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Movie poster for Voicemails for Isabelle (2026)

Voicemails for Isabelle

“Sometimes the universe leaves you a message.”

2026
1h 59m
Director: Leah McKendrick
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Overview

A young woman's hilariously confessional voicemails to her late sister are unknowingly redirected to a stranger, who begins to fall in love from afar.

Cast

12 people

Reviews

5 min read
AI-generated editorial review
The Messages We Leave Behind

I’ve always been a sucker for the kind of love story that sneaks up on you—where the romance isn’t in grand gestures but in the quiet, accidental ways two people start to matter to each other. Voicemails for Isabelle is that kind of story, though it takes a while to realize it. At first glance, it looks like just another rom-com, the kind with meet-cutes and quippy dialogue and a third-act dash through the rain. But then there’s the voicemail. That damn voicemail. It’s the kind of device that could feel gimmicky in the wrong hands, but here, it’s the emotional spine of the whole film, the thing that turns a sweet, slightly predictable romance into something messier and more real.

Jill (Zoey Deutch) is the kind of person who leaves long, rambling voicemails for her late sister, Isabelle. They’re not just messages—they’re confessions, jokes, updates on her life, the kind of things you’d say to someone who already knows you inside out. The film’s premise hinges on a technological glitch: these voicemails, meant for a ghost, are accidentally rerouted to Wes (Nick Robinson), a stranger who starts to fall for the voice on the other end of the line. It’s a setup that could easily tip into creepiness, but the film sidesteps that by making Wes more curious than predatory, more lonely than invasive. He’s not stalking Jill; he’s just listening, the way you might eavesdrop on a conversation in a café and find yourself unexpectedly moved.

A close-up of Zoey Deutch’s face, half-lit by the glow of her phone, as she records a voicemail in the dim light of her apartment.

The first time I heard Jill’s voice crack on one of those messages—something about missing Isabelle’s laugh, about how she still sets a place for her at the table—I felt my chest tighten. It’s the kind of detail that sounds small on paper but lands like a punch in the moment. Grief, in rom-coms, is usually a subplot, something to be resolved by the end of the second act. Here, it’s the engine of the story. Jill isn’t just mourning her sister; she’s still talking to her, still trying to keep her alive in some small way. And Wes, who’s grieving his own losses (a failed relationship, a stalled career), finds himself drawn to that raw, unfiltered honesty. It’s not just that he falls for her voice—it’s that he falls for the way she talks to someone who isn’t there.

Audience Opinions

AI summary of viewer review patterns
Audience 7.3/10 AI
"A tender, grief-tinged rom-com that hits hard emotionally and thrives on its lead pairing, even while leaning on a familiar, slightly cheesy formula."

Emotional intensity, especially in the sister storyline and the voicemail device, connects strongly, with several viewers reporting tears within the first 20 minutes and calling it one of the better recent romantic movies of its kind. The chemistry between Zoey Deutch and Nick Robinson, the comforting classic-rom-com vibe, and the blend of humor with heavy themes earn a lot of affection, though some find the plot predictable, a bit derivative of earlier romance films, and bogged down by pacing issues and occasional cringe.

What viewers praise
  • Standout lead acting Zoey Deutch is praised for a wide emotional range that makes Jill easy to care about and keeps the story grounded even in its messier moments.
  • Strong romantic chemistry The pairing of Deutch and Nick Robinson is repeatedly called effortless and captivating, prompting calls for more movies with them together.
  • Emotional sister storyline The continuing bond with Isabelle through voicemails, and key scenes about grief and memory, resonate deeply and are described as tearjerkers.
  • Warm, classic rom-com feel The film mixes modern details with a nostalgic, You've Got Mail–style sensibility that leaves many viewers feeling comforted and uplifted.
  • Balance of humor and heaviness Grief, heartbreak, and healing are woven into a light, witty tone that still lands big emotional beats without becoming relentlessly bleak.
Common complaints
  • Predictable and derivative The story structure and twist are often called cheesy or basic, with clear echoes of earlier romance films that make the outcome easy to see coming.
  • Pacing drops in the middle Several viewers feel the movie peaks around the halfway mark, then slows down and loses focus before picking back up near the end.
  • Overly snappy dialogue Some exchanges and references try so hard to be clever and contemporary that they come off as forced rather than natural.
  • Tone and premise concerns A few find the central situation and some moments slightly creepy or off-putting, and certain musical or pop-culture choices pull them out of the story.
Recommended for
Modern rom-com devotees Zoey Deutch admirers Nick Robinson supporters Emotional comfort-movie seekers Stories about grief and healing Nostalgic romance lovers

Full Plot (Spoilers)

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Buzz & Rumors

Public reports
AI-researched entertainment notes

“Voicemails for Isabelle” Went Through Hell, High Water… and Lettuce: The Juiciest Behind-the-Scenes Secrets

Netflix sold you a swoony, tear-stained rom-com. What they didn’t show you? The A‑lister who bailed, the director who halted production over salad, and the Swiftie-level battle to land three Taylor songs. Let’s hit play on the real-life drama behind Voicemails for Isabelle.


Casting Shake-Ups & the Hailee Steinfeld Plot Twist

  • Long before Zoey Deutch baked a single cinematic pastry, Voicemails for Isabelle was a totally different movie on paper. In 2019, it was announced at Sony with Hailee Steinfeld set to star and Sharon Maguire (Bridget Jones’s Diary) directing, positioned as a theatrical rom-com vehicle for Steinfeld fresh off Bumblebee and Into the Spider-Verse.
  • Then came the reset: Steinfeld quietly exited the project—reports link it to her increasingly packed schedule, but no official “this is why I left” statement has ever surfaced. Maguire also stepped away. The would‑be studio movie stalled, floating in development limbo through the pandemic and strikes.
  • Enter Leah McKendrick. The original screenwriter took over as writer–director, the movie shifted to Netflix, and Zoey Deutch grabbed the lead as Jill, with Nick Robinson as Wes and Ciara Bravo as Isabelle, finally giving the script a path out of purgatory.

The Director Who Shut Down Production… for Lettuce

  • McKendrick didn’t just direct; she micromanaged down to the garnish. During a key crab-cake scene, she halted filming because the lettuce on Jill’s plate was wrong. Not metaphorically wrong—visually wrong for a chef who knows what she’s doing.
  • She admits she shut down the shoot to source the exact type of greens that would pass muster in a legit restaurant kitchen, joking that she’s not even a chef but couldn’t live with an inauthentic plate in a movie about a chef.
  • The art and production design teams scrambled to fix the detail, all so a split-second plate on screen wouldn’t betray the character’s culinary credentials. “Rom-com” apparently now includes “food authenticity thriller.”

Taylor Swift, Robyn & the Musical High-Stakes Heist

  • The emotional gut punches you felt? That’s partly Taylor Swift doing damage. McKendrick wrote a personal letter to Swift and assembled a deck explaining why “Marjorie” and “New Year’s Day” had to be in the film—arguing the songs were essentially characters, not background noise.
  • Once they temped “Marjorie” over a grief montage of Jill missing Isabelle, the team knew they were doomed—in the best way. As McKendrick put it, after trying it in the cut, there was no going back; they had to “figure out a way to make it happen” legally and financially.
  • Deutch, a self-proclaimed Swiftie, said seeing the cut with the real tracks was surreal—she assumed it was temp music until the team told her they’d actually secured the licenses, including a cheeky “Look What You Made Me Do” quote referenced by Wes.
  • The other musical deity on this movie? Robyn. McKendrick also crafted a deck and letter for Robyn’s team, insisting that songs like “Dancing On My Own” weren’t just bops but a core part of the sisters’ emotional DNA.

One-Take Robyn Dance, Bloopers & Rom-Com Chaos

  • That euphoric Robyn dance sequence in the finale was shot under absolute pressure. Ciara Bravo flew in with virtually no rehearsal; she learned the choreography on the day, then had one shot before sunset to nail the scene with full background dancers and principal cast in motion. The sun was dropping, continuity was on the line, and the final take ended the day.
  • Behind the scenes, the vibe was gloriously unhinged. Netflix’s bloopers reel shows Zoey Deutch and Lukas Gage breaking so often that McKendrick joked, “If this were middle school, Lukas and Zoey would have to be separated. They make each other laugh uncontrollably”.
  • Nick Robinson tossed in Twilight references between takes, Gage riffed on “grief-inspired drinking games,” and even seasoned deadpan king Nick Offerman couldn’t keep a straight face in some setups.
  • In one now-viral blooper moment, Deutch finds out Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are engaged while on set, reacting exactly like the Swiftie heroine you’d expect.

The Writer–Director Who Wrote Her Own Rom-Com Ending

  • McKendrick’s involvement goes way beyond the chair. She plays Breeda, the friend who literally tells Wes to go after Jill in the rain at the end—a character she says she actually wrote eight years earlier in early drafts.
  • Life imitated rom-com: McKendrick married her real-life partner two weeks after the film wrapped, giving that big “RUN TO HER” moment an extra layer of personal resonance for the woman who wrote and delivered it.
  • The whole movie is rooted in her own grief and sisterhood; she has said the story was inspired by imagining she’d keep calling her sister’s number if she died, a premise born after a comedy bit about rambling voicemails lodged in her brain.

Seven years, one vanished A‑lister, a lettuce lock-up, and a multi-song Taylor Swift heist later, Voicemails for Isabelle finally landed in your Netflix queue. And suddenly, all those voicemails—and all that chaos—feel very much worth the call.


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