Sundance Review: Love, Brooklyn Explores a Gentle Romance in an Ambiguous Borough

      You can sense the warm breeze flowing through *Love, Brooklyn*, a gentle, dream-like summer film that often balances on the brink of reality. Rachael Abigail Holder's debut feature, penned by Paul Zimmerman, doesn’t strictly meander between abstract fantasy, yet her portrayal of this swiftly changing borough occasionally feels like it’s from an alternate dimension. The night-time streets, parks, and bars are nearly deserted, while the Fort Greene and Bed-Stuy neighborhoods appear immaculate, uncluttered, and indistinct. Every character in this triangular romantic drama has an unclear job that allows for a distinctly luxurious lifestyle. Everything seems just a bit too ideal.

      This begins with Roger (André Holland), a writer facing difficulty completing an essay assigned to him about the gentrification and transformation of Brooklyn. It’s a timely theme, and Zimmerman employs this concept as the thematic foundation of his script. However, as Roger procrastinates, postpones his deadline, and evades his editor at a vague publication, doubts and issues start to arise. Is this essay his sole source of work and income? How can he afford such a nice Brownstone? Why does he appear so calm and satisfied? Isn’t he anxious about finishing this task?

      It’s evident that Zimmerman isn’t concentrating on Roger’s career (otherwise Holland might come across as more frantic), as it takes a back seat to his complicated romantic entanglements between his ex Casey (Nicole Beharie) and single mother Nicole (DeWanda Wise). Roger has set a regular routine between them. He enjoys platonic outings with Casey, relaxing in the park, dining romantically, and having fun together—echoes of their former relationship. Then he bikes over to Nicole for sex, being careful not to disturb her young daughter, Ally (Cadence Reese), who often interrupts their late-night encounters.

      This arrangement works quite well for Roger—at least until Nicole starts to open up (her husband died in an accident) and welcomes him into her small family life. As much as he relishes revisiting his dependable, familiar relationship with Casey—slipping into playful voices and chatting about past partners—he’s equally intrigued by the prospect of a new, more serious connection with Nicole. She and her daughter eventually join Roger at a birthday celebration, and he later agrees to pick Ally up from school and walk her home. The shifting dynamics (despite Nicole's insistence on not labeling their relationship) soon disrupt his compartmentalized lifestyle.

      Holder and Zimmerman have a keen interest in linking their characters to Brooklyn’s “de-evolution,” as Roger terms it. Casey owns an art gallery but feels torn about selling it to buyers who are acquiring the entire block. Nicole struggles to introduce Roger to Ally without him seemingly replacing her deceased father. Meanwhile, Roger finds himself torn between reverting to his old flame or venturing into new emotional territory. Much like the city itself, all three characters grapple with their ties to the past while speeding toward the future.

      These are significant themes and personal challenges to delve into, but Zimmerman doesn’t offer much beyond tracing their resolution back to Roger’s overdue essay, which he finally begins to write. Instead, the true enjoyment of this film arises from its laid-back, tender atmosphere, allowing the sparse character details to unfold thanks to Holder’s skill in capturing conversations, savoring pregnant pauses, and aligning the editing with Roger’s relaxed pace. Holder primarily relies on the strength of her cast to sustain the film's breezy ambiance.

      After portraying a deeply traumatized character in last year's *Exhibiting Forgiveness*, Holland seamlessly transitions to playing a less prolific artist who casually smokes weed and drinks without slipping into melodrama. He presents a polished exterior over many rough edges, while Wise embodies a courageous, self-sufficient facade to conceal the pain Nicole still experiences from her loss. Beharie introduces a different mood with Casey’s more vibrant personality, avoiding jealous tropes and instead fostering a harmonious dynamic among characters, which may be the movie’s greatest asset.

      Ultimately, this harmony is what binds *Love, Brooklyn* together as it wanders through its surroundings, observing the improbable stillness of the night, the glow of the moon, and the branches reaching into it. These characters and locations feel more like figments of imagination, reflective of the borough Holder envisions it to be. Thus, the film serves as a rough, painterly draft, an accessible first iteration that evokes warm sentiments and merits just a bit more detail.

      *Love, Brooklyn* made its debut at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.

      Grade: B-