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Tully (2018)

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I’m here to take care of you.  Suburban New Yorker Marlo (Charlie Theron) is about to give birth to her third child. Her husband and best friend, Ron (Ron Livingston) is loving and works hard, but remains clueless about the demands that motherhood puts on her. Their son is autistic and is thrown out of kindergarten because he’s such a freak nobody can handle him. Their daughter is… ugly. When the baby is born, Marlo’s wealthy brother (Mark Duplass) hires a nighttime nanny named Tully to help his sister handle the workload. She resists initially and succumbs to the horrendous 24/7 grind of feeding, nappy-changing, washing, feeding, nappy-changing, washing… and looking after the other problem children. And her husband. Who comes home at night and after cursory contact with his family retreats to the bedroom to play videogames. Hesitant at first to hire someone else have contact with her newborn daughter, Marlo soon learns to appreciate all that Tully (Mackenzie Davis) does – forming a special bond with her new, lifesaving friend, a free-spirited 26-year old … Mom what happened your body? In director Jason Reitman’s fourth collaboration with screenwriter Diablo Cody and their second together with Theron after the superb Young Adult, the grisly subject of motherhood and post-partum depression is confronted head-on. Sort of. There is (eventually) a spectacular reversal which doesn’t completely undo the point of the story but it contributes to negating its effect.  Marlo is a capable woman who is mortified by meeting someone in a cafe that she used to know from way back – because right now she’s a huge, grotesque looking, shuffling, sweaty lump in her ninth month and her friend is clearly the same as before:  unmarried, svelte, pleasant but rather disturbed to meet a woman she regarded as her equal in her worst possible situation. The friend runs away, embarrassed. The loneliness of motherhood, the disgusting physical aspects and the sheer mind-numbing boredom of being at home with a puking screaming crapping baby are well caught while her body turns into a milking machine. Her brother asks if she is going to go the same way as she did following her son’s birth, which hints at the story outcome. He’s married to a tiny Asian and their children are … perfect. And they used a night nanny. Like all parents, Marlo and Ron are in denial about their son’s psychological peculiarity which they and everyone else insist on calling quirky rather than the blooming obvious. The torture of childbirth is pretty much avoided, which is surprising given how much skin is on display.  On the other hand, motherhood is pathologised as a mental illness – and with good reason:  I can’t remember the last time I slept like that.  I can see colour now, muses Marlo the first time after the night nanny has been in the house. As she explains to Tully about how women the world over are, We’re covered in concealer. On the one hand this is about saying goodbye to your youth and realising that a marriage going for the long haul is hard, thankless work that drains body and soul and is the end of everything you ever enjoyed about your husband particularly one who is literally blind to what is wife is going through all day.  And all night. When he’s asleep. On the other it’s about the sheer misery of having children which is not a message you’ll see or hear from too many in real or reel life. Its entire message can be encapsulated in one image: a gross, stained, unwashed, filthy, sleepless, brain-dead and dishevelled Theron sitting at the dining table with a salad she’s emptied from a bag to accompany store pizza and ignoring the two awful children playing with mobile phones opposite her. Ron comes in after a wonderful day at the office and asks, So you’re letting them have screen time now? As good an ad for contraception as you will ever see. Yes, there’s a trick played on the audience which some find unforgivable and in common with the rather disappointing endings to Cody’s other screenplays, it’s to do with succumbing to female biology, pathology and psychology whether you want to or not. But motherhood (and the lies surrounding it) is the biggest trick of all and it’s very clear about that subject. It’s a hell from which there is no return:  kiss your twenties goodbye, permanently. And a lot more besides. Needless to say, Theron is just great. My body looks like a relief map for a war-torn country

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About elainelennon

An occasional movie-watching diary.

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