I’ve always had a soft spot for a good melodrama. Not necessarily a feel-good movie, but the kind that mixes romance, grief, humor, and heartbreak into a story that asks audiences to spend a couple of hours with characters navigating extraordinary circumstances. Netflix’s Voicemails for Isabel absolutely fits that mold, and more importantly, it understands something that a lot of modern romance dramas seem to have forgotten.
In recent years, we’ve seen a wave of adaptations from authors like Colleen Hoover. Films like It Ends With Us, Regretting You, and Reminders of Him often begin with tragedy and then build relationships out of the wreckage. Nicholas Sparks adaptations frequently travel the opposite road, constructing a romance only to end in inevitable heartbreak. Everyone seems to be chasing those grand old Hollywood romances like An Affair to Remember, but Voicemails for Isabel succeeds because it understands that before audiences can care about the romance, they have to care about the people.
The film wisely spends a great deal of time investing in Jill, played by Zoey Deutch, and her relationship with her sister Isabel. It’s not a spoiler to say that Isabel isn’t doing well. Diagnosed with cystic fibrosis at a young age, she’s spent much of her life at home, while Jill has essentially lived enough life for both of them, constantly updating her sister on an often unimpressive dating life full of a revolving door of losers. The two aren’t just sisters. They’re best friends. Of course, Isabel’s death is the event that sets the story in motion. Unable to let go, Jill continues calling her sister’s old phone number, leaving messages and listening to saved voicemails as a way of maintaining a connection. What she doesn’t realize is that the number has already been reassigned. The new owner is Wes, played by Nick Robinson. He’s something of a ladies’ man, though not in the usual movie sense. He’s charming without being sleazy, and when Jill’s calls begin arriving, he can’t quite bring himself to answer and explain the situation. Instead, he listens. He learns about her life, her grief, and her struggles through messages never intended for him. Eventually, the two meet, fall for one another, and begin building a relationship that rests on a secret that obviously can’t remain hidden forever.
One of my favorite aspects of the movie is also where I think it stumbles slightly. Early on, Jill makes the observation that she doesn’t need a man. She needs her sister. Because the film spends so much time establishing Jill and Isabel’s relationship, that sentiment feels earned. In fact, Voicemails for Isabel is so focused on Jill that we’re roughly a quarter of the way through the movie before Wes even appears. This isn’t really a dual-lead romance. It’s Jill’s story first and foremost. That’s why I was a little disappointed when the film ultimately trades some of that emotional focus for more conventional romantic payoffs. The stronger story is Jill’s grief and her journey toward closure. Thankfully, the movie never completely abandons that thread, but it occasionally feels like it undervalues its most powerful emotional asset.
Fortunately, the romance itself works. Deutch and Robinson have excellent chemistry, and their scenes together feel natural and engaging. The supporting cast is there primarily to support the leads, and they do so effectively. Nick Offerman in particular gets some laughs as a supposedly French chef who is neither French nor especially pleasant. But this is unquestionably Zoey Deutch’s movie, and she carries it beautifully.
No, this isn’t Oscar bait. Nobody is campaigning for awards here. But for fans of this particular genre, it’s an unexpectedly effective romantic drama that understands how to earn its emotions rather than manufacture them.
The audio description track, produced by Descriptive Video Works, is more than competent and makes smart use of quieter moments, especially during scenes where characters are focused on their phones and visual storytelling could otherwise be missed.
The script has a few bumps along the way. The reassignment of Isabel’s phone number happens awfully fast, and there are a handful of conveniences that require some suspension of disbelief. Still, those issues are minor compared to how well the film keeps audiences invested in its characters.
I was genuinely surprised by how much I liked Voicemails for Isabel. If I end up being the only critic standing in its corner, that’s fine with me. I’ve never had a problem defending a movie when I can explain exactly why it works. This one kept me emotionally invested from beginning to end, and while I wish it had trusted its themes of grief and remembrance just a little more, it still delivers a touching and satisfying experience.
If you enjoyed films like Me Before You, Voicemails for Isabel should be right up your alley. Just make sure you’ve left someone a voicemail of your own before you hit play. Not because the movie is going to kill you, but because it might remind you why those messages matter.
Fresh: 7.8/10
