There are moments in Die My Love that are so sharp, so specific, they feel like someone cracked open your brain and filmed what they found. That’s not hyperbole — there are scenes between Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson that are raw in a way that almost feels accidental. These are the kinds of exchanges that stick with you, that pull you in and whisper, “This is it. This is the movie.” But then… the movie keeps going.

Directed by Lynne Ramsay (We Need to Talk About Kevin), Die My Love is a stylish, chaotic adaptation of Ariana Harwicz’s 2012 novel about love, motherhood, and the kind of unraveling that doesn’t come with clean edges. Ramsay, Lawrence, and Pattinson are all swinging for the fences here — and while you can’t say they didn’t commit, what we end up with is a film that feels like it was edited in a blender, ideas chopped and tossed until you’re left with emotional pulp.

Lawrence (Passengers) plays Grace, a writer and new mom who moves with her partner Jackson (Pattinson, The Batman) to a remote farmhouse. At first, things are playful and romantic. Then the baby arrives. Jackson is gone more than he’s home. Grace spirals. There’s infidelity, violence, disassociation, and a lot of masturbating in the woods. There’s also a wedding, a psychiatric stay, and a finale that ends in literal flames. But the way Ramsay presents all this — jumping in and out of memory, reality, dreams, and hallucination — makes it nearly impossible to emotionally latch on. Just when you think the film is about one thing, it veers off into something else entirely.

It’s not for lack of effort. Lawrence is fully in it. She plays Grace like a woman with a thousand wires crossed at once — confused, electrified, dangerous. There’s no vanity in her performance, and it’s easily one of her most committed roles. Pattinson, too, is compelling, though his character exists more as a shape for Grace to push against than a full human being. And Sissy Spacek (Carrie) steals scenes as Jackson’s mother, who delivers the kind of wistful bullseye of a monologue that makes you wish the movie had paused more often to let its characters breathe.

Ramsay, to her credit, isn’t interested in spoon-feeding anything. This is a film about messy, unresolved feelings, and it reflects that in both form and structure. But somewhere along the way, it loses the thread. You get a sense that it’s trying to explore postpartum depression, artistic frustration, gender roles in relationships — all worthy topics — but it refuses to pick a lane. Instead, we’re left chasing ghosts, hallucinations, and emotional fragments.

The film does look incredible. Seamus McGarvey’s cinematography — shot on 35mm in the tight, boxy 1.33:1 ratio — flips between dreamy and nightmarish without warning. One minute we’re in a lush field, the next in a claustrophobic kitchen or staring at a cracked mirror. The images are striking, even if they don’t always cohere. Production design by Tim Grimes sells the rural isolation, while Catherine George’s costumes quietly chart Grace’s disintegration. The score? Minimal. The mood? Constantly tense.

But by the end, I was mostly exhausted. There’s a film here about how motherhood can feel like a trap — how it redefines you whether you’re ready or not, and how resentment can creep in when your partner gets to leave and you don’t. It’s there. It just keeps getting buried under heavy symbolism and out-of-order editing choices that prioritize disorientation over clarity. On the positive side, it’s far more easy to swallow than the gag-inducing ugliness Lawrence put herself and the audience through in mother! back in 2017.

I admire that Die My Love exists. It’s not safe, not clean, not easy. But for all its intensity, it never quite comes together into something emotionally whole. It’s a patchwork of brilliant performances, brutal imagery, and dead-end detours. I kept waiting for it to land — and when it didn’t, I was mostly left feeling hollow.

Still, this won’t hurt the careers of anyone involved. If anything, it reinforces that Lawrence and Pattinson are artists who don’t mind taking risks. And someone, somewhere, is going to watch this and feel seen. I just wasn’t that person.