The story itself feels already pretty empty; a young couple filled with happiness leaves the big city to live in a country house, simultaneously welcoming a new member into their little family who the mother spends the best part of her day taking care of. She is alone in this house in the middle of nowhere, which begins to weigh heavily on her psychologically.
On numerous occasions, the actors are the victim of overly sexualised scenes, Jennifer Lawrence especially. It's a major topic of the film: her sexual frustration toward her husband, who uses much of his screen time refusing his wife's advances, mainly because his mother is too present in their lives or for other cheap excuses. Furthermore, the performances of the cast are over-the-top to the extremes. To put it bluntly, it feels like every cast member is either in the middle or at the end of a massive, hard drug binge.
The direction itself, contrary to the image of the film, is slightly out of the ordinary. There's a constantly sensual atmosphere with scenes of unnecessary and poorly placed nudity, and abrupt and violent sounds, which appears out of nowhere to prevent the viewer from falling asleep.
Despite all this, if there is one quality to be found in the film and one name to remember, it is Seamus McGarvey, the cinematographer. The colours and the multiple wide shots of the countryside stand out as the most entertaining part of the movie.
At the end, the promise made on paper by the reputation of the people involved did not keep its word. A disappointment is the first word that will come to the head of several film lovers when the credits roll on Die My Love. Perhaps this is also the word that ran through the heads of the most talented artists of their generation, as this film taints their iconic filmography.