Some films come into your life when you least expect them, catching you completely off guard and striking some of your most sensitive chords. Voicemails for Isabelle is one of them.
Written by Mariane Tremblay
After seeing my face in the mirror and the state of my pillow after the credits stopped rolling, it’s fair to say that this movie hit me like a ton of bricks. If you’re close to your sister(s), be warned — you will most likely not get through this movie with dry eyes.
I pressed play with no expectations, assuming it would be a Netflix version of Love Again (2023) or something along those lines. But Voicemails for Isabelle turns out to be much more than your typical romantic comedy. At its heart lies one of the most precious relationships a girl can have: the unique bond shared with her sister(s).
Written and directed by Leah McKendrick, who also stars in the film, Voicemails for Isabelle follows Jill (Zoey Deutch), an aspiring baker who, after the sudden death of her sister Isabelle (Ciara Bravo), continues calling her just to leave hilariously confessional voicemails, unaware that Isabelle’s number has been reassigned to Wes (Nick Robinson), a real estate agent living in Austin, their hometown.
Although it was marketed as a romantic comedy, the film is ultimately more about sisterhood and grief. There’s something incredibly special about having sisters. It’s like being born with your first best friends — people who know every version of you because they’ve been there through all of them. You grow up sharing everything: secrets, inside jokes, dreams, fears, and countless memories. It’s the kind of connection that’s difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t have it because it becomes its own little language. And Jill and Isabelle’s relationship is the perfect example of that special bond.
Watching this movie hit me particularly hard because, just like Jill, I moved away from home to follow my dream, and I miss my sisters terribly. They’re my rock, and I know I’m theirs. No matter what life throws at us, we’re always there for one another, and we would do anything for each other without hesitation. Being away from them has become harder as we’re growing older, because time flies by so fast. But whenever we’re together, we can spend hours talking absolute nonsense that only we understand, laughing at jokes that probably aren’t funny to anyone else until the birds start chirping outside the window (with the jokes keeping on living through endless FaceTime calls and voice memos). It’s those simple moments — the ones that might seem insignificant to everyone else — that have become some of my favourite memories I share with them. The idea of losing them, of losing all of this, is one of the worst possible things I can imagine.
McKendrick perfectly captures those feelings, and by the end, the film feels like it was always meant to be about sisterhood rather than romance. Having a sister herself, she clearly understands what it means to share that kind of relationship, which is why the film's emotional core feels so authentic. When her sister moved to New York for college, she found herself leaving long, emotional voicemails detailing everything happening in her life: from difficult dates to frustrations about trying to succeed in the industry. As it can be read on ScreenRant, it made her realize she was revealing a version of herself that only a few people had access to, which ultimately shaped the story behind the film, both the story about sisterhood and the romantic part.
But even if it was never really the film’s main focus, I absolutely loved the romance part, which is just as cringey as it is incredibly sweet — imagine falling in love with someone you’ve never seen, just by listening to the sound of her voice as she recounts the most unhinged and vulnerable moments of her life in the most authentic way. How could you not form a genuine and compelling connection with someone after revealing so much of yourself in such an unfiltered way?
Deutch and Robinson share effortless chemistry that brings back the charm of 2000s romantic comedies. I genuinely believe that Zoey Deutch could become our modern-day Meg Ryan (or whoever your favourite romantic comedy actress is). She has everything you could want in a romantic comedy lead: effortless comedic timing, vulnerability, and undeniable charm.
Ultimately, the film gives us just enough comedy, just enough romance, and just enough heartbreak to create a beautifully balanced story where no element ever overshadows the others — unlike Netflix’s Office Romance (2026). McKendrick has crafted one of the best romantic comedies in recent years, and it’s now streaming on Netflix.
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