Now Showing: Before Love Came to Kill Us

 

Before Love Came to Kill Us

Genre: Crime/Romance

Director: Barry Jenkins

Writer: Dawson Edwards

Cast: Michael B. Jordan, Ana de Armas, Denzel Washington, Kat Dennings

Plot: A stolen car races down a highway shrouded in darkness. Emilia Cortez (Ana de Armas) grips the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white. Her eyes, framed by smeared eyeliner and tear-streaked cheeks, dart between the rearview mirror and the road ahead. Flashing lights pierce the distance behind her. She’s bleeding from her shoulder, but the pain is far away. A crumpled photograph of a man and a woman in happier times lies on the passenger seat, stained with blood.

Her voice, weary and shaking, narrates: “When people talk about love, they don’t tell you it’s the closest you’ll ever come to dying. Maybe that’s why we chase it, right to the edge.”

The camera cuts to Emilia in her cramped studio apartment. The overhead light flickers as she sits at a secondhand table, sifting through a stack of unpaid bills. Her face is a portrait of quiet exhaustion. The camera lingers on her cracked nails and the faint scars on her hands, physical remnants of the dead-end jobs she’s cycled through.

Her phone buzzes, and she glances at the screen: “Rent due. NO MORE EXTENSIONS.” She exhales sharply, setting the phone face down.

Later, at her waitressing shift, Emilia moves mechanically, forcing smiles for customers who barely look at her. Her boss snaps at her for forgetting an order, and she mutters an apology. But her eyes burn with unspoken fury.

Outside on her break, she smokes a cigarette, her fingers trembling. A coworker, Clara (Kat Dennings), joins her, offering a lighthearted smirk.

“You ever feel like the walls are closing in?” Emilia asks, her voice low.

Clara shrugs. “I stopped looking at the walls.” She flicks her cigarette. “We’re all one bad choice away from freedom or disaster.”

That night, Emilia walks into a dive bar to drink away her frustration. She doesn’t notice Caleb James (Michael B. Jordan) at first, but he notices her. His gaze follows her movements as she sits alone at the bar, nursing a cheap whiskey.

“You look like you’ve had a day,” Caleb says, sliding into the seat next to her.

Emilia barely glances at him. “You look like you don’t know me well enough to start talking.”

He laughs, disarming but not overbearing. “Fair. Let me fix that. I’m Caleb.”

Emilia’s lip twitches in something resembling a smile. “You don’t strike me as a ‘Caleb.’ More like a ‘complication.’”

“Complications can be fun,” he replies, holding her gaze.

The conversation flows effortlessly, laced with flirtation and the kind of honesty that comes easily between two strangers. They leave the bar together, the neon lights casting long shadows as they walk side by side.

Their first weeks together are intoxicating. The camera captures snippets of their growing intimacy: Caleb teaching Emilia how to cook a meal she’s never heard of, Emilia tracing the scar on his jaw as he tells a half-truth about how he got it, stolen kisses in the rain, laughter echoing in empty parking lots.

But cracks begin to show. Caleb is evasive about his work, brushing off her questions with charm that feels increasingly hollow. Emilia, too, holds her secrets close, deflecting his curiosity about her past relationships and the family she never mentions.

One night, lying in bed, Emilia admits, “Sometimes I feel like I’m not real. Like I’m just...floating through someone else’s life.”

Caleb turns to her, his voice soft. “Then let’s make a life that’s ours.”

Emilia finds a gun in Caleb’s jacket one night while folding laundry. Her face hardens, and the camera stays tight on her trembling hands as she places it back where she found it. She doesn’t say anything immediately, but the doubt gnaws at her.

Her unease deepens when Caleb introduces her to Marcus Price (Denzel Washington), his boss. Marcus exudes quiet menace, his every word layered with double meanings. During dinner, Marcus compliments Emilia on her intelligence and charm, but his piercing gaze leaves her feeling exposed.

“Caleb’s lucky,” Marcus says, swirling his glass of whiskey. “You keep him grounded. That’s important in this business.”

Emilia forces a smile, but her unease grows.

