The American romantic comedy-drama Voicemails for Isabelle arrives with a fresh gimmick and the same old heart in a world where Netflix has produced countless variations of the same story. In the film, Nick Robinson plays Ben, Isabelle’s ex, who exists primarily through memories and audio messages, while Zoey Deutch stars as Isabelle, a San Francisco photojournalist trying to move on after a breakup. They never actually converse. Instead, the universe intervenes through voice notes sent to the wrong person, misdirected calls, and the resurfacing of old voicemails.
“Sometimes, the universe leaves you a message” is the film’s tagline. It’s a lovely premise. However, by the end of its 102-minute runtime, the “universe” feels a lot like a screenwriter who didn’t want to write difficult conversations.
What Works: Zoey Deutch
Deutch carries this film—let’s be clear. She portrays Isabelle with a genuine sense of emotional exhaustion. Not the manic-pixie kind. The authentic kind. The kind where you replay a six-second voicemail because it’s the only proof that you were once someone’s chosen person.
Halfway through the film, Isabelle is retouching photographs while one of Ben’s old voicemails plays in the background. She doesn’t cry. She simply pauses, her cursor hovering over the “Delete” button. That hesitation hurts because of Deutch’s performance. It’s the film’s finest acting.
The cinematography also makes San Francisco look beautiful, with its golden sunsets and quiet, deserted streets. Even when the script falls short, the visuals remain captivating.
WHERE IT FALTERS
To begin with, Nick Robinson barely has a presence. Ben exists only in memories and voice recordings. We rarely see him in the present, and the film never gives him a personality beyond that of the “regretful ex.” For a story about two people, it feels remarkably one-sided.
Secondly, the film becomes consumed by its central gimmick. On paper, the idea of “voicemails from the universe” is intriguing. By the second act, however, it becomes a crutch. Rather than allowing characters to confront one another, nearly every emotional turning point arrives through another message. The film avoids the messiness of real relationships. No anger. No difficult conversations. Just sighs and soft background music.
Finally, the film is afraid of reality. Voicemails for Isabelle wants to explore grief and moving on, but it smooths away every rough edge. For viewers in Pakistan—where relationships often involve family expectations, social reputation, and the ever-present “log kya kahenge?”—the film exists inside a bubble where timing is the only obstacle. It’s comfort food. But comfort food shouldn’t pretend to be profound.
STREAMING ROMANCE IN 2026: THE BIGGER PICTURE
By now, Netflix’s romantic formula is familiar: attractive people, a beautiful city, and one quirky narrative device. Voicemails for Isabelle doesn’t add much that’s new to that formula.
What it does capture is our attachment to digital memories—a distinctly modern phenomenon. Almost everyone has a chat thread they can’t quite bring themselves to delete. Or a voice note they keep replaying. That aspect resonates, especially for South Asian audiences, where WhatsApp has become part of everyday life.
I watched the film with several friends in Karachi. By the end, we were all scrolling through our old voice notes and messages. Despite its shortcomings as a story, the film holds up a mirror.
Zoey Deutch deserves stronger material. Nick Robinson deserves more screen time. And we, as viewers, deserve a romance that isn’t afraid to get messy.
Watch it for Deutch. If you’re looking for something gentle, this will do. Voicemails for Isabelle won’t tell you anything new about love. It will simply remind you what it feels like when someone leaves a message, hoping you’ll call back.
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