Purple Hearts: A Marriage of Convenience That Falls Flat

The opening shot of Purple Hearts lingers on Sofia Carson’s face as her character, Cassie Salazar, performs an original song in a dimly lit bar. The camera zooms in on her fingers dancing across the guitar strings, the flickering neon lights casting a warm glow over her determined expression. It’s a moment meant to establish authenticity and raw emotion, but the scene feels more like a music video than a natural extension of the narrative. This disconnect—between the film’s aspirations and its execution—sets the tone for much of what follows.

Directed by Elizabeth Allen Rosenbaum and based on Tess Wakefield’s novel, Purple Hearts is a Netflix romantic drama that follows Cassie, an aspiring musician struggling with type 1 diabetes, who enters into a marriage of convenience with Marine Luke Marrow (Nicholas Galitzine) for financial stability. The film leans heavily on the chemistry between its leads, but the execution often falls short.

What works best in Purple Hearts are the moments that feel grounded and authentic. Carson’s performance as Cassie is compelling when she’s on stage, her voice carrying a sincerity that the script sometimes lacks. There’s a palpable energy in these scenes, particularly when she performs “Come Back Home,” a track that uplifts the spirits of the deployed Marines. The song goes viral, and the film briefly captures the excitement of an artist’s first taste of success. Carson’s portrayal of Cassie’s determination and vulnerability is her strongest suit, even if the character herself often feels one-dimensional.

Galitzine, meanwhile, brings a quiet intensity to Luke, particularly in scenes where he grapples with his past addiction and the looming deployment to Iraq. His performance is nuanced, especially in moments like the late-night heart-to-heart with Cassie before his departure, where he admits his fears about both the marriage and the war. Galitzine’s ability to convey emotion with subtle expressions and gestures adds depth to a character who could easily have been reduced to a cliché.

Their dynamic has its moments—like the scene where they re-decorate Cassie’s apartment to showcase their marriage for Luke’s father, or when Luke makes a wedding ring out of his dog tag chain. These small, intimate gestures hint at a deeper connection between the characters, but the film struggles to build on them effectively.

The soundtrack, featuring original songs performed by Carson, is one of the film’s strongest assets. Tracks like “Come Back Home” and “I Hate the Way” add emotional weight to key scenes, even if the lyrics occasionally feel clichéd. The music video aesthetic that permeates these moments, however, undermines the drama. For instance, the scene where Cassie performs at the Whisky a Go Go feels more like a concert than a pivotal moment in her character’s journey.

Where Purple Hearts falters is in its pacing and structure. The first act sets up a promising premise: Cassie, desperate for health insurance to afford her insulin, agrees to a marriage of convenience with Luke, who needs the financial stability before his deployment. This setup has potential, exploring themes of love, sacrifice, and personal growth. However, the film struggles to maintain momentum once Luke is deployed. The email and video call exchanges between Cassie and Luke feel forced and contrived, lacking the emotional depth needed to make their relationship believable.

The film’s attempt to weave in social commentary on military life and healthcare struggles feels heavy-handed and underdeveloped. Scenes like Cassie’s argument with a Marine over “hunting down Arabs” are meant to critique the complexities of war, but they come across as awkwardly inserted rather than organically woven into the narrative.

The third act introduces a subplot involving Luke’s dealer Johnno (Anthony Ippolito), which adds tension but also complicates an already crowded narrative. The confrontation between Luke and Johnno, while intense, feels rushed and lacks the buildup needed to make it truly impactful. Similarly, the revelation of Luke’s past—stealing his father’s car and borrowing money from Johnno—feels tacked on rather than integrated into his character arc.

The film’s melodramatic tendencies are evident in its dialogue and plot twists. Lines like “Through the power of love, they learn to lead with empathy and compassion” (as quoted by Sofia Carson) feel overly sentimental and out of place. The emotional beats often rely on clichés rather than genuine character development.

In terms of direction, Elizabeth Allen Rosenbaum’s handling of the material is uneven. She captures some tender moments between Cassie and Luke, but her approach to larger set pieces—like the IED explosion that injures Luke or the funeral scene for Frankie—lacks the emotional weight needed to make them resonate. The film’s visual style is often flat, relying on close-ups and soft lighting to convey emotion rather than more dynamic cinematography.

Purple Hearts is a flawed but occasionally engaging romance that relies too heavily on its leads’ chemistry and melodramatic beats. It aims to be a heartfelt exploration of love and sacrifice but gets bogged down by its own contrivances. The film’s strongest moments come from its performances, particularly Carson’s and Galitzine’s, and its original soundtrack. However, these elements are not enough to elevate the material above its shortcomings.

Ultimately, Purple Hearts is a film that will likely resonate with fans of romantic dramas who enjoy melodramatic storytelling and original music. It offers some genuine emotional moments but falls short in terms of pacing, structure, and depth.