Love Hurts is the kind of movie that makes you want to root for it — until it breaks your heart. Directed by stunt coordinator-turned-filmmaker JoJo Eusebio in his feature debut, this Valentine’s Day action romp has all the ingredients for a sleeper hit: a charming lead, a solid premise, and a pedigree from the production house behind Nobody and Bullet Train. 

 

The film stars Ke Huy Quan, Hollywood’s most lovable comeback kid, as Marvin Gable, a chipper Milwaukee realtor with a dark past. When a crimson envelope from his former partner-in-crime, Rose (Ariana DeBose), arrives, Marvin is thrust back into a world of hitmen, double-crosses, and open houses turned war zones. It’s Grosse Pointe Blank meets John Wick, with a dash of Jackie Chan chaos — or, at least, it tries to be.  

 

Quan is the film’s saving grace. His Marvin is a delightful mix of cheerful realtor and reluctant action hero, and he handles the fight choreography with ease. The opening scene, which sees Marvin fending off attackers with a stapler and a coffee mug, is a blast, and the final 10 minutes deliver the kind of hyper-violent, high-octane fun the trailer promises. But almost everything in between is a total slog. 

 

The script, penned by Matthew Murray, Josh Stoddard, and Luke Passmore, is a mess. The dialogue is clunky, the sideplots are ludicrous, and the villains are so wooden they might as well be made of old plywood. Daniel Wu, as Marvin’s crime lord brother Knuckles, tries his best, but even he can’t salvage the shallow material. Oscar winner Ariana DeBose, meanwhile, feels oddly flat, and the 20-year age gap between her and Quan adds an uncomfortable layer to their romantic tension.  

 

The supporting cast is a mixed bag. Lio Tipton shines in a thankless role, making the most of a poorly written arc, while Rhys Darby is criminally underused. Sean Astin just feels completely out of place, and Marshawn Lynch’s cameo is fun but forgettable. The soundtrack, like much of the film, is generic and uninspired, failing to elevate the action or the emotional beats.

 

Eusebio’s direction shows flashes of promise, particularly in the fight scenes, but the film lacks the cinematic flair needed to make it stand out. Much of Love Hurts feels slapdash and made-for-TV, with moments of hyper-violence juxtaposed against long stretches of dullness. The pacing is uneven, and even at 80 minutes, the movie drags.  

 

The most frustrating thing about Love Hurts is that it could have been great. Quan is a star, and Hollywood’s rediscovery of him is long overdue. But he deserves better than this. The film’s strongest moments — like Marvin’s quippy one-liners and the inventive action sequences — are undercut by lazy writing and flat performances

 

Over the final minutes one character quips, “Say it again and make me believe it” — and that feels like a meta-commentary on the film itself. Love Hurts has the bones of a fun, breezy action-comedy, but it never quite sells its own premise.  

 

This movie might find a second life on streaming, where its flaws are easier to forgive. But in theaters, it’s likely to disappear. Love hurts, and so does watching most of this movie.