Lynne Ramsay’s Die My Love is not a film designed for comfort. It arrives with the intensity of a fever dream and the jagged edges of a raw nerve, refusing to offer easy answers or tidy resolutions to the existential nightmare unfolding on screen.
This is film as immersion therapy, plunging viewers headfirst into the psychological disintegration of Grace, a young mother trapped in rural Montana whose grip on reality splinters with each passing day. At countless points through this film, I found myself questioning my own sanity and wondering what was actually happening. Was it real? Was it a metaphor? Or was it a dream or a hallucination? Honestly, by the end, I was asking those same questions about the film as a whole.
What’s Die My Love About?
Based on Ariana Harwicz’s 2012 novel, “Die My Love follows Grace (Jennifer Lawrence) and Jackson (Robert Pattinson), a couple who relocate from New York City to Jackson’s inherited family home in the Montana wilderness. What begins as an idyllic escape quickly transforms into something far more sinister. After the birth of their child, Grace descends into severe postpartum depression that morphs into full psychosis, her sense of self eroding as the walls close in around her.
The movie takes us through Grace’s increasingly disturbing behavior: crawling through tall grass with a butcher knife, throwing herself through glass doors, tearing sinks from bathroom walls, and engaging in primal acts of desperation that blur the line between sexuality and violence.
The film’s structure deliberately disorients. Time becomes elastic and ambiguous, with scenes unfolding in a non-linear fashion that mirrors Grace’s fractured mental state. We see glimpses of Grace and Jackson’s passionate early days in their relationship juxtaposed against the numbing monotony of new parenthood.
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Jackson’s mother, Pam (Sissy Spacek), lives nearby and struggles with her own tenuous grip on reality following the recent death of her husband, Harry (Nick Nolte). There’s also Karl (LaKeith Stanfield), another new parent who may or may not be real, existing somewhere in the liminal space between Grace’s imagination and actual encounters.
Die My Love Movie Trailer
Die My Love Movie Review: What I Did and Didn’t Like
Shot on 35mm film in a claustrophobic 4:3 aspect ratio, the film traps audiences in Grace’s perspective. Even when she roams through vast Montana landscapes, there’s no escape. Cinematographer Seamus McGarvey utilized Kodak Ektachrome reversal stock to create a skewed, almost dreamlike visual signature that enhances the film’s disorienting quality. The result is a viewing experience that feels suffocating and overwhelming, mirroring the protagonist’s psychological imprisonment.
But what really made Die My Love so compelling, and simultaneously so maddening (for me), is its refusal to conform to traditional narrative structures. Ramsay has created a mood piece that prioritizes emotional truth over plot mechanics, and the results are both mesmerizing and exasperating. The film succeeds brilliantly in making you feel Grace’s isolation and desperation. The use of that boxy 4:3 frame constantly reminds us that Grace is trapped, no matter how much open space surrounds her.
The dark humor threaded throughout is unexpected and effective. Grace’s interactions with the people in her life carry an absurdist quality that prevents the film from becoming oppressively bleak. When Jackson brings home an incessantly barking dog expecting Grace to care for it while he travels for work, the scene plays as both tragedy and dark comedy. Lawrence’s commitment to these moments of black humor gives them an uncomfortable authenticity.
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The Script
Working from a screenplay she co-wrote with playwrights Enda Walsh and Alice Birch, Ramsay transforms Harwicz’s internal monologue into a predominantly visual experience. The novel is written in a stream-of-consciousness style, filled with poisonous thoughts and maternal ambivalence, but Ramsay wisely avoids leaning too heavily on voiceover or dialogue-heavy exposition. Instead, the script relies on physicality and behavior to convey Grace’s psychological state.
The screenplay’s greatest strength lies in its resistance to easy categorization or diagnosis. Grace is never explicitly diagnosed with postpartum depression or psychosis. There are no scenes with doctors prescribing medication or family interventions with clear treatment plans. This omission is deliberate. Director Lynne Ramsay pushed back against critics who labeled the film simply as a postpartum depression story, stating at Cannes: “This whole postpartum thing is just bullshit. It’s not about that. It’s about a relationship breaking down, it’s about love breaking down, and sex breaking down after having a baby. And it’s also about a creative block.”
The script explores how Grace’s identity as a writer has been subsumed by motherhood, how sexual intimacy transforms (or disappears) after childbirth, and how isolation can accelerate mental decline. Grace’s struggles become universal even as they manifest in extreme, specific ways.
