Lynne Ramsay’s film presents an extraordinary adaptation of an intense story about a life unraveling.
Philip Larkin, while reviewing Sylvia Plath’s Collected Poems, noted that her final works were “original and effective” but questioned their value based on how we relate to the raw experience expressed, often met with shock and sorrow.
Die, My Love, the acclaimed debut novel by Ariana Harwicz, an Argentinian living in France and published in 2012, fits this description exactly. Its unnamed narrator speaks all the voices of the novel, revealing her intense rage, contempt, and frustrated desires as she recounts her life.
“A breath of irrationality had set fire to my existence,” she declares.
After a hospital stay, she appears calmer but explodes again during her son’s second birthday:
“I hope you all die, every last one of you… Just die, my love.”
Although she is diagnosed with postpartum psychosis, this explanation feels insufficient given the extremity of the story.
Among recent works depicting motherhood as alienating or difficult—such as last year’s Nightbitch, which took a lighter tone—Die, My Love stands out for its uncompromising intensity.
This film adaptation captures the harrowing and raw emotional turmoil of a woman’s extreme struggle with motherhood, brought vividly to life by Jennifer Lawrence’s dedicated performance.