Love Me Review

The core theme of Love Me destined it to be labeled a pandemic-era movie.

While Americans had already been experiencing epidemic levels of loneliness in the late 2010s, the outbreak of COVID-19 and subsequent lockdowns highlighted what was already there while deepening that isolation. We were drowning in a preponderance of think pieces and studies about the detrimental impacts of being trapped in our homes, and the populace generally turned to media to both unpack and distract. Shows that dealt with the strange disconnect of our lives gained popularity. There was an uptick in movies about finding contentment on your own as well as reaching into your past.

So despite Love Me landing as the wave of isolation has largely subsided, that experience is still with us. It features just two characters, is mostly computer animated, and focuses on a smart buoy and a satellite (Kristen Stewart and Steven Yeun, respectively) learning what it means to share your life. It feels like a project born of a strong desire to expand your world while being frustrated at your inability to do so.

The story mostly plays out in 2500 AD or so, and eventually skips to a billion years later. The opening montage through Earth’s history asks us to consider the enormity of humanity’s reach, as well as how incredible it is we screwed it all up so quickly. From our vantage point in space, we see evidence of huge explosions, after which signs of people on the planet cease, and we later learn the final ship off-world launched in 2027. So when we cut to the planet’s surface to witness the buoy thaw as the clouds part for the first time in ages, Earth hasn’t known the influence of humanity for hundreds of years.

The buoy becomes desperate to make contact as soon as it detects the satellite’s signal, eager to “speak” to another being after so long. Initially rebuffed for not being a life-form, the buoy dubs itself “Me” and takes on the persona and visage of an influencer named Deja (a live-action Stewart). She attempts to engage the satellite, whom she’s christened “Iam”, to no avail. Undeterred, she creates a virtual copy of Deja’s apartment, modeling their avatars after Deja and her boyfriend Liam (Yeun). Much to Iam’s dismay, she leads them through endlessly recreating the time capsule of humanity that is Deja’s channel.

Despite sounding like the premise for a graphic novel, Andrew and Sam Zuchero’s feature debut is a completely original screenplay. Unfortunately, their instincts don’t hide that fact. While it’s thematically on-point to focus on Me’s isolation in the early part of the narrative, they lapse into repetition without adding to her depth. There are mild attempts at humor to tide us over, but the filmmaking lacks the confidence to go big enough for them to land. There are a handful of pointers back to our current moment that catch your ear, but none are as effective as the opening montage. At a point when we need to form a connection to these characters for the rest of the movie to have its desired emotional impact, the inelegance of the script is a huge distraction.

It’s a shame, because the virtual apartment proves to be a fruitful space for exploring some more interesting (if not novel) ideas. Me’s insistence on mimicry simultaneously highlights the value of inspiration and the harmfulness of defining yourself with relation to another. Meanwhile, the box into which she’s slotted Iam quickly proves constricting for a being with such an expansive sense of the world. Somewhat recognizable relationship dynamics play out over this framework, as two “minds” designed only to speak to humans must navigate the same things so many of us did during early lockdown.

But even as it picks up a bit, the screenplay never finds the balance between building the characters and upending their relationship. They’re in constant turmoil, it’s only the amount that varies, which makes it hard to lock into their relationship. It makes sense they never stop learning about life and each other, but shifting sands do not make a good foundation.

And yet, it’s impossible to dismiss this movie outright.

For one, the animation is lovely. All the real-world work is fantastic, and is used quite capably (if sparingly) to show us some fantastic sights of a dead planet. The character designs are memorable, with Me’s single camera basically an eye, and Iam’s adorably undersized solar panels. Meanwhile, the virtual world is deliberately chunky, very reminiscent of Meta’s Avatars, which gives it a delightful retro vibe.

Even as its script doesn’t come together, it stays charming throughout. Some of that is the relatable little flourishes, such as Me getting distracted from learning about humanity by a video of two babies making each other laugh. But unsurprisingly, it’s a showcase for its lead (and only) performers. Not that either one knocks it out of the park, but they nail what the script calls for in a way that brings the characters to life. Yeun has a few wonderful line readings early on when he’s voicing a mindless robot, which he’s able to turn more contemplative and layered as Iam’s personality expands. Stewart imbues Me with a sense of anxious excitement from the very beginning, allowing her to contrast it with the moments of dejection as her plans unravel in the face of Iam’s individuality. They play off each other wonderfully, starting with a stilted and awkward meet-cute before we watch their interactions warm throughout the film.

The Zucheros gave themselves a tough assignment whose success rested on stripping away the world such that all that mattered were our two main characters. Many experienced directors would have difficulty with such a demand: there’s a reason movies tend to involve a whole cast, even if none of those characters speak. So I’m hesitant to be too harsh on their effort. They aimed big, which is especially noteworthy in an environment where the top twenty-three grossing movies of last year were sequels or adaptations. While they bit off more than they could chew, the cinema would be a much more interesting place if every new director was willing to take such a chance.