Die My Love (2025) Movie Review

You know in the movies where someone attends a play in which their romantic interest is starring and that play turns out to be really weird and eccentric? 

That’s Die My Love, Lynne Ramsay’s star-studded drama about postpartum depression that is certainly eye opening—but not in the least bit good. 

If watching Jennifer Lawrence flop around like she’s at an improv class where the teacher has told their students to act feral is your jam, then more power to you—I have a day job and a kid and episodes of Hell’s Kitchen to catch up on and can easily think of a thousand things, like scrubbing my shower with a toothbrush, that I’d rather do.

It’s not that Die My Love is insufferably bad. I powered through it easily enough, appreciating individual moments and scenes while curious to see if it would shape itself into something with narrative momentum. J-Law is good, I guess (?), in terms of showcasing raw emotion in uncomfortable, unpleasant ways, but it’s not the kind of performance that leaves your jaw on the floor or even slightly ajar. Same can be said for supporting cast members Robert Pattinson and Sissy Spacek, who dive into their roles with zeal but who don’t really seem to know what to do with the material. Act feral, hope that your accomplished director can cut it together into something coherent. 

And it is coherent. There is emotion and energy and the sense of soul-sucking new parenthood, the feeling that you’re all alone in the world with a crying little useless boob-sucking creature. Ramsay makes the message loud and clear, and her depiction of near-psychotic depression throbs and pulses through every off-kilter minute.

But Die My Love simply fails its actors. It’s surprisingly flat, the efforts by its stars wasted on a nothing-there script and a meandering almost-story that exists more than entertains. It’s like you’re watching things happen through a dirty window, unable to hear or feel what’s happening, squinting to focus.

This kind of movie may be your jam, but Die My Love is not in the least bit good. 

Review by Erik Samdahl. Erik is a marketing and technology executive by day, avid movie lover by night. He is a member of the Seattle Film Critics Society.