It seems almost poetic that a film featuring a writer who spends more time pondering life than actually living it excels more at telling than showing—an ironic twist worthy of a writer’s retreat.
Meet Lou (Chloë Grace Moretz), an aspiring YA novelist who decides that penning personalized wedding vows for couples is an excellent way to fund her coffee and existential crisis. Dive into her chaotic world where she has more success with love declarations than any encounter with romance—because why not? After all, she just exited a fresh heartbreak and is navigating life like a shipwrecked sailor in a bathtub.
Love Language
The Bottom Line
Words fall short.
Venue: SXSW Film Festival (Narrative Spotlight)
Cast: Chloë Grace Moretz, Manny Jacinto, Anthony Ramos, Isabel May, Billie Lourd, Lukas Gage
Director-screenwriter: Joey Power
1 hour 45 minutes
While Lou might eloquently explain feelings, projecting them onto the big screen seems to be an entirely different task. Even the climactic “grand gesture” feels far less spontaneous and more like a cynical nod to the genre’s tired formulas—a crowd-pleaser that misses the mark.
Lou kicks off her adventures in *Love Language*, helmed by Joey Power and making its debut at SXSW, feeling emotionally allergic to romance. In a bizarre twist of fate, she ends up at her best friend Tilda’s (Billie Lourd) bachelorette party, where she finds solace in a bathtub filled with champagne—because what’s better for healing than drowning your sorrows in bubbles?
Of course, true to rom-com tradition, love decides to crash this pity party. Enter Tilda’s flamboyant cousin Dash (Anthony Ramos), who, after what seems like an eternity of eye-rolling, makes Lou momentarily forget her plans for solitary bathtub moping. And while she dives into her newfound venture of writing wedding vows, she also stumbles upon Warren (Manny Jacinto)—the guy who got away, aka her college crush now shackled to a “basic” Pilates enthusiast (cue the dramatic music).
Love triangles are basically the bread and butter of romantic comedies, and Power attempts to sprinkle some indie flair for flavor. Unfortunately, the execution feels about as organized as a toddler’s finger painting, showcasing Lou’s messy romantic entanglements without making her any more endearing. We see Lou’s dark side, huffing dismissively at friend’s happiness, but her comedic charm remains hidden as if she’s auditioning for a role in a slightly grumpy sitcom.
Not to be outdone by her lack of charisma, Lou seems to lack chemistry with both of her love interests. Sure, there are scenes that visually pop—Chicago looks stunning with a cozy filter as Lou and Warren stroll about—but the moment we zoom in, things quickly fall flat. Moretz and Jacinto manage to generate some heat, but the dialogue with Ramos feels more like an awkward space-filling exercise than a masterclass in romance. By the time Lou reaches her epiphany about wanting love, it feels more like a surprise party that no one attended.
Ultimately, *Love Language* is a more competent character study of a hapless writer than a genuine exploration of romantic longing. Lou’s by-day gig in marketing for a chip company that sells nonsense mascots might be the star of the show—a stellar metaphor for her life—while her procrastination methods, like cleaning her house instead of writing, are painfully relatable. Unfortunately, her journey reflects the real struggle: someone who can articulate love yet can’t quite feel it herself—proving once again that finding the right words often overshadows the feelings underneath.
