You can feel the warm breeze filtering through Love, Brooklyn, a gentle, dream-like summer movie that often teeters on the edge of reality. Rachael Abigail Holder’s debut feature, written by Paul Zimmerman, doesn’t necessarily drift in and out of abstract fantasy, but her vision of this rapidly evolving borough sometimes looks like it belongs to an alternate dimension. The night streets, the parks, and the bars are all practically empty. The Fort Greene and Bed-Stuy neighborhoods look pristine, uncluttered, undefined. And everyone involved in this triangular romantic drama has a vague vocation that allows them an altogether luxurious lifestyle. Everything is a little too good to be true.
That starts with Roger (André Holland), a writer struggling to type out an essay he’s been assigned about the gentrification and evolution of Brooklyn. It’s a ripe subject, and Zimmerman uses the idea as a thematic backdrop for his script. But the more Roger procrastinates, delays his deadline, and avoids his editor at this nondescript publication, the more cracks and questions begin to surface. Is this assignment his only source of work and income? How is he able to afford such a nice Brownstone apartment? Why is he so smooth and content? Isn’t he stressed to get this thing written?
It’s pretty clear that Zimmerman isn’t focused on Roger’s career (otherwise Holland might be way more manic), which takes a back seat to his complicated love life that pinballs between his ex Casey (Nicole Beharie) and the single mother Nicole (DeWanda Wise). He’s established a regular routine between them. He enjoys platonic dates with Casey, lounging in the park, having romantic dinners, and goofing off together––remnants of their previous life. Then he bikes over to Nicole for sex, keeping quiet so as not to wake her young daughter, Ally (Cadence Reese), who develops a habit of interrupting their intimate late nights.
The equation works pretty well for Roger––at least until Nicole begins opening up more (her husband died in an accident) and letting him into her small family’s life. As much as he enjoys rekindling his reliable, familiar past with Casey, slipping into funny voices and probing about significant others, he’s just as intrigued about stepping into something new and more serious with Nicole. She and her daughter eventually attend a birthday party with Roger, who later agrees to pick Ally up from school and walk her home. The changing dynamics (despite Nicole’s insistence on not labeling their relationship) soon shake up his compartmentalized habits.
Holder and Zimmerman have a deep interest in connecting their characters to Brooklyn’s “de-evolution,” as Roger calls it. Casey owns an art gallery and feels conflicted about selling it to some buyers purchasing up the entire block. Nicole has trouble introducing Roger to Ally without him appearing like he’s replacing her deceased father. Meanwhile, Roger can’t decide if he should revert to his old flame or challenge himself with new feelings. Much like the city itself, all three reckon with being beholden to their pasts and moving too quickly into their futures.
Those are worthy topics and personal issues to explore, but Zimmerman doesn’t have a lot more to offer than trace and tie their resolution to Roger’s overdue essay that he finally starts to write. Instead the real pleasures of this movie emerge in its casual, tender state of being, easing the vacant details in characters thanks to Holder’s ability to frame conversation, bask in pregnant pauses, and tune the editing to Roger’s laid-back rhythms. Holder mostly leans on the strength of her cast to keep the breezy vibe going.
After giving an emotionally traumatized performance in last year’s Exhibiting Forgiveness, Holland smoothly pivots into playing a less-prolific artist who smokes weed and gets tipsy without ever reverting into histrionics. He puts a smooth veneer over a lot of rough edges, just as Wise conjures a brave, independent face to mask the pain that Nicole still feels from the absence in her home. It’s Beharie that mixes up the mood with Casey’s more outsized personality, but that never verges into jealous cliché, instead creating harmony between characters that might be this movie’s best feature.
Ultimately, it’s what keeps Love, Brooklyn together as it meanders around its environment, paying attention to the night’s improbable stillness, the moon’s glow, and the branches reaching through it. These people and places read more like figments of imagination, part of a borough Holder wants it to be. As such, the movie is a rough, painterly sketch, a first draft that’s easy to read, provokes warm feelings, and deserves just a little more detail.
Love, Brooklyn premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.