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Julie Delpy appears to always breathe life into any movie she features in. In Richard Linklater’s romantic “Before” trilogy her Céline was the sun; in her own projects as a writer/director/actress she has taken the form of the small slant screwball that crops up from the mundane, be it ‘electric’ relations as in ‘2 Days in Paris’, ‘2 Days in New York’ or the romp about a jealous adult son trying to sabotage his mother’s marriage called ‘Lolo’. And because it’s Delpy setting the pulse, the films exist within this delicate in-between state of existence where everything is intensely unique but simultaneously very real.
In “My Zoe“, her new film as writer/director/actress, Delpy’s character Isabelle is the ominous blue of its somber tale that features her along with an ex-wife mourning their daughter Zoe (Sophia Ally) who is in a coma while dealing with her ex-husband James (Richard Armitage) and wanting to escape her suffering through Zaom dystopia. Delpy is capable and does such searing, agonizing, trusting things. Why it is astonishing then that Delpy argues in the film notes that it is not a personal diaristic story but more an expression of his depriving fear of losing her son.
This delves more into the inner workings of Delpy’s imagination regarding such a terrifying thought, and the heuristic of the harsh delusional entry is very much present. It is a powerful testimony of her emotional courage as a filmmaker.
Delpy’s film recounts the divorce that disintegrated the marriage and the sentimental exchanges that happened between the two. A good portion of the film begins with Zoe staying in a comatose state which the audience realizes is a nightmare everyone hopes to run away from. He dies to try to fix things while calling himself James the Isabelle he befriends later on, is actually in control. And yes, she always has been.
Cinematographer Stephane Fontaine shoots certain arguments through a distance, however, from an angle that makes everyone look cold. It is quite the paradox to be waiting in the hospital room of Berlin to hear a diagnosis while being in a hellish nightmare.
At times concerning the complicated histories of their relationships, conversations can become pretty messy, however, the struggle only comes to a halt once Zoe’s new report turns out to be terrible. The issue regarding Zoe’s deteriorating state triggers uncontrollable blaming. The developments just add to the already existing issues. Delpy and Armitage manage to portray the consequences that these issues would have on the mother relatively effortlessly.
On a positive note, in the broadest sense, grief can help relieve some of the mental strain that one goes through. That realization comes to the fore in a pent-up moment when James, in the company of a devastated Isabelle, extends his hand toward her in hopes of finding solace. It also surfaces from the gradual progression in the story, such as when Isabelle travels solo to Russia to consult an embryo specialist, Thomas (Daniel Brühl), who has the chance to aid Zoe’s cloning. With her pleading, I long to breathe in that little head’s scent again, Isabelle further solidifies her stance.
You could say emotional acceleration is one of many main aspects of the movie, and along for the ride are the more simplistic details too, such as how Isabelle transforms her wristwatch into a large, flat smartphone. While at first Thomas is reluctant, after witnessing Isabelle’s agony, he changes his mind. This later leads to arguments with his wife, Laura (portrayed by Gemma Arterton) who doesn’t support the idea of human cloning.
It’s intriguing to note how this subplot brings to light the weaknesses of Delpy’s ease in the story. Some aspects of how Delpy the writer and the director embody the storyline are executed too literally so that Thomas and Laura can understand why Isabelle is so audacious.
However, “My Zoe” does not fail to emphasize Delpy which is achieved via her being on the screen and the sought-after idea that we are to witness and understand the emotions of Isabelle simultaneously. The movie’s energy is within Delpy’s restrained acting of her emotive state, muted and urgent; the film alternates between scenes of deep pain endured by Isabelle, to her intense solitary endurance that ironically most scientists do not believe is possible. Every piece of “My Zoe” that lacks vibrancy or story propulsion is overwhelmingly countered by Deeply’s devotion to such an unfathomable experience. It is indeed breathtaking to handle and embrace such an exquisite piece. The boldness itself is a force to reckon with, which “My Zoe” has effortlessly galvanized.
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