A Complicated Service to Maternal Mental Health?
Yet this ambiguity raises questions about the film’s service to those dealing with postpartum depression. Does Die My Love do justice to this experience?
The answer is complicated. On one hand, the film’s unflinching portrayal of maternal ambivalence and psychological suffering gives voice to feelings many new mothers experience but fear acknowledging. The shame, the isolation, the sense of losing yourself while everyone expects you to be grateful and fulfilled… these emotional truths resonate powerfully.
Lawrence herself, who experienced postpartum depression after filming, noted in interviews that watching the film helped her understand Grace’s mindset: “I hadn’t experienced postpartum while filming, but I knew that suicide is a leading cause of death among new moms. I couldn’t understand how she could do that because I loved my baby so much. But once I experienced postpartum, I realized it has nothing to do with love; it’s about feeling imperfect next to something so perfect.”
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On the other hand, by refusing to name Grace’s condition or explicitly show her receiving help, the film risks leaving viewers without resources or hope. And, while artistically bold, the ending (don’t worry, no spoilers here), may not offer much solace to those seeking affirmation that recovery is possible.
Ramsay’s comments about the film’s metaphorical nature suggest she views Grace’s self-destruction as a kind of liberation. Speaking about the ending (again, trust me, no spoilers), she explained: “I was trying my hardest. It’s not in the book. I just felt like she wants to burn the world down. It’s a metaphorical liberation.”
This framing positions the film more as a Gothic tale about a woman who refuses to be domesticated. Whether this artistic choice serves or undermines the understanding of postpartum mental health issues remains an open question….
The Performances
Jennifer Lawrence in ‘Die My Love’
Jennifer Lawrence as Grace
The performances in Die My Love are without question the film’s strongest element. Jennifer Lawrence delivers what is arguably the most challenging and uncompromising work of her career. This is not the charismatic, accessible Lawrence of The Hunger Games or Silver Linings Playbook. This is something feral, raw, and completely untethered. She filmed many of these scenes while four-and-a-half months pregnant with her second child, adding an extraordinary physical and emotional layer to an already demanding role.
Lawrence’s Grace is simultaneously seductive and repellent, maternal and destructive, vulnerable and terrifying. She shifts from catatonic emptiness to explosive rage within single takes, her body language morphing from predatory crawling to collapsed exhaustion.
The physicality of the performance is stunning. Whether she’s scratching bathroom walls until her nails bleed, climbing inside a refrigerator, or prowling on all fours through grass like an animal stalking prey, Lawrence commits completely. There’s no vanity here, no concern for likability or traditional markers of movie-star glamour. She embodies Grace’s dissolution with a freedom that feels almost dangerous to watch.
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Critics have already begun discussing Oscar potential for Lawrence’s performance, which would be her fifth nomination. The comparison to her work in 2017’s Mother! is inevitable, but this feels even more visceral and unprotected.
Robert Pattinson in ‘Die My Love’
Robert Pattinson as Jackson
Robert Pattinson wisely portrays Jackson in a deliberately understated manner, creating a stark contrast to Lawrence’s volcanic performance. His Jackson is not a villain, but rather a well-meaning man completely out of his depth. Pattinson channels an everyman quality, portraying a thirty-something man-child who brings home a dog, expecting his struggling wife to care for it, and suggests his wife “talk” about her feelings, while fundamentally not understanding the severity of her crisis.
The performance is effective precisely because Jackson’s ordinariness makes Grace’s extraordinary suffering more isolating. Pattinson and Lawrence share genuine chemistry, particularly in the film’s opening sequences, where they communicate through physicality rather than words, nuzzling, biting, wrestling in primal displays of desire.
The Supporting Cast
Sissy Spacek delivers a quietly powerful performance as Pam, Jackson’s widowed mother, who recognizes something of her own struggles in Grace’s unraveling. Spacek brings maternal warmth tinged with her own grief and instability, sleepwalking with a gun in scenes that blur the line between dark comedy and genuine menace. Her scenes with Lawrence crackle with understanding, two women adrift in their own ways, connected by shared loss and dislocation.
LaKeith Stanfield’s Karl exists in an ethereal space that keeps audiences guessing whether he’s real or a figment of Grace’s imagination. His understated performance adds to this ambiguity, making his interactions with Grace feel simultaneously grounded and dreamlike. The film never definitively confirms Karl’s reality, leaving viewers to question how many of his scenes actually happened versus whether they exist purely in Grace’s fractured psyche (one of my many ‘what the heck is going on’ moments…).
