"Madness feels itchy. In Die My Love, we hear it in the constant ho-hum buzz of the flies, their dirty, spindly limbs always threatening to brush against vulnerable skin. We see it in the abandoned house carpeted in dry, brittle leaves and the clashing patterns of chintzy floral wallpaper. We sense it in the breast milk dripped carelessly from a nipple into a puddle of ink, looked down upon by a creator on two fronts, mother and writer but signifying nothing but the universe sapped of its significance."
"When the woman consumed by madness in Lynne Ramsay's abrasively beautiful Die My Love is played by Jennifer Lawrence, words become unnecessary. Her character, Grace, has recently relocated from New York to live in a house once occupied by the dead uncle of her husband Jackson (Robert Pattinson), in order to raise their newborn son. The uncle shot himself there. You can sense his ghost pounding on the walls. Grace never really talks about her emotions in this, Ramsay's adaptation of an equally internalised 2012 novel by Ariana Harwicz. No one discusses a diagnosis, a treatment plan, or any dee"
A new mother named Grace moves from New York into a decaying house once occupied by her husband's dead uncle to raise her newborn. The house's abandonment, clashing floral wallpaper, flies and spilled breast milk create an oppressive, tactile sense of madness. The narrative avoids explicit labels, diagnoses or treatment, relying on sparse dialogue and atmospheric detail to render psychological collapse. The story emphasizes sensory filmmaking and domestic rot to convey the protagonist's inner disintegration, making emotional interiority felt through images and sound rather than explained.
Read at www.independent.co.uk
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