Die My Love

The silence of a Montana village. An old, abandoned house. A woman who has just given birth, but inside there is no tenderness - only darkness. Grace's (Jennifer Lawrence) everyday life slowly crumbles into sharp shards of glass: one - the illusion of gentle motherhood, the other - unbridled psychosis.

Director Lynne Ramsay (We Need to Talk About Kevin, You Were Never Really Here) takes the viewer straight into Grace’s mind – this is not a narrative, but a mesmerizing journey through a labyrinth of inner chaos and passion. The camera follows her every move so closely that you can almost smell the fear. The soundtrack is like a continuous heartbeat: sometimes muffled in silence, sometimes exploding in noise.

You are in Grace's eyes, Grace's mind, Grace's skin. Her world is fragmented, full of symbols: the echo of a barking dog, a veil of smoke outside the window, a dance of feminine magic and self-destruction. This is a film for those who are not afraid to look into the darkness - and find beauty there.

Lawrence is at once wild and tender—her Grace is funny one moment, terrifying the next, then unbearably vulnerable. It's a role that makes you feel everything at once: love, anger, compassion, and unease.

"Die, My Love" is not a film for everyone. But if you like cinema that cuts deeper than the skin, that leaves you breathless when you see how beauty and horror can coexist in the same frame - this is the film for you.