by Tim Gordon
With a powerhouse cast, the backing of executive producer Steven Soderbergh, and the dynamic backdrop of modern-day Brooklyn, Love, Brooklyn arrives with all the trappings of a Sundance standout. But while the film boasts moments of warmth and authenticity, its narrative struggles to match the talent assembled on screen, resulting in a drama that feels more like a missed connection than a cinematic romance.
Directed by Rachael Abigail Holder in her feature debut and written by Paul Zimmerman, the film follows three interconnected Brooklynites, Roger (André Holland), Casey (Nicole Beharie), and Nicole (DeWanda Wise), as they navigate the emotional minefields of love, ambition, and self-definition. The premise sets the stage for a rich exploration of relationships and identity in one of America’s most culturally vibrant boroughs. But instead of delivering something fresh or emotionally resonant, Love, Brooklyn gets tangled in thin characterization and underdeveloped arcs.
André Holland leads the film as Roger, a quietly charismatic but indecisive man caught between two women, one representing his past, the other, his potential future. The dynamic plays like a reverse She’s Gotta Have It, but lacks the urgency, sensuality, and insight that made that Spike Lee joint so enduring. Holland does what he can with a frustratingly passive character, his performance simmering with internal tension that the script never allows to boil over.
Both Nicole Beharie and DeWanda Wise, two of the most compelling actors in independent cinema, give committed performances, but their characters feel more like narrative functions than fully realized women. Beharie brings quiet strength and restraint to Casey, a woman trying to balance motherhood, emotional vulnerability, and ambition. Wise, as Nicole (yes, confusingly sharing her real name), injects energy and spark into her scenes, but the film never digs deeply enough into what either woman truly wants or deserves.
The supporting cast includes a surprisingly grounded turn from Roy Wood Jr., who provides the film with occasional levity, and Cassandra Freeman, who deserves more screen time than she gets. Cadence Reese shows promise as Ally, the youngest character in the ensemble, representing a new generation of love, independence, and shifting values.
Visually, the film is easy on the eyes. Brooklyn is rendered with affection, not cliché tree-lined brownstones, elevated trains, and community spaces. The cinematography is warm and inviting, creating a sense of place that’s far more grounded than the storytelling itself.
What ultimately holds Love, Brooklyn back is its script, full of potential but lacking in momentum and emotional payoff. Conversations feel circular. Relationships don’t evolve so much as repeat. It wants to be a story about grown folks dealing with grown feelings, and at times, it scratches that surface, but it never quite earns the depth it’s aiming for.
It’s disappointing because the bones are there: three leads with magnetism, a setting rich in texture and identity, and themes of emotional vulnerability, Black love, and modern masculinity. But Love, Brooklyn, never finds the rhythm or weight it needs to resonate. What should feel intimate and lived-in instead plays like a sketch of a better film.
Grade: C-
