Romantic comedies don’t usually hand the microphone to the guy who gets left at the altar. Solo Mio does, and that alone gives it a slightly different flavor.
Kevin James has flirted with the genre before (and memorably scene-stole in Hitch), but here he steps fully into leading-man territory. Reuniting with the Kinnane brothers (Directors Chuck and Dane Kinnane, who had a partnership with the actor throughout COVID) – this time as co-writer and star – James plays Matt Taylor, a high school teacher whose wedding day dissolves into humiliation when his fiancée doesn’t show. Instead of canceling the honeymoon, Matt makes the most of Italy on his own, determined to endure the prepaid group tour that was meant to celebrate forever.
The premise is pure rom-com melancholy: heartbreak framed against postcard beauty. Rome becomes both backdrop and emotional amplifier. Matt riding solo on a tandem bike meant for two, awkwardly navigating candlelit restaurants packed with couples, and fumbling through Italian with the help of a translation app – it’s broad comedy, yes, but it also carries a quiet sting. James leans into that vulnerability more than expected. He’s still physically goofy, still capable of pratfalls and sheepish grins, but there’s a softness here that feels less performative and more lived-in.
Enter Gia (Nicole Grimaudo), a warm, sharp café owner who rescues Matt from more than just aggressive street pickpockets. Their chemistry isn’t explosive – it’s gentler than that – but it works. Grimaudo’s natural presence balances James’ awkward energy, and the language barrier adds an authenticity that keeps their flirtation from feeling overly polished. When we learn that Gia has her own romantic and financial troubles, the film settles into familiar territory: two bruised hearts circling each other cautiously.
No one walks into Solo Mio expecting narrative innovation. You can map the beats long before they land. But sometimes predictability isn’t a flaw, it’s the comfort. The movie knows exactly what it is: a breezy, 96-minute escape built on second chances and scenic longing glances. Shot on location, the Italian settings do a lot of emotional heavy lifting, turning the film into something that feels like a vacation brochure with feelings.
Where the film stumbles is in its supporting cast. The tour group orbiting Matt often drifts into caricature, with jokes that land more loudly than cleverly. Instead of sharpening Matt’s arc, they occasionally distract from it; though, in their defense, Kim Coates and Alyson Hannigan as a twice divorced/thrice married volatile couple of sorts deliver some of the film’s more humorous moments. The movie is strongest when it narrows its focus to the quiet exchanges between Matt and Gia – when the humor grows out of discomfort and sincerity rather than slapstick exaggeration.
What ultimately makes Solo Mio work – modestly, but genuinely – is its perspective. This is a rom-com that feels particularly attuned to male embarrassment: the pressure to perform confidence, the quiet panic of rejection, the way heartbreak can make you feel ridiculous in public. James plays that insecurity without irony. There’s something disarming about watching a middle-aged man confront romantic failure not with swagger, but with visible confusion and hurt.
It’s not groundbreaking. It doesn’t reinvent the genre. But it’s a pleasant romantic comedy that understands its lane and stays in it. For viewers who’ve ever felt blindsided by love – especially the ones who don’t always see their vulnerability reflected onscreen – Solo Mio offers a simple reminder: sometimes the worst day of your life can quietly redirect you somewhere better.
THREE STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Solo Mio is now screening in Australian theatres.
