‘Love, Brooklyn’ Review – A Heartfelt Love Letter To “Living Life While Black” [Sundance 2025]

There’s a lot of love in Love, Brooklyn.

You can see it in the first few minutes of the film. Roger (André Holland) is biking in the middle of a street, a local bus following behind him. The scene evokes the typical bustle of New York City living, a steady thrum of life roiling through the air. It also evokes a feeling of serenity, as if there’s no place Roger would rather be than in that moment, in that neighborhood.

Unfortunately for him, his personal and professional lives lack that peace. Roger is working on a manuscript about the borough’s evolution but finds himself stuck as he grapples with what he sees as a cultural and demographic devolution. Similarly unsettled is his dating life. He is seeing Nicole (DeWanda Wise), a single mother who prefers to keep their dalliances casual for the sake of stability. Despite his itches for something more tangible, Roger acquiesces. Meanwhile, he keeps up a steady flirtation with his ex-lover, Casey (Nicole Beharie), struggling to move on from what they once had to focus on what they could be in the present. Luckily for him, Roger has Alan (Roy Wood Jr.) to help him parse out his conflicting feelings, even though Alan is getting antsy with the monotony of his own life.

As tangled as its romantic relationships look on paper, Love, Brooklyn is a surprisingly mellow, minor-key affair. Paul Zimmerman’s script sets up several scenarios where Roger’s (sort-of) double-dealing with Nicole and Casey could blow up spectacularly in his face. The most dramatically ripe one finds both women invited to Alan’s daughter’s birthday party. The possibilities for chaos are endless, but the film zags to the right. The threat of one’s presence hangs over Roger’s head like a swinging sword, even though they never arrive. Instead of histrionics or, worse, disappointment over missing the histrionics, director Rachael Abigail Holder pulls out mature and rational energy from those scenes, making the characters honestly process the emotional ramifications. We feel that tension most acutely through Nicole, who must consider her psychological safety and that of her inquisitive daughter.

Again, the film largely avoids the overpowering declarations of love and loss that the romantic dramedy genre requires. However, the intensity of the emotions can be breathtaking, especially when the characters give soft but palpable voices to their most unguarded, raw thoughts. Every character has those moments of quiet reflection and introspection. Holder does a great job keeping the pacing and atmosphere steady so we feel each one’s impact, even at gentler registers. Those registers also enhance the other side of the emotional spectrum, where we see Roger and company working through their everyday lives. The vibes between the characters are so natural and unaffected that you feel envious that you aren’t an active participant. You want to wheedle awkwardly with Roger and Nicole after they see her ex-boyfriend in the park. The casual but infectious warmth wafting throughout the film feels both blissfully familiar and unique to being Black.

The cast is clearly having a blast in this enriching atmosphere, with everyone delivering wonderfully lived-in performances. André Holland can claim partial responsibility for the film’s aforementioned infectious warmth. As Roger, Holland hits every beat with a blend of ease and intelligence that is a joy to watch. Nicole Beharie might be having even more fun as Casey, adding a wonderful, unexpectedly quirky, offbeat energy to the character. She and Holland have a crackerjack chemistry that adds to the FOMO we feel on the other side of the screen. DeWanda Wise is revelatory as Nicole, serving as the film’s surprising emotional core. She beautifully subverts the “cool girl” archetype with a gut-punching vulnerability, especially in conveying her lingering grief over her former partner’s passing and her frustration with Roger’s half-hearted insertions into her protective bubble. 

Love, Brooklyn does have more on its mind than being a hangout film, successful as it is as that. The film is about navigating change: professionally, personally, and as a community. The “community” bit where the film falters some in its easy rhythms. We see Roger struggle to describe how his neighborhood changes in writing, which the film ultimately reflects. Gentrification and displacement are not new concerns for Black communities, especially in New York, but we don’t see little of that conflict on screen. What we do see, through Casey’s perspective as an art dealer pushing away offers to buy her building, is put to the side. Despite how much it impacts Roger and Casey’s careers, those issues have little urgency. Perhaps it would disrupt the film’s vibes, but the disruption would be deserved and a valuable counterpoint, showing how “living while Black” can be when your safe spaces are under threat.

Even with those concerns, Love, Brooklyn is easy to fall in love with. We don’t often see a film that centers on Black characters just living or navigating change without some soul-crushing or even violent conflict. As natural (and valid) as it is to yearn for more complicated stories, there is real beauty in the softer complexities that Holder explores here. I would’ve loved to spend more time basking in the warmth of André Holland riding a bike or him and Nicole Beharie chuckling through an art gallery. It’s the kind of peace I desperately want to protect in these fraught times that Roger and I find ourselves in.

Love, Brooklyn had its World Premiere in the U.S. Dramatic Competition section of the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.

Director: Rachael Abigail Holder

Writer: Paul Zimmerman

Rated: NR

Runtime: 97m