Ask any New Yorker about dating in the city, and if they don’t immediately laugh, they’ll likely regale you with stories of mortifying first encounters, love-them-and-leave-them ghosts, and the occasional true crime horror story. Mirroring the tangled nature of modern-day romance, Rachael Abigail Holder’s feature debut “Love, Brooklyn” follows a complicated love triangle where three hearts are concerned. In the middle, there’s Roger (André Holland), a dashing writer trying to capture the zeitgeist of his changing borough. He’s also keeping the sparks burning with an ex, an art gallery owner named Casey (Nicole Beharie), and taking up with a newfound love interest, a widowed massage therapist named Nicole (DeWanda Wise). The name of the game is keeping things casual, until, as these things are wont to do, somebody asks the time-old question: When are we going to get serious?
Holder is clearly as in love with Brooklyn as her characters are. Her camera, lensed by cinematographer Martim Vian, soaks in the romantic energy from the glow of warm, cozy bars where numerous dates happen on any given night, the experience of stumbling past historic brownstones on the way to one’s situationship after one too many drinks, and rolling along hand-in-hand with someone you’re head over heels with over the many winding paths of Prospect Park. There’s a real sense of affection for what Brooklyn once was and is changing to be, a sometimes-unsettling realization, the further away we move from the COVID pandemic. Like “The Last Black Man in San Francisco,” “Love, Brooklyn” explores the issue of Black community displacement in a major city but ultimately makes a somewhat uneasy truce with the gentrified future, perhaps unsatisfyingly so in the case of one of the characters.
While an unsteady love triangle between casual partners may seem par the course for dating in the world-famous borough, Holder and screenwriter Paul Zimmerman balance out the tension between the three characters rather carefully. They each hold onto each other for different reasons. For Roger and Casey, it’s the trap of familiarity–the comfort of shared history and punchlines. They have their routines of drinks, dinners, and art gallery dates, but no plans for the future. Roger’s dynamic with Nicole is inherently different. It has to be—she has a young daughter who wants Roger to be a part of her life as well. It’s a bigger set of commitments. It’s as if the two relationships were echoes of what it’s like to date in one’s carefree 20s and later in life when things are not always so simple.
While the story may ebb and flow with the waves of the parallel love stories, Zimmerman’s screenplay sometimes wraps up scenes too neatly. For example, after Roger has angered both of his dates, he goes outside to find that the wheel of his bike has been stolen, quite literally derailing his route between the two women. But it’s the trio of performances at the heart of “Love, Brooklyn” that really stand out. Holland makes for a suave date who seems to take on more than he can chew when trying to make two partners happy. His performance gives a sense of both his vulnerability and his confusion on how best to move forward. Beharie’s character is the most affected by the encroachment of gentrification, as her gallery is sought after by unseen would-be buyers. She’s unsatisfied with her connection with Roger but is unwilling to give up its lived-in comfort. Wise’s presence is a calmer one, grieving the loss of her husband, caring for her child, yet still yearning for Roger’s company. The movie’s three stars give gentle, understated performances, each leaning one into the other but knowing this casual arrangement will not last.
Ultimately, the spirit of “Love, Brooklyn” is tenderness. It is both a love letter and a sympathy card: an acknowledgement that growing up sometimes means letting go, embracing the changes that come with time, and that loving someone does not always mean holding on to them. There are no villains in this story, but there is a sense that these lonely souls find some solace in each other’s company, and for the moment, that is enough. And while these characters mourn the Brooklyn they once knew and the lives they once had, they must still find a way forward. It is very easy to feel alone in a crowded city. Plenty of people do every day. But it’s the moments of connection that keep us grounded.
