‘Love Hurts’ — But It’s Not as Painful as Watching This Movie

You can’t discount the sheer amount of good will that Ke Huy Quan generated when Everything Everywhere All at Once turned him into the Official Comeback Kid of 2022. The narrative read like a true Hollywood success story, even if it was Hollywood that sidelined him in the first place: Former child star turns for-hire stunt coordinator turns scene-stealing ensemble player turns well-deserved Oscar winner. His mix of sunniness and serious screen-fighting chops — has anyone ever wielded a fanny pack with such grace and deadly force? — made him an ideal everyguy action hero. You couldn’t wait to see what Ke would do next, now that he had a proper spotlight to step into.

Had we known the answer would be Love Hurts, we might not have been so anxious or enthusiastic. A stock riff on the ol’ former-killer-dragged-back-into-the-life scenario, this star vehicle for Quan couldn’t feel more D.O.A., even if the star himself gamely tries to inject life into it at every opportunity. The mix of behind-the-camera pedigree, name-above-the-title novelty and the actor’s newly minted ass-kicking persona should have made this a surefire mix of thrills, spills, humor and mayhem. What’s onscreen, however, just feels like a lot of poorly choreographed chaos masquerading as an action movie. Fans of the genre might want to consider suing for false advertising.

Marvin Gables (Quan) is the sort of solid, hard-working citizen that any suburbanite would be lucky to count as their neighbor. He couldn’t be happier selling homes in the greater Milwaukee area, or prouder of his recent win as the Regional Realtor of the Year. His boss (played by fellow Goonie Sean Astin) considers him the model employee, his colleagues consider him a mentor and his clients love the personal touches he brings, like those homebaked cookies he sets out when he’s showing houses. Marvin is the American Dream in miniature, modestly made manifest.

Then a Valentine’s Day card arrives. Nothing unusual about that, given that the holiday is right around the corner. But Marvin is instantly spooked. The message inside freaks him out even more: “I’m back.” The minute he steps inside his frosted-glass office, Marvin is cold-cocked. When he awakens, he discovers a knife pinning his hand to his desk. An eloquent hit man named “The Raven” (Mustafa Shakir) needs to deliver a message: Go see “Knuckles.” The gent with the 1930s puglist’s nickname is a gangster who controls the Badger State’s underworld. He is also Marvin’s brother (Daniel Wu).

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Because once upon a time, Marvin worked for his sibling as an enforcer, and had no problem beating the crap out of and/or putting a bullet into anyone who crossed the boss’s path. (The one governing rule that everyone repeats ad nauseam in the movie, in regards to this criminal empire: “You steal from Knuckles, you die.” Ok!) And Marvin was tasked by his brother to “take care” of an employee named Rose (Ariana DeBose) who stole from Knuckles. Except Marvin was in love with her. So he drives her to a gravesite in the middle of nowhere, and instead of killing her, Marvin lets her go. The caveat is that she can never, ever come back. Which means the message in that Valentine’s Day card is a broken promise that promises broken limbs in the very near future for Marvin and a lotta other folks.

Back to that standoff in Marvin’s office: The best damn real-estate agent in the county manages to free himself and go toe-to-toe with the Raven, who’s handy with a knife and some rather large blades he attaches to wristbands as well. Finally, some fighting! It takes less than a minute of watching the sequence, however, to realize that the close combat seems impressive… when you can actually clock what’s going on. It’s an early omen that Love Hurts may be filled with a lot of John Wick-style punches, kicks, body blows, and whizzing sharp objects — as well as some mild gun fu, once fellow assassins André Ericksen and Marshawn “Beastmode” Lynch show up later on — but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the scenes will be choreographed with the sort of creativity, care and cinematic chutzpah you associate with that Keanu Reeves franchise.

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Which is curious, given that the ace stunt design collective 87Eleven, i.e. the same company that gave us the Wick films as well as the Bob Odenkirk-kicks-ass thriller Nobody (2021) and a host of other crash-bang-boom genre standouts, is behind all of this. It’s also the first directorial effort of Jonathan Eubenio, whose resumé as a stunt and fight coordinator includes several MCU movies, The Fall Guy, The Matrix Resurrections and both the original and the final John Wick flicks. These are professionals at work here, and yet the staging of virtually every kinetic showstopper feels haphazard at best. It’s all just noise and endlessly manic, blunt-force crashing into things. Combine that with some lazy storytelling, Lincoln Tunnel-sized plot holes and a couple of gags that fizzle before they’ve even fully started (see: a rival played by Property Brother Drew Scott who brags about his black belt in karate), and instead of being bowled over by first-rate elegant violence, you’re left bewildered and wondering: What exactly went wrong here?

Even the half-hearted attempts at quirkiness, via the Raven also being a poet who’s work woos Marvin’s assistant, Ashley (Lio Tipton), have a sort of flop-sweat desperation to them that just leaves you feeling restless. Quan, unsurprisingly, saves the day onscreen, even if he can’t managed the Herculean effort of salvaging this poorly executed mishmash of crime-movie clichés. We truly hope someone steps up and gives him a truly excellent showcase for his skills some day. Because this isn’t it. Love may hurt, sure. But it’s not nearly as painful as being forced to watch a great actor stuck in a bad movie.