Overall Thoughts
Die My Love is not for everyone, and it doesn’t pretend to be. Ramsay has crafted a film that exists in the space between arthouse provocation and genuine psychological horror, borrowing techniques from Antonin Artaud’s Theater of Cruelty to break down the barriers that keep audiences feeling safe.
The film works best when understood not as a straightforward narrative but as a sensory experience designed to replicate Grace’s mental state. The aggressive sound design, with blaring rock music and deafening slams that assault the ears… the claustrophobic framing that traps characters in doorways and corners… the time distortions that make it impossible to track how much time has passed… all of these choices serve to destabilize viewers in ways that mirror the protagonist’s experience. When you emerge from Die My Love, you should feel like you’ve been through something, like you’ve barely survived tumultuous rapids. That’s the point.
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But does that make a good film? The question of whether this movie serves those experiencing postpartum depression remains complex. It offers validation for dark feelings rarely depicted on screen, but it also provides no roadmap for recovery or healing. Grace’s story ends in metaphorical immolation, and while Ramsay intends this as liberation rather than tragedy, the distinction may be lost on viewers seeking hope.
Perhaps the film’s greatest service is simply its willingness to depict maternal struggle without sentimentality or easy resolution, to show that sometimes love isn’t enough to fix what’s broken, and that the societal pressure to perform gratitude for motherhood can itself become suffocating.
However, this one just didn’t work for me – despite the beautiful cinematography and incredible performances.
In K M Chaitanya’s Aa Dinagalu (2007), actor Atul Kulkarni, playing gangster Agni Sreedhar, says man is the biggest weapon in the underworld. “The rest are just properties,” he adds. The yesteryear Kannada crime drama, based on the real incidents from a big chapter of the Bengaluru underworld, stood out for its understated storytelling.
In Balaramana Dinagalu, which has the skeleton of a sequel to Aa Dinagalu, weapons are seen in the first scene. As the film progresses, we encounter an arsenal of knives, razors, machetes, and guns — each an extension of the gangsters’ identities and an indispensable tool in their quest to remain feared and lethal. Chaitanya attempts to make the movie a mix of reality and entertaining tropes.
Storyline: Balarama, an ordinary young man from a remote village in Karnataka, becomes a dreaded gangster who rules Bengaluru
The director has roped in the same cast, who played the dreaded gangster trio of Kotwal Ramachandra (essayed by Sharath Lohitashwa), Jayaraj (Ashish Vidyarthi), and Agni Sreedhar (Atul) in Aa Dinagalu. That’s what makes one instantly curious about Balaramana Dinagalu. The only difference in the latest movie from the previous one is the fictionalised names of the real dons. Jayaraj becomes Jayaram, Sreedhar is Shashidhar, and Muthappa Rai is called Monnappa Rai (played by Ramesh Indira).
Even if these characters are the big draw in the movie, the plot revolves around the journey of Balarama, a character with a small yet significant presence in Aa Dinagalu. Vinod Prabhakar’s portrayal of the titular role is the film’s biggest takeaway. He makes us feel for the character, and is quite impressive in the final portions of the movie, where Balarama struggles to break free from the underworld’s trap.
Balaramana Dinagalu is impressive when it reflects the psychology of a gangster. Jayaram is shown helping the needy while Balarama urges young boys to focus on education. It’s as if these men who commit heinous acts, have a heart as well. Shashidhar is often called “intellectual gangster”, as the film reflects how the underworld fears well-read men in the field. Politicians and policemen, the supposedly the protectors of people being part of the crime nexus, strengthen the movie’s world-building.
The film falters in its inability to rise above the plot’s predictability. Balarama’s journey is no different from the often-seen life of an innocent man from a small town who becomes a gangster owing to uncontrollable circumstances. I wish the film had delved a bit more into Balaram’s personality. Why does he not resist becoming a gangster? What dreams did he have when he moved to Bengaluru from a small town?
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“My hands speak louder than my words,” says Balarama. This signals that he is someone who settles conflicts with fists rather than conversations. Despite this detail, Balaram’s entry into the underworld feels too sudden. The predictability strips the sheen away from the well-shot action sequences, as the result of every fight is known beforehand.
Chaitanya is careful not to glorify the act of violence. He wants to portray the negative effects of violence on the children in a family, as the movie ends with a hard-hitting frame. It’s impressive that the actor-director duo has delivered a non-hero-worshipping gangster saga.
