Romantic comedies often rely on misunderstandings, grand gestures and conveniently timed revelations. The Elephant in the Room, the feature directorial debut from Emmy-winning writer and producer Erik Bork, takes a different route. Instead of centring its conflict on mistaken identities or ex-partners returning at awkward moments, it places modern political division at the heart of its story and asks a surprisingly simple question: can two people who genuinely like each other find common ground when their political beliefs seem worlds apart?
Set during the early months of 2021, against the backdrop of the COVID pandemic and the fallout from the US presidential election, The Elephant in the Room follows Leah, played by Alyssa Limperis. Leah is outgoing, energetic and impossible to ignore. We first meet her during the Christmas season, leaving lengthy voice messages on her phone for an ex-boyfriend she is clearly struggling to move on from. It immediately establishes both her personality and her flaws. Leah talks a lot, wears her emotions on her sleeve and often barrels forward before considering how others might react.
Sharing her home is Martin, played by Dominic Burgess. Unlike Leah, Martin is introverted, reserved and far less interested in endless conversations. The contrast between the pair creates some of the film’s funniest moments. Martin is a refreshing departure from the stereotypical “gay best friend” often seen in romantic comedies. Rather than serving as a flamboyant sidekick dispensing dating advice, he is deadpan, socially awkward and often bemused by Leah’s behaviour. Burgess delivers many of the film’s strongest laughs simply through his reactions to the chaos unfolding around him.
Leah’s life takes an unexpected turn when a food delivery mix-up introduces her to Vincent, a restaurant worker played by Sean Kleier. There is an immediate spark between them. Their text conversations are natural, their dates feel believable and the chemistry between Limperis and Kleier helps carry the film through its more dialogue-heavy stretches.
The problem, of course, is politics.
Leah is firmly on the liberal side of the political spectrum. Vincent voted for Donald Trump. What could have easily become a simplistic battle between political stereotypes instead becomes the central conversation of the film. To its credit, The Elephant in the Room is less interested in scoring points than it is in examining how people with differing viewpoints interact when attraction, friendship and genuine affection are involved.
This is where Erik Bork’s screenplay succeeds most. Rather than turning its characters into walking political slogans, it allows them to remain recognisably human. Vincent is not portrayed as a cartoon villain, nor is Leah presented as entirely right in every argument. Both characters have strengths, weaknesses and assumptions about the other side that are challenged as the story progresses.
Whether viewers agree with the film’s outlook or not, there is something refreshing about watching a movie that is willing to engage with a difficult subject without descending into outright hostility. It is not attempting to solve political division in America. Instead, it explores how those divisions can affect relationships and friendships on a personal level.
The performances play a huge role in making that work.
Alyssa Limperis is excellent as Leah. It would have been easy for the character to become irritating, especially given her tendency towards over-sharing, strange voices and relentless enthusiasm. Instead, Limperis finds the humanity beneath the quirks. Leah can be frustrating, but she is also vulnerable, funny and genuinely likeable. The film spends a lot of time with her, and Limperis ensures that the audience remains invested.
Sean Kleier provides a grounded counterbalance as Vincent. His performance is understated and sincere, helping the character avoid becoming defined solely by his political beliefs. Together, the pair generate enough chemistry to make the romance believable, which is essential given how much of the film relies on conversations between them.
Dominic Burgess almost steals the entire film. His dry delivery and reluctance to play into familiar rom-com stereotypes create some of the funniest moments. Martin often serves as the audience surrogate, reacting to Leah’s increasingly chaotic personal life with a mixture of confusion and reluctant support.
Technically, The Elephant in the Room is a solid independent production. The cinematography by Cole Pisano looks polished throughout, aided by attractive lighting that gives the interiors a warm and inviting feel. Much of the film takes place inside the house shared by Leah and Martin, or in the surrounding garden and neighbourhood locations. While the production clearly works within a modest budget, it uses those limitations sensibly.
Visually, the film embraces a style familiar to many American independent comedies. The camera work is largely straightforward, favouring simple framing and static setups over flashy movements or elaborate blocking. Some viewers may wish for a little more visual energy, but the approach keeps the focus firmly on the performances and dialogue.
Alexander Taylor’s score also feels very much in keeping with the genre. Light, pleasant and unobtrusive, it complements the story without drawing attention away from the characters.
At 91 minutes, the film never outstays its welcome. The pacing is generally strong, allowing relationships to develop naturally while keeping the focus on the central dilemma. There are moments where the political discussions become a little repetitive, but the engaging performances ensure things rarely drag.
What ultimately makes The Elephant in the Room work is its willingness to approach a difficult subject with empathy rather than anger. It recognises that people are often more complicated than the labels attached to them. While some viewers may disagree with certain viewpoints presented on screen, the film’s commitment to treating its characters as individuals rather than stereotypes gives it a sincerity that many issue-driven dramas lack.
It may not reinvent the romantic comedy genre, and visually it remains fairly modest throughout, but it succeeds where it matters most. The performances are strong, the central relationship is convincing, and the film tackles a topical issue with far more nuance than many productions would dare attempt.
For audiences looking for a character-driven romantic comedy with something a little more substantial on its mind than the usual meet-cute formula, The Elephant in the Room offers an engaging and thoughtful watch.
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