Lynne Ramsay’s new movie *Die My Love* owes its existence to producer Martin Scorsese, who read Ariana Harwicz’s 2017 novel in his book club and couldn’t stop thinking that the main character was a perfect role for Jennifer Lawrence. The inspiration for this casting choice was Lawrence’s performance as the unnamed title character in Darren Aronofsky’s divisive allegory *mother!*, a film that famously received an “F” grade from CinemaScore audience polling.
Similar to *mother!*, *Die My Love* begins with Lawrence’s character, Grace, moving to a dilapidated old house in the middle of nowhere with her husband, Jackson (Robert Pattinson). The story ultimately ends with their relationship falling apart in flames. However, while *mother!* was driven by the horror of claustrophobia, *Die My Love* is fueled by the ennui of loneliness.
Grace spends most of her time alone in the house while Jackson is away working, accompanied only by her baby and, for an early stretch, a very annoying dog. If you have a guess about what happens to the dog, you’re probably right. This grim detail highlights one of the main similarities between *Die My Love* and *mother!*: neither film is concerned with being likable.
Given this, I wouldn’t be shocked if *Die My Love* also received an F CinemaScore or something close to it. Distribution company MUBI must be hoping that the star power of Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) draws enough curious moviegoers on opening weekend before word-of-mouth spreads about just how alienating the film is to mainstream audiences.
I’m with Scorsese in defending *mother!* — I loved its big ideas and captivating sense of escalation, even if its extremity bordered on tastelessness. But I must admit, I’m baffled by *Die My Love*. Maybe there’s something I’m missing, but while the film comes alive in individual scenes, it feels stultifying as a whole.
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There are two obvious themes in *Die My Love*: postpartum depression and the dissolution of a relationship. I can’t speak to how realistically the film portrays postpartum depression, although one interesting aspect is that despite her depression and mania, Grace doesn’t resent motherhood. “He’s perfect,” she says of her baby. The issues lie in “everything else” in her life.
Jackson is a big part of that “everything else.” We are shown that they used to be passionate lovers — seeing stars as good-looking as Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson partake in such scenes provides much of the film’s entertainment value. But since the baby arrived, their marriage has become completely sexless — not due to a lack of desire on Grace’s part.
One glaring problem in Grace’s life that feels oddly under-explored is her complete lack of friends. When she’s around other people, it’s usually Jackson’s family. Her mother-in-law, Pam (Sissy Spacek), is about the only person who tries to help with raising the child.
LaKeith Stanfield appears for a brief moment as a neighbor with whom Grace might be having an affair — or maybe just imagining one. This subplot is one of the worst wastes of an “Atlanta” cast member since Zazie Beetz’s similarly vague imaginary romance subplot in *Joker* (insert Doofenshmirtz “two nickels” meme here).
Late in the film, a psychologist offers a simple explanation for Grace’s friendlessness. I was glad the film finally acknowledged this big elephant in the room, but I couldn’t help but wonder why it waited over 90 minutes to do so. It’s not a “twist” that prompts reevaluation of prior events; instead, it’s information that might have been useful earlier to foster empathy for the character.
I’m left wondering why the film doesn’t build a story around this revelation, instead of flailing about with barely a narrative at all.
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There are moments when *Die My Love* becomes interesting. The use of music — an area where Lynne Ramsay clearly takes a page from Martin Scorsese’s playbook — is consistently excellent. I particularly liked the use of David Bowie’s “Kooks” in a moment that hints at a fleeting sense of hope, as well as the attention-grabbing punk rock opening credits.
The co-mingling of ink and breast milk in a scene where Grace attempts to paint is a memorable metaphorical image.
The most dramatically engaging sequence involves Jackson’s father, Harry (Nick Nolte), who is dealing with dementia and refusing to acknowledge Jackson’s ownership of a house that used to belong to his brother. While Nolte doesn’t feel as wasted as LaKeith Stanfield, I would have liked to see more of his character.
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Jennifer Lawrence’s commitment to the movie’s madness is undeniable. Whether she’s dancing wildly or prowling around on all fours like an animal, she’s always a compelling presence. She also knows how to sell the film’s more humorous moments.
If only I cared as much about her underwritten character as she cares about her performance, and if Jackson made any sense beyond just making me think, “Wow, this guy’s an idiot,” I might view *Die My Love* more favorably.
I fully acknowledge that maybe there’s something I’m not getting that could make the film’s various elements click into place. But what I fear is that there isn’t that much here to get, and that the film’s repetition of the same beats, with little character development, results in tiresome sound and fury — signifying not nothing, but certainly not as much as I would want there to be.
*Die My Love* opens in theaters on November 7.
https://www.looper.com/2017443/die-my-love-review/