Later, she confronts Caleb. “What exactly is your business?”

“Real estate,” he says too quickly.

“Don’t insult me,” she snaps. “I found your gun. I met Marcus. What aren’t you telling me?”

Caleb hesitates, his confident facade cracking. “It’s not what you think,” he begins, but Emilia cuts him off.

“Then what is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m sleeping next to a ticking time bomb.”

Caleb finally confesses. He works for Marcus, running money-laundering operations through shell companies. He’s been skimming off the top, planning to leave and start fresh with Emilia. But Marcus is suspicious, and the walls are closing in.

“You don’t have to be part of this,” Caleb tells her. “I just need one more job. Then we’re gone.”

Emilia is torn between her growing love for Caleb and the gnawing instinct to protect herself. She agrees to help, but her trust is fractured.

The heist is a meticulously planned robbery of Marcus’s private safe, but everything unravels. Emilia’s role is to distract Marcus at his office while Caleb breaks into the vault.

The tension builds as Marcus questions Emilia, his tone dripping with suspicion. “You’re nervous,” he says, leaning closer.

She forces a laugh. “Maybe I’m just intimidated by all...this.” She gestures vaguely at his wealth, but her hands tremble.

The camera glides over the opulence of Marcus Price’s penthouse office, the dark mahogany walls adorned with abstract paintings that scream wealth and exclusivity. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the Los Angeles skyline, the city twinkling like a galaxy beneath the deepening twilight. But the room itself feels stifling, oppressive, as if the walls could close in at any moment.

Emilia steps inside, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She wears a black cocktail dress Caleb insisted she pick for this night—elegant but understated, something that wouldn’t draw too much attention but would still make Price notice her. Her makeup is flawless, but her stomach churns as Price turns from the window to greet her, his expression unreadable.

“Miss Cortez,” Price says, his voice smooth and unhurried. He’s dressed impeccably, as always, his charcoal suit tailored to perfection. The faintest hint of a smile plays on his lips, but his eyes are sharp, dissecting her every move. “I’m surprised Caleb let you into my world. He tends to keep his cards close.”

Emilia forces a smile, the weight of his gaze almost unbearable. “Caleb said you wanted to meet me,” she replies, her voice steady despite the thrum of her pulse. “I figured I should see what all the fuss is about.”

Price chuckles, motioning for her to sit on a leather chair near his desk. “He speaks highly of you. Says you keep him grounded. I can see why.” He pours two glasses of wine from a decanter on the sideboard, handing one to her before taking his seat across from her.

Emilia takes the glass, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. The contact feels electric, but not in the way Caleb’s touch feels—it’s cold, calculated, like a test she doesn’t fully understand. She sips the wine, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of Caleb. The heist is underway; Caleb is somewhere beneath their feet, breaking into Price’s private vault. Her job is to keep the man sitting in front of her occupied, no matter what it takes.

“Tell me,” Price says, leaning back in his chair. “What do you see in Caleb? I’m curious.”

Emilia hesitates, the question catching her off guard. She plays with the stem of her glass, searching for the right words. “He’s… determined,” she says finally. “Loyal. He cares about things that matter.”

Price raises an eyebrow, swirling his wine. “Loyalty, huh? You think Caleb’s loyal to you?”

Her chest tightens, but she doesn’t flinch. “He’s loyal to the people he loves.”

Price’s smile widens, and for the first time, Emilia catches a glimpse of the predator beneath the polished surface. “That’s sweet,” he says, his tone dripping with condescension. “But loyalty doesn’t mean much in my business. It’s just another way to say ‘predictable.’ And predictable men don’t last long.”

The air in the room grows heavier as Price sets his glass down and leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk. His voice lowers, becoming almost intimate. “Do you know how Caleb came to me? Desperate. Like a stray dog looking for scraps. He had nothing, and I gave him everything. A life. A purpose. And now, he thinks he can just… walk away.”

Emilia’s breath catches. The way Price says “walk away” feels like a loaded threat, each syllable coiled with menace. She forces herself to meet his gaze, even as her hands tremble slightly.

