Die, My Love
Lynne Ramsay’s Die, My Love plunges deep into Southern Gothic territory, set in an inherited Montana farmhouse, remote and encircled by dense woodland. It’s the kind of place that’s beautiful only until you’re alone in it – no neighbours, no distractions, just the creak of timber and insects buzzing slow, aimless loops through the humid air. There are no sounds but the whisper of wind through the trees and no reprieve. Inside, the house is dimly lit and choked with faded floral wallpaper and antique furnishings – a space that both holds and haunts Grace (Jennifer Lawrence), a new mother teetering on the edge of herself.
In many ways, this is Ramsay at her most instinctive. Die, My Love is all sound and sensation, with saturated colours capturing the oppressive beauty of the woods and old rock songs blaring too loudly from car radios. Lawrence is extraordinary, delivering one of the most arresting performances of her career. Her Grace crawls through underlit stairways and across the house’s vast back garden on all fours like a wounded animal – her movements not theatrical but disturbingly primal. In these moments, the film edges towards an entirely different kind of horror, but Ramsay pulls back, keeping the focus firmly on Grace’s psychological unravelling.
Grace’s newborn, Harry, exists mostly off-screen and mostly unheard. Her disintegration takes centre stage and Ramsay spares us nothing. There are no confessional speeches or cathartic breakdowns – just clipped arguments, half-hearted reconciliations and the growing resentment between Grace and her husband, Jackson (Robert Pattinson). Their once-electric connection has cooled into glances, silences and missed signals. Pam (Sissy Spacek), Jackson’s mother, lives a short drive away. The loss of her husband to Alzheimer’s hangs over her like a shadow and she is at once maternal and eerily detached. When Grace is alone with her, the film finds a strange tenderness, as if Pam recognises something of herself in Grace’s spiral – but even these moments offer no real comfort. No one here is the villain – not the husband, not the mother-in-law, not even the overbearing but well-meaning friends. Instead, Die, My Love lingers in the unsettled space of postpartum depression and isolation, bearing witness with stark honesty to one woman’s quiet, devastating unravelling.
Christina Yang
Die, My Love does not have a release date yet.
Read more reviews from our Cannes Film Festival coverage here.
For further information about the event visit the Cannes Film Festival website here.
Watch the trailer for Die, My Love here:
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