Este Haim is a rock ’n’ roll bassist, a highly visible New York Knicks fan and — as of this past New Year’s Eve — the happily married wife of a blockchain entrepreneur named Jonathan Levin. But what she is before anything else, she says, is a sister — one of three, along with her younger siblings Danielle and Alana, in the beloved Los Angeles rock band Haim.
So when Este, 40, saw an early cut of “Voicemails for Isabelle,” a new Netflix movie that premieres Friday with a score by Haim and composer Amanda Yamate, “I was like, How am I gonna get through this?” the musician recalls.
Written and directed by Leah McKendrick, “Voicemails” stars Zoey Deutch as a chef in San Francisco who’s just lost her sister to cancer; the film’s novel meet-cute (if that’s the term for it) arrives when Deutch’s character starts leaving heartrending messages for her late sister at the phone number now owned by a hunky real estate agent played by Nick Robinson.
“I love my sisters so much that the idea that something could happen to them — it wrecks me,” Haim says. “I don’t think I’d be able to recover.”
Despite the movie’s bleak premise, “Voicemails” strikes a warm and witty tone that evokes rom-com classics by Nora Ephron and Nancy Meyers. “My mantra for the whole movie — for every one of my departments — was: Let’s make this better than it needs to be,” McKendrick says with a laugh. (Indeed, “Voicemails” opens with an epic needle drop in Robyn’s “Dancing on My Own.”) Yamate, who previously teamed with Haim to compose the music for 2023’s “You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah,” says the two musicians thought of their score as “bringing out that delicate, fragile sister love” that underpins the film.
Haim spoke about her work as a film composer and about the future of her band — the trio’s fourth LP, the Grammy-nominated “I Quit,” came out last year — over coffee on a recent morning at Netflix’s Hollywood headquarters.
Did you know before you took the job that this movie would open with one of the greatest pop songs of the last 25 years?
I did.
Really setting a high bar.
When it comes to music, I’m fearless. Everything else, I’m terrified. I’ve been a huge Robyn fan for most of my life — she’s kind of a north star for my sisters and I. It’s no secret that we love sad dance songs.
Did her music shape your and Amanda’s ideas about the score?
We did a lot of listening to Robyn, trying to get into the sonic landscape. But we also listened to a lot of acoustic stuff. We try everything — we don’t really ever say no.
Lot of strings in the music.
It was a dream come true to be able to hire an orchestra and record at the Village [Studios] — in the “Tusk” room with that echo chamber.
Do you play bass in your movie music?
Of course. But I don’t write on bass — I need to hear the harmony and the chords. Then I let my freak flag fly.
Wait, does this score have any sick bass lines?
You know, there were a couple cues that didn’t end up getting used where I really went to town. Maybe they didn’t get used for that reason.
In addition to “Dancing on My Own,” the movie features two old songs by your friend Taylor Swift.
The great thing about Taylor is that my girl knows how to write a song. She’s a poet, and I think she really understands girlhood — the pining and the wanting to be accepted — and she does it in such a beautiful and majestic way.
Alana Haim, from left, Este Haim, Taylor Swift and Mariska Hargitay during Game 4 of this month’s NBA Finals at New York’s Madison Square Garden.
(Al Bello / Getty Images)
What’s it like to go from playing in a band with arguably three frontwomen to working on a movie where your job is to help carry out someone else’s vision?
It’s very similar to what it’s like being in Haim, because while there are, as you say, three frontwomen — which, great, love that — we also are a democracy. And my ideas don’t fly all the time. Alana’s ideas don’t fly all the time. Danielle’s ideas don’t fly all the time. From the time we started writing songs together, all three of us have learned that you’re not going to win every time. We wouldn’t have got past the first record if it wasn’t that way — we would have killed each other.
Why film scoring in the first place?
I kind of fell into it accidentally. But I always knew that I was fascinated by scoring, mostly because of Ludwig Göransson. When we were doing the “Forever” EP with him, he was scoring “Community.” We’d come to the studio late at night when he was done doing that, but then he’d get notes and we’d have to stop the session, and I would see him composing live in front of me — pulling instruments off the wall, doing a little ditty.
Who are your film-music GOATs?
Ludi is one. Jonny Greenwood. Trent Reznor. I think all of my favorite composers were musicians before they were composers.
There’s a lot of you in Hollywood right now.
I mean, Trent Reznor — his music is already so cinematic. Same with Radiohead. “Exit Music (for a Film)”? I don’t know if Haim’s music is necessarily cinematic, but I know that my sisters and I grew up loving movies. If it wasn’t for “Stop Making Sense,” I might not be a bass player.
Tina Weymouth.
