SCREENWRITER FILES | MOTHERHOOD AND MENTAL ILLNESS IN DIABLO CODY'S "TULLY"
When Tully was released in 2014, there was intense backlash. Articles with titles like "Why I Refuse to See Tully and Why You Should Too" composed by leaders of mothers groups dominated the reviews, with many encouraging boycotts without actually having seen the film. The issue - the movie openly depicts postpartum depression and psychosis, as well as the difficult realities of raising a child on the spectrum without the support of the system, or access to competent medical care. They were outraged that the film featured an unwell mother not seeking professional help, and an autistic son who is not provided with a detailed diagnosis by a medical professional for the benefit of the audience. Diablo defended her work, explaining that she wrote Tully after experiencing a long bout of postpartum depression after her third child. She combined this experience with growing up in Illinois, where she saw many families with children on the spectrum (or kids who struggled with mental health issues), unable to afford or access adequate support. Ultimately, in spite of its prevalence - the mental health struggles of new parents is not something the film world likes to examine. There is prevailing idea that parenthood answers all ills - you should be able to push past mental illness through sheer love of your children. But reality isn't that simple. Diablo met a great deal of resistance from studios when shopping the script, however Charlize heard about it, and passed it on to Jason Reitman, and the film was finally made.
“There are a lot of very happy mothers here (in Beverley Hills), because they’re very well rested,” she says. “They have a lot of help. And it’s very easy to say, ‘Oh, I’m gonna have a fourth child,’ when you’re not struggling financially. When you can leave anytime to go to SoulCycle. That’s very different than the experience I witnessed growing up in Illinois, around working-class people, when you have two working parents and it’s tough to make ends meet.” (Diablo Cody)
It's a credit to Diablo Cody that although this is a film about depression, it is at no point depressing. Just very, very real. On the surface, Marlo is happily married. Her days start early, calming her special needs son using the "Wilbarger protocol" - a method of helping reduce their distress over external stimuli that involves softly brushing their entire body. Her eldest daughter is neurotypical, and relatively self-sufficient. Marlo loves her children, but we quickly recognise her exhaustion. Her husband Drew, played by the affable and unassuming Ron Livingston, works full time and comes home to quick and easy dinners, before retreating upstairs to play video games before bed. Somewhat refreshingly, there are no screaming matches or fights. Marlo is just... somewhere else, and her husband has checked out along the way too.
The earliest scenes are a montage of suburban, working class motherhood - but it is on a drive to school we see the extent of Marlo's difficulties. Seeing their usual parking lot is full, she tries to divert to a closer parking lot. Her son, who is autistic, starts demanding the "other lot", recognising it as their usual spot, unable to handle the diversion from his daily routine. She tries to explain. He starts screaming for her to go back to the other lot, over and over, in a tantrum of distress utterly disproportionate to the circumstances. He screams, kicking her seat as Marlo grows increasingly exasperated, and her daughter is screaming to make him stop. Just as the scene builds to unbearable heights it cuts - to them waiting in a crowded lot for a free spot, the car mercifully quiet once more. "You happy now?" she asks unable to hide her frustration, while her son, placated, nods and stares blankly ahead.
Soon, she is being informed by the headmaster that Jonah (in kindergarten) would benefit from a one on one aide in school, which Marlo isn't in a position to afford. These subtle comments on class and wealth are echoed by her successful brother, who along with his wife casually (and rather insensitively) boasts of all the ways their children are thriving with their vegan diets and in-house help (when Jonah asks for chicken nuggets, he gets a lecture from the nanny on animal cruelty. Ugh... vegans.). In a way, it's almost mocking the naivety and quirkiness in Juno, or at least taking the opportunity to challenge it. Her brother pulls Marlo aside for a conversation later, noting he just "wants his sister back", and he offers to pay for a night nanny to help with the first weeks of pregnancy. She promises to think about it, but is clearly fighting the idea that to welcome help is a personal failing somehow.
When women started fighting for a place within the workforce in the 1960’s, they had already culturally been fulfilling the roles of mother and homemaker for centuries. By the time more than 70% of women had joined the workforce in the 80’s, the expectations of them managing both motherhood and the home didn’t alter. While men ultimately created space for women in the workforce, the discussion for equality wasn't extended to working fathers taking on the emotional burdens of the home in equal share with their wives (it’s absurd that men had to push for paternity leave rights in the last ten years). Now women who wanted to work still had one more full time job waiting for them at home (strangely, divorced couples often wound up having a more balanced relationship in raising their children than their married counterparts, in the form of custody arrangements).
As Marlo is about to give birth to another, and we can feel her mounting anxiety for a child that obviously wasn't planned. There is a prevailing attitude in the culture of motherhood that expects them to carry every pregnancy to term, to be grateful for every life that grows in their womb. If any of these exhausted women were to bring up the possibility of an abortion or more permanent methods of contraception, they would be condemned. So they are pressured to take on the rising responsibilities with a smile and positive attitude, and as Diablo explained when discussing her own postpartum depression, sometimes motherhood/ parenthood invites with it darkness through anxiety. Through all this, it's as though Diablo is keen to distance herself from the romanticised world of motherhood that characterised Juno.
It's here we realise Jason Reitman does his best work when he lets the story and performances simply... unfold. "The third one's the easiest" her sister in law ignorantly says. When Marlo's water breaks, we get the impression of several days in the hospital as she is administered her epidural, The scenes cut between her and her husband sleeping, the tv playing, and the strains and cries of childbirth. When Marlo's newborn daughter is placed in her arms, there is no exhausted smile, no tears of joy. Just anxiety and despair lining her features as she searches for the strength to pull her through the inevitable demands ahead.
After weeks of little to no sleep, she is informed by the headmaster that they can no longer keep Jonah in their classes due to his disruptive nature. Marlo begins to fall apart, explaining she can't afford an aid, and is given the name of of a special needs school which does have associated costs involved. This sends her over the edge as she storms out, puts her baby gently in the car, quietly shuts the car door , and lets out a primal scream in the parking lot. She then takes up her brothers offer to pay for night-nanny, calling the number on the card he left her. This is when we meet Tully.
She is young and with her zen-like energy, her role is to look after the baby through the night and let the parents get sleep. Tully is everything Marlo longed to be concerning motherhood, a warm presence that she lets into her heart. No-one else interacts with Tully as she is always gone by morning, imparting wisdom to Marlo along the way. Marlo becomes a better mother, a better wife who also rediscovers intimacy with her husband after Tully's gentle encouragement. Marlo is happier and in the eyes of those around her and back to her old self. What we realise later, is she has entered a state of deep psychosis.
Tully: "Scars heal..."
Marlo: "No, they don't. We might look like we're all better, but if you look closely, we are all covered in concealer..."
One reason I enjoy everything Charlize Theron does is I truly respect the lengths she goes to to convey the authenticity of a character. For example, in my favourite female-led action film (since Kill Bill), Atomic Blonde (2017), Charlize put herself through rigorous martial arts training with no fanfare. She cracked numerous ribs, broke three teeth while trying to learn how to flip burly men, twisted ligaments and suffered endless bruises. Then there is that opening scene; where we see the evidence of the violence inflicted on her character Lorraine as she stands utterly naked in front of a mirror - every inch of her skin covered in dark bruises before she submerges her broken body in an ice bath (which was a real ice-bath on set). It's also in small things, like shaving her head for Mad Max: Fury Road (which should have just been a film about Furiosa set in the Mad Max world), or leaving makeup caked on for days while filming Young Adult, so her pores and the effects on her skin were visible in the harsh light of day. In all these films, she lends all her power as an actress into making her characters internal and external ugliness felt in every scene. People talk about her Oscar-winning work on Monster like it was an anomaly, but that was also aided by makeup (and all of this is to say nothing of her performances in films like North Country). Her commitment to connecting with her characters vulnerabilities doesn't get enough credit - for a woman to repeatedly subvert expectations on inner and outer beauty in her chosen acting roles is exceedingly rare.
Her greatest transformation however lies in Tully. Ordinarily depression and psychosis can be brutal, but when the demands of parenting do not grant you reprieve or time for self-care, when you are getting no more than 3 hours of sleep a night weeks on end, the effects become physiological. Playing a mother with postpartum psychosis, everything we normally recognise in Charlize is stripped down. Her golden hair limp and lifeless, the dark circles under her eyes permanent, her lips wan and her body post-pregnancy misshapen. We know Charlize gained 25kg for the role (turning down the option of a suit to create the effect instead) but one scene still shocked me (I don't shock easily either). Over dinner, when one of Marlo's children accidentally spills juice on her shirt at the kitchen table, Marlo (utterly exhausted) mindlessly strips it off in complete apathy. "Eww mom, what's wrong with your body..." her young daughter asks in curiosity and mild disgust. Marlo just looks at her, emotionless. Charlize quietly delivers this vulnerable moment experienced by so many mothers, a reality both unflinching and authentic.
Overall, the the film is a visceral depiction of postpartum mental illness, and we get to see a mother exhausted, broken, with children that she loves but ask everything of her, parts of herself she wasn't strong enough to give. The major twist in Tully is perhaps not as perfected as it could have been, therefore its effectiveness is limited - the films emotional weight is understood better on a second viewing. When her family realise the extent of her struggle and begin to give something back, we see Marlo starting to heal. Regardless, there is no diagnosis or closure for her character - no neat and tidy ending that sees her problems and mental health issues solved and rendered manageable. It's in this that mothers groups attacked the film and Diablo most aggressively - as though life is something so easily managed.
They fail to understand that in a country with a broken healthcare system and such class disparities, and a culture that steadfastly refuses to acknowledge sometimes your children aren't enough to keep mental illness in line, Tully's message is vital. The final scene's emotional weight is measured by its simplicity. Her husband finally checks back in with his wife, simply demonstrated by his walking up to her at the kitchen sink, wordlessly taking out one of her earphones so he can share the song, as he starts helping with the dishes unasked. Life will always be messy, mental illness will never truly go away. But the one thing these parents need more than anything is a partner that helps share the emotional burdens of the home, who is always intimate and communicative, who gives space to validation and understanding in their darkest moments.
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