Much has been written on the new dating politics practiced by Gen-Z — more progressive socially, more conservative sexually, if you believe the hot takes, which you probably shouldn’t. Either way, that sensibility has yet to trickle down to mainstream portrayals of Zoomer romance on screen, which remain largely beholden to templates established by previous generations. “Love Language” is the latest in a line of youthful romantic comedies in nostalgic thrall to ’90s tropes of the genre, from klutzy meet-cutes to gay best friends to climactic airport interventions, and if it modestly updates proceedings with queer marriage and cocaine jokes, it still suggests that our species’ mating rituals have largely held fast. That Joey Power‘s palatable, attractively assembled film will likely be a comfort watch for many under-30s should in turn be a comfort to their elders.
Like many latter-day romcoms, “Love Language” is cozily, even sentimentally romantic, while neglecting the comic half of the equation — despite a premise with ample potential for wit. Chloë Grace Moretz stars as Louisa, an allegedly gifted but perennially blocked writer who chances into an unexpectedly lucrative side hustle penning other people’s wedding vows, all while struggling to articulate her own messy romantic feelings for two different men. It’s a solid setup, but Power (who last directed the 2018 romance “After Everything,” starring Jeremy Allen White and Maika Monroe) isn’t the best with words himself: The film coasts off the combined charms of its ensemble and location, with Chicago shot in warm, perma-autumnal tones, and thus goes down quite easily. It would be nice, though, if it was funny too.
Well, you can’t have everything — as a jaded Louisa, recently burned by a broken-off engagement, is wont to think. Her broken heart makes her something of a killjoy at the bachelorette party of her best friend Tilda (Billie Lourd), but does present an upside for the bride-to-be: When Tilda asks Louisa to help with her wedding vows, Louisa merely repurposes those she had written for her own aborted nuptials. Her style may be a bit “Hallmark × Rupi Kaur” but the vows go down a treat, and when word gets out at the wedding that Louisa ghostwrote them, total strangers approach her to request their own dewy-eyed dedications. It’s a productive wedding all round: She also meets Tilda’s sexy cousin Dash (a terrific Anthony Ramos), and though she’s a little thrown by his straight-talking manner, there’s clearly a spark between them.
She’s quickly distracted, however, when she’s commissioned by wealthy importer Olivia (Isabel May) to write her vows for her upcoming wedding to dreamboat public defender Warren (Manny Jacinto) — who, it turns out, is Louisa’s old college crush. Taking the job while keeping that fact from Olivia, she finds old feelings rekindled as she spends more time with the couple; at the same time, she casually dates Dash, but discourages his more serious advances. And as Olivia and Warren’s big day draws nearer, she finds herself unable to write a word.
It’s a romantic quadrangle in which the two most storied individuals are also the least interesting. Moretz capably juggles Louisa’s neuroses and delusions, not shying from the character’s tendency toward selfishness and self-pity, but it’s May’s Olivia, cannily played as both a princess and an underestimated observer, whom we want to know better. And while we’re treated to multiple scenes of Louisa and Warren hanging out and fondly reflecting on old times, he’s not half as charismatic or ultimately soul-baring as Dash is — which makes her romantic dilemma feel overly protracted and low-stakes, evading the emotional complexities of an evenly weighted choice. (The premise is plainly a nod to the likewise Chicago-set genre standard “My Best Friend’s Wedding,” though the beauty of that film is that it presented Julia Roberts’ protagonist with altogether less enviable options: homewrecking or continued singledom.)
Perhaps the script is unduly tilted by Ramos’ drawling, sincerely beguiling delivery. Handed a fairly two-dimensional character concept — fuckboi with a nesting impulse — he crafts a personality that feels more embedded in the real world than everyone else here. Moretz’s performance, too, is livelier and more limber in his presence; away from him, Louisa feels a bit floatily conceived. Her day job (as a WFH copywriter), friendships (including with Lukas Gage’s gay lothario turned broody plot device) and even her apartment want for detail and texture, as “Love Language” largely colors its story with allusions to other movies and pop ephemera. It’s a pleasant, undemanding watch in large part because it’s all so very recognizable, but one wonders when a more generationally defining romcom will come along.