Writer and director Mary Bronstein’s feature film debut, If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, is an impossible movie to describe. Yes, it’s a story about one woman’s struggles through motherhood, but really, it’s more than that. It’s a harrowing emotional experience that needs to be endured to be truly understood. Bronstein embarks on a journey through one woman’s eyes, where reality is starting to slip and the world is closing in around her. It’s the perfect movie to show any man who declares that being a mom and/or a woman isn’t that bad. Because this is a movie about just how bad it is to not only exist in the world as a mother with a chronically ill child, but even just as a woman.
Linda (Rose Byrne) is desperately trying to juggle it all on her own. She’s a therapist with a full case load and a mother to a chronically ill child who isn’t able to attend school regularly and requires constant care. Her husband (Christian Slater) is always traveling for work, putting the burden of not only parenting but also caretaking squarely on Linda’s shoulders. She’s already at the brink of total exhaustion when a flood causes a massive hole in the floor of their master bedroom.
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So she and her daughter are forced to evacuate to a dingy hotel for god knows how long. Routines are disrupted, personal space is even further invaded, and Linda can barely get a moment to herself where a monitor isn’t beeping or a child isn’t asking for her attention. Her nerves have been ground to nubs, and she’s ready to snap at anyone and anything. That attitude has resulted in a rather contentious relationship with her therapist (Conan O’Brien), who is also her co-worker.
It stressed me out just writing that.
The plot of If I Had Legs I’d Kick You is rather easy to describe, yes, but Bronstein uses a rather simple story on paper to craft a singular and nightmarish emotional rollercoaster that puts you squarely in the shoes of a mother on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Visually, Bronstein and cinematographer Christopher Messina rely on tight shots to really hammer home Linda’s claustrophobia. They ensure that the audience is always aware that the world is, in fact, closing in around Linda (at least in her mind) and there’s no escape.
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Not only does Messina primarily film in close-up and tight shots, but Bronstein also chooses to (almost) never show the child’s face. To do so is to center the entire film on Linda’s perspective and remove any emphasis on the child, which may sound taboo. But, it’s a crucial decision that ensures the audience sees Linda as a human being, rather than just a mother. I make that distinction because society doesn’t really see mothers as human beings. They’re something else, something that must sacrifice and toil for others selflessly and emotionlessly. Bronstein holds such associations at bay with this small yet also monumental choice to keep the kid (visually) out of it.
In that same breath, Bronstein also refuses to give the child a specific diagnosis, which again lets the focus fall on the stresses of caretaking rather than the horrors of a specific illness. It sounds harsh, but this technique again removes emphasis from the child’s experience and instead lets Linda’s emotions (rightfully) take up space.
Rose Byrne carries this film on her shoulders with the exhausted rage of every mom I’ve ever met. I see my aunts, my mom, my friends in her heavy sighs, her exasperated phone calls, her arguments with men who refuse to take her seriously. Sure, she could be described as a “bitch” but she isn’t just a bitch. She’s angry because there’s nothing left for her to do but be angry, which Byrne captures with the nuance necessary for a character like Linda, with every scream and sob rattling your bones. Byrne is nothing short of brilliant, and she rightly earns a place in a lineage of women capturing feminine rage perfectly.
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In this straightforward drama, Bronstein also peppers in surreal elements, primarily centered upon the giant, gaping hole in her master bedroom floor, its gaping maw inviting her into the dark, silent void. While they sometimes feel like an afterthought, the subtle nature of these surreal moments keeps Linda from seeing totally insane or disconnected from reality. It ushers in a sense of dread, like she’s twirling on the edge of oblivion, and further places us in this woman’s slowly rotting shoes.
Comparisons to the Safdie Brothers’ Uncut Gems are inevitable, but If I Had Legs I’d Kick You is truly something unique. Yes, it’s operating in familiar lanes about the struggles of motherhood, but Bronstein’s approach is raw, electric, and unafraid to be angry. This isn’t a movie concerned about crafting an appealing, happy story about overcoming for your kids. It’s an honest knife that’s ready to hack through decades of expectations of women in cinema to get at the meat of something more real.
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