Die My Love (United States, 2025)

With its themes of mental illness and alienation, Die My Love seems a natural fit for director Lynne Ramsay, whose searing 2011 film We Need to Talk About Kevin focused on the psychological trauma endured by the mother of a mass murderer. This new film isn’t as scalding as that earlier one, and it indulges more frequently in overly “artistic” expression—dreamlike and symbolic insertions—but the scars it leaves are similar. At times, these stylistic flourishes suggest a filmmaker more interested in texture than cohesion. When I reviewed We Need to Talk About Kevin, I wrote: “We Need to Talk About Kevin is easily 2011’s grimmest motion picture, without a moment’s levity to keep things bearable.” I wouldn’t go quite that far here, but Die My Love is no barrel of laughs. 

From a narrative perspective, the film often feels disjointed, unfolding in a non-chronological haze with gaps and abrupt transitions that only gradually make sense. The reason for this becomes apparent as it dawns on us that the story is filtered through the eyes of an unreliable narrator. We’re witnessing the world as perceived by Grace (Jennifer Lawrence), a new mother suffering from postpartum psychosis that causes her to lose touch with reality. The film’s fractured perspective is an effective way to immerse viewers in Grace’s instability, but it also drains the movie of momentum and emotional attachment. The secondary characters—her partner Jackson (Robert Pattinson), among others—have neither depth nor agency, and Grace herself is defined more by her illness than by her humanity. Ramsay’s trade-off is clear: to emphasize the immediacy of experience, she sacrifices empathy.

Some elements remain fixed. When we first meet Grace, she and Jackson are moving from New York to rural Montana, where they plan to raise a family in a ramshackle house he has inherited from his uncle. After the baby’s birth, Grace’s behavior turns erratic. A writer by profession, she no longer feels the impulse to write. Her attention drifts, her moods fluctuate, and her sense of self begins to splinter. Ramsay stages several disturbing sequences, including a harrowing bathroom breakdown where Grace methodically destroys the room. (Some may find the dog-execution scene more upsetting, but by then the incessant yapping had tested my patience, so I didn’t mourn.) Various interventions are attempted, though their effectiveness is doubtful. 

When Martin Scorsese read Ariana Harwicz’s source novel for his book club, he immediately imagined Jennifer Lawrence as Grace. With Scorsese listed as a producer, the result is a performance-driven film in every sense. Despite a supporting cast that includes Pattinson, Nick Nolte, Sissy Spacek, and LaKeith Stanfield, this is Lawrence’s showcase. The word “brave” gets thrown around too often, but here it applies. Lawrence digs deep—deeper than she did in Winter’s Bone—and delivers a performance of raw, unnerving intensity. Not since Mikey Madison in Anora has an actress exposed herself so completely on screen. 

Those who appreciate difficult, uncompromising movie experiences are likely to respond to what Die My Love offers. Ramsay and Lawrence confront mental disintegration with a blunt honesty that few filmmakers attempt. The approach—shot in a boxy aspect ratio with jagged editing and bursts of visual bravura—sometimes feels like overcompensation, as if Ramsay doesn’t fully trust quiet moments to speak for themselves. Lawrence can do subtle, but she’s often pushed to the edge, running at full intensity when restraint might have served her better. Even so, there’s something hypnotic about the way the film stares into pain without blinking. 

Die My Love isn’t a movie one “enjoys.” It’s grueling, uneven, and occasionally pretentious—but it’s also riveting in its commitment. Ramsay’s commitment to discomfort is admirable, even if it borders on self-indulgence. The film lingers, not because it’s enjoyable, but because it refuses to let go. It’s the sort of movie you admire for its daring and endurance but would never want to watch a second time.

Die My Love (United States, 2025)