That said, the movie could have benefited from a couple of gripping episodes. While it’s important not to romanticise the life of a gangster, there is no harm in delivering moments of peak tension, the biggest plus of the genre.
The assassination of Jayaram, the impact of Kotwal’s elimination on the underworld, or the Sakleshpura incident involving Monnappa Rai, had the potential to offer edge-of-the-seat, high-stakes portions, but they are rushed. The love story is simple, but it lacks emotional intensity between the lead couple. Santhosh Narayanan’s dance numbers are forgettable (despite it being his forte) while his montage melodies are beautiful.
Balaramana Dinagalu adopts a restrained, almost clinical approach to the gangster genre. While that keeps it from glorifying violence, it also leaves the narrative feeling a touch too neat and emotionally muted.
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Balaramana Dinagalu is currently running in theatres
Perhaps there’s a certain irony in a story about a fireworks factory mostly keeping away from explosive drama. Yoshitoshi Shinomiya‘s lowkey feature directorial debut A New Dawn is at the very least visually captivating, comprised of lush and rather hypnotic production design. The story is small scale focusing on a trio of friends who try to save a fireworks factory in their hometown, but the imagery feels expansive and lush. A New Dawn begins with a beautiful and vaguely familiar display of this beauty: the flowing, painterly imagery of its opening sequence recalls Shinomiya’s work on the flashback sequence in Makoto Shinkai‘s your name., immediately showing that the film’s visuals might transcend its small town drama.
A background artist himself on films by Makoto Shinkai as well as the similarly resplendent Pompo: The Cinéphile, it makes sense that this history would be felt in the background works of A New Dawn. They’re dense with detail, rich with almost luminous color and illustrative texture. Shinomiya, who also wrote and storyboarded the film, veers away from the photorealism associated with someone like Shinkai through some impressionist touches – like the splotches of green paint which represent treelines – which sometimes turns into outright abstraction like when a character begins to run through the space. Sometimes there are swaying, morphing textures in the background as splotches of paint subtly shift around. On a more intimate level, the cluttered and characterful interior spaces tell a story too. This is a long-winded way of saying A New Dawn looks really, really good.
It’s not just in the tableaux of its countryside habitats and ramshackle living spaces carved out of abandoned warehouses, but there’s a sense of invention permeating through A New Dawn‘s various experiments with visual languages of animation. The most prominent is an incredibly charming stop motion animated sequence using a cardboard diorama and real human hands invading the shot in a creative reflection of a drunken character’s perspective. Even though it broadly still looks “anime” through its character design, there are also smaller details which work to set A New Dawn apart from its contemporaries, touches like its occasional lineless artwork or the way rain is defined through smudged black brushstrokes.
It’s in the screenwriting where A New Dawn begins to feel more run of the mill. Its story about the constant chasing of the majesty of a fabled firework “Shuhari” feels both familiar in its premise but also a little bit alienating in its structure. The importance of the firework itself never feels clear – the moment its mystery is unravelled hardly feels like a revelation as a result, something amplified by how the writing often obfuscates what anyone is talking about. The whole story feels a little distancing, and despite the allure of the background art and design of the spaces the characters inhabit, the people themselves feel constantly at arms length.
It almost pulls things back with its climax – the detonation of the “Shuhari” goes a long way in justifying the circular conversations about its nature and origins – a painted streak of light launches into the sky before turning into something otherworldly, suddenly tripling down on the film’s captivating exaggerations.
As we know, Kevin Spacey is a pariah in Hollywood.
He’s in a rare club with Mel Gibson, Armie Hammer, Nate Parker, Jonathan Majors, and James Franco.
Spacey has managed to avoid jail time by reaching settlements with various accusers of sexual malfeasance, all men.
His film career — which included two Oscars and a Tony Award — has been destroyed.
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Spacey has been reduced to appearing in straight to video films, made for whatever reason the various producers involved know only to themselves.
On Friday, a new Spacey movie surfaced against its will, but not in theaters. It also went straight to video. “1780” is a period piece set during the Revolutionary War. Spacey plays a toothless Pennsylvania country trapper.
There is no rating on Rotten Tomatoes, largely because there is only one review. The review by Alan Ng of Film Threat is positive. Ng recently reviewed “World War Bigfoot,” which he also liked. He seems to specialize in reviewing films no one has heard of.
“1780” does boast 25 producers who will probably not see a return on their investment. But they can say they made a movie with Kevin Spacey.
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