Directing: C-
Acting: C-
Writing: F
Cinematography: C+
Editing: C+

Ke Huy Quan deserves a successful, fun, smart action movie that proves he’s bankable beyond the stunning alignment of stars that was Everything Everywhere All at Once. We’re now three years beyond that film, and Quan has been cast in the starring role of the action comedy Love Hurts, which is . . . not that movie.

It’s difficult to express precisely how bad this movie is. To be fair, there was some talent that went into it—Quan himself is in it, after all, and he’s the one person in it giving a passable performance. But oh my god, the script! Something truly unexpected comes to mind: the old Christian quote about how Jesus answered when asked how much he loves us: “This much, he answered: then he stretched out his arms and died.” Time to flip the script, so to speak: that’s how much I hated the writing in this movie. I should really be admitted into a hospital.

Love Hurts was written by a team of three writers, whom I will do the courtesy of not naming here. The possibility that any of them might be proud of this work makes me despair for humanity. I could have written a better script in a single evening with one hand tied behind my back. While on a triple dose of Ambien.

It’s almost worse that the premise could have actually worked. Marvin Gable (Quan) is a real estate agent who has reinvented himself after a life of crime working with his brother, Alvin (Daniel Wu), who has sent several of his goons after Marv after hearing that Rose (Ariana DeBose), who was supposed to have been killed for stealing from Alvin, is actually alive and has returned. Hardly original, true—but it doesn’t have to be. All that’s needed is some chemistry, charisma, and wit, and you have the makings of passable entertainment. But Quan has no chemistry with DeBose; all of the supporting actors have zero charisma; and the story is completely witless. I suppose I should be fair. I did laugh a couple of times when it was unintentionally funny.

Did I mention that Alvin’s nickname is “Knuckles”? Or that Sean Astin shows up, quite randomly, as Marv’s boss with a cowboy hat and an exaggerated Southern accent?

Everything that happens in Love Hurts is unbearably rote and obvious. Every character exists as nothing more than an exposition factory. Given the streamer’s executive notes to creators that characters should repeatedly say aloud what they are doing, this should have been released on Netflix. I’d say that why anyone would waste their time seeing this movie in the theater escapes me, except that’s precisely what I just did. There were four other people in the theater. All those empty seats were the sensible choice. The rest of us need a wellness check.

I knew this movie was headed nowhere good as soon as it began, with excessive voiceover narration, declaring Valentine’s Day a day full of delightful surprises. Marv gets on the phone with depressive his assistant, Ashley (Lio Tipton), who is getting ready for the office Valentine’s Day party. What office ever throws a party for Valentine’s Day?

Three of Knuckles’s henchmen get what pass for subplots in this movie. One, “The Raven,” becomes a love interest for Ashley when she discovers his book of poetry. Then there are Otis and King, played by André Eriksen and Marshawn Lynch respectively, who spend a lot of time shooting guns at people but not hitting their targets, with one exception that is played for one of the many laughs that fall flat. I don’t fault anyone for being a fan of Marshawn Lynch, he seems like a delightful enough guy, but that does not make him a good actor. His relatively unnatural line readings could perhaps be forgiven if not for nearly every other performance being phoned in. Seahawks fans might get a minor kick out of hearing Lynch literally say “Beast mode!” when he tackles someone during a fight, but to me it felt like an Easter egg in the wrong basket. Anyway, King keeps giving Otis advice on how to mend his relationship with his wife and, you don’t care, do you? God knows I didn’t.

If Love Hurts has any redeeming quality, it’s the fight choreography—this is the only time the movie stops being oppressively stupid and becomes genuinely fun. But these moments are fleeting, largely because we don’t get nearly enough of them. While they are happening, the fight choreography flits between clever and corny, but appears to have been done practically, if sometimes obscured by frenetic cinematography. But it’s as though these martial arts exist in a different movie. If only they did.

Ke Huy Quan, to his credit, is the best thing in this movie, which isn’t saying much for a film that so brazenly sets the bar low. The bar is in the basement. It’s in the Earth’s core. But Quan is game and appears to be having fun. Still, I have to wonder about his judgment. The fact that all of these actors read this script and thought it was worth shooting makes me wonder about their reading comprehension.

Maybe this was a test, for all of us. Where is the reward? I sat through an 83-minute movie that felt like an eternity and all I got was this ridiculous review.

*Yes, that is correct. This movie misses the mark.*

Overall: D+