Mild spoiler warning.
Picture this: one of your favourite directors (Lynne Ramsay) announces a new film starring two of your favourite actors (Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson). You’re ecstatic. You watch it, and it not only meets—but exceeds—your expectations. A match made in cinematic heaven. Adding to the anticipation, one of the producers is none other than the legendary Martin Scorsese, virtually guaranteeing the film’s success. Die My Love, based on Ariana Harwicz’s acclaimed novel of the same name, follows Grace, a writer and young mother, who is gradually descending into madness. Confined within an old Montana house, her growing agitation and erratic behaviour leave her companion, Jackson, both worried and powerless to help.
The standout of this film is undeniably Jennifer Lawrence. This may well be her most remarkable performance to date. She fully immerses herself in the role, evoking the intensity of legendary actresses such as Gena Rowlands in John Cassavetes’ A Woman Under the Influence (1974). Interestingly, Martin Scorsese himself gave Lawrence the book after reading it in a book club, insisting that she was the only one who could bring Grace to life. We are certainly fortunate he did—without his insistence, we might have missed what could easily be one of the finest performances of the year.
Lawrence masterfully portrays Grace’s descent into madness, capturing her increasingly troubling behaviour: attempting to jump from a moving car, smashing through a window, and possibly engaging in an affair. Yet, despite these unsettling actions, the audience remains deeply empathetic toward her. The ambiguity surrounding the affair reflects the film’s exploration of reality versus perception: Grace’s story, told through a somewhat non-linear narrative, constantly challenges viewers to distinguish what is real from what exists only in her mind. While this could be disorienting in other films, here it perfectly mirrors the chaotic, fragmented experience of mental instability, enhancing the film’s thematic resonance.
Robert Pattinson clearly has a keen eye when it comes to choosing his roles, and as a new father, this one suits him perfectly. He embodies a desperate husband, striving to provide for his family while simultaneously struggling to support his wife, Grace. One moment that had me quietly laughing in the cinema revolved around a recurring theme: Jackson’s lack of sexual energy in contrast to Grace’s desire for intimacy. During my screening, a technical hiccup caused the cinema’s in-house music to play over a scene—and, in perfect irony, Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On started blaring. The audience and I exchanged puzzled glances, briefly wondering if it was an intentional artistic choice. It wasn’t—but somehow, it couldn’t have been more fitting.
Lynne Ramsay’s direction is nothing short of mesmerizing. Time and again, she proves her mastery at presenting female characters with an unflinching honesty and raw intensity that lingers long after the credits roll. Die My Love marks her second exploration of postpartum depression—after We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011)—and once again, she captures its harrowing effects through the eyes of her protagonist, making the psychological unraveling feel immediate, intimate, and disturbingly real. At times, the film flirts with the horror genre: the loss of one’s mind is portrayed with such authenticity that it becomes genuinely terrifying.
Ramsay’s direction of her actors amplifies this tension. The chemistry between Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson is electric, raw, and deeply intimate—so much so that it borders on voyeuristic, as if the audience has been granted a private, almost unsettling glimpse into the couple’s fractured world. Every glance, every moment of silence carries weight, and under Ramsay’s meticulous guidance, the film becomes less about plot and more about inhabiting the fragile, chaotic mind of its central characters. Her talent for curating an extraordinary soundtrack is one of the things I admire most about her work. This film weaves together music from icons like Elvis, Cream, and Billie Holiday, and even surprises with a hauntingly memorable song from Disney’s Bambi (1942).
The cinematography, costume design, and set direction work in perfect harmony, creating a distinctly domestic, home-like atmosphere. While I’ve already referenced A Woman Under the Influence earlier in this review, the influence is palpable here as well where the shabby-chic wallpaper and furniture subtly echo the aesthetic of that film. The cinematography, in particular, feels incredibly intimate, often framing scenes tightly so that we experience Grace’s reality alongside her. One striking example occurs during a bathroom episode: the space feels claustrophobic, trapping both Grace and the audience in a moment of raw, inescapable tension.
Overall, this is a film that demands to be seen. Too often, media reduces women grappling with mental health struggles to stereotypes of “psychotic” or “unstable,” but here we are offered a raw, honest, and deeply human portrayal of the psychological challenges that can follow childbirth. It captures how a new mother can lose herself in ways that are both heartbreaking and profoundly relatable. This is a singular, remarkable film, one that feels poised to generate significant awards buzz in the months ahead.
Die My Love is now out in UK cinemas.
Megan Hilborne (Instagram: meghillbilly) is a freelance writer and film critic based in Portsmouth. She graduated with a degree in Film in 2020 and has continued her study of the medium in her day-to-day life. She takes particular interest in indie, horror, feminist and queer cinema.
