Voicemails for Isabelle. Zoey Deutch as Jill in Voicemails for Isabelle. Cr. Courtesy of Netflix
Zoey Deutch is one of the most charismatic performers of her generation, typically anchoring romantic comedies with her effervescent charm, impeccable comic timing, and deeply relatable screen presence.
Her track record with Netflix original features has been remarkably consistent—the three films she’s starred in range from good to genuinely great, with some even earning awards recognition. For twentysomethings navigating love and life in the 2020s, she’s become what Meg Ryan was to audiences in the ’90s: a warm, witty guide through the glorious mess of modern romance, complete with wacky detours and heartfelt hijinks. Now, Deutch is fully leaning into her Meg Ryan era with Voicemails For Isabelle, a film that echoes Ryan’s iconic turn in You’ve Got Mail.
But how does this new entry stack up against her other Netflix outings? Let’s find out.
Nouvelle Vague
Richard Linklater and Zoey Deutch’s long-awaited reunion (after 2016’s Everybody Wants Some!!) arrives in this French-language take on the making of Godard’s Breathless—essentially The Disaster Artist for classic cinephiles. Deutch, sporting Jean Seberg’s iconic pixie cut, is wonderfully charming as the baffled actress, struggling to grasp Godard’s rule-breaking New Wave style while he leaves her perpetually confused. Watching her remain game and buoyant through the chaos is a blast. The film falters with overconventionality and a few too many New Wave filmmaker cameos like they’re Marvel, but it’s an infectiously fun comedy about not just filmmaking Breathless but the joy and chaos in making art, elevated by another solid Deutch supporting performance.
It’ll make you want to grab a camera and start shooting—or at least rewatch a Godard flick.
Voicemails For Isabelle
Leah McKendrick’s 2019 spec script—now a Netflix original—is a deeply affecting, gratifying update on You’ve Got Mail, retooling its classic beats for a new age and anchored by Deutch at her charming, empowering best. She plays Jill, a grieving young dessert chef in San Francisco who leaves candid voicemails for her late little sister (Ciara Bravo)—until Wes (Nick Robinson), the new owner of her sister’s old number, listens in and falls for her. McKendrick’s script is hilariously raunchy one moment, viscerally raw the next, handling familiar story beats with such affection you can’t help but adore it. (Her sophomore feature is a major upgrade from her debut Scrambled.)
The film grips you from the start with the sisters’ bond and the weight of grief, and when Robinson’s Wes enters (a little belatedly), his quiet shyness perfectly foils Jill’s fearless-insecure energy. Deutch delivers another irresistibly rootable performance, and their sweet, earnest chemistry had my heart from start to finish. It gets distractingly meta at times—calling out its own You’ve Got Mail parallels—but the warmth, sincerity, and excellent use of Robyn needledrops won me over, tears and all.
Set It Up
For years I’ve joked that Deutch and Powell are two of the only actors who could generate chemistry with a brick wall—so together, they’re pure dynamite. Set It Up rightly kicked both their profiles into high gear, and it remains thoroughly enjoyable and endlessly rewatchable, thanks to their buoyant personas and sharp character writing. The plot—two overworked assistants scheming to set up their bosses (Taye Diggs and Lucy Liu) while falling for each other—is entertaining, hilarious, and surprisingly original.
Watching Powell and Deutch’s Harper and Charlie (reuniting after Everybody Wants Some!!) push each other toward self-actualization, reminding one another what they truly want in life and career, is the film’s beating heart. Katie Silberman’s script is timely and comedy-driven, finding humor in character dynamics and eccentricities rather than cheap references (only a Cyrano and Parent Trap nod, really). It almost feels like what Horrible Bosses wished it was—funny, good, and packed with all the best 2000s rom-com energy. The only real misfire is Pete Davidson, playing Powell’s gay roommate with the straightest energy imaginable—easily the film’s most dated 2018 artifact. Still, it’s the best of the bunch, a major turning point for its stars and one of the rare Netflix rom-coms with genuine quality effort behind it.
