At its heart, Voicemails for Isabelle is a film about sisterhood. It follows Jill Shaw (Zoey Deutch), aspiring baker in San Francisco who copes with the loss of her younger sister, Isabelle Shaw (Ciara Bravo), who passed away after a long battle with cystic fibrosis. Unable to let go, Jill keeps leaving voicemails on Isabelle’s old phone number, completely unaware that it now belongs to a stranger—Austin-based real estate agent Wes (Nick Robinson).

Jill is heartbroken. She missed the chance to bid her sister farewell, arriving at the hospital too late, and now she keeps herself occupied by leaving voicemails about the mundane moments of her day.

Curious about the woman behind the voicemails, Wes becomes invested in Jill’s life as he listens to stories about her dates, including one with a podcaster who ghosts her immediately after their first date. Wes’s friends, Andy (Harry Shum Jr.) and Breeda (Leah McKendrick), keep advising him to stop listening to a total stranger’s personal messages, stressing how invasive his actions are. Nevertheless, Wes persists.

It is here where the movie misses its mark. Though it recognises the feelings of betrayal and annoyance Jill experiences upon discovering the truth, the movie fails to address how creepy Wes’s actions really are. His care and attentiveness are one of the reasons viewers end up rooting for the couple, but still, it is hard not to realise the nature of their meeting—it all happens because of an unacceptable invasion of Jill’s privacy.

On a work trip, Wes visits San Francisco and finds Jill sitting on the bench she often mentions in her voicemails. To Jill, everything unfolds naturally: girl meets boy who is new to the city, shows him around and eventually falls in love. Boy is deeply attentive, and the girl feels like she has known him forever. The audience, however, knows something she doesn't, making the eventual reveal even more heartbreaking.

“Those voicemails are not a plea to the universe. ‘God! Send me somebody to love me.’ I don't need a man. What I need is my little sister back,” says Jill to Wes upon finding out what he did.

That line encapsulates the emotional heart of the film.

In the simplest ways possible, Jill and Izzy had each other at all times. Jill often did completely out-of-pocket things just so she could later share a story with her little sister. The film spends a great deal of time exploring their relationship, revealing that even when they were not physically present for each other, they never failed to appear in each other’s lives. Even though Izzy is no longer around, Jill keeps recording voicemails about her day, simply because it’s now the only way she can cope with her loss.

Jill’s dream of becoming a baker exists because of Izzy. While growing up, her sister would only eat Jill’s “dessert tacos”, inspiring Jill to make them her signature dish. After a spectacular breakdown in her place of work, she resolves to go for her own dreams while handling the heartache brought by the loss of Wes.

Perhaps the saddest moment in the film comes when Jill loses all of her saved voicemails after an Apple update, including every message Izzy left her. Without her sister’s voice to return to, the film shifts into an even deeper exploration of grief, forcing Jill to face her loss without the comfort she has relied on for so long.

The ending, meanwhile, delivers exactly what a romantic comedy promises. Wes runs to Jill at “their” taco shop and tells her that while she may not need a man, he certainly needs her. Set against New Year’s celebrations, it makes for a classic rom-com ending. Although predictable, it avoids feeling overly sentimental by tying the romantic resolution to Jill’s emotional acceptance of her sister’s death rather than presenting love as a cure for grief.

This is the moment where the movie finally comes full circle. Wes dials Izzy’s old phone number, asking for her blessing, while the sisters’ favourite song plays in the park. When he notices Jill’s smile begin to fade, he performs the choreography that she and Isabelle created as children—a gentle reminder that her sister will always be part of her life. Jill, in turn, calls her sister one last time, signifying an end to a grief that once felt perpetual.. It isn't a goodbye to Izzy, but a farewell to the ritual that carried her through her grief, showing that although she will always miss her sister, she has finally begun to make peace with her loss and is ready for new beginnings. 

Leah McKendrick should be acknowledged for writing the movie and playing Breeda. She creates a story that never sensationalises grief, instead letting the audience feel the emotions in conversations, food, songs and voicemails. Voicemails for Isabelle shines in the most ordinary rituals which remind people about the ones they love.

Amidst all this, the love that Jill and Wes share for each other is fresh and different even though it does not have the typical start. Whether it’s Jill baking Wes’s mother’s chicken pot pie recipe or Wes offering his most precious item so that Jill will get her voicemails back, the film’s smallest gestures are what make their relationship feel genuine.

Ultimately, it is safe to say that this is a film more about sisters than lovers. Whatever unease its premise stirs around privacy and consent, Voicemails for Isabelle remains an extremely touching movie about healing and love through grief. Because in the end, when grief is all that’s left, it is the simplicity of the voicemails, the essence of the recipes or the off pitch singing that lets us hold on, and lets love outlive loss.