A DULL AND BLEEDING HEART
Valentine’s Day, also known as Saint Valentine’s Day or the Feast of Saint Valentine, is a celebrated holiday observed annually on February 14th. Originally rooted in the Christian tradition as a feast day honoring a martyred figure named Valentine, the occasion has since evolved into a significant religious, cultural, and commercial celebration, symbolizing love and romance across many regions of the world. Much like other festive holidays such as Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day has gradually taken on a more commercialized identity. This includes the exchange of greeting cards (often referred to as “valentines”), the gifting of flowers and chocolates, and imagery associated with love—such as heart-shaped symbols, white doves, and the ever-iconic Cupid. Naturally, the season of affection often inspires people to cozy up with a romantic film, making love stories a mainstay of Valentine’s Day traditions. Over the years, several titles have become fan-favorite staples for the holiday, including Sleepless in Seattle (1993), My Best Friend’s Wedding (1997), Something’s Gotta Give (2003), The Notebook (2004), Pride & Prejudice (2005), Blue Valentine (2010), and Valentine’s Day (2010), among others. Now, Universal Pictures and director Jonathan Eusebio offer up the latest addition to this growing cinematic roster with the release of Love Hurts, a new action-comedy centered around romance and chaos during this festive holiday. Does this latest Valentine’s Day feature find genuine “heart” within its storytelling? Or is it just a shallow attempt that falls short of being truly “worthy of love”?
THE STORY
Marvin Gabl (Ke Huy Quan) is a top-performing real estate agent in his Wisconsin hometown, winning accolades for his sales record and earning the praise of his boss, Cliff Cussick (Sean Astin). Despite the occasional skepticism from his competitive co-worker Ashley (Lio Tipton), Marvin remains optimistic and grounded, content with his life and career. However, his world is thrown into chaos when Rose Carlisle (Ariana DeBose), a woman from his past, suddenly reappears. Her return dredges up old secrets, forcing Marvin to confront a former life he thought he had buried: his past as an enforcer for his estranged brother Knuckles (Daniel Wu), a ruthless crime boss. Now marked for death, Marvin becomes a target when Knuckles learns that Rose, who was meant to be eliminated years ago, is still alive, spared only by Marvin’s decision to let her go out of love. With tensions escalating, Marvin finds himself caught between his violent past and a desperate attempt to protect Rose. Complicating matters further is the arrival of Renny Merlo (Cam Gigandet), a relentless mercenary pursuing Rose for information about a stash of missing Russian money. As Marvin fends off a slew of eccentric and dangerous henchmen, including The Raven (Mustafa Shakir), Otis (Andre Eriksen), and King (Marshawn Lynch), he must navigate a treacherous path of redemption, romance, and survival, all while trying to reconnect with the one woman he never truly got over.
THE GOOD / THE BAD
Like many widely celebrated holidays, Valentine’s Day has become heavily commercialized over the centuries. What began as a simple tradition of exchanging love letters and tokens of affection has transformed into a billion-dollar industry driven by greeting cards, flowers, chocolates, plush toys, and all manner of themed gifts. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s a natural evolution of a beloved holiday. It’s not unlike Thanksgiving, which originally centered on a meal of gratitude with family and friends, but has since ballooned into a four-day spectacle of shopping sprees, football games, and seasonal stress. Yet, at its core, Valentine’s Day still represents something meaningful, a time to reflect on love and affection for others. It’s a hallmark tradition that isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Naturally, romantic movies have also become synonymous with Valentine’s Day festivities, offering viewers heartfelt stories and emotional escapism. Whether it’s the lighthearted charm of romantic comedies or the more somber pull of romantic dramas, these films have long been a go-to tradition for the holiday. Personally, I’ve always enjoyed romantic comedies, so I understand why films like Something’s Gotta Give, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Bridget Jones’s Diary, and Marry Me are often revisited this time of year. Even deeper romantic dramas such as The Notebook have become staples. And I’d be remiss not to mention 2010’s Valentine’s Day, which, despite its flaws, does capture the ensemble spirit of the holiday through its varied vignettes of love.
