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“Miss You, Love You” — a feature written and directed by Jim Rash (auteur of “The Way, Way Back,” and also the comedic genius behind Dean Pelton on “Community”) that premiered at Sundance earlier this year and debuts on HBO this week — is technically a movie, but it’s the type that feels like a play. Most of the scenes play out between just two characters, grieving widow Diane (Allison Janney) and beleaguered assistant Jamie (Andrew Rannells), in one location: Diane’s New Mexico home, nestled amid a Georgia O’Keeffe-esque desert landscape. “Miss You, Love You” is a small film in scope, hence the bypassing of theaters for distribution on TV, but not in emotional payoff, as Diane and Jamie wrestle with a complex brew of resentment, recognition and, finally, forgiveness.
Though “Miss You, Love You” is a two-hander powered by Janney’s acerbic delivery and Rannells’ wounded vulnerability, there’s a third figure who looms unseen over the action: Tyler, Diane’s son and Jamie’s employer. An Anderson Cooper-like, globe-trotting journalist, Tyler has dispatched Jamie in his stead to look after Diane in the run-up to her husband (and Tyler’s stepfather) Henry’s funeral. The substitution is both rude to Diane, who could use her only child for emotional support in a time of profound loss, and unfair to Jamie, who’s been assigned a job that goes above and beyond the work of booking flights or making appointments.
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To Rash’s credit, Tyler remains offscreen for the entirety of “Miss You, Love You” — the invisible string tying Diane and Jamie together in their tenuous, ad hoc relationship, and the third party through which they mediate their uncertain emotions. Jamie, a gay man who came out later in life, clearly has unrequited feelings for his boss, a situation not helped by Tyler’s fuzzy professional boundaries. Diane’s initial aggression, practically bulldozing Jamie with complaints about an overwatered succulent from the moment he walks in the door, is gradually revealed as a mask for her hurt. (Rash cannily deploys Janney’s Sorkin-trained facility with fast, dense dialogue for a harsher effect.) When she finally unloads, calling Tyler an “ungrateful, selfish dickhead,” it’s not to the object of her ire; it’s to Jamie, his designated proxy. The title of the movie comes from Tyler’s signature send-off in texts sent to both protagonists.
Over a week of funeral arrangements, Jamie and Diane form their own, Tyler-free bond over their shared experience as caretakers: Jamie for his parents, who both passed after an extended decline, and Diane for Henry, a painter who prompted the couple’s move to the Southwestern desert before succumbing to Parkinson’s. Janney’s showcase monologue has Diane recounting one of the more painful indignities she watched the love of her life suffer and berating herself for not being present and available at all hours of the day, however unreasonable that burden might be. Rannells gives the quieter, more passive performance, yet still imbues Jamie with a palpable loneliness that makes his unlikely connection with Diane that much more affecting.
In 90 minutes, “Miss You, Love You” builds out both its main characters into such complete emotional beings that their brushes with the outside world, like Diane’s nosy neighbor Judith (Bonnie Hunt) or the local church minister (Oscar Nuñez), are almost unnecessary. Plot twists come from revelations about Jamie’s relationship with Tyler or Diane’s with Henry, not any outside impetus. And the change that occurs within the leads before they strike out on separate paths is internal. We don’t know what awaits them after Diane moves back to New York (there’s nothing left for her in New Mexico without Henry) or Jamie next speaks with Tyler. We also don’t need to: the tight, finite borders of “Miss You, Love You” are enough to see Rash’s vision through.
“Miss You, Love You” will premiere on HBO and HBO Max on May 29 at 8 p.m. ET.