“Maybe he’s earned the right to leave,” she says, her voice quieter but still firm.

Price’s laugh is sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. “Earned the right? You don’t just walk away from this life, Miss Cortez. Not Caleb. Not you. Not anyone.”

Emilia leans back, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She glances toward the painting behind him—a chaotic swirl of blacks and reds, like a storm trapped in oil. “So that’s it?” she asks, tilting her head. “You own him? Forever?”

Price’s expression darkens, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I don’t own him. But he owes me. And debts in my world don’t get forgiven. They get paid. In full.”

The tension between them is palpable now, the unspoken danger lurking in every word. Emilia’s grip tightens on her wineglass as Price stands, walking toward a sleek cabinet on the far wall. He opens it with a smooth motion, revealing rows of rare artifacts and weapons displayed like trophies. Among them is a gleaming silver revolver, polished to perfection. Price picks it up, cradling it like an heirloom, his back turned to her as he continues speaking.

“Do you know what I like about Caleb?” he says, his voice calm but deliberate. “He reminds me of myself at his age. Hungry, willing to risk everything to climb higher. But the problem with people like Caleb is they think hunger can be satisfied. That if they can just grab enough—money, power, love—they can finally rest.”

He turns, the revolver now in his hand, though not yet pointed at her. The weight of it feels enormous, even from across the room. His eyes are fixed on her now, sharp and predatory. “But hunger? Hunger doesn’t go away. It grows. And when you can’t keep up with it…” He clicks the revolver’s cylinder, letting the sound linger in the air. “…it devours you.”

Emilia swallows hard, her mind racing. She tries to maintain her composure, keeping her voice steady. “And what about you? Aren’t you tired of being hungry?”

Price smiles faintly, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Tired? No. I’ve made peace with who I am, Miss Cortez. I don’t run from it. I don’t lie to myself. That’s why I’m here, and why Caleb is where he is—scrambling, scheming, convincing himself that love will save him.”

He steps closer, the revolver now hanging loosely at his side. “But you know better, don’t you? You’ve seen the cracks. The way he looks at you, like you’re his life raft. And maybe you are. But what happens when the storm gets worse? When he has to choose between saving himself and saving you?”

Emilia’s chest tightens, her pulse thundering in her ears. “He’d never abandon me,” she says, but the words feel thin, brittle.

Price tilts his head, studying her. “You’re a good actress, I’ll give you that. But I know fear when I see it.” He gestures toward the door. “You can leave now, if you want. Walk away, pretend none of this ever happened. But if you stay…” He raises the revolver slightly, letting it catch the dim light. “…you’ll find out just how far Caleb will go to survive. And just how much you’re willing to sacrifice for him.”

---

As Price’s words hang in the air, the scene cuts to Caleb, sweating and breathless, deep within the vault beneath the penthouse. He’s surrounded by shelves of cash, priceless artifacts, and a wall of surveillance monitors showing the penthouse above. One screen displays Emilia and Price in his office, their tension crackling through the grainy image.

Caleb’s hands falter as he stuffs money into a duffel bag, his attention fixed on the screen. He sees Price holding the revolver, sees the way Emilia’s jaw tightens, her body frozen in defiance. For a moment, he hesitates, torn between his mission and his instinct to protect her.

The sound of footsteps echoes from the hallway outside. Caleb curses under his breath, zipping the duffel bag shut. He knows time is running out.

---

Emilia stands, her legs trembling slightly, but she doesn’t back down. She sets her wineglass on the desk and steps closer to Price, her eyes locking onto his. “You talk a lot about loyalty and hunger and sacrifice, but all I see is a man who’s alone. You don’t trust anyone because you know what you’ve done to the people who trusted you. That’s why Caleb is leaving. Not because he’s scared, but because he refuses to become you.”

Price’s expression hardens, the revolver now rising to his chest. The tension is electric, every second stretching into eternity.

“You think you understand him?” Price says softly, his voice dripping with quiet fury. “You think love makes you strong? It makes you predictable. Weak. Caleb’s going to break you, just like he’s breaking himself. And when he does, I’ll be here, watching.”

And so she leaves.

Meanwhile, Caleb encounters an unexpected guard near the safe. A brutal fight ensues, the camera tracking every punch and gasp, the visceral impact making it clear Caleb is in over his head. He barely escapes with the money.

When Marcus discovers the betrayal, his fury is volcanic. He orders his men to find and kill them both.

Emilia and Caleb hide out in a dingy motel, the stolen money sprawled across the bed between them. The camera focuses and stays on Emilia’s face as she stares at the cash, her expression unreadable.

“This isn’t freedom,” she says quietly.

“It will be,” Caleb insists, but his voice lacks conviction.

The cracks in their relationship deepen as they argue. Emilia accuses Caleb of dragging her into his mess, while Caleb fires back that she had a choice. The camera never leaves her face.

“Did I?” she shouts, tears streaming down her face. “Or did I just fall for someone who knew exactly what buttons to push?”

Caleb sounds wounded: “You think I don’t love you?”

“I think you don’t even know how,” she replies, her voice breaking.

“I miss when you were my best friend” she trails off… “Before love came to kill us.”

The sounds of violence erupt behind her. Caleb has thrown everything off the motel dresser. Still, the camera stays on Emilia. Her sadness creeping in like a predator stalking its prey. The tears continue.

“I’m willing to stay because I’m sick for your love. I wish I could hurt you back. What would you do if you couldn’t get me back?! I almost lost you today. I might lose you tonight, tomorrow, or ten seconds from now, Caleb. It’s killing me. The love.”

---

The warehouse was a labyrinth of steel and shadows, its towering walls echoing every sound like the ghosts of all the bad deals that had gone down there. The flickering light from a single bulb overhead cast jagged shadows on the faces of Emilia and Caleb as they knelt on the cold concrete floor. Their hands were bound behind them, blood smeared across Caleb’s temple where one of Price’s men had struck him. Emilia’s chest heaved, her breath sharp and shallow, her tear-streaked face defiant despite the fear brimming in her eyes.

They’d tried to run. Caleb had stashed the stolen cash in the trunk of a rusted sedan, convinced they could make it to Mexico before Price caught up. They had driven through the city like ghosts, avoiding the main roads, their conversation stilted and tense.

“What’s the plan when we get there?” Emilia had asked, her voice brittle.

“We start over,” Caleb had said, gripping the wheel.

“You think it’s that simple? He won’t stop, Caleb.”

“We’ll make him stop,” Caleb muttered, though the conviction in his voice faltered.

Then the black SUVs appeared in the rearview mirror. First one, then two, then three, their headlights glowing like predatory eyes in the night. Caleb had cursed, swerving onto side streets, the tires screeching. The chase was relentless, the sound of engines roaring through the abandoned streets. Emilia screamed as the car skidded on a sharp turn, crashing into a lamppost. Before they could recover, Price’s men descended, dragging them from the wreckage.

Now, in the warehouse, Caleb shifted, testing his restraints. His knuckles were raw, his breathing labored. Emilia’s gaze flicked toward him, a silent plea for reassurance. He met her eyes briefly before looking away. For the first time, he had nothing to say.

The clink of boots on the concrete floor echoed through the space. The sound was slow, deliberate. Marcus Price emerged from the shadows, his presence suffocating. He was dressed immaculately, a dark trench coat draped over his broad shoulders, his expression calm but unreadable.

Price approached, his polished shoes stopping just short of Caleb and Emilia. He surveyed them like a painter appraising a ruined masterpiece, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smile.

“You know,” Price began, his voice smooth and steady, “I always liked you, Caleb. You reminded me of myself when I was younger—hungry, ambitious, just reckless enough to make people take notice. I saw potential in you. Hell, I gave you the keys to the kingdom. And this...” He gestured to their bloodied, disheveled forms. “This is how you repay me?”

“Let her go,” Caleb said, his voice hoarse but steady. “She didn’t do anything.”