This brings me to Love Hurts, the 2025 action-comedy that attempts to blend romance with absurdity and violence, using Valentine’s Day as its backdrop. Truth be told, I hadn’t heard much about this film when it was first announced. The director, the cast, even the premise, all flew under my radar. My first real exposure to it came when I saw the trailer play before another movie at the theater. From that trailer, Love Hurts looked like it might be quirky, maybe even fun. The plot seemed silly—but possibly with purpose, and I was curious to see Ke Huy Quan in the lead role, alongside Ariana DeBose. I’ll admit, using Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” in the trailer definitely caught my attention (I’m a sucker for that song).
So, while Love Hurts wasn’t a “must-see” for me when it hit theaters on February 7th, 2025, as I did miss the chance to see it during its theatrical run, I finally had a chance to rent it on streaming after clearing out my backlog of 2024 movie reviews. Unfortunately, the results were disappointing. Despite a humorous setup and the promising pairing of Quan and DeBose, Love Hurts ends up being a messy, bland, meandering film that never fully embraces its own potential. With better direction, sharper storytelling, and a more cohesive vision, it might have had a chance to rise above mediocrity. But as it stands, it’s a forgettable effort that struggles to find its own footing.
Love Hurts is directed by Jonathan Eusebio, marking his official directorial debut. With a strong background as a stunt coordinator on numerous action-heavy films like John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum, Violent Night, and The Fall Guy, Eusebio initially seems like a fitting choice to helm a movie that blends high-octane action with comedic flair. And to his credit, there are a few aspects of his approach that do work in the film’s favor.
For starters, the premise, though simple, is presented in a way that has potential, particularly with someone like Ke Huy Quan in the lead. The concept of a reformed hitman turned suburban real estate agent getting pulled back into his dangerous past has comedic and action-driven possibilities, and Eusebio taps into that dynamic just enough to make certain scenes amusing. There’s also a clear effort to balance the film’s stunt work with its more comedic beats, which gives the movie a playful tone that works in small doses. One of the stronger decisions on Eusebio’s part is keeping the film’s runtime short and to the point. At just around 83 minutes, Love Hurts doesn’t waste time with unnecessary filler and generally keeps its pacing tight. Even with all of its flaws, the movie doesn’t overstay its welcome—a rare trait in today’s landscape of bloated runtimes.
In the end, while Love Hurts is far from being a standout entry in the action-comedy genre, Eusebio does manage to deliver a few modestly redeeming elements in his first outing as director. The film may be forgettable overall, but it shows that Eusebio has the potential to build upon his strengths—especially if paired with a stronger script and more consistent direction in the future.
In terms of presentation, Love Hurts is visually adequate and meets the industry standard for creating a functional backdrop for its characters and plot. Given its modest $18 million budget, the film doesn’t strive for elaborate set pieces or globe-trotting locations, and thankfully, it doesn’t need to. The story is largely grounded in a suburban Wisconsin setting, and that aesthetic is effectively captured throughout. The modest neighborhood look, with its quiet streets, cozy homes, and small-town charm, feels appropriate for the narrative. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but it works within the confines of the story.
The film’s core “behind the scenes” production team deserves some credit for bringing this setting to life. Production designer Craig Sandells, set decorator C. Summers Holmes, costume designer Patricia J. Henderson, and art director Robert K. Laurie all contribute to crafting a believable and lived-in world that supports the movie’s tone. On the technical side, Bridger Nielson’s cinematography is serviceable, there are a few creative camera angles and mildly dynamic sequences sprinkled throughout, but the majority of the film’s visuals are fairly straightforward. It’s competent but uninspired. Similarly, the musical score by Dominic Lewis functions well enough in supporting key scenes and mood shifts. However, it lacks any memorable motifs or standout tracks. It’s the kind of background music that does its job, but leaves no lasting impression, perfectly fine, yet entirely forgettable.
Unfortunately, for all its visual competence, Love Hurts suffers from deeper structural and tonal issues that keep it from finding its footing. The film tries to go all-in on high-octane action and offbeat comedy, but its ambitions far exceed its execution. The result is a project that feels weighed down by its own aspirations, constantly tripping over the very genre tropes it aims to embrace. The film is riddled with clichés, so much so that it feels less like a homage to classic action-comedy hybrids and more like a patchwork of uninspired formulas. It desperately tries to find a unique identity but ends up feeling flat and forgettable. The final product is generic, lacking flavor or edge, and leaves behind a sour aftertaste that will likely linger with viewers.
