Die, My Love: A Terrifying and Ferocious Feast.
Eight years after You Were Never Really Here (2017), Lynne Ramsay returns to Cannes with her newest feature: Die, My Love. Starring the celebrated Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson, with Sissy Spacek and Nick Nolte in supporting roles. Adapted from Ariana Harwicz’s novel of the same name, Ramsay’s psychodrama dives into the relationship of a couple as they navigate the emotional and hormonal thunderstorm of postpartum life.
The film begins with Grace (Jennifer Lawrence) and Jackson (Robert Pattinson) moving into their late uncle’s house in the isolated countryside. The lovers refurbish the grubby home, ecstatic in their young lust, and before long, the pair welcomes their first baby. Yet the arrival of their lovely boy also marks the beginning of a harrowing chapter. We watch as their honeymoon relationship descends into the chaos of postpartum.
When Jackson is at work, Grace stays home—stuck in this house, this body, this mind. She is bored, agitated, and frustrated. The lack of sexual fulfillment since childbirth does not help the situation, and her nerves begin to fray.
Ramsay draws us into Grace’s experience, testing us with an increasing presence of noise. We are as alarmed by the baby’s cry as his mother is. Things spiral further down when Jackson brings home one of the most annoying dogs in cinematic history, which will not stop barking. It seriously gets on your nerves after a while. One can’t help but wonder: "Why would anyone bring home a dog and not train it to behave, especially with a newborn in the house?" Jackson remains oblivious to the reason behind Grace’s sudden change of character; he watches her with confusion but offers little help.
Their relationship is faced with an unprecedented crisis; this is not your average lovers’ quarrel. All this pushes Grace further and further out of control. She becomes consumed by manic, delirious thoughts and behaviors, and she starts to suspect Jackson of infidelity. Fantasizing about an unknown stranger biker, she lashes out in violence and self-destructiveness. Alcohol becomes her coping mechanism—anything to quiet the overstimulating... everything. We sympathise as she is desperately trying to hold onto her sanity amid this waking nightmare.
The occasional home-video-like cinematography makes us feel like intruders in their lives, especially in Grace’s private moments and unmet needs. This intimate framing reflects Ramsay’s immersive approach—she brings us uncomfortably close, as if we’re inhabiting the characters’ emotional space. The result is a film that feels splendidly raw, laced with both light and dark comedy.
Through her unique pacing and editing, Ramsay draws us in and out of reality, fantasy, past memories, and hallucinations born of desire. The undeniable presence of the primal urge is exposed in the loudest form, as the two leads devour each other in feral, animalistic moments. There is less dialogue than one expects; instead, the film is rich with metaphor—a feast of symbolism, waiting to be uncovered by your own interpretations. So many subtexts emerge through animals, time, costumes, and locations...
Jennifer Lawrence delivers a formidable performance as Grace, guiding us through each outburst of impulse and calamity. The performance succeeds because never once do her character’s actions feel absurd or unjustified. She conveys the overwhelming desperation with unflinching clarity. Lawrence captures the duality of Grace in both her strength and vulnerability, while keeping one constant: the primal and human instinct to love her child.
There are moments of ferocious brilliance that make this film a powerhouse. The only drawback for me was the pacing of the final act, which I felt undercut some of the intensity and momentum built in the earlier parts. Still, surrender yourself to this overwhelming sensory banquet, as it takes you into one of the most compassionate experiences of a postnatal relationship in its extremity.
This film roars with tension, desire, and need—impulses born of raw, naked, primal outrage. It immerses us in the extreme anxiety and depression of postpartum life. The suffocation is not limited to one character, but radiates through the world around her. We become entangled in the couple’s destructive relationship, watching as they pull each other further into the abyss. We cling to glimmers of hope—but just as light appears, another, even more terrifying catastrophe descends. Until when will things be alright again? Will it ever be alright again?
Die, My Love premiered in Competition at the 2025 Festival de Cannes. MUBI will distribute the film, with dates yet to be announced.
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