Introduction:
When I first heard about “All Kinds of Love,” I was intrigued. Directed by David Lewis, this 2022 indie comedy promises a tapestry of queer relationships set against the backdrop of 2015, the year marriage equality became law in the U.S. The film has been making the rounds at LGBTQ+ festivals, and its heart seems to beat for the messy, beautiful chaos of love in all its forms. With a cast that includes the familiar face of Matthew Montgomery, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia—his presence instantly transported me back to my early days of exploring queer cinema.
Review:
“All Kinds of Love” is like a patchwork quilt stitched together from the lives of people just trying to figure out what love means to them. The story orbits around Max and Josh, a couple whose long-term relationship unravels just as the world is celebrating marriage equality. Irony, right? They decide to divorce, but as anyone who’s ever tried to untangle a life with someone knows, it’s never that simple. Josh finds himself in the arms of Pete, a cop with a badge and a wandering eye, while Max is left adrift, clinging to the flotsam of old feelings.
Enter Conrad, the new tenant in Max’s old apartment. He’s got this old-school charm—think candlelit dinners, not just late-night hookups. When Max ends up crashing at Conrad’s place, sparks fly, but not without a healthy dose of awkwardness and insecurity. Their age gap is the elephant in the room, and the film tries to wrestle with it, though sometimes it feels more like a gentle poke than a deep dive.
Meanwhile, Max’s parents are navigating the choppy waters of a long-term throuple with their partner Drew. Jealousy, suspicion, and the desire to belong all bubble to the surface. I found myself oddly fascinated by their dynamic—how often do you see a three-way relationship given this much screen time, let alone treated with a mix of humor and empathy? Still, there’s a sense that the script is checking boxes rather than peeling back layers.
Watching this film, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seen it all before. Maybe it’s because, back in the early 2000s, stories like this felt fresh and even a little daring. Now, though, the direction and dialogue come off as a bit clunky, almost like the film is stuck in a time capsule. The conversations are heavy-handed, and sometimes the acting feels like everyone’s reading lines at a table read rather than living in the moment. I wanted to care more, to feel the heartbeat of these characters, but they often felt like sketches rather than living, breathing people.
That said, there are moments that made me smile, and even laugh out loud. The film isn’t shy about nudity—almost every male character bares all at some point, and while it’s a bold choice, it sometimes feels more like a gimmick than a statement. Still, I’m not complaining; it’s rare to see this kind of casual, unapologetic queerness on screen.
If I’m honest, I miss the days when Matthew Montgomery was everywhere in gay cinema. Seeing him again was like running into an old friend at a coffee shop—familiar, comforting, but also a reminder of how much things have changed. The film tries to juggle a lot—age gaps, throuples, trans love stories—but in the end, it’s more of a gentle nudge than a punch to the gut.
“All Kinds of Love” wants to celebrate the messy, imperfect ways we love each other, and in its own quirky, sometimes awkward way, it does just that. But as I watched, I couldn’t help but wish for a little more depth, a little more risk. Love, after all, is never simple—and maybe that’s the point.
I really liked how the review emphasized the irony of Max and Josh’s breakup happening right when marriage equality was becoming a reality. It feels like a powerful reminder that personal struggles don’t always align neatly with social progress.