“Bringing Up Baby” and “His Girl Friday” director Howard Hawks famously said “a good movie is three great scenes and no bad scenes.” It sounds wise, but it’s important to remember he was describing a “good” movie, not a great one. Either way, as the basis for critical analysis, that’s a low bar. If you don’t screw it up for a couple hours, and occasionally top yourself, you can get away with almost anything.
Leah McKendrick’s new Netflix Original rom-com “Voicemails for Isabelle” has three great scenes and one bad scene. Hawks didn’t provide a mathematical formula for that, and even if he did, I don’t think he could have predicted all the X-factors. Like when two of the great scenes are direct lifts from “Jerry Maguire” and “Ratatouille.” He was a talented filmmaker, that Hawks, but even he couldn’t see “Voicemails for Isabelle” coming.
Zoey Deutch stars as Jill, a baker in San Francisco whose beloved sister, Isabelle (Ciara Bravo), dies from cystic fibrosis. There were as close as sisters could be, which we know because they’re Gen Z and talk on the phone instead of texting. Jill tries to get her life together but the mourning process is hard and every heterosexual man in San Francisco is a sack of crap, including her cruel “Top Chef” contestant boss, played by Nick Offerman with a French accent which is, to be fair, unconvincing on purpose.
As a coping mechanism, Jill calls her sister’s voicemail and leaves rambling messages about everything going on with her life. She doesn’t know Izzy’s number was reassigned to a random real estate agent, Wes (Nick Robinson). He smirks at Jill’s first few wrong numbers, then finds himself smitten from afar. When he finally decides to talk to Jill, instead of picking up the phone and explaining the situation, he uses private information from her voicemails to stalk her and start a relationship.
I believe in my heart of hearts that “Voicemails for Isabelle” doesn’t want us to think Wes is a creep. He has two adorable best friends, Andy (Harry Shum Jr.) and Breeda (McKendrick herself) who see the good in him and literally slap him in the face when he screws up. They should be slapping him more, but if Wes got what was coming to him every time he did something creepy he’d be an unrecognizable bruise in the shape of a human by the end of this movie.
I said “Voicemails for Isabelle” has one bad scene, and it’s right at the beginning. We’ve only known Wes for a few minutes when he begs a co-worker to hack his client’s texts for information that could clinch a sale, which he’s done before. He doesn’t do it again, because his co-worker reminds him it’s extremely illegal, but the damage is done. One of the first things we learn about the love interest in “Voicemails for Isabelle” is that he’s an unethical criminal who doesn’t care about other people’s personal privacy. So when he listens Jill’s messages and invades her life it’s not a lapse in judgement, it’s a pattern of behavior. So it’s hard to like him. Or forgive him.
To Robinson’s credit he almost makes the character work, although it takes 90% of the movie to get there. The conclusion, bolstered by a laugh out loud Taylor Swift joke, finds Wes defeated and humbled. That’s one of the three great scenes. Maybe, just maybe, these two could work it out. If Wes can stay out of prison.
The rest of the movie is Deutch’s. She’s a great comedian but she struggles to convey Jill’s nuanced emotions. Her eulogy at Izzy’s funeral suggests, early on, that maybe monologues aren’t her strong suit. Ordinarily that’s not a huge concern but a staggering amount of “Voicemails for Isabelle” relies on Deutch doing monologues. Whenever she gets permission to be funny she nails it and wins us back. The scene McKendrick borrows from “Jerry Maguire” gives Jill a bright and bitter catharsis. That’s great scene #2.
As a director, McKendrick knows how to sell a moment. She’s studied the romantic genres, and I’m not just saying that because her dialogue cites films like “A Walk to Remember,” “The Fault in Our Stars,” “Bridget Jones’s Diary,” “Notting Hill” and “Brokeback Mountain” so often it’s like reading a term paper. No, it’s because when she yoinks a moment from a classic film she understands why it worked in the original context and effectively adapts it to her own narrative.
The climactic moment in many a rom-com where a protagonist races to meet their lover before a clock runs out is punctuated here by the fireworks from “Brokeback Mountain,” making a much-appreciated cameo. It’s a well-earned lift that amplifies an ending that otherwise might not work, what with the weird plot and all. And McKendrick’s “Ratatouille” scene absolutely sings, with Robinson experiencing a moment of genuine beauty which makes him abandon all pretense, fall deeply into his emotions, and fall completely in love with Jill. That’s great scene #3, but it’s followed by a sexual embrace that’s kinda icky because Jill just reminded him of his mother. But we’ll be generous and call that its own separate thing.
Hawks was a genius but art isn’t math and movies are more than a collection of scenes. Some movies excel despite their many flaws, other movies flunk out because of a single catastrophic mistake. And then there’s “Voicemails for Isabelle,” a film whose equation makes zero sense but occasionally feels right. McKendrick seems excited to give us a big, sprawling romantic comedy with large emotions and messy characters and shoutouts to your favorite love stories. The enthusiasm comes across, and it’s infectious even when the movie doesn’t quite work. Which is most of the time.
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