‘Love, Brooklyn’ Review: André Holland, Nicole Beharie and DeWanda Wise Charm in Tender but Overly Broad Debut Feature

In her endearing debut feature Love, Brooklyn, the director Rachael Abigail Holder observes New York through the eyes of a cyclist. The perspective is refreshing for its relative novelty: Stories about the bustling metropolis tend to privilege walkers and straphangers. But bikers see too, especially Roger (André Holland, charming as always), a writer struggling to face his scattered emotional life and a looming magazine deadline. As he cycles around Brooklyn, riding through Fort Greene or traversing Bedford-Stuyvesant, he marvels at the stately brownstones, tree-lined streets and other beautiful features of the borough. 

Premiering at the Sundance Film Festival, Love, Brooklyn aims to be an ode to a city undergoing dramatic change. In the world of the film, which was written by Paul Zimmerman, New York has just emerged from COVID-19 lockdowns and Roger has been commissioned by an editor (Lisa Lucas) to write about its new chapter. Which part of the city is hazy — although the film is set in Brooklyn and the characters engage specifically with the borough, excerpts of Roger’s piece, read by Holland in voiceover, often refer to New York more generally. Roger’s editorial mandate, like parts of Holder’s film, feel almost too broad and vague.

At its most focused, Love, Brooklyn zeroes in on Roger and his complicated relationship to his ex-girlfriend Casey (Nicole Beharie) and his current lover Nicole (DeWanda Wise). The writer, so able to pontificate at length about ideas, struggles to untangle his feelings for both women. In the film’s opening scene, Roger tests the waters with Casey, an art dealer running a small gallery in Bed-Stuy. During dinner, at a dimly lit restaurant somewhere in Brooklyn, he wonders if she might stay for another drink or see a Roy DeCarava show with him sometime. Casey rejects him, but Roger is not without options. A few scenes later, he visits Nicole, a massage therapist with whom he’s been sleeping, and has a nightcap. 

Unable to choose between reliving the past or forging a new future, Roger waffles between the two relationships. Sometimes, he laments to his best friend Alan (a very funny Roy Wood Jr.) during their daily hang at a local coffee shop. Holder stages these scenes at Sincerely, Tommy, a Black-owned café and retailer in Bed-Stuy, and that kind of specificity in location choices elevates the film. Alan, friends with both Casey and Roger, has his own issues: He fantasizes about having affairs but can’t bring himself to cheat on his wife (Saycon Sengbloh). In these moments, when the characters reflect on the state of their lives and litigate personal issues, Love, Brooklyn grounds itself in the casual humor and honest register of contemporary classics like Love Jones and Brown Sugar.

Holder’s cast — assembled with the help of Rebecca Dealy —  helps cinch this tone. In last year’s Exhibiting Forgiveness (another Sundance entrant), Holland, playing a painter struggling to reconcile with his father, built on his gentle, understated performance style. In Love, Brooklyn, the actor leans into the fun of a more abrasive character. Roger, while well-meaning, behaves selfishly and relies on a sly combination of charm and humor to deflect from genuine emotional connection. It’s nice to see Holland flex his comedic chops and play a complicated romantic lead. He and Beharie make an especially winning pair, with their blush-inducing chemistry. The two slip easily into the kind of familiar intimacy of exes unable to quit each other.

Wise holds her own as Nicole, a widow and single mother studying to be a massage therapist. She balances her character’s no-nonsense attitude (Nicole’s ability to set boundaries needs to be studied) with real vulnerability. Although Nicole, Casey and Roger are entangled, they don’t want to hurt each other, and their conversations have a bracing honesty to them. 

The strengths of Love, Brooklyn make the weaknesses harder to shake. For every scene bursting with energy and texture, there are oddly vague moments that destabilize its hold on us. For a post-lockdown New York, this version of Brooklyn is eerily quiet. Bedford Stuyvesant doesn’t attract large crowds, but it’s also not a ghost town. There are moments when Roger and Casey amble through Fort Greene and the neighborhood seems uncharacteristically stripped of life. (It’s also been a while since anyone could find a yellow cab in an outer borough.)

And then there are the characters, from whom this critic wanted more detail. Even cursory mentions or references to past lives — is Roger a native New Yorker or has he, like so many others, made this place home? How does Nicole, at least a third-generation resident of Bedford Stuyvesant, feel about the city’s changing landscape? — would have been welcome. One needn’t bluntly insert these facts, but there are times when Zimmerman’s screenplay, aiming for a kind of universality, sacrifices potential depth. 

As Love, Brooklyn meanders, slinking in and out of these lives, Roger’s cycling scenes gain a greater significance. Sometimes we watch him from an almost bird’s-eye view, observing as he weaves through mild vehicular traffic and dodging inattentive pedestrians. Other times, assuming his perspective, we marvel at the dancing branches of trees near the Brooklyn Museum. These moments are a tender reminder from Holder that a city will always be recognizable to those who pay attention.