If I Had Legs, I'd Kick You - Review: The Hole Keeps Getting Bigger

 

If you rewound back to 2010 and asked someone what one of the most common subgenres of modern-day film would be, chances are a “psychological thriller about mothers” wouldn’t be too high on their list. Movies like “We Need to Talk About Kevin,” The Babadook,” “Pieces of a Woman,” “The Lost Daughter,” “Rabbit Hole,” “Room,” and even 2025’s earlier film “Die My Love” all tackle the combination of mentally stressing endeavors with that of parenting and motherhood in their own ways. Mary Bronstein’s (“Yeast”) latest film has its own take on that idea as well, and it’ll likely sit with you long after the credits have rolled.

“If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You” stars Rose Byrne (“Neighbors (2014),” “Damages”) as Linda, a psychotherapist dealing with Charles, a husband constantly away on work played by Christian Slater (“Heathers,” “Mr. Robot”), a daughter with a feeding tube and a mysterious illness played by Delaney Quinn, an increasingly hostile therapist of her own played by Conