Die My Love

Postpartum depression is a subject that, arguably, doesn’t receive enough attention, especially outside of a clinical context. That’s why it’s somewhat surprising to see it addressed in an entertainment vehicle. It’s unfortunate, however, that it hasn’t been examined as tactfully or as effectively as it could or should have been in this disappointing new release from director Lynne Ramsay. When Jackson (Robert Pattinson) and his girlfriend, Grace (Jennifer Lawrence), move into a home left to them by his deceased uncle in rural Montana, the couple enjoys their idyllic new lifestyle. And, not long thereafter, they become the parents of a baby boy, a theoretically happy event that, regrettably, also marks the beginning of growing troubles in their relationship. Even though Grace appears to adore her son, she simultaneously becomes dissatisfied with her life as a stay-at-home mom, particularly in the decline of the duo’s once-robust and prolific sex life. Her behavior becomes erratic, unpredictable and even hostile toward Jackson and others, including acts of self-harm against herself. But what’s behind these changes? It’s as if a form of madness has begun overtaking her. And what, if anything, can be done about it? Such conditions are sometimes associated with mood changes after childbirth, but, in the case of this story, their expression goes so far off the rails that the picture becomes difficult to follow or fathom, meandering wildly and losing credibility with each passing sequence. In addition, the inclusion of bizarre, ancillary, seemingly unrelated developments, coupled with unrelenting overacting by the protagonists, makes for an utterly exhausting watch, one in which its core subject seems to be treated almost as an afterthought. Moreover, this is a project that represents a phenomenal waste of its cast; besides Pattinson and Golden Globe Award nominee Lawrence, the film recklessly squanders the talents of supporting players Sissy Spacek, Lakeith Stanfield and Nick Nolte. It’s genuinely unclear what the filmmaker was going for here, prompting viewers to wonder if they’re watching actual events or fabrications in the minds of the characters (or some indistinguishable combination of both). In that respect, this film readily calls to mind the narrative incoherence found in another of Lawrence’s efforts, “mother!” (2017) (one would like to think that she should have learned her lesson from that cinematic debacle – what should have served as a wake-up call to make better script selection decisions). What’s more, this offering features more than its fair share of gratuitous nudity, something I’m typically not prudish about but that truly starts to get out of hand in this release, particularly in its frequent and somewhat graphic depictions of self-pleasuring. Without a doubt, “Die My Love” is a serious letdown, one that should leave almost anyone associated with this production suitably depressed.