24/10/2025 - Alexandru Mavrodineanu’s documentary tells a universal story of relationships falling apart, somehow making us feel compassion for the protagonists, even when their choices are questionable

Seven years after his excellent observational documentary Caisă [+see also:
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“My first great love was also the last,” says Mihail, one of the protagonists, whose wife, Roxana, leaves him as he wants children and she does not. Meanwhile, Ciprian tries to get back in the relationship game, five years after his wife, Oana, left him. Mavrodineanu follows the four former spouses as they try to move on and make the best of their situations, and Love Hurts somehow makes the viewer feel compassion for the protagonists, even when their choices and opinions are highly questionable.

Love Hurts is a universal story about people who used to be heading in the same direction together, and then decided to part ways. The director, at times present in the frame, delves deep into their psyche, trying to investigate what happened and how they have reached a place where they all feel overwhelmed by emotions, past traumas and the uncertainty of the future. One of the film’s greatest strengths is its exploration of the complexity of blame: at first, the two men seem victims of their partners’ rash decisions, but what if there is more to it?

The movie leads one to contemplate the therapeutic power of expressing one’s feelings. One of the protagonists is reluctant to undergo therapy, and yet being included in the documentary seems truly therapeutic to him. At Astra, Love Hurts is included in a thematic sidebar, “Masculinity in Crisis”, but it could very well have been part of another, “Art as a Tool of Self-exploration and Healing”, because it is obvious that the mere act of being in front of a camera and giving some order to their thoughts is helpful for the four protagonists. At times, the audience witnesses a breakthrough on screen, and Love Hurts becomes a love letter to communication and, in a much broader sense, an invitation to venture outside the box in any way possible, as one may feel trapped and optionless.

Love Hurts also makes one wonder why it is so difficult to take the time to decide on a precise stance regarding an important topic in one’s life – for example, having or not having children. It is not what sociologists call “analysis paralysis”, but perhaps the fear that deciding will require immediate action on said decision. Mavrodineanu doesn’t push topics too far and doesn’t insist that his protagonists make their positions clearer, but the subjects that crop up naturally make viewers ponder their own mental blocks, even if they don’t have much in common with the people on screen.

At times, the documentary descends into sheer absurdity, as the protagonists go to great lengths to extricate themselves from their crises. Ciprian hires a man, Momo, who is supposed to teach him how to “get some”. Then three of them attend a seminar for “broken hearts”, linked to the controversial German New Medicine medical movement. Here, we hear Mihail telling the other attendees that he is “perfect” and that he has never known failure, a perception that gives some context to why he felt so overwhelmed when Roxana broke up with him. Even if their methods are beyond dubious at times, one can only feel respect for these owners of “broken hearts” who take their mending so seriously. In the end, being in the documentary is not exhibitionism, but an act of courage.

Love Hurts was produced by Romania’s Almafilm Production.