Game of Love

There is a specific kind of cinematic vertigo that sets in when you realize a movie exists primarily because a previous one didn’t fail quite hard enough to prevent a sequel. Entering the world of Game of Love feels exactly like that. It’s the follow-up to 2021’s Time Is Up, and it arrives with all the hallmarks of the high-gloss, low-stakes "streaming era" romance: beautiful locations, actors with massive social media followings, and a script that feels like it was assembled by a committee trying to reverse-engineer a viral TikTok trend.

I watched this while nursing a slightly-too-hot mug of Earl Grey that eventually left a permanent ring on my coffee table—a mark of time more enduring than most of the dialogue here. As the camera panned over the stunning Sicilian coastline, I found myself more interested in the architectural integrity of the family villa than the emotional integrity of the leads.

The Sicilian Distraction

The plot picks up with Vivien (Bella Thorne) and Roy (Benjamin Mascolo) heading to Roy’s childhood home in Sicily. The goal is to prep the family estate for sale, but since this is a drama, the sale is really just a clothesline to hang some heavy-handed "past trauma" on. Roy is brooding and secretive; Vivien is supportive but increasingly alienated. Enter Anna (Alma Noce), a mysterious woman who inserts herself into their lives with the kind of breezy confidence that only exists in movies where the characters don't have locks on their doors.

Director Elisa Amoruso clearly knows how to shoot a landscape. Sicily looks edible. The light hits the ancient stone in a way that makes you want to pause the film and book a flight immediately. However, the film frequently mistakes "looking at pretty things" for "storytelling." We spend a lot of time watching characters stare pensively at the sea, which would be fine if we had any idea what they were thinking. Instead, the film relies on a series of escalating tensions that feel less like organic conflict and more like a GPS recalibrating every time the plot hits a dead end.

Chemistry in the Social Media Age

The central draw—and perhaps the central problem—is the pairing of Bella Thorne and Benjamin Mascolo. At the time of filming, they were a real-life power couple, and the Time Is Up collection was very much a "brand" project. There’s an inherent curiosity in watching real-world partners play fictional ones, but ironically, the chemistry here feels oddly stifled. Bella Thorne brings a professional, if somewhat weary, energy to Vivien, trying her best to ground a character that the script keeps afloat in a sea of clichés.

Benjamin Mascolo, primarily a musician, struggles with the "brooding with a secret" requirement of the role. When Roy is supposed to be tormented by his past, he often just looks like he’s trying to remember where he parked his Vespa. The arrival of Alma Noce as the "mysterious interloper" provides a much-needed spark, as she actually seems to be playing a character with a pulse, but even she can’t save the film from its own lethargy. The emotional stakes have the weight of a sponsored Instagram post—shiny, curated, and gone from your mind the second you scroll past.

Content vs. Cinema

In our current 2015-present era, the line between "film" and "content" has become increasingly blurry. Game of Love is a prime example of the "streaming pipeline" movie. These are films designed to satisfy a very specific demographic of fans who want to see their favorite celebrities in aspirational settings. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but as a piece of drama, it lacks the "human friction" that makes stories about relationships resonate.

Interestingly, the behind-the-scenes reality of the film almost overshadows the movie itself. Bella Thorne and Benjamin Mascolo ended their real-life engagement not long after the film’s cycle, and you can almost feel the cooling of the embers on screen. It’s a meta-layer of sadness that the movie didn't intend, but it’s the only part of the experience that felt authentic to me. It highlights the fleeting nature of the "influencer-star" model of filmmaking; when the real-world romance dies, the movie becomes a strange, digital time capsule of a relationship that moved faster than the script did.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

If you’re looking for a silver lining, the production design is actually quite thoughtful. The contrast between the cold, modern life the couple left behind and the crumbling, sun-drenched history of the Sicilian estate is a nice touch. Also, trivia buffs might find it interesting that the film was produced by RAI Cinema, the Italian national public broadcaster, which explains why it feels like a very high-budget Italian tourism ad at times.

It’s also worth noting that the screenplay, co-written by Anita Rivaroli and Marco Borromei, tries to weave in themes of family legacy and the burden of the past, but it’s hampered by a 91-minute runtime that doesn't allow for the slow-burn development a real domestic thriller needs. It wants to be Stealing Beauty, but it settles for being a very long music video with some dialogue sprinkled in.

Ultimately, Game of Love is a film that functions best as background noise for a rainy Sunday. It offers some lovely scenery and a glimpse into the celebrity-driven filmmaking machine of the 2020s, but it fails to earn its dramatic moments. It’s a sequel that feels like an obligation rather than an inspiration, leaving the audience—and likely the actors—ready to move on to the next project. If you're a die-hard fan of the leads, you might find something to latch onto, but for the rest of us, it’s a game not worth playing.