Courtney Howard // Film Critic
VOICEMAILS FOR ISABELLE
Rated TV-14, 1 hour and 58 minutes
Directed by: Leah McKendrick
Starring: Zoey Deutch, Nick Robinson, Harry Shum Jr., Leah McKendrick, Ciara Bravo, Toby Sandeman, Nick Offerman, Lukas Gage, Megan Danso
Writer-director-co-star Leah McKendrick’s VOICEMAILS FOR ISABELLE plays like a more evolved and enlightened YOU’VE GOT MAIL in the era of missed connections and tech dependency. The rom-com, centered on an unhappy line cook grieving her younger sister’s death who unwittingly finds love with the man assigned to her deceased sister’s phone number, is filled with endearing charm, palpable poignancy and effervescent wit. The humorous overtones never undercut the emotional pull of the dramatic weight. It’s the real deal.
Twenty-something San Francisco transplant Jill (Zoey Deutch) has been eagerly awaiting her big break, working in a world-renowned restaurant under the tutelage of deranged TOP CHEF contestant Chef Bastien (Nick Offerman). Her boss’ insane demands and chopping kumquats for months on end have her questioning why she’s left family in Austin to take this thankless gig as her younger, terminally-ill sister Isabelle’s (Ciara Bravo) health worsens. Luckily, the pair have unlimited cell phone plans to stay in touch as Jill is able to live adventurously and Isabelle’s fate resigns her to being a frequent observer of her sister’s exploits. Still, the two share one indomitable, unsinkable spirit.
That is until Isabelle dies, leaving Jill forlorn and unmoored. Unable to contain her grief any longer, and in desperate need of a coping mechanism, Jill calls her sister’s phone number and leaves a long, vulnerable voicemail. However, unbeknownst to her, that number was recently reassigned to hunky commercial real estate agent Wes (Nick Robinson), who’s unparalleled at cutting corners when making a sale or pursuing romantic flings. Wes ponders replying with the truth, but as the voicemails accrue with voyeuristic details of Jill’s innermost thoughts and romantic fantasies, he feels too emotionally invested in her life to send an impersonal text message. So under the guise of a work trip, he travels to the City by the Bay to confess the mix-up to her in-person. Of course he falters and hijinks and hilarity ensue.
With the exception of the antagonist supporting character, McKendrick doesn’t write caricatures. She writes with honesty and humor in mind, sculpting her lead characters into regular folks caught up in heightened, tropey circumstances. She makes the genre’s prescribed story beats function to their greatest abilities. The expected “You lied to me” moment hits like a gut punch. The formation of the conjured romance feels adorably sweet – so much so, we forgive Wes’ deceit using his insider knowledge to seduce his dream girl. In a movie that’s incredibly feminist-leaning, focusing primarily on Jill’s journey, his arc is not dealt short shrift. He’s held accountable for his dastardly actions. He even disappears until he inevitably reappears for the mandated 3rd act chase in the rain with fireworks exploding to reunite with his lady love (gorgeously lensed by cinematographer Julia Swain) – a scene that genuinely fuses humor and heart.
Subplots involving a smooth-talking, dating guru podcaster (Toby Sandeman, who makes us imagine the casting director was told to get “a Regé-Jean Page type”), the upcoming wedding of Wes’ besties (played by Harry Shum Jr. and McKendrick) and Jill’s unsatisfactory career aspirations all contain their own sparkling senses of humor and delightful creative spark. McKendrick deploys Taylor Swift references on the soundtrack (“New Year’s Day”) and in the dialogue (“Look What You Made Me Do” and “Marjorie”) with naturalistic ease to best suit the scenarios. The use of Robyn’s “Show Me Love” and “Dancing on My Own,” take on new meanings of their own, tying the pop singer’s chart milestones to a character’s arc. Plus, the finale’s big romantic gesture isn’t about Wes fixing Jill’s grief. It’s about Wes helping her work through it.
Deutch and Robinson are in precise tune with the humanist chords of the material. Tragedy and triumph are beautifully and authentically shaped in these actors’ capable hands. They unlock the pathos within their characters’ relationships. Though Deutch is a versatile actress, having shown off her skillset playing unlikeable yet rootable heroines in films like FLOWER, NOT OKAY and BUFFALOED, as well as being Linklater’s indie darling in NOUVELLE VAGUE and EVERYBODY WANTS SOME, she’s exceptional in the rom-com milieu in films like SET IT UP and SOMETHING FROM TIFFANY’S. Her performance is buoyant, vulnerable and adorable. She shapes Jill into someone you’d either date or include in your girl gang. With Robinson’s astute modulations, Wes comes across less like a womanizer and more like a commitment-phobe. He’s also less smarmy arrogance and more disarming confidence.
That said, it doesn’t get everything right. While McKendrick is able to walk back from it a few times, sequences focused on Jill’s work rival Arthur (Lukas Gage) go too comedically broad. His shenanigans are wholly unnecessary and could be excised completely with light tweaks to the narrative, from that cartoonish mustache he practically twirls once Jill rejects him to the finale where – for illogical reasons beyond contrivance to propel her stalled arc – he’s chosen by their boss over her for a promotion. Why would a restaurant choose a baker who can’t bake? Does this perfectionist chef dislike Michelin stars? All of this is a shame given Gage has delivered solid work in films like COMPANION and SMILE 2.
With sequences that tackle the trickiness, ridiculousness and bleakness of the modern love landscape, and by tempering a search for love with resounding notes of melancholic grief, VOICEMAILS FOR ISABELLE leaves its mark.
Grade: 4 out of 5
VOICEMAILS FOR ISABELLE is now streaming exclusively on Netflix.
