Love Hurts is a shambles. At 83 minutes, director JoJo Eusebio and writers Matthew Murray, Josh Stoddard, and Luke Passmore’s sweet-hearted-reformed-killer-gets-pulled-back-into-the-life-and-has-to-figure-out-which-of-his-lives-is-real actioner is both overstuffed and underbaked. Ke Huy Quan‘s big-hearted real estate agent, Marvin Gable, has an extensive and bloody secret history, alternately semi-cryptically alluded to and explored in such detail that the picture’s present-day story grinds to a halt. Ariana DeBose‘s back-from-exile one-time underworld lawyer Rose reads like a wildcard, but that’s not entirely intentional—the script pulls her through so many modes and moods that she never quite coheres as a character. A sweet, funny romance between Marvin’s depressed assistant Ashley (Lio Tipton) and ludicrously cool hitman/poet the Raven (real name Roger) (Mustafa Shakir) could be a movie of its own. Marvin’s monstrous brother Knuckles (real name Alvin) (Daniel Wu) is a terrific foil to his brother, who would have benefitted from some of their bad, bad history being shown rather than told.

But, while acknowledging that Love Hurts trips over itself and does not quite cohere, I enjoyed it a lot. The lion’s share of the responsibility for Love Hurts working amidst its mess falls to Quan. Marvin Gable is a cousin to Quan’s Oscar-winning turn as Everything Everywhere All at Once‘s Waymond(s)—he’s a goofy sweetheart who works to bring out the best in the people he shares his life with. He’s genuinely passionate about his career as a realtor, takes joy in helping clients find a home, and looks out for his staff. Love Hurts‘ biggest narrative success is that it likes that Marvin loves his life. He’s a bit of a corny goofball (speaking as a diehard bike commuter who’s dealt with more than one spinal injury, I dig that Marvin rides with proper safety gear, but you don’t need a pant cuff for the leg on the opposite side of the chain), and his good cheer clashes with Ashley’s gloom. But Love Hurts doesn’t treat him (and Quan doesn’t play him) like a pathetic naif for renouncing his past life as Knuckles’ most terrifying enforcer—getting out from under his brother’s thumb and trying to be good and finding happiness saved Marvin’s heart.

When Rose swoops back into his life with a handmade Valentine’s Day card and a long-in-the-works plan to take vengeance on those who framed her for stealing from Knuckles and forced her to go into hiding, she brings Knuckles’ gang down on Marvin—he was supposed to have killed her after all. Love Hurts‘ driving question isn’t “Will Marvin become manly by resurrecting his lethal skills?” but “How will Marvin reconcile needing to resurrect his lethal skills to get through an increasingly violent Valentine’s Day with his desire to be a better person than he was?”

Quan does very fine work both dramatically—first when establishing Marvin’s deliberate good nature and then delving into struggles with having to fight again and Rose’s return to his life—and in action. Quan, working with stunt designer, coordinator Can Aydin, and director Eusebio, threads a fun needle. Marvin is out of practice with fighting and wants to get away from his opponents rather than engage them. Love Hurts’ early fights are thus as much localized chase scenes as duels. Marvin’s initial clash with Roger pits Roger’s feathered darts and massive collection of bespoke knives against Marvin’s Milwaukie Realtor of the Year, a mini stapler, and several couch cushions. Creative, engaging, well-performed choreography understands that getting attacked with a mini stapler or cookie cutters is silly and painful.

The choreography remains solid as it shifts toward the dramatic, and its final battle—between Quan and Wu—is a strong example of how fighting styles can reveal character. Marvin isn’t as practiced as Alvin, taking hits harder but adapting to his brother’s tactics and saving his strength for pivotal moments. Alvin’s more ruthless than Marvin and presses the advantage when he has it, but he over-relies on brute force and doesn’t conserve his energy—which means that past a certain point, he’s undercutting himself by going for brute force past the point where it has stopped working. As clumsy as much of Love Hurts‘ storytelling is, Quan and Wu’s fight sings.

If you’re looking for a great, funny romance that stars an assassin, try Grosse Pointe Blank. If you’re aiming for a wild world of colorful killers, the John Wick series is beloved for a reason. Love Hurts is scattered and frustrating, but Quan’s excellent turn and choreography go a long way. It’s worth a watch or perhaps a rental.

Love Hurts is now playing in theaters.

Love Hurts Trailer: