Tuesday Review: An Emotional Fantasy Takes Flight

Daina O. Pusić’s directorial debut Tuesday tells a uniquely imaginative story of loss and love. Lola Petticrew stars as Tuesday, a teenage girl living her final days with a terminal illness. Her caring mother, Zora, brought to life with heartbreaking subtlety by Julia Louis-Dreyfus, struggles to accept that her daughter’s time is nearly at an end.

When the ominous yet oddly charming Death, manifested as a shape-shifting macaw and voiced expressively by Arinzé Kene, arrives to collect Tuesday’s soul, the two form an unexpected bond that buys her precious last moments with Zora.

Pusić crafts a solemn yet hopeful tale, blending magical realism with emotional honesty. Through fanciful visuals and atmospheric sound, her dreamlike fairy tale puts a surreal spin on universal themes of grief, farewells, and our inexorable mortality. The film takes a risk with its unconventional portrayal of Death as a giant talking bird, but it brings the concept to life through dazzling special effects and Kene’s rich performance.

Above all, it celebrates the love between a mother and child facing separation, shown in heartbreaking scenes as Petticrew and Louis-Dreyfus bare their characters’ feelings in sparse yet profound moments together. On Tuesday, Pusić’s original vision and the actors’ deeply-felt work come together to craft a hauntingly moving exploration of loss’s impact and the solace we take from precious last moments with loved ones.

Facing Mortality with Grace and Fear

At the center of Tuesday’s moving tale are the three figures who encounter death: Tuesday, her mother Zora, and Death himself. Though just a teenager, Tuesday demonstrates a maturity beyond her years in accepting her imminent passing. While still longing to ease her mother’s pain, she engages Death as more of a friend, bonding through humor despite their final appointment. Her nuanced performance imbues Tuesday with a warmth that remains with viewers even after the credits roll.

Zora provides a more complex study of grief. Julia Louis-Dreyfus strips bare a mother’s every fear and fails to let go. Her Zora is raw, unraveling desperation personified. From bartering taxidermy to reckless self-medication, she grasps at anything to delay Tuesday’s destiny. Yet beneath Zora’s panicked exterior throbs a heart broken in two. With sensitive subtlety, Louis-Dreyfus ensures we recall that this is a mother who would give her own life if it could save her child’s. Her anguished journey honors the love that survives even death.

Death itself remains the film’s most captivating enigma. Arinzé Kene lends the macaw both gravitas and eccentric charm through his layered voice. A shape-shifting CGI beast, it is by turns ominous and almost playful in Tuesday’s company. Though his work is final, he seems to understand life’s fleeting nature. It is a quiet companionship for two souls at life’s border. And in an unlikely pairing with Zora, their scenes together elicit the story’s most profound insights on the existential fears we share.

Carer Billie, portrayed with empathy by Leah Harvey, offers Tuesday steady support. She bears witness to the realities of Zora’s situation but does not judge, letting their relationship speak for itself. Tuesday is fortunate to be surrounded by these figures during her transition from this world.

Pusić’s Poignant Fairy Tale

While tackling a weighty subject, Daina Pusić infuses Tuesday with flashes of magic that give her story a breathtaking lift. Taking the reins of a challenging concept for her directorial debut, she asserts a creative vision that envelops the viewer in a singular cinematic world.

We chart Zora and Tuesday’s journey on intercutting timelines that gradually shed light on key events. Information emerges less linearly, as one might experience the ebbs and flows of grief. Through it all, Pusić keeps us rapt, uncertain where each new moment may lead.

Pusić draws inspiration from fairy tales, with a talking macaw acting as an unlikely angel of death. Yet her fantastical elements feel wholly natural in this intimate domestic drama. Death himself retains gravitas while exposing hidden humor, just as real loss often sparks bittersweet laughs.

CGI artistry brings the macaw vividly to life. But Pusić ensures focus remains on the family’s profound emotions, letting visuals deepen our engagement instead of distracting. Her camera intimates their isolation, though they rarely leave the home, a testament to the director’s skills.

While darkness looms, hope glints through light-filled scenes like Tuesday bonding with Death over music. Pusić understands grief as a journey, not a destination, leaving room for both suffering and life’s small consolations. Her assured storytelling places us squarely in the family’s shoes, so we feel each haunting moment.

Through it all, one senses Pusić’s own fascination with life’s biggest questions. On Tuesday, she crafts a breathtaking beginning for her artistic career, honoring the full human experience with empathy, artistry, and courage.

Exploring Life’s Biggest Questions

Daina Pusić’s Tuesday tackles some profound themes using a most unusual framework. At its core, the film meditates on our perspectives on death and how we deal with loss. These are issues we all must face, yet the movie finds novel ways to spark reflection.

By giving death a talking form, Pusić shows it can be less an abstract idea and more a familiar companion. We see how Tuesday and even Zora relate to their winged visitor, exposing humanity beneath death’s grim shadow. Their chats highlight life’s fragility while allowing moments of humor and heart.

The story sensitively depicts a mother’s grieving process. Zora denies her daughter’s fate, desperate to hold on, yet we feel her pain. Her gradual acceptance happens through scenes of immense empathy and emotion. Petticrew likewise shines, conveying a youthful wisdom about her condition.

These powerful performances breathe profound depth into interactions that most films would rush through. From tearful goodbyes to laughter over shared songs, their bond resonates even as they prepare for a last farewell. Pusić grants their moments together an enduring tenderness.

By making death itself such an odd character, Pusi paradoxically opens up bigger questions. His visits hint at life’s greater purpose and what happens when our time is up. In finally facing her mortality, Zora must redefine her role and come to peace with Tuesday’s long struggle.

Though fantastical, Pusić’s allegory for loss proves profoundly moving. She finds beauty amid gritty realism, crafting empathetic portraits of a family confronting life’s hardest truths. Tuesday reminds us to cherish each day and accept what we can’t change, gaining closure through compassion.

Bringing Heart and Soul

One of Tuesday’s greatest strengths comes from its superb central performances. The film hinges on emotional depth and nuanced characterizations, areas where the leading talents truly excel.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus proves once more why she’s regarded as one of the finest comedic actors ever. Yet here, she takes on a role unlike any witnessed in her storied career. As grieving mother Zora, Louis-Dreyfus taps into raw, visceral places and navigates the messy complexity of loss with grace. Her portrayal feels piercingly real, bursting with feeling yet anchored in each moment. We live her anguish and the fight to retain hope, showcasing talents often overlooked in more light-hearted roles.

Stepping into the lead, young Lola Petticrew rises to the challenge with aplomb. As Tuesday, she exudes poignant wisdom and calm acceptance beyond her years. But there’s also fire in her eyes—a desire to keep living fully to the last. Petticrew makes Tuesday’s plight deeply felt yet never sinks into melodrama. She leads with elegance and chimes perfectly with her co-stars.

Then there’s Arinzé Kene’s vocal work as Death himself. Bringing gravity and warmth, he makes the fantastical figure surprisingly three-dimensional. Kene infuses the character with centuries of accumulated experience, from regret to humor. His bass tones loom ominously yet soothe with empathy. It’s a multifaceted gig, and Kene juggles every layer skillfully.

Rounding out the central trio, Leah Harvey offers wonderful support. She grounds the more chaotic scenes with a sensible caretaker presence. But Harvey also adds her own touches of nuance, like the subtle care for her patient.

Together, this superb group of talents lifts Tuesday’s profound substance with performances that tug at the heart and engage both minds and souls. They ensure this uniquely imagined story resonates in the deepest of ways.

Bringing a Fantastical Vision to Life

We’ve discussed the imaginative concepts and strong performances at Tuesday’s heart, but it’s also worthwhile appreciating the technical achievements that help fully realize Daina Pusić’s bold vision. Chief among these are the stellar visual effects responsible for death’s form. From his titanic scale to the minute details of macaw anatomy, Mike Stillwell and Andrew Simmonds’ team have crafted a wholly believable digital character. Death’s ability to shrink and swell at a moment’s notice is done seamlessly, transporting us deeper into Pusić’s magical reality.

Alexis Zabé’s cinematography is another key facet. She photographs Tuesday’s domestic scenes with intimacy while maintaining an ethereal quality during Death’s visits. Her eye for aesthetics consistently reinforces the bittersweet tone, regardless of location. Then there’s Anna Meredith’s score, which elevates emotional moments with sweeping melodies yet retains a sense of mystery and unease elsewhere.

Overall production values are top-notch considering this is an independent film. From sleek costume design to purposeful set decoration, no aspect feels shortchanged or detracts from the experience. The cast and crew have clearly poured their hearts into realizing Pusić’s singular vision, bringing us a film that is just as beautiful as it is thought-provoking. These technical masters have crafted a viewing experience unlike any other, one that will stick with audiences long after the end credits roll.

An Emotional Fantasy Rides on Risky Wings

We began by discussing Daina Pusić’s bold introduction—a macaw serving as grim reaper. Such an unconventional concept could have backfired, but Pusić handles it deftly. Through Tuesday’s accepting nature and Zora’s raw pain, we relate to characters grappling with inevitable loss. Lola Petticrew and Julia Louis-Dreyfus turn in powerfully moving performances that anchor this surreal story in deep emotion.

Pusić shows bravery in tackling heavy themes through fantasy. Rather than explain away Death’s form, she trusts viewers to accept its symbolic purpose. This allows her to explore grief, sacrifice, and what makes life worthwhile through imaginative imagery and unpredictable plot shifts. Even Death himself, brought to life through CGI and Arinzé Kene’s nuanced voice work, proves a multifaceted character we understand despite his strange role.

While some complain of tonal inconsistencies, I find Pusić’s blend of humor, whimsy, and raw agony gives complex insight into loss’s diverse stages. Her vision is strikingly original yet universal, reaching hearts. Technical achievements like cinematography and scores also enrich this emotional journey.

Ultimately, Tuesday takes flight on risky wings but soars. Pusić displays astounding talent for a debut, leaving me excited to see where her fearless storytelling leads. While not for everyone, it rewards those open to absorbing lessons through adventurous art. This fantasy may linger in your mind as long as Death’s call lingers in his.