So where does the blame lie? Much of it points to director Jonathan Eusebio. While Eusebio does have experience in the industry, mostly serving as a second-unit or stunt coordinator on other projects, helming a feature film solo proves to be a daunting challenge. Love Hurts makes it clear that he lacks the directorial finesse and vision needed to bring all the pieces together. The storytelling is clunky, the pacing uneven, and the tonal shifts awkward. These weaknesses become especially apparent in the film’s second act, which drags considerably. Dialogue-heavy scenes meander without purpose or momentum, and it begins to feel as though the film is stalling for time. Eusebio seems unsure of how to guide the narrative forward, and it shows.
Perhaps if he had collaborated with a co-director, someone more experienced in narrative structure or tone balancing, the movie might have found more direction. As it stands, Love Hurts is a film that wants to do a lot, but ends up doing very little with any impact.
Another major criticism aimed at Love Hurts lies in its formulaic and uninspired script, which contributes heavily to the film’s overall mediocrity. Written by Matthew Murray, Josh Stoddard, and Luke Passmore, the screenplay feels painfully generic, almost like a poorly constructed “B-movie” effort. While leaning into genre tropes can sometimes work as a form of homage or parody, here it simply doesn’t. The film relies on tired action-comedy clichés without offering any fresh spin or subversion. Attempts to weave in twists and narrative turns fall flat, feeling predictable and weak. Even several subplots, ones that could have helped flesh out the characters or add emotional depth, are left underdeveloped, amounting to little more than missed opportunities.
The dialogue fares no better. Much of it feels wooden, awkward, and uninspired, reminiscent of something you might expect from a made-for-TV movie. Conversations lack wit, emotional resonance, or natural rhythm, and often feel like placeholder lines that were never properly refined. Much like the direction, the writing suffers from a lack of finesse and experience. One can’t help but wonder how much stronger this film could have been had more seasoned or creatively attuned writers been brought on board. As it stands, the script is one of Love Hurts’ most glaring weaknesses, plagued by lazy plotting, weak characters, and underwhelming storytelling.
On top of that, some of the film’s action scenes are edited in a strange, disjointed manner. It’s hard to tell who exactly is to blame, whether it was the editors, the director, or a combination of both, but certain sequences appear as if they’ve been sped up in post-production, creating a jarring “fast-forward” effect. Presumably, this was intended to heighten the chaotic energy and give the action a frantic, over-the-top feel. However, this approach backfires. Instead of appearing energetic or stylish, the result feels sloppy, cartoonish, and ultimately cheap. It’s a distracting choice that only further undermines the film’s attempts to blend action with comedy.
Next, let’s talk about the acting, because yes, it definitely comes into question. I won’t dive into all the details here (I already covered specific performances earlier), but I will say this: the overall acting feels uneven and overly exaggerated, bordering on “B-movie” levels of cheesiness. Now, I wasn’t expecting Love Hurts to be a masterclass in dramatic acting, despite having two Oscar winners in the cast, but what we get feels hokey more often than not. Line delivery is occasionally flat, comedic beats don’t always land, and dramatic moments are either overplayed or emotionally hollow. The result is a level of inconsistent commitment from most of the cast, which reflects the film’s broader identity crisis. Some actors lean into the absurdity, while others try to play it straight, leaving the tone scattered and muddled.
Another major issue I had with the film was its excessive use of violence and profanity, which pushed Love Hurts into R-rated territory. Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a well-executed R-rated action movie when the tone and story justify it. Films like John Wick, Deadpool, or even Bad Boys are prime examples of when over-the-top violence and language serve a purpose. In Love Hurts, however, the R-rated content feels largely unnecessary, inserted more for shock value than for narrative effect. The swearing (often used for comedic effect) feels forced, and the violence borders on cartoonish, with bursts of bloody mayhem that don’t align with the film’s lighter, quirky tone. It ends up feeling like an awkward mash-up of styles that don’t work together. Honestly, if the film had scaled back some of its more gratuitous elements, it could’ve easily earned a PG-13 rating, and perhaps would’ve been better off that way.
Lastly, the film’s ending feels rushed and half-baked, as if the creative team didn’t quite know how to wrap things up. The conclusion comes across as haphazard, trying to pull together all the narrative threads in a last-minute flurry of forced resolution. Whether this shortcoming is the fault of the script or the direction, or a combination of both, it leaves the film on a sour note. It’s cheesy, unfocused, and lacks the kind of satisfying payoff that a movie like this needs to stick the landing. It feels abrupt and unearned, closing the story without the emotional or narrative weight it clearly wanted to have.
