‘The Drama’ movie review: Zendaya and Robert Pattinson glitter and jitter in crackling, edgy romance

The initial chapters of this narrative introduce Emma (portrayed by Zendaya) and Charlie (played by Robert Pattinson), a seemingly quintessential couple whose journey commences with a charming “meet-cute” at a vibrant New York City cafe. Their romance unfolds like a perfectly crafted fairytale: a delightfully uninhibited first date where authentic emotions surface, an impulsive post-midnight kiss within the hallowed halls of a Manhattan museum, and a heartfelt marriage proposal whispered intimately. This foundation appears to be the ideal prelude to an unforgettable wedding day speech, mirroring the great love stories of cinematic history. Yet, this wholesome promise, alluded to in the early segments of ‘The Drama,’ soon gives way as unsettling realities begin to surface. It is no mere coincidence that the book Emma is reading during their first encounter, a title Charlie feigns familiarity with, is called ‘The Damage.’ This subtle foreshadowing quickly intensifies as an explosive secret from Emma’s past detonates during a pivotal conversation, causing the collapse of their shared intimate dream, echoing the disillusionment often associated with the American dream. What starts as deeply personal rapidly spirals into something complexly political and profoundly messy. This, it becomes clear, is far from an ordinary love story.

Norwegian filmmaker Kristoffer Borgli masterfully orchestrates the film’s opening moments with a deliberate, frenetic dissonance. He employs sublime jump cuts to navigate between timelines, instilling a palpable sense of jarring unease within Emma and Charlie’s ostensibly idyllic romance. This breathless juxtaposition not only heightens tension but also generates a distinct vein of humor, a testament to both the precise placement of these cuts and the razor-sharp wit embedded in the dialogue. Borgli’s directorial hand ensures that even in their most tender interactions, an underlying current of anxiety ripples through the narrative.

A significant shift in the film’s tempo occurs only after Emma’s secret is unveiled, prompting Borgli to introduce a rare sense of calm to the screenplay. This is most evident in one of the film’s longest sequences, set in a restaurant and unfolding over several bottles of wine, in the company of Charlie’s friend Mike (Mamoudou Athie) and his partner Rachel (Alana Haim). The conversation fluidly transitions to each person recounting the worst actions they’ve committed in their lives. Under pressure, a visibly inebriated Emma is compelled to share a disturbing chapter from her past: a fifteen-year-old self who harbored fantasies of perpetrating a mass shooting at her school. Predictably, this revelation dramatically alters the emotional landscape, triggering a fundamental shift in the characters’ tones and redirecting the film’s overarching trajectory.

Borgli is no stranger to such profound tonal shifts, having previously explored off-kilter, absurdist, and surreal territories in his acclaimed works ‘Sick of Myself’ (2022) and ‘Dream Scenario’ (2024). With ‘The Drama,’ he constructs an exceptionally audacious premise. On one hand, the film intricately mirrors universal interpersonal anxieties: the true extent of one’s knowledge about a beloved partner, and the boundaries of acceptance for their past selves. Borgli deftly probes these concerns as a devastated Charlie confronts Emma with probing questions—about her gun fantasies, what prevented her from acting on them, and more. In these sequences, the film adopts a rigorous, almost documentary-like approach to delve into Emma’s psychology, offering insights into her experiences and those of countless others who grew up as wounded children in a fractured nation. This exploration is executed with remarkable sensitivity, seamlessly integrating with the evolving dynamics between Emma and Charlie, knowing precisely when to retreat from its ironic overlays and embrace a gaze of profound empathy.

Despite its strengths, there remains a sense of the unsaid, as Borgli predominantly employs political undertones to intensify the friction between the lovers. His focus appears to lean more towards political awareness rather than achieving genuine political consciousness, causing the entire ordeal to feel somewhat like an additional dimension to Emma’s complex psyche rather than a fully integrated critique. This incisive idea, brimming with potential, regrettably becomes somewhat muddled, perhaps missing the opportunity to deliver a similarly pressing impact as seen in films like Jordan Peele’s ‘Get Out’ (2017) and ‘Us’ (2019), or even Ryan Coogler’s ‘Sinners.’ These successful predecessors seamlessly leveraged popular genres to convey a far grander purpose.