There’s a quiet confidence to A Love Like This that sneaks up on you. What begins as a sun-drenched romantic escape gradually reveals itself to be something far more introspective – an intimate, emotionally levelled portrait of two people trying to hold onto something that perhaps was never built to last.
Directed by John Asher, the film unfolds over a single Malibu weekend, where Paul (Hayes MacArthur) and Leah (Emmanuelle Chriqui) attempt to carve out a version of normalcy within the confines of a secret affair. At first, their world feels idyllic – long conversations, shared meals, laughter, and an easy physical connection that suggests years of history. But the illusion is fragile. Phone calls from spouses, small intrusions from the outside world, and the weight of what’s left unsaid slowly fracture the fantasy they’re trying so hard to sustain.
What elevates the film is how deeply it commits to that tension between desire and consequence. Asher, working from Jeffrey Ruggles’ script, resists the urge to moralise. Instead, he observes. There’s a sense that we, as viewers, are witnessing something private – almost intrusive – as if we’ve stumbled into a moment we weren’t meant to see. That perspective gives the film its emotional pull. It doesn’t ask you to condone Paul and Leah’s choices, but it does ask you to understand them.
Central to that is the chemistry between Chriqui and MacArthur, which feels entirely unforced. There’s an ease to their connection that sells the history between them, but also a volatility that keeps things unpredictable. Their relationship isn’t just passionate – it’s complicated, messy, and at times self-destructive. MacArthur, in particular, brings an unexpected vulnerability to Paul, balancing charm with a growing sense of desperation as the reality of their situation closes in. Chriqui, meanwhile, grounds Leah with a quiet emotional intelligence, allowing you to feel the push and pull between what she wants and what she knows she cannot have.
Visually, the film leans into its setting with purpose. The Malibu house – bathed in natural light, all glass and open space – becomes more than just a luxurious backdrop. It reflects the illusion of clarity and openness the characters are chasing, even as their emotional reality becomes increasingly opaque. The contrast between the beauty of the environment and the instability of the relationship adds a subtle layer of tension that runs throughout.
There’s also a maturity in how the film approaches intimacy. It understands that connection isn’t just about physical closeness, but about shared history, unresolved longing, and the things left unsaid. The result is a story that feels adult in the truest sense – not because of what it shows, but because of what it explores.
If the film has a weakness, it’s that it occasionally skirts deeper psychological territory in favour of maintaining its tonal consistency. There are moments where you sense there’s more to uncover about these characters – their pasts, their motivations – but the film chooses to stay within the confines of this single weekend snapshot. Still, that restraint feels intentional. This isn’t a story about explaining everything; it’s about capturing a moment in time where everything is on the line.
By the end, A Love Like This lingers not because of any grand narrative twist, but because of the questions it leaves behind. Can love exist outside the structures we build around our lives? Is passion enough to justify the damage it causes? And perhaps most poignantly, are some relationships destined to live only in fragments – beautiful, fleeting, and ultimately unresolved?
It’s a film that trusts its audience to sit with that ambiguity. And in doing so, it becomes something quietly affecting: a romance that understands love not as a solution, but as a complication.
THREE AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
A Love Like This is now available on Digital and On Demand in the United States.
