Death of a Ladies’ Man has director Matthew Bissonnette continuing to build on his Leonard Cohen obsession. It is the fourth of his films to heavily feature Cohen’s work, and the one where he leans into the connection most fully. The story follows Samuel, a Montreal professor who, after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, begins to confront his mortality and past mistakes. Bissonnette frames this character study through Cohen’s familiar themes of disillusionment, identity, and longing, while also filtering in his own life experiences with getting sober, raising children, divorce, and remarriage.
Bissonnette licensed seven songs from Cohen’s oeuvre, from the overfamiliar “Hallelujah” to “Bird on the Wire” and “Memories.” While the former has been drained of impact by its overuse in cinema, the others prove far more effective, lending the film its reflective tone. They capture the melancholy of a man looking back at his life but also add a sense of beauty, essential for the character’s search for reconciliation.
That balance defines Bissonnette’s approach. Even while exploring a man steeped in regret, he threads in a quiet hopefulness and a sense of peace in what might be the last journey of his life. We see how much Samuel has sabotaged both himself and those around him, yet there is also an effort to come to terms with the damage, and a genuine desire to be better, that carries the film.
Making it all work is the always fantastic Gabriel Byrne. Once named by The Guardian as one of the greatest actors never nominated for an Oscar, Byrne brings immense vulnerability and empathy to Samuel O’Shea. He lifts the material beyond the script, embodying a man trying to make sense of his life and his many failures. His performance alone often makes the film work, even when the script takes odd turns.
As Samuel begins to hallucinate under the weight of his illness, the film makes choices that do not always land. He converses with his late father, who appears younger than Samuel himself, and sees surreal images like a server with a tiger-woman head or death walking beside him. These visions, exaggerated and paired with clunky visual effects, sometimes slip into unintentional comedy. Other sequences feel equally awkward, such as a dance number after a group meeting or the forced reveal of a character. Yet Byrne sells them, pulling us into Samuel’s perspective and making us accept the absurdity as part of his unraveling mind.
His performance is the work of a great actor, capturing arrogance, depression, and fragility with a lived-in conviction only a master of the craft can bring. Paired with the richness of Cohen’s songs, it makes the film resonate. Even when not every creative choice succeeds, Byrne and the soundtrack give Death of a Ladies’ Man its soul.