Many films, from the classic melodrama Mildred Pierce to last year’s playful dramedy Nightbitch, have tried to depict the unique struggles of motherhood with a focus on the special intimacy of child-rearing. Mothers have long borne the brunt and most of the blame for how their children behave in the world. Fatherhood is considered more optional, and the bar to clear for being good at it is much lower. These may seem like obvious statements, but they bear repeating in an American society that villainizes birth control and abortion. America wants women to bear children and then provide them with none of the emotional or monetary support for them to thrive and have their own personal lives. In recent years, filmmakers have tried to illustrate the darker side of motherhood, with films like Tully getting at the exhaustion and loss of self that can happen therein. In the aforementioned Nightbitch, Amy Adams plays a woman who realizes how lost and hopeless she feels as a stay-at-home mother, having given up her career to spend more time with her son. No matter how often they cry out for help, our patriarchal society pressures them to push themselves all the way to the edge.
In Mary Bronstein’s long-awaited follow-up to her 2008 mumblecore cult classic Yeast, she tells the story of a working mother who has been forced into a housewife role against her will. If I Had Legs I’d Kick You is motherhood as horror, a tense nightmare of neverending movement and exhaustion. Shot with the intensity and harsh color of 2019’s Uncut Gems, the film strips away all the brightness and pastels often associated with cinematic portrayals of motherhood. Linda (Rose Byrne) is overwhelmed by the health demands of her young daughter (Delaney Quinn) while her husband (Christian Slater) is away. Her daughter struggles to eat and has been admitted into a program that’s supposed to help her gain weight and improve her relationship with food. A feeding tube has been inserted into her stomach and it’s Linda’s job to keep up with it and restore her child to health. The problem is that Linda is exhausted and gradually breaking down, mentally and emotionally. Complicating matters is the giant hole that appears in the ceiling of her bedroom: water and debris comes crashing down throughout the apartment, forcing the two to live in a motel while awaiting repairs. While there she meets Jamie (A$AP Rocky) and they form an antagonistic pseudo-friendship. But the truth is that Linda doesn’t have any real friends. All she has is her therapist (Conan O’Brien) whom she sees every single day, despite the expense and their general animosity towards each other.
Linda is a therapist as well, but since her child’s eating issues began she hasn’t been able to focus on her work. She is especially troubled by one patient, Caroline (Danielle Macdonald), a young mother dealing with what appears to be postpartum depression. She seems scared of her child, but also terrified to leave it alone. She even brings him to her sessions, putting his baby carrier on the couch and draping a blanket over it. With her daughter, Linda is the opposite––she takes any opportunity to leave her child alone so that she can drink, snack, and get high by herself, wandering into the night with bleary eyes. Linda is the kind of woman who can’t hide the fact that she’s coming undone, leaving traces of her anger and sadness wherever she goes. Cinematographer Christopher Messina’s camera is relentless, keeping the focus on Linda’s tired face while occasionally pulling back to show the full frame of her daily nightmare. Every conversation is a confrontation, every interaction radiating with aggression. It makes for an anxious viewing experience, all of Linda’s problems compounding into a swirling cyclone of unfortunate events.
Bronstein keeps the daughter’s face and body obscured, emphasizing disconnect from Linda. Thus all of her dialogue is spoken from off-screen––as if Linda is being plagued by a small, anxious ghost haunting her wherever she goes. Even when her daughter is asleep, Linda can’t stand to be around her. She’s a living reminder of Linda’s failures as a mother, and she can’t bear the thought of looking her mistakes in the eye. Byrne gives a career-best performance as Linda, raw and unglamorous yet never losing the comedic charms she’s been known for since Bridesmaids. It’s an astonishing dramatic turn that warrants attention and critical acclaim. As her therapist, O’Brien gives a dry, comedic performance with quiet layers underneath. His antagonistic chemistry with Byrne is the anchor of the film; he’s the only one who sees Linda clearly the entire time, knowing that she’s spiraling but refusing to take responsibility for her erratic behavior in and out of the office. At one point Linda asks him why he doesn’t seem to like her. He refuses to answer the question because he knows it’s irrelevant––your therapist isn’t supposed to be your friend. In a funny supporting turn, A$AP Rocky serves as the film’s voice of reason, stating plainly the many ways Linda is failing her child and herself.
Throughout, Linda has nightmares about the hole in her ceiling, portrayed as a dark, mysterious abyss drawing her into madness. If I Had Legs I’d Kick You is a brutal, punishing film that emphasizes the endlessness of parenthood––Linda can never take time off from being a parent. Fathers are mainly represented in the film as disembodied voices on the phone, making excuses for why they’re not present in their child’s lives. Though it may seem reductive to portray fathers as absent, uninterested, and judgemental, it’s often unfortunately true to life. Mothers can’t leave, and when they do it’s considered to be the ultimate sin. Bronstein’s script is a brave, searing interrogation of the roles they’re forced to play in society and the massive weight of holding a life in one’s hands.
If I Had Legs I’d Kick You premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival and will be released by A24.