Price laughed—a deep, guttural sound that echoed off the steel walls. “Didn’t do anything? Oh, she did something, all right. She made you soft. You used to think like me. You used to be somebody. Then this—” He jabbed a finger toward Emilia, his voice sharp as a blade. “This distraction comes along, and you forget who you are.”

Emilia straightened, her voice cutting through the silence. “He’s better than you’ll ever be.”

Price’s gaze snapped to her, his smile fading. “Better? You think loyalty makes you better? You think love makes you better? Let me tell you something about love.” He crouched down to her level, his face inches from hers. “Love is a leash. It keeps you tethered, keeps you weak. And when it breaks, it leaves you choking on the floor.”

He stood abruptly, his tone rising. “I built this world! I gave it structure, order. You think you can just walk away from that? Steal from me and vanish into the night? No, no, no. That’s not how this ends.”

Price motioned to one of his men, who approached with a gun. The sound of the safety clicking off sent a shiver down Emilia’s spine.

“You know what the worst part is?” Price said, pacing now, his voice filling the cavernous space. “I would’ve let you go, Caleb. I would’ve turned a blind eye. But then you made it personal. You made me look weak. And in this business, weakness is a death sentence.”

Price turned to face Caleb, his expression hardening. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to die. She’s going to die. And I’m going to make damn sure everyone knows exactly what happens when you cross Marcus Price.”

Caleb struggled against his restraints, desperation seeping into his voice. “You don’t have to do this, Marcus. It’s not too late to end this without more blood.”

Price cocked his head, amused. “Oh, Caleb, you still think you’re in control, don’t you? That’s the problem with people like you—you think you can talk your way out of anything.”

But as Price raised his hand to signal the execution, a loud crash echoed through the warehouse. One of Price’s men stumbled backward, clutching his throat.

It was Emilia. In the chaos of Price’s speech, she had quietly worked free of her restraints and grabbed a steel pipe from the floor. Her eyes blazed with fury as she swung again, this time connecting with the wrist of the man holding the gun.

“Get down!” she screamed, and Caleb, despite his shock, obeyed.

The warehouse erupted into chaos. The camera tracks every movement with precision: the clang of fists against metal, the echoing gunshots, the spray of blood against cold steel walls.

Price, ever composed, dodged a swing from Caleb and drew his own gun. His aim was steady, his expression calm as he fired. The shot striking him in the throat, sending him stumbling, then falling, then choking and finally, nothing.

“You think you can win?” Price roared, his voice filling the space. “You think love will save you now?”

Emilia, battered but unbroken, lunged at Price. Her hands clutched the gun, twisting it out of his grip. The camera lingered on their faces as they struggled, the tension palpable. Price’s calm facade cracked, his expression twisting into fury.

“You don’t have what it takes,” he snarled.

But Emilia did. With a scream of rage, she turned the gun on Price and fired. The shot echoed like a thunderclap, and Price staggered, blood blooming across his chest. He fell to his knees, his coat pooling around him like spilled ink.

---

The camera moved in tight on Price’s face as he looked up at Emilia, his breath shallow. His lips curved into a faint smile, the ghost of his former arrogance.

“You think this is over?” he rasped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You’ll see... Love doesn’t save anyone. It just kills slower.”

His head lolled forward, his body collapsing to the ground.

Emilia stood in the wreckage of the warehouse, her body bruised and bloodied, but alive. The faint sound of sirens grew louder in the distance. The camera once again zooms in on only her face.

“We have to go,” she heard Caleb say, his voice as strong and seductive as the night they met.

Emilia nodded, but her eyes lingered on Price’s lifeless form. “He’s right, you know,” she whispered.

“What?”

She turned to Caleb's lifeless body, her gaze steady. “Love does kill. But it’s the only thing worth dying for.”

She limped out of the warehouse into the dawn, her silhouette framed against the rising sun. Emilia drives away from the city, Caleb’s bloodied jacket beside her. She looks at the duffle bag of money, taking in the weight of everything it represents.

In the final scene, Emilia sits in a diner, staring out the window at the endless stretch of road ahead. Her voice narrates: “Love doesn’t end. It just leaves its mark. And some marks never fade.”