Lynne Ramsay is a director who makes films on her own terms. She does not try to court audiences or look for a path that will lead her to a major commercial project — simply because it does not interest her. She is drawn to characters in extreme mental states, which she shapes through challenging stylistic and narrative patterns. In the 26 years since her debut film, Ratcatcher, Ramsay has made only four additional films. The latest, now in theaters, is called Die My Love — and, like its boldness, its success is only partial.
In four of her five films, Ramsay has chosen to adapt books. The tormented inner worlds of her characters are easy to articulate in words, but she seeks to translate those words into a sensory experience. That was the case with Morvern Callar (2002), adapted from Alan Warner’s novella about a young woman who sets out on a journey after the suicide of her writer boyfriend; We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011), adapted from Lionel Shriver’s novel about a woman whose son grows from a monstrous child into a young man who commits an atrocity; and You Were Never Really Here (2017), adapted from Jonathan Ames, whose protagonist is a private investigator haunted by childhood trauma who rescues girls from sexual slavery.
Die My Love is adapted from Matate, amor, the 2012 debut novel by Argentine writer Ariana Harwicz, which was translated into English as Die My Love. The book is written as a stream of consciousness depicting postpartum depression, centered on a nameless heroine living with her husband and baby in a house in the French countryside. Growing alienation from her husband, sexual frustration and fantasies, and an attraction to acts that could lead to psychological and physical ruin define her inner life. Ramsay co-wrote the adaptation with Irish playwright Enda Walsh and British playwright Alice Birch, creating a film that seeks to take viewers to a very dark place, with no promise of comfort.
Ramsay’s choice to adapt Harwicz’s novel serves as a companion piece to her exploration of motherhood in We Need to Talk About Kevin — a horror film about motherhood, if there ever was one. But where Kevin moved constantly across timelines, this film adds a blurring of reality and imagination. Where Kevin offered a cold analysis of horror, the stylistic approach here — once again working with cinematographer Seamus McGarvey, who also shot Kevin — is expressive, using a nearly square, claustrophobic frame and saturated, decaying colors.
The film opens with tentative steps toward moving into the rundown country house that will serve as the central setting. It is a house whose previous owner committed suicide, and which his nephew, Jackson (Robert Pattinson), moves into with his pregnant wife, Grace (Jennifer Lawrence). The two relocate from New York to an undefined rural area. We know she wants to be a writer who will produce a meaningful novel — an ambition that becomes impossible after childbirth. About the husband’s occupation, we learn nothing beyond the fact that his work keeps him away from home for long stretches.
What begins as a wild, almost animalistic sexual relationship becomes complicated and frustrating after the birth. The movement between timelines and levels of reality is demanding and requires close attention to detail, even if the film presents itself as an abstraction of events rather than a puzzle to be solved, as Kevin was. Living not far from the young couple are Pam (Sissy Spacek), Jackson’s mother, and his demented father, Harry (Nick Nolte). Over the course of the film, the condition of the young mother is compared with that of the elderly one, creating a closed circle of female psychological dislocation.
Ramsay also constructs the heroine’s world through a dense soundscape of noises and voices that reflect and generate considerable mental overload — particularly the incessant barking of a dog Jackson brings home with no consideration for his wife. She also relies on a musical soundtrack that includes no fewer than 22 songs spanning a wide range, among them Tony Basil’s 1980s cheer anthem ‘Hey Mickey,’ which becomes the soundtrack to the heroine’s unraveling and loneliness, and an unusual rendition of Joy Division’s ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart,’ in which Ramsay herself is one of the singers. The result is a film that is, in certain respects, impressive, but ultimately creates a demanding viewing experience that does not fully justify itself.
It is impossible to discuss Die My Love without addressing its star, Jennifer Lawrence. A decade ago, Lawrence was the sensation of Hollywood. She led the hugely successful Hunger Games franchise and played a central role in the X-Men films. At the same time, she built a career as an acclaimed dramatic actress, earning three Oscar nominations for lead roles and another for supporting actress by the age of 25, and winning at 22 for Silver Linings Playbook (2012). But her last major box office success was Red Sparrow (2018). Since then, her output has diminished significantly, not only because of declining commercial success but also, and mainly, because of her commitment to married life and raising two children.
All of this is to say that Lawrence has something to prove if she wants to regain critical esteem. The momentum she once had as the face of big-budget franchises may be gone for good, but challenging roles could remind audiences of her qualities as a serious actress. Moreover, the subject of Die My Love — a film on which she also serves as a producer — operates within a context that is likely very familiar to her. Even if she is at peace with prioritizing family life and raising children, her personal experiences clearly helped shape a character living through a nightmare version of the postpartum period. During filming, she was already the mother of a son born in 2022 and was in the early stages of pregnancy with her second son, born last year.
American critics often like to use the adjective ‘brave’ when referring to famous, respected actresses whose performances include a significant degree of nudity, especially when it is not necessarily flattering. Lawrence, who was the victim of a private photo leak in 2014, previously appeared nude in Red Sparrow and in the comedy No Hard Feelings (2023). This time, it is something different — not only in the quantity and bluntness of the moments, but also in the unvarnished presentation of a real human body, rather than a commercial cinema erotic commodity.
Yet Lawrence’s nudity is not the bravest aspect of where she allows Ramsay to take her — and that is not necessarily meant as praise. It is possible she gives too much of herself. Moments of solitary breakdowns at home, crawling on the floor. Masturbation and self-harm. The extremity recalls Isabelle Adjani’s deranged performance in Possession (Andrzej Żuławski, 1981), but it could just as easily fall on the wrong side of the kind of excessive performances that have derailed careers, such as Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest (1981). In this case, if one may venture a guess, the impact will not be extreme in either direction. Lawrence did not receive an Oscar nomination for the role, but she also avoided a Razzie nomination. She has marked her return and her willingness to take on demanding roles, and may move toward reaffirming her standing with her role in Martin Scorsese’s next film, What Happens at Night, which began shooting last month.