Tuesday ★★★☆☆
At first glance, Tuesday looks like another grief-ridden indie film from A24. But don’t be fooled. This debut feature from Daina Oniunas-Pusić takes you on a surreal rollercoaster where existential dread and a talking parrot named Death cohabitate in the same whimsical frame. Julia Louis-Dreyfus, shedding her comedic skin, plays Zora, a mother deeply entrenched in denial over her daughter’s impending death. The daughter, Tuesday (Lola Petticrew), is refreshingly at peace with her fate, a serenity rudely interrupted by Zora’s unraveling attempts to ward off the inevitable. Enter Death, voiced by Arinzé Kene, in the form of a bedraggled macaw—because why not?
The movie is an oddly beautiful mashup of magical realism and grief therapy, where metaphors don’t just dance—they fly, quack, and possibly squawk. Zora spends her days dodging the emotional boulder coming her way, only to have Death’s feathery avatar staring her down from the living room. Tuesday, however, handles Death like an uninvited yet familiar houseguest, even giving the parrot a bath. It’s a fairy tale for those who aren’t afraid to laugh through their tears (or squirm in confusion). The film taps into the messy reality of loss—sure, we expect grace under pressure, but what we often get is selfishness, rage, and avoidance.
Visually, Tuesday flirts with the bizarre. The film’s striking use of color, peculiar camera angles, and the ever-morphing size of its characters evoke a strange, dream-like atmosphere, something akin to Alice’s tumble through Wonderland. Zora’s denial plays out through subtle shifts in perception—her daughter looking healthier than she is, until Zora’s façade begins to crack. The cinematography is elegant but unsettling, which fits perfectly with the film’s ethereal tone.
The performances ground all this strangeness. Julia Louis-Dreyfus delivers a devastating portrayal of a mother who can’t let go, her usual comedic timing lurking in the background, only to bubble up in the film’s oddly funny moments. Petticrew, as Tuesday, is a perfect foil—wise beyond her years but still unmistakably a teenager, her performance anchoring the film’s more fantastical elements. Kene’s Death is, surprisingly, a delight—both funny and poignant, like a bird-shaped Grim Reaper with a mid-life crisis.
At 111 minutes, Tuesday drags a bit, especially if you’re not fully buying into its peculiarities. The pacing wavers between deeply introspective and, well, let’s just say you might check the clock more than once. But if you let it, the film will sneak up on you, making you laugh when you least expect it and leaving you pondering mortality long after the credits roll.
Tuesday is not for everyone. Those looking for a straightforward weepy may find its quirks off-putting, and the methodical pacing might turn off audiences hungry for faster emotional payoffs. But if you’re in the mood for something as strange as it is heartfelt, this surreal tale of mothers, daughters, and bird-shaped harbingers might just work its odd little magic on you. A peculiar mix of dark humor and raw emotion, it offers a unique meditation on mortality that lingers—whether you want it to or not.
