Winning an Academy Award is frequently regarded as the apex of an actor’s journey — a moment of worldwide acclaim, honor, and festivity. However, in Hollywood, a persistent superstition referred to as the “Oscar curse” exists, implying that after the dazzling peak of a victory, certain actors experience a rapid decline: personal scandals, box office disappointments, or unexpected casting droughts. Although this notion may appear implausible, the latest film Love Hurts — showcasing recent Oscar recipients Ke Huy Quan (Everything Everywhere All At Once) and Ariana DeBose (West Side Story) — may lead you to consider the existence of the curse.

On paper, the decision to cast Quan in Love Hurts appears to be spot on. He brought a distinctive mix of heart, wit, and physicality to Everything Everywhere All At Once, and this new action-comedy seemed primed to take advantage of that. Teaming him up with DeBose, who shone in her Oscar-winning portrayal as Anita in West Side Story, should have been a formula for triumph. Regrettably, Love Hurts is a chaotic misstep — a Valentine’s Day-themed action-comedy that never manages to find its rhythm under debut director Jonathan Eusebio.

Action Can’t Save Love Hurts

Quan portrays Marvin Gable, a real estate professional with an optimistic outlook and a great passion for his job — and his “Regional Realtor of the Year” award. However, Marvin has a concealed history: he was once a hitman for his dapper but merciless brother Knuckles (Daniel Wu). His past abruptly resurfaces when Rose Carlisle (DeBose), the woman he once rescued by faking her death, comes back seeking vengeance against Knuckles and his associates. Marvin, on the other hand, simply wishes to safeguard his tranquil life and his clients. Cue the mayhem.

To Eusebio’s credit, the action sequences are creative and well-executed. From hand-to-hand combat to gun battles and even makeshift weapons like cookie cutters and oversized kitchen tools, the fight choreography is both diverse and entertaining. The stunt team, led by Can Aydin, ensures seamless transitions between actors and stunt doubles, while the performers embrace the film’s cartoonish essence with exaggerated expressions and physical humor.

However, while the action holds up, the film’s tone is erratically inconsistent. Produced by David Leitch (Nobody, Violent Night), Love Hurts inherits those films’ tendency to mix gore with broad comedy — often leading to unsettling outcomes. One moment, Sean Astin delivers a heartfelt speech about second chances; the next, there’s a gruesome killing played for humor. After the emotional depth and surreal comedy of Everything Everywhere All At Once, this sudden tonal shift feels like a miscalculation.

Quan and DeBose Deserve Better

Quan once again demonstrates his versatility, embodying various versions of Marvin — from the amiable realtor to the fearsome hitman of his past. His evolution is captivating, but the script by Matthew Murray, Josh Stoddard, and Luke Passmore only scratches the surface. Marvin resembles a diluted version of Quan’s Oscar-winning character, and the film fails to grant him the emotional richness or narrative journey he merits.

DeBose, on the other hand, continues her frustrating post-Oscar streak with lackluster roles. Following disappointments like Disney’s Wish, the spy comedy Argylle, and the Spider-Man spinoff Kraven: The Hunter, Love Hurts marks another missed chance. As Rose, she portrays a fashionable, tough-as-nails assassin — a character assembled from genre stereotypes. DeBose infuses the role with charisma and flair, but she’s once more pushed into the sidelines. Despite her commendable efforts, the script provides her with minimal to work with, and her chemistry with Quan is surprisingly uninspiring.

The film is filled with quirky supporting characters, many of whom show potential. Lio Tipton stands out as a millennial realtor facing an existential crisis, Mustafa Shakir enchants as a poetic hitman, and Marshawn Lynch brings chaotic energy reminiscent of his role in Bottoms. Sean Astin provides warmth and sincerity, while Drew Scott plays a rival realtor with a hero complex. Yet even these performances cannot salvage the film’s disjointedness.

A Rushed and Disjointed Finale

Love Hurts races along at breakneck speed, but not in a manner that creates tension or eagerness. The film is laden with voiceover narration — from both Marvin and Rose — and seldom allows for a moment to breathe. Emotional arcs are hurried, and the unrelenting exposition affords little space for character growth.

The third act, in particular, feels as though it was hastily assembled in the editing suite. Much of the dialogue is delivered off-screen, suggesting extensive use of ADR (additional dialogue recording), and the final twist is so unexpected that it seems a subplot was entirely omitted. At just 83 minutes, the film still manages to feel excessively long due to