much of the work.
The romance has a related problem. Ariana DeBose’s Rose Carlisle is meant to help make Marvin’s story matter beyond the fighting, but the central relationship never becomes convincing enough to carry that responsibility. Both leads have appeal; the screenplay seems to assume that putting them together will finish the job. The side story involving Ashley and The Raven offers a little more pleasure, with Lio Tipton and Mustafa Shakir providing welcome company. That diversion also makes the thinness of the main pairing harder to ignore.
The rest of the craft does little to give the film a personality. Craig Sandells’s production design leaves the fighting in bland surroundings, with too little sense that a particular encounter belongs in a particular place. Elísabet Ronaldsdóttir’s editing gets some momentum into the combat, yet the repeated return to exposition makes the film feel stop-start. Dominic Lewis’s score adds little urgency to the fights, and does not make the pauses between them feel any shorter. Nothing needs to be more elaborate; the film needs fewer explanations, more distinctive places and a reason to believe these two people want each other.
An action comedy can survive a flimsy story; it still needs characters who are enjoyable company when nobody is throwing a punch. Love Hurts has enough skill in its fights to suggest that it could have met that modest standard. It also has a lead we would happily spend more time with, although this film gives him too little worth saying. Unless his physical performance is the main attraction, we would choose something else.