Review: Tuesday

Julia Louis-Dreyfus confronts death in a family fairy tale.

Western culture doesn’t know what to do with death. It’s the common unifier, and yet we spend our lives trying to defy or ignore it. And if the thought of our own demise is one we don’t like to consider, entertaining the thought that it will one day affect those we love is even harder. But one day, whether it’s our own diagnoses or the loss of someone we care deeply about, we will have to confront it. 

In Tuesday, Death literally comes flying into the lives of a mother and her daughter in the form of a gravel-voiced macaw. The feature debut from writer/director Daina Oniunas-Pusic, it’s a movie full of big, weird and sometimes beautiful ideas that can’t quite live up to its ambitions. But even in its stumbles, it’s a deeply felt and bold announcement of a new voice, and I’m very curious to see what Oniunas-Pusic does next. 

Tuesday is a 15-year-old girl (Lola Petticrew) living with terminal cancer. Her mother, Zora (Julia Louis-Dreyfus), spends her days out of the house, pretending to work but really just sitting in cafes doodling or trying to sell household items to pay for medical treatments. She doesn’t want to deal with the reality of her daughter’s condition and won’t even hear a word of Tuesday discussing her impending death. She’s in denial, and her coping method is to isolate from her daughter. 

Enter the macaw. 

Death is actually the first character we meet, flying around the world in an opening montage, drawn to people begging him to take their life or spitting in his face when he arrives, at which point he waves a wing, finishes the job and flies away. When he arrives for Tuesday, she knows what’s up but also understands her mother isn’t ready for life without her. So, she stalls, telling the bird jokes, playing him rap music and bartering for just a little more time so she can say goodbye. When Zora meets Death and puts him at the wrath of her protective instincts, it has major implications not only for her daughter, but for the rest of the world. 

There isn’t an easy way to make a movie about our acceptance of morality, let alone a film about the death of a child. And Oniunas-Pusic’s decision to approach the story as a fairy tale has a gentle beauty and fragile whimsy in its early scenes. Despite elements that might seem wacky – a joke-loving macaw who likes rap and takes his first hit of weed – the film doesn’t play as comedy or as a kids’ film. Death – who can shrink or grow at its own whim – forms a tentative bond with Tuesday because she’s not afraid of him or angry; she’s ready to meet him, and her calmness makes the voices of all the pain in the world stop ringing through his ears. She cleans the gunk off from a rat trap he was previously stuck in. Death isn’t looming and scary for Tuesday; she’s aware of and accepts it. Her concern is for her mother. 

It’s an interesting approach to depicting death – a winged, suffering creature that sometimes looms large and can sometimes be small and hide out of sight – and my assumption was that the film would build an intimate drama in which Zora and Tuesday placate Death enough to steal some extra time, heal their fractures and have a tear-jerking goodbye. 

Those elements are there, but Tuesday’s middle section goes even deeper with its fairy tale ideas and weirder in its plot complications, and gets caught up in an unwieldy and bizarre story that too often loses the emotional thread. To say anything more would ruin it, but suffice to say that a weed-smoking parrot is far from the strangest thing in this movie, which at time feels like it’s thrown The Fault in Our Stars, Paulie, Night of the Living Dead and Bruce Almighty into a blender. And that’s a fascinating combination in theory, but tonally it doesn’t quite work. The film can’t quite hold its mix of fable, horror, comedy and drama together, and while it’s never boring, its dedication to its more outlandish elements keeps audiences at a distance from its heart. 

The movie’s strongest when it quiets down to focus on the mother-daughter relationship. Louis-Dreyfus does amazing work; she has a knack for depicting characters whose prickly facades are often masking hurt and pain. She’s funny here, but it’s an acerbic and defensive wit, and the actor also navigates the heart-rending sorrow and emotional shutdowns that Zora often endures. Petticrew is a good sparring partner for Louis-Dreyfus, able to trade barbs and one-liners, and the duo has strong chemistry. In the scenes that are just the two of them, the film works. When it's gummed up in things more fantastical than a talking bird, the relationship is pushed to the side and the film is both too willing to introduce strange new concepts and yet uninterested in exploring their deeper ramifications, tossing in intriguing new plot wrinkles and then pivoting away. Again, not to spoil things, but events happen in this movie that should cause worldwide calamities; the film gives them one or two mentions and then moves on without engaging them. 

Movies today are so bereft of original, provocative ideas that it feels wrong to criticize Tuesday for excess ambition. But it’s the very fact that we don’t get enough movies about these challenging topics and enough filmmakers interested in taking big narrative risks that makes it a shame when those attempts stumble. And Oniunas-Pusic shows hints of an intriguing, potentially great, filmmaker. She creates a believable CGI character in Death that has emotional gravity and personality, and it’s a fascinating depiction of that concept. Even if the film’s weirder moments push the audience away, there are some visually and aurally arresting moments in the film’s midsection. And she’s engaging with deep, moving ideas; there’s a great film in her, and I’m eager to see her learn from some of the messiness here and deliver something great. And it’s worth noting that Tuesday does return back to its more intimate story in its final 20 minutes, culminating in a denouement that is moving and powerful without being treacly or cliché, largely because of how well Louis-Dreyfus sells her final scene, and the film’s willingness to end on a bittersweet but emotionally realistic note. 

In the end, I’m not sure who this is for. Despite its whimsical elements, it’s too dark for families (the R rating – for language – should be a signal). Some people will not be able to roll with the film’s magical realism. And others, like me, might find themselves willing to engage only to have the movie bounce off them. But the intentions are good and Oniunas-Pusic is an interesting enough artist that I can imagine some being captivated by this, and could find it a good tool to help them process deeply difficult feelings. I’m glad Tuesday exists; I hope that next time, we get a stronger film.