Ke Huy Quan Fights to save this Painful Action-Comedy.
DIRECTED BY JONATHAN EUSEBIO/2025
Whenever a stunt guy directs a movie these days, it’s practically a given that there will be some degree of sausage party dude-bro flair. (Think Deadpool or 2022’s Bullet Train). Love Hurts, the janky new action-“comedy” from ubiquitous stunt coordinator and sometimes-actor Jonathan Eusebio (having vitally contributed to everything from The Fall Guy to The Wolverine to Obi-Wan Kenobi to Black Panther, John Wick, and Anchorman 2) certainly makes good in this department. From the prioritizing of “wild” camera moves and blocking to the garish neon saturation of the film’s decadent tough-guy bars, the film essentially kicks viewers in the face with its repeated tired aesthetic grasps at coolness. (At one point we even get a shot through a bullet hole in someone’s head. How kewl, man.) In this and most every other way, Love Hurts is an abject failure.
Although Oscar winner and fellow stunt professional Ke Huy Quan (Everything Everywhere All at Once; Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom) does what he can to imbue this hackneyed misfire with some relatable lovability, it’s just no good. Quan plays nebbish and aspiring realtor Marvin Gable, recently rendered single and still pining for his lost ex, Rose (Ariana DeBose).
Their story is complicated by the fact that Marvin’s previous profession was that of cold-blooded assassin, his final assignment involving her. Such details are parsed out throughout Love Hurts as nonlinear flashbacks and/or minutes-long clunky exposition dumps. Tracking this and the film’s other backstories are like watching inexperienced storytelling pound together a toddler’s jigsaw puzzle with only their clinched fists. In fits and starts, co-stars Sean Astin, Daniel Wu, Cam Gigandet, and André Eriksen factor in.
I feel badly for Quan, as this is when he’s supposed to be cashing in on his Oscar win. This is worse than when Nicolas Cage used his Leaving Las Vegas awards clout to abruptly go full action star in nonsense like The Rock and Con Air. As big and noisy and overstuffed as those Bruckheimer-era projects are, at least they feel like real movies. Not the case with Love Hurts, which doesn’t even bother to pony up to needle-drop any incarnation of its namesake song. Even the action- the film’s biggest selling point- is compromised at times by the obvious use of CGI stunt doubles taking the worst of the worst hits.
DeBose as the also-lethal love interest of the picture is simply cringy. Not only is it impossible for the audience to fall in love with her (thereby aligning viewers’ interests with those of the main character), she’s also downright alienating in this messy role. Much more likeable is Ashley (Lio Tipton), Marvin’s quirky coworker at the real estate office. When we meet her, she’s plotting a hasty retreat ahead of the dreaded office Valentine’s Day party. Of course, that isn’t what happens.
Events converge to not only keep her stuck at work (whah-whaaa), but she also meets and connects with an imposing assassin/poet known as The Raven (a striking Mustafa Shakir) who’d been dispatched to murder Marvin. If Love Hurts had instead been about these characters, perhaps it would’ve helped. As it is, we limp out of this obviously-low-budget misfire shaking our heads and observing that Marvin was after the wrong girl.
If it’s possible to portray Winnipeg, Manitoba (doubling for suburban Wisconsin, if I recall properly) in a cinematically pleasing light, Love Hurts isn’t the project to prove it. One could get whiplash from the sudden aesthetic shifts from the drab, blah neighborhood exteriors and the overdressed seediness of the aforementioned tough-guy bars and bad guy chambers. The film seems to want to lean into the irony of its forced art direction (Marvin must’ve invested half a million dollars in his dopey amateur real estate signage that’s everywhere) with knowing winks (“Haha! We know this is cheesy!”), but all we see are tax credits pouring into the producers’ pockets (“Just film this crap and let’s get the hell outta here!”)
The best thing that can be said about Love Hurts is that it’s only eighty-three minutes long. That said, it does feel every bit of two-plus hours. As usual, self-congratulatory “cleverness” and tired Kick Ass-era visual bluster only bulk up a movie in places that don’t need bulking. If someone using a fat boba tea straw as a death weapon sounds good to you, then maybe check out Love Hurts. Otherwise, it’s an action movie on discount steroids- unfunny, unlovable, tiring, and unconvincingly posing as something deserving of a theatrical release. If anything, it demonstrates that we might owe Bullet Train an apology.