Tina! Danielle and I started playing guitar at the same time, and my dad was like, “OK, I see what’s happening — Danielle is a better guitar player than Este. Este is sad — Este is depressed-y. What can we do here?” So he thought, Well, if guitar has six strings and bass has four strings, bass must be easier. He was wrong — that’s 100% not true. But he brought it to me and was like, “Why don’t you play bass?” I said, “I don’t want to do that — I don’t even know what it looks like.” Then my dad went to Blockbuster, got “Stop Making Sense” and was like, “Just watch.” I was 8 or 9 at the time, and I was obsessed with Princess Peach. I looked at Tina — she was blond, she was having a great time, she kind of looked like a princess. It was: I see it, now I can be it.
On the question of whether Haim’s music is cinematic, I’m not sure I’d say yes in the way of Radiohead or Nine Inch Nails. But when the three of you hit on a music video concept, it seems like no other music could have gone along with it.
I’ll take that.
Walking abreast down Ventura Boulevard in the “Want You Back” video, for instance.
Lemme tell you: That video was gonna be so different. It wasn’t gonna be walking — it was gonna be us in a slow-moving car. But the day of the shoot — there was a biscuit rig on the car, and the gentleman working the biscuit rig did a test run and lost control of the car. My man was doing donuts on Ventura Boulevard, and you know Ventura Boulevard — there’s a little curvature there. I don’t think he took that into account, and unfortunately he ended up crashing into a meter, thereby destroying our idea for being in a slow-moving car.
I always wondered what time you shot that video.
We had that stretch of Ventura from 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. The Crave Café was open.
Can you imagine you’re just in there —
Can I imagine? I lived it. Literally there were people sitting outside the café that were like, “Go home.” They’d heard the song — I mean, we did 25 or 30 takes.
It’s amusing to me that Haim’s signature walk was an inadvertent invention.
I know, we’re big walkers now. It kind of became a joke, but we’re good at doing two things at once — we can walk and sing at the same time.
You’re scoring movies and Alana’s been acting. When you and your sisters were kids, how touchable did the movie industry feel?
I went to Dixie Canyon Elementary [in Sherman Oaks], and a lot of the kids in my class had headshots. That wasn’t cheap, and my family couldn’t afford it. But at Dixie Canyon there was a choir teacher — do you know about this? The choir teacher at Dixie Canyon in the ’90s?
Lay it on me.
His name was George Wyle — he wrote “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” and the “Gilligan’s Island” theme. He was retired and didn’t need to make money, and he just had the biggest heart — he volunteered Monday and Friday every week to be the piano player at Dixie, and he basically taught me to sing. He would tell me stories about going to the Oscars in the ’50s — that was kind of the closest I got to Hollywood. Everything else felt a bit untouchable. I mean, I knew one of the Porcaros lived in Valley Village.
From Toto.
But I just knew they lived there — I never met them until I got to Valley College, and then I was in a class with one of their sons.
Love Toto.
Love Toto.
Couple more for you. You turned 40 in March.
I like to think I’m getting better with age. I also got married.
Yes, congrats.
He’s amazing — I love him more than anything. I waited a good chunk of time to find the right one, which I’m proud of myself for doing. It’s the biggest decision of your life, right? Not just the person but, like, do I even want to get married?
You guys watch movies?
Johnny famously falls asleep five minutes in. But I just snuggle and watch with him. He loves James Bond movies. And “The Italian Job” — he loves that movie. He loves a heist.
Which theaters do you like?
I love the Ojai Playhouse — we got married in Ojai. I love the Vista. The New Beverly I love. I wish the [Cinerama] Dome was open — it needs to open.
Your Instagram name is still Jizzie McGuire.
Never gonna change.
Is that true? You’re 70, 80, 90 —
Jizzie, Jizzie, Jizzie.
Who’s telling you, “Bro, you need to change it”?
You’re the first.
I’m not saying you should — I was just wondering if anyone else is.
Jizzie still very much lives inside me. Johnny’s never even mentioned it to me. It’s almost like the weirder I am, the more he loves me.
That’s how you know you’ve got a keeper.
And I’ve tried. I’m like, “Really, you think that’s cute?”
Anything cooking with Haim at the moment?
You know, I got married, and I think the focus of our lives has always been music — it will always be music — but I also want to focus on doing life stuff. Writing with my sisters — we’ve been in a band together since I was 8 years old, which means Alana was 2. So I don’t really know anything different. But I’m like, OK, maybe now is the time where I can dip my toe into just doing stuff that has nothing to do with music — like being a wife. We’ve worked so hard to get where we are, and I think now we just kind of want to enjoy our lives while still being creative.
So: LP5 in 2032.
You never know — could be this year, could be next year. We make plans, God laughs, right?
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