The Lovebirds Review

 (A version of this article originally appeared on kernelnow.com / mynewslike.com)

Jibran and Leilani (Kumail Nanjiani and Issa Rae) are your typical long-term couple. They live together, avoid large social gatherings together, and argue about the same things that any couple does: reality TV, career choices, milkshakes… and how to go about proving their innocence after being witnesses to murder.

The Lovebirds follows the bickering pair as they first hit a relationship crossroads and then a cyclist whilst driving to a dinner party. After unwittingly assisting a “cop” to chase down and brutally murder the man they just injured, the two flee the scene of the crime after being caught apparently red-handed. Thinking they have no choice but to clear their own names, they delve into a mystery that will take them to places stranger than they ever thought possible.

Protesting their peace: Leilani (Issa Rae) and Jibran (Kumail Nanjiani) - wrong place at the wrong time
(source: Netflix)

This movie’s diverse casting and twisting “citizens in over their head” plot may sound a little like a season of Fargo, but it’s immediately clear that the words “highly-strung” and “tense” can only be used to describe our two main characters. The Lovebirds masquerades as a detective story about as well as its “investigators” play the part of sleuths; truly, this is a screwball comedy on the run. The places this story takes its characters – and the viewer – are indeed “stranger than you may think possible”, but only in a very, very weird way.

The plausibility of this plot may seem a little sparse, but in its own peculiar world it just about holds up. Jibran and Leilani, as decidedly mature hipsters with the careers to match, seem like the types who would find themselves in the more eccentric corners of New Orleans’s night-time scene; from rustic barn shakedown to secretive high-class sex cult, The Lovebirds takes its metropolitan thirty-somethings on a ride through a streetlight-hued city that recalls other madcap “run about town” flicks like Game Night or The Hangover.

Like those two films, the strength of this movie lies in its casting. In Nanjiani and Rae, we find a pairing gifted with both comic timing, and the undeniable poise to prevent things devolving to slapstick (even it its moments of body humor). Rae proved herself a true screen presence earlier this year in The Photograph, and blends that level of performance with her comic past to great effect here. Neither she nor her on-screen partner are overly-reliant on each other – in fact, their sense of independence is one of the causes of their romantic troubles – and despite the fact that they’re both in way over their head, it seems like being overwhelmed is about as alien to them as their predicament itself.

Shock and aw, nuts: Leilani and Jibran are about as masterful in disguise as they are as detectives
(source: Netflix)

As for Najiani, his comedic talent has been evident for much of the three years since his breakout in The Big Sick (which shares a director with this outing in Michael Showalter). His rising stock has been rewarded in the most bountiful way with a headline role in Marvel Studio’s upcoming The Eternals, so it’s welcome to see him leading in an ensemble here. Granted, his co-starring role here isn’t on the same level of that impending franchise turn, but this performance makes it clear that like so many before him, he is ready to double down on his own skills to make the transition from comedy to blockbuster.

The problem is that whilst there is much by which to remember our heroes, the same cannot be said for the world around them. Whilst the locations (and outfits) that Leilani and Jibran are thrust into are bold enough to jump out in every scene, they don’t really stick in the memory – they get into some scrapes, yes, but aside from the inciting hit-and-run it’s unlikely any will linger on the minds of viewers afterward. It’s not like this film is a struggle to get through, and there will be chuckles aplenty along the way, but the film does seem to be lacking a scene to unlock that one big laugh.

There’s also an inherit lack of memorable characters outside the headline double act. Unlike the films mentioned above, there’s no Ken Jeong or Jesse Plemons to steal a scene, which does benefit the star power of both leads but also robs them of an added comic foil. Undeniable though their chemistry is, the presence of secondary characters is so underwritten that even the film’s villain doesn’t go by a real name, with a lackluster pseudonym instead hoisted upon them in the early going by the “detective” duo.

Glum and on the run: NOLA turns into no way out for The Lovebirds
(source: Netflix)

If there’s one thing this film is, however, it’s contemporary. Their appearance or background never really informs much of the plot, veering things firmly away from satire, but there is an awareness present that informs the odd one-liner about racism or gender politics. It’s enough that even though the two seem to be on course for a full-blown mid-life crisis, they’re still modern and relatable; the off-hand nature of their wit is surely relatable to anyone who’s made a throwaway social funny in a WhatsApp group.

The Lovebirds may suffer at times from “not having much to say”, but it’s the kind of free-flowing Saturday night comedy that seems to be less populous – and popular – than it once was. On this evidence it seems that making an innocent comic romp needn’t be a cinematic sin, and though there may be more dynamic outings ahead for both cast and audience, there are certainly worse ways for both to spend their time.