Nearly five decades after the birth of Louise Joy Brown, the first child conceived via in vitro fertilization, “Joy,” directed by Ben Taylor, revisits the backstage of a scientific breakthrough that was once met with skepticism, fear, and moral outrage. Rather than opting for a celebratory tone or excessive dramatization, the film adopts a quiet, meticulous approach that illuminates the revolutionary nature of the endeavor led by Patrick Steptoe (Bill Nighy), Robert Edwards (James Norton), and Jean Purdy (Thomasin McKenzie). With sensitivity and a restrained pace, the production reconstructs the journey of three individuals who dared to blur the boundaries between biology, ethics, and human desire.
The film avoids simplifications and draws its strength from its refusal to turn science into spectacle. By focusing on the small gestures — the awkward silences after failed experiments, the emotional toll of repeated funding rejections, the solitude of an improvised lab — “Joy” distances itself from the conventional formula of science biopics. Its subdued score and muted visual palette underscore the sense of urgency and precariousness surrounding the trio’s efforts. This is not a heroic epic of easy victories, but a quiet portrayal of hesitation, doubt, and resilience in the face of relentless disbelief.
At the core of the film lies the tension between scientific innovation and institutional dogma. The screenplay, by Jack Thorne, Rachel Mason, and Emma Gordon, understands that the real drama isn’t just the technical challenge, but the brutality of institutional refusal. Denied government support, rejected by universities and medical establishments, and vilified by religious leaders and the press, the researchers persist, driven more by conviction than by any promise of recognition. It is here that the film finds its emotional core: the quiet determination of those who choose to defy the rules with a nearly private sense of duty to the future.
Thomasin McKenzie’s performance is particularly striking. Eschewing theatrics, her portrayal of Jean Purdy is steady, understated, and indispensable. The film restores her place in the history of IVF not merely as a collaborator but as a driving force behind the project. At a time when scientific narratives often revolve around celebrated male figures, “Joy” offers a much-needed corrective, without slipping into simplistic revisionism. McKenzie’s precise and restrained performance adds a depth that resonates far beyond the laboratory scenes.
Equally compelling is the way the film captures the personal costs borne by the characters. Edwards steps away to pursue a political path; Jean copes with her mother’s terminal illness. These detours are not inserted for melodrama but as reminders that science, no matter how precise, is entangled with grief, fatigue, and emotional labor. When Louise is finally born, the moment isn’t treated as a grand triumph — it’s a quiet exhale, a brief, unceremonious crossing of what was once deemed impossible into the realm of the real.
“Joy” doesn’t shy away from the moral complexities it invokes. It acknowledges the ethical dilemmas of discarded embryos, the scrutiny of the media, and the unsettling pace at which science can outstrip public consensus. Rather than resolving these tensions, the film leaves them suspended — not as a narrative loophole, but as a mark of maturity. Some questions, it seems to argue, are meant to remain open.
More than a tribute to pioneers of reproductive medicine, “Joy” emerges as a meditation on the kind of persistence that precedes recognition. The film resists a redemptive ending, instead honoring those who persist — not out of vanity, but because to give up would feel like betrayal. In a time of quick fixes and prepackaged narratives, it’s rare to find a film that respects the complexity of process as deeply as this one. “Joy” is, at its core, about what happens when the future is dragged into the present — not with fanfare, but with quiet defiance.
Film: Joy
Director: Ben Taylor
Year: 2024
Genres: Drama/Biography
Rating: 9/10