Movie Review ~ Joy (2024)

Movie release dates are often scheduled far in advance, and Joy’s debut has been planned for a mid-November launch for some time.  It’s funny how timing works out to position art right where it needs to be, speaking to an audience that could benefit from its message.  That was my first and most significant takeaway from Joy, a tribute to science and an exploration of relentless persistence during an era defined by rebellion and bold steps forward set against the cultural tumult of the 1970s.  While disco, Vietnam, and social upheaval were occupying the news, another kind of revolution was quietly taking place in the laboratories of Great Britain. 

Directed with understated precision by Ben Taylor, Joy follows Jean Purdy (Thomasin McKenzie, Last Night in Soho), a nurse-turned-embryologist who, alongside scientist Robert Edwards (James Norton, Nowhere Special) and surgeon Patrick Steptoe (Bill Nighy, Living), demonstrated unwavering commitment to a fertility breakthrough that would forever change countless lives.  The 1978 birth of Louise Joy Brown, the world’s first test-tube baby, became a global touchstone, prompting a new kind of moral and medical debate.  

Taylor’s directorial approach is commendably restrained, letting the story’s natural intensity emerge without flashy embellishments. Through Jean’s perspective and McKenzie’s beautifully realized performance, the audience follows the decade-long process that ultimately culminated in the birth of Louise Joy Brown via In vitro fertilization. Taylor’s decision to avoid sensationalism in favor of a more grounded, clinical aesthetic elevates the narrative beyond a simple “and then this happened” motif, allowing the intrinsic drama of IVF’s challenges to speak for itself. This approach serves the material well, and Jack Thorne’s screenplay treats scientific breakthroughs not as miracles but as products of hard-won progress. The period-appropriate attention to detail, from the production design to the costumes, firmly roots the story in its late ’70s setting, immersing viewers in a time when science and society underwent profound shifts.

Jean is a figure of quiet resilience, navigating not only the scientific barriers of her field but also her own personal doubts and societal judgments. McKenzie’s performance brims with a delicate but compelling strength that prevents Jean from becoming overly saintly or tragic. Instead, she’s entirely human—driven, vulnerable, sometimes weary but never defeated. Moments of subtle defiance, especially when Jean faces judgment from her community and mother (Joanna Scanlan, Wicked Little Letters), both devoutly religious, reveal her resolve to continue her work despite the costs.

The rest of the cast provides strong support. Norton’s Robert Edwards is depicted with a lively intellectual fervor that balances ambition with compassion. He brings intensity to his role, embodying a scientist captivated by the possibilities of fertility science and undeterred by the establishment’s resistance to change. The indefatigable Nighy rounds out the trio as Steptoe, delivering a measured, empathetic performance infusing the story with warmth and wisdom. Steptoe wasn’t just a skilled physician; he was a steady force who believed in the work because of what it might achieve and represent for humanity.  In a minor but no less important role, Tanya Moodie (Star Wars: Episode IX – The Rise of Skywalker) is  Muriel, Steptoe’s straight-shooting senior nurse who prefers to be called Matron as a sign of the respect she’s earned.  The chemistry between the actors—their shared commitment to an idea that borders on obsession—becomes the film’s quiet heartbeat.

The direction, paired with the screenplay, maintains a careful balance between the technical and the personal, landing with a quiet resonance and drawing audiences into the painstaking process of early IVF experimentation without losing the human element.  Thorne’s script sometimes ventures close to feeling more educational than dramatic, though. The film’s informative nature, especially as the team faces setback after setback in the lab, provides valuable insight into the grueling nature of scientific discovery, where success is measured in small victories and tedious adjustments, and obstacles are constant. This choice occasionally risks the film’s pacing, particularly in the middle, where scenes can sag and give the narrative a haltingly repetitive feel.  Yet, these moments serve a purpose; they underscore the grueling nature of scientific discovery.

Through small details—the cut of a collar, the period-specific decor—Joy skillfully transports audiences to a moment in history when technological innovation was both feared and revered.  Visually, the film does an impressive job of capturing the 1970s in a way that feels authentic rather than nostalgic.  The production design and costumes were meticulously crafted to evoke a time when societal norms around motherhood were rigid, and the idea of creating life outside the womb was seen as radical, even frightening.

Premiering at the BFI London Film Festival in October, for a film largely about science, Joy abounds with a quiet warmth that softens its clinical edges and reminds us that even the most groundbreaking achievements stem from a place of extremely personal commitment.  In an age when reproductive rights and medical ethics continue to spark heated debate, the film serves as a poignant reminder of our progress and the courage it takes to pioneer change. The film captures the remarkable intersection of science and compassion, illuminating the humanity behind a procedure that, for so many, would redefine what it means to create a family.