In Rachael Abigail Holder’s feature debut, “Love, Brooklyn,” watching André Holland’s character sail through the tree-lined streets of his beloved borough on a bike has its satisfactions. Holland is a performer of subtle, persistent depth, and his countenance and the nighttime rides evoke that illusion of being contentedly alone and sensuously alive in a vast, populated city.
Holland portrays Roger, a writer who’s stuck on a deadline and straddling loves. The upbeat piece he promised his editor on gentrification no longer compels him. The movie begins with his impassioned riff on the matter. Meanwhile, he’s navigating a friendship with his ex, Casey (Nicole Beharie) — the interlocutor of that polemic — and becoming increasingly involved with Nicole (DeWanda Wise).
Casey owns an art gallery; developers have been eying it and the building Casey inherited. Nicole is a masseuse, a widow and the attentive mother of an observant young daughter (Cadence Reese). Like Holland, Beharie and Wise have a firm grasp on their characters.
Apart from the comedian Roy Wood Jr.’s turn as Roger’s mildly randy, married best friend, there’s little reason to confuse “Love, Brooklyn” with a rom-com. So, it is curious that the script (by Paul Zimmerman) seems allergic to doing the deeper tissue work on the aches it brings up. Oh, it has its moments — Nicole and Roger on the steps of her brownstone, for one. And it’s awfully lovely to look at (cinematography by Martim Vian). But, like its characters, it’s a little too comfortable with being betwixt and between.
Love, Brooklyn
Not rated. Running time: 1 hour 37 minutes. In theaters.
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