The basic plot of Netflix’s The Lovebirds is not dissimilar to the premise of Murder Mystery, or Date Night, or any of a million other movies where an average person finds themselves mixed up in a major crime. The wrong-man — or couple — saga is a genre where you either write a stunningly clever script, or rely entirely on wildly overqualified stars to sell a loose, shaggy-dog plot. This one has plumped firmly for the second option, but what elevates it above most similar efforts is that Issa Rae and Kumail Nanjiani’s bickering couple are so charismatic that you find yourself wanting to go on the run with them. They may make for stunningly poor detectives, but at least they’re hip enough to know it.
The film opens on the second morning of Jibran (Nanjiani) and Leilani’s (Rae) first date, establishing that these two fell for one another hard and fast and seemingly forever. Only we then cut to four years later, a blazing row about nothing, and a couple on a fast track to Breakupsville. When a man claiming to be a cop carjacks them and uses their vehicle to murder a bike messenger, the pair are left looking like killers. Desperate to find the real culprit and clear their names, they become fugitives.
What follows is a silly, uneven quest around New Orleans, as they try to find out who the victim was and why he was killed before the police find them. And yes, along the way they just might rekindle the spark they once had. If you’ve seen the trailer you know every plot twist except the best one, and if you’ve seen any similar film, you might even be able to guess that.
The reason to keep watching is the chemistry between Issa Rae and Kumail Nanjiani.
Disappointingly, there are very few side characters along the way who make any impression, despite Anna Camp’s best efforts as a WASP-y monster and Kyle Bornheimer — usually a dependable scene-stealer — as her lumbering husband. The most standout supporting character is probably Catherine Cohen’s police witness, and she only has about a minute of screen time.
The reason to keep watching, then, is almost entirely due to the chemistry between Rae and Nanjiani. Their comedy styles are similar — bone-dry and sardonic, but rarely mean — and that synchronicity gives a sense that we’re watching a couple who might really exist. Their bickering feels grounded and largely rational, so when the story does spin off in (much) less grounded, less rational directions, you’re inclined to give it the benefit of the doubt for far longer than you should. Yes, it is objectively ridiculous that they find themselves trying to intimidate a potential witness into a confession, and that one of them is wearing a fluffy unicorn hoody at the time, but it’s also immensely fun, and far funnier than it could be in less capable hands.
This was originally set for a theatrical release from Paramount before the cinemas shut down, but it feels very much at home on Netflix, in that it’s entertaining but easy to watch with your brain idling in a low gear. Director Michael Showalter, reuniting with Nanjiani after The Big Sick, keeps things moving and slick, and if at times you may wish for a little more adventure in the writing, it provides enough laughs to forgive it some clichés.
