By Sarah Osman

Allison Janney and Andrew Rannells star in a bittersweet new drama about grief, love, and second chances.

Miss You, Love You, written and directed by Jim Rash. Streaming on HBO and MAX beginning May 29.

Jamie (Andrew Rannells) and Diane (Allison Janney) in a scene from Miss You, Love You. Photo: Jordin Althaus/HBO

I was initially skeptical of Miss You, Love You’s premise. The film’s potential for sentimentality seemed obvious: the story revolves around a grieving widow named Diane (Allison Janney), who is forced to plan her husband’s funeral with her estranged son’s assistant, Jamie (Andrew Rannells). But I underestimated writer-director Jim Rash. Miss You, Love You turns out to be a funny, deeply felt meditation on grief.

Janney is brilliant as the brash Diane, and Rannells matches her as the neurotic Jamie. Their opening scene sets up a kind of ping-pong match, with Diane interrogating Jamie. The writing is reminiscent of a theatrical drama rather than a film, and that’s intentional: Rash has revealed that Miss You, Love You was initially conceived as a play before being adapted into a film. (For theater lovers, the film will be especially poignant, given its dialogue-driven writing, nuanced performances, and relatively contained staging) As the story unfolds, the two characters begin to understand one another and form the kind of inexplicable bond that seems possible only when sharing grief.

Janney slowly reveals Diane’s seething anger; for much of the film, she keeps it buried before its inevitable eruption. Holding your own as an actor opposite Janney is no small feat, but Rannells does. He plays Jamie with quiet pain. On the surface, the character is the most helpful assistant imaginable, but a deep sorrow lies underneath. Rannells often plays sassy, comedic characters—here he reveals his dramatic range.

That’s not to say that Miss You, Love You isn’t always serious. The film is centered on grief and resentment, but it features some excellent throwaway lines and gags. Diane casually mentions that her cat was carried away by an owl, then later torments her obnoxious next-door neighbor by tossing chicken bones into her yard to make it seem as though another ferocious critter has attacked the neighbor’s chihuahua. Without spoiling too much, another gag involves a painting, and it pays off nicely in the end. The humor in this film is undeniably dark, grief inevitably gives so much around it a biting edge.

Having lived in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, I was particularly intrigued by the film’s New Mexico setting. Aside from Vince Gilligan’s work (Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, etc.), few contemporary films and TV shows have been set in the Land of Enchantment. During a press conference about the film, Rash explained that the setting was partly inspired by his mother’s experiences living in the area (her cat, he noted, really was carried off by an owl). More important, he wanted to explore the ways that Diane, a New Yorker, would feel exposed in such an environment. The vast openness of the land and sky underscores her vulnerability—New Mexico is about as different from New York as it gets.

The cinematography reinforces this sense of emotional exposure. I was taken with the sweeping shots of the expansive sky, but it’s easy to see how the desert landscape might make Diane feel trapped. Ironically, locals sometimes refer to New Mexico as the “Land of Entrapment” because of how difficult it can be to leave. Rash captures this tension —containment and yearning for freedom—effectively, to the point that the setting serves as a character, sharing in Diane and Jamie’s grief.

I don’t usually cry at movies, but this one’s powerful catharsis left me sobbing by the end. The absence of the two men at the center of Diane and Jamie’s lives—both literally and metaphorically—becomes unbearably resonate. The film is as much about the absence of love as it is about the difficulty of mourning. In the past six years, I’ve experienced my share of grief—periods that have been funny, depressing, torturous, and full of resentment. Miss You, Love You captures the full range of responses to loss, while still leaving room for the most necessary emotion of all: hope.

Sarah Mina Osman is based in Los Angeles. In addition to The Arts Fuse, her writing can be found in The Huffington Post, Success Magazine, Matador Network, HelloGiggles, Business Insider, and WatchMojo. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina Wilmington and is working on her first novel. She has a deep appreciation for sloths and tacos. You can keep up with her on Instagram @SarahMinaOsman and at Bluesky @sarahminaosman.bsky.social.