In the ten-minute sequence before the title appears, “The Lovebirds” seems to be a different kind of movie than it is. After a brief prologue, set four years in the past, where Jibran (Kumail Nanjiani) and Leilani (Issa Rae) enjoy the afterglow of a successful first-date that neither wants to end, we jump to the present where that seemingly idyllic chemistry of four years ago has turned into quiet resentments of each other’s limitations. Leilani is an advertising executive exasperated by Jibran’s closemindness and inclination for sanctimony. Meanwhile, Jibran is frustrated by her frippery and bouts of materialism. The first scene in the time-jump to the present is an extended argument as the two prepare to leave for a party. The sequence is both funny and rough as the two use words as weapons, establishing the state of their relationship in sober terms. By the time the title appears, splashed across the screen as the pair stands apart from each other in an elevator, the title seems like a taunting bit of irony. “The Lovebirds”? Maybe not.
But, “The Lovebirds” is not a mildly caustic account of a relationship on the verge of the end. Not really. The breakdown of the relationship is interrupted, and then bolstered, by a crime. The couple accidentally run into a cyclist, injuring but not killing him. Their minor crime escalates into a major situation when an undercover police officer takes control of their vehicle, in pursuit of the cyclist, who he then murders. The couple is too aghast at the escalation of events to react, and approaching sirens chase the assailant away before he can deal with the couple, who are now eyewitnesses, and then presumed suspects. Jibran and Leilani, doubtful that their story has any credibility to hold up to police scrutiny, attempt to solve the murder so that they can clear their name. Along the way they inadvertently solve their relationship woes as well.
“The Lovebirds” is an especially low-stakes comedy, albeit one punctuated by moments of jolting violence. This is by design. The way that the film navigates Jibran and Leilani’s rift with each other as central to the life-or-death situations they find themselves in, creates an atmosphere of klutzily humorous intent rather than anxiety or dread. We know that this hapless pair is bound to stumble on to the answers they need, so we are rarely worried. Instead, director Michael Showalter and writers Aaron Abrams and Brendan Gall are happy to piece the film together as a series of moments where Jibran and Leilani have petty arguments as the murder investigation, which is presented as a mildly annoying bugbear rather than a real crisis, develops.
Rae and Nanjiani have a charming and believable chemistry from the idyllic opening scene to the dozens of bickering moments throughout the rest of the film. One imagines that an iteration of “The Lovebirds” that is simply an account of their relationship would be even more charming, but this pseudo-murder-mystery is not a defective substitute. Some more overt moments come from the sheer craziness of the situations they encounter – a scene of horse torture, a hopeless break-in to an apartment, a crashed dinner party and then crashed sex party. But the film is funniest when plot is obscured and the two just trade quips with each other. The two sell Jibran and Leilani as a pair who simply enjoy hearing themselves speak but also hearing each other speak as well. There’s a consistent amusement in their interactions – they enjoy their nonsense as much as do. So, there are moments in this that rise above mere pleasance and become genuinely riotously funny – less because of plot and more because of the cadence of the two leads.
Showalter, who directed Nanjiani in the very different “The Big Sick,” is good at directing moments of tension that collapse into comedy. Although suspense is never really on the film’s mind (the somewhat similar “Game Night” is more explicit on suspense as a form of comedy), the juxtaposition of the couple’s own personal drama with the film’s larger murder conspiracy is used to good effect – the best in a sequence where a murder happens just out of their eyesight, as they make utter fools of themselves in an “interrogation” with a teenager.
The steady propulsion of the humour collapses slightly about ten minutes before the end, surprisingly since the film is already short at below 90 minutes. But the zany humour has been sustained so well by then that it’s hard to feel bad about the film’s decision to turn into something a bit too cute to end it all. “The Lovebirds” is charming in its intent, cuteness and all, though. Among its strengths is a focus on call-backs and motifs throughout that develop both Jibran and Leilani as well as deepen the jokes. Late in the film, there’s an amusing call-back to an argument about orgies that feels both easy, but exactly right. Which, just about, sums up “The Lovebirds”. The level of difficulty here is not astronomical, but it’s hard to dislike the sweet pleasantness of it all.
The Lovebirds is streaming on Netflix