The cast of Love Hurts is something of a mixed bag, with its ensemble of capable actors clearly game for the film’s madcap, action-comedy tone. Unfortunately, many of them are underutilized, given limited material, misguided direction, or simply cast into roles that fail to play to their strengths. There’s a clear willingness from the cast to embrace the chaotic energy of the story, but the execution often leaves them stranded with thinly written characters and uneven tonal shifts.
Leading the charge is actor Ke Huy Quan as the film’s central protagonist, Marvin Gabl, a former enforcer-turned-successful real estate agent trying to distance himself from a violent past. Quan, best known for his work in The Goonies, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and his Oscar-winning role in Everything Everywhere All at Once, has become a beloved figure in Hollywood thanks to his infectious enthusiasm and heartfelt performances. On paper, Marvin is a promising character, offering a duality between a mundane life and a shadowy past. There’s plenty of potential here for both drama and comedy, and a chance for Quan to flex both his action chops and his comedic timing.
To his credit, Quan gives a decent performance. His signature energy shines through, and it’s clear he’s having fun in the role. He even gets a few moments to lean into the action-comedy elements the movie tries to juggle. However, the character of Marvin is written in a disappointingly bland and formulaic way, falling into a generic “reluctant action hero” mold. Rather than carving out a unique or meaningful identity, Marvin often feels like a parody of better roles. The result is a flat character arc that wastes Quan’s charisma. It’s frustrating to watch because Quan is clearly invested, but he deserves far more than a cookie-cutter lead.
Standing opposite him is Ariana DeBose as Rose Carlisle, a former lawyer who knows too much about Knuckles’s criminal dealings and who resurfaces in Marvin’s life, kicking off the events of the film. DeBose, known for her roles in West Side Story, Wish, and Kraven the Hunter, has been steadily climbing the Hollywood ladder. On paper, her casting alongside Quan seems like a fun and dynamic pairing. Unfortunately, much like her performance in Kraven the Hunter, DeBose seems adrift here, uncertain of how to approach the role or how to navigate the uneven tone of the script.
Her portrayal of Rose begins with a playful edge, hinting at the character’s past chemistry with Marvin, but quickly pivots into serious territory with little warning. This tonal inconsistency creates a disjointed performance, and DeBose struggles to deliver the kind of dry wit or emotional depth the role demands. The script doesn’t help her either, Rose is meant to be the narrative’s catalyst, the reason everyone’s chasing each other, but the character is painted in such broad strokes that DeBose is left with little to work with.
Together, Quan and DeBose are immensely talented performers, both boasting recent Academy Award recognition. Their involvement in Love Hurts should have added gravitas to the project. Instead, their talents are squandered in a film that fails to give them strong material or coherent direction. Both actors try to make the best of what they’re given, but the end result is a pair of performances that are neither compelling nor memorable, further emphasizing just how much wasted potential lies at the heart of Love Hurts.
Perhaps the strongest performance in the film, and the one that feels the most fitting, is from actor Daniel Wu (Warcraft, Tomb Raider), who plays Alvin “Knuckles” Gabl, Marvin’s estranged and dangerous crime boss brother. Wu brings the right kind of tone and intensity to the role, exuding a commanding screen presence that makes Knuckles a legitimate threat whenever he appears. He clearly fits the role better than anyone else in the cast. Unfortunately, the character itself is disappointingly one-dimensional, essentially a stock villain archetype that brings nothing new to the table. Knuckles ends up feeling more like a familiar trope than a fleshed-out antagonist.
Following behind him in the villain category is actor Cam Gigandet (Twilight, The Magnificent Seven) as Renny Merlo, Knuckles’s right-hand man. Gigandet is a capable actor, which makes his underwhelming performance here all the more disappointing. His portrayal veers into cartoonish territory, with exaggerated delivery and forced bravado. The character of Renny is also oddly written, confusing and over-the-top in ways that feel unnecessary until the final act, where his presence finally ties into the story’s climax. Until then, he feels more like filler than an essential cog in the plot.
Unfortunately, things go further downhill with the next tier of characters, namely, Knuckles’s hired henchmen. This group includes the goofy duo of King and Otis, played by former NFL star Marshawn “Beastmode” Lynch and actor Andre Eriksen (Violent Night, The Trip), respectively, as well as the poetic assassin known as The Raven, played by actor Mustafa Shakir (Ghosted, Luke Cage). This trio is clearly meant to inject a dose of offbeat humor as the bumbling bad guy lackeys, but whether due to poor direction from Eusebio, awkward dialogue from the script, or miscasting, or perhaps a mix of all three, their presence falls flat. Instead of being memorable or entertaining, they come across as expendable and unfunny, lacking the charisma or wit needed to elevate their roles.
Adding to the character bloat is Ashley, Marvin’s gloomy, sarcastic real estate co-worker, played by actress Lio Tipton (Manhattan Love Story, Warm Bodies). While Tipton is a decent actress, the character of Ashley never really connects or feels integrated into the main plot. She exists mostly to offer a few dry remarks or skeptical looks, and that’s about it. Her scenes feel like filler, and her oddly placed romantic subplot with The Raven is not only poorly developed, it’s just plain bizarre. It adds nothing of value to the film and only emphasizes the already scattershot nature of the script.
The rest of the ensemble is made up of various minor players, including actor Rhys Darby (Flight of the Conchords, Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle) as the quirky Kippy Betts, actor Liam Stewart-Kanigan (Elevator Game, Aberdeen) as Liam, stunt actor Yoko Hamamura (Dune, The Beekeeper) as Eddie, reality TV personality Drew Scott (Property Brothers) in a cameo as rival agent Jeff Zaks, actor Adam Hurtig (Cult of Chucky, Nobody) and actress Stephanie Sy (FUBAR, Violent Night) as house-hunting couple Chet and Sherry Reeber, and actor Sean Astin (Rudy, The Lord of the Rings trilogy) as Marvin’s mentor and boss, Cliff Cussick. While none of these performances are bad per se, the characters themselves are paper-thin, fleeting presences in the story who serve little more than background dressing. There’s a real missed opportunity here, as many of them could’ve been expanded upon to provide more substance, but the film never takes the time to develop them beyond surface level.
FINAL THOUGHTS
Having left his violent past behind, real estate superstar Marvin Gabl is thrust back into chaos when his estranged brother and the woman he once spared resurface in his life, igniting a whirlwind of mayhem in the film Love Hurts. Director Jonathan Eusebio’s debut feature attempts to fuse the traditional elements of the action-comedy genre with a quirky Valentine’s Day backdrop, following a meek man forced to reconnect with his dangerous past. It’s an amusing setup with some fun potential—on paper, at least, but unfortunately, everything quickly falls apart. Despite its best efforts to deliver laughs, thrills, and heart, the film is plagued by a host of issues: inconsistent direction, a painfully bland script, poorly developed characters, awkward dialogue, and a handful of wasted performances from genuinely talented actors. Personally, I didn’t enjoy this movie at all. I had a sneaking suspicion that Love Hurts could go one of two ways, either as a surprise sleeper hit or an unfortunate misfire, and, sadly, it landed firmly in the latter category. While there are hints of potential scattered throughout, nothing ever fully materializes. Instead, the film stumbles over its own ambition, cobbling together genre clichés and familiar tropes without ever forming a voice of its own. It’s especially disappointing to see Ke Huy Quan and Ariana DeBose attached to a project that gives them so little to work with. Both are talented, award-winning performers who deserve more substantial roles—and this film does them no favors. The result is a bland, forgettable effort that feels more like a missed opportunity than anything else. As such, my recommendation for Love Hurts is a firm “skip it.” The movie fails to offer anything worthwhile for fans of the action-comedy genre or for those hoping for a quirky romantic romp in time for Valentine’s Day. In the end, Love Hurts is a disposable, half-baked 2025 release that never rises to the challenge, delivering a cinematic experience as hollow as it is forgettable. It’s a dull and bleeding heart of a movie, one that ultimately fades into theatrical obscurity, with little love lost.
1.7 Out of 5 (Skip It)
The official website link for Love Hurts: HERE
Released On: February 7th, 2025
Reviewed On: May 19th, 2025
Love Hurts is 83 minutes long and is rated R for strong / bloody violence and language throughout
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