by Cris Mora-Villa, Contributing Writer
Lynne Ramsay stands as one of the most cerebral filmmakers working today. Having now seen all five of her features, it is clear to me that Ramsay’s style is not for the faint of heart. Ratcatcher, Morvern Callar, We Need to Talk About Kevin, You Were Never Really Here, and her latest film Die My Love all seek to unearth the primordial emotions based in a person’s lived experience and capture them on film. No matter the differences in her protagonist’s perspectives, these experiences and emotions are often embedded in the turmoil of loss, guilt, or isolation to the utmost level of severity. Even in the films of hers that I struggle to connect with, what can always be guaranteed is that the work will singularly feel her own. For me, that means being formally ambitious and bold in personifying these emotions through some of the greatest performances of the 21st century. Die My Love is no different.
Adapted from Ariana Harwicz’s Spanish novel Matate amor, the movie follows Grace (Jennifer Lawrence) and Jackson (Robert Pattinson) struggling to settle into their new lives as first-time parents after moving from New York to Montana. Without having read Harwicz’s novel, its thesis from what I can infer remains intact when reconceptualized onto the page by Ramsay and co-writers Alice Birch and Enda Walsh. With the exception of her directorial debut, all of Ramsay’s features have been adapted from preexisting texts. A commonality I find across these films is a spiritually suggestive attitude that signals Ramsay has fleshed out material which originated elsewhere. The environments of her films are overwhelmingly palpable in how lived in everything feels, almost literary in its art form. In the case of Die My Love, this comes through in the specificity of the mood, itself composed of individual elements from all sides. In addition to Ramsay’s knack for being a playful director, credit is owed to Seamus McGarvey’s blinding cinematography, Toni Froschhammer’s destabilizing editing, and a boundary-pushing performance from Lawrence.
Being the lead in a Ramsay picture demands something from an actor. William Eadie, Samantha Morton, Tilda Swinton, and Joaquin Phoenix have helmed Ramsay’s previous films, and did so with raw capability. Though the individual stories vary, each actor is able to act as a conduit for the moral grayness of their respective worlds by devoting themselves entirely to the ethos of the picture. Lawrence is not alone in this regard, as the rest of the cast is similarly committed to inhabiting their roles, but no one is tasked with going as far into the untamed wildness to the level that she does when portraying Grace. What I most admire about Lawrence’s performance is something that I don’t see often enough in contemporary films. That is a willingness to teeter on the edge of what the movie can hold. It is as if at any moment, the movie runs the risk of being derailed past what it can handle solely from Grace’s presence. That says something when you have a film this frenetic to begin with. Because no matter what else is happening in the fiction, nothing can keep up with Grace’s internal reality.
The driving force behind such a visceral performance is rooted in how the film broaches motherhood. Having covered the subject previously in We Need to Talk About Kevin, Ramsay reframes the circumstances surrounding parental relationships by embracing a nature-esque dreaminess. The film’s technical prowess really comes in clutch in this regard when relating the value of its setting to the theme of repressed belonging. The landscape of nature itself makes for an isolating place to raise a child, especially when it is an unfamiliar environment for Grace. It is stated that the house Jackson and Grace are moving into is Jackson’s childhood home, but no reason is said for the change in scenery away from their life in New York. A notable detail indicating that this is a space rooted entirely in Jackson’s image, leaving Grace to be the one who has to conform. As time passes, Grace further encases herself in an own echo chamber that makes this a difficult time for all involved. The movie dances around postpartum depression as a label to define how Grace is feeling, but this seems a tad reductive for what Ramsay is aiming for. Grace herself scoffs at such a reactionary notion for being overtly clinical. The issue is not that she doesn’t know how to be a mother, but perhaps she just was never meant to have that life.
I do want to add this sentiment is specifically my own takeaway for what the film’s ending is meant to symbolize. A lot of the messaging in Die My Love is kept narratively unclear. It’s definitely saying something about motherhood, but thrown in there are Ramsay’s jagged abstractions, which to some extent exists for comedic effect. Die My Love is all but completely emotionally detached, more aimed at evoking feelings of twisted irritation surrounding motherhood more broadly than offering emotional catharsis for Grace or even the viewer.
Something I do want to get in front of when it comes to Die My Love is acknowledging that it is far removed from the standards and practices of a movie with mass appeal. During my viewing, I could feel in my bones that this would be the kind of film that would generate contention among audiences. In the days following its release, I began to see some less-than-generous comparisons to Darren Aronofsky’s mother! circulating in various film circles. Anyone is free to make what they will of that comparison, but the two films do share an overlap in energy that for me was totally engrossing. On the other side of that coin, I could absolutely understand how one could be put off by energy. mother! was met with a decidedly mixed reception upon release. Perhaps the shared presence of Lawrence fuels this sentiment more than anything, but the respective ambitions of each film on a textual and thematic basis are entirely their own animal. So though I do understand these comparisons, I am hesitant to fully embrace them. What motherhood means coming from Aronofsky is not at all what it means to Ramsay.
The more I thought about Die My Love in the days following my viewing, the more I began to focus on the presence of Jackson’s parents in the context of Grace’s story. For as rich as the film is in its atmosphere, the key for what the film is getting at rests with the characters of Pam (Sissy Spacek) and Harry (Nick Nolte). They are the only other couple of note who have a role in following Grace’s emotional gamut of emotions throughout the runtime. Their role as parental figures looms in the background when it comes to their son Jackson. He may as well just be a fly on the wall for all intents and purposes, but things are different for Grace. They are a couple who are closer to the end of their relationship than the beginning; it comes with the natural progression of aging. Enough backstory is given in their scenes for Grace to paint a mental picture of what life could await for her should she and Jackson continue to walk this path. Ramsay isn’t heavy-handed enough to call it a premonition, but when paired with a pivotal piece of information about Grace’s family in the back half of the film, the motivation is there for Grace to do what she ends up doing in the film’s closing minutes. If that sounds a bit vague, remember this is a Lynne Ramsay picture.
Rating: Liked It
Die My Love is currently playing in theaters
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