Love Lies Bleeding (2024)
A Fever Dream of Desire and Disorientation
Let’s get this out of the way—figuring out my sexuality has been a bit of an odyssey. I think I’m ace, then I see Kristen Stewart. I think I’m gay, then I remember my husband. I think maybe I’m bi...until it’s time to actually do something about it. So, watching Love Lies Bleeding felt personal in ways I hadn’t expected. Kristen Stewart radiates this edgy, irresistible charisma, the kind that makes you question just about everything—and this film taps right into that kind of chaos.
If there’s a “right” way to see Love Lies Bleeding, I think I accidentally stumbled onto it: high, in an ultrascreen theater, floating on the music and visuals like I was on some out-of-body journey. The first watch felt like a true, immersive experience—the kind that transports you, where every color, every beat, every look from Stewart felt electric, amplified, almost surreal. This isn’t just a movie; it’s an experience that wants to get under your skin and stay there.
Now, watching it again while grounded in reality was a whole different vibe. Sober, I could see how much care was poured into the aesthetics—the visuals are hypnotic, the music pulsing with emotion, pulling you deeper into a world that feels simultaneously distant and painfully intimate. Love Lies Bleeding isn’t for those looking for easy answers. It’s more a fever dream, a mix of beauty and brutality, weaving a story that asks you to surrender to its rhythm without expecting to feel comfortable.
Kristen Stewart is magnetic as always, bringing an unshakable intensity that’s somehow both aloof and deeply vulnerable. She makes you feel like you’re peering into someone’s private, sometimes painful, world. The cinematography complements her perfectly, using light and shadow to paint her as both muse and mystery, a character you’re drawn to but can never fully understand.
What’s fascinating about Love Lies Bleeding is how it immerses you in the tension between love and self-destruction. It doesn’t neatly divide its characters into heroes and villains, or provide a clear path through its twisted relationships. Instead, it just is—a visceral portrait of passion, ambiguity, and desire’s darker edges. It’s not here to make you feel good; it’s here to make you feel something, and for that, it’s a rare gem.
Can I sink my teeth into it? Call me “Edward,” because this film was intoxicating and I can absolutely sink my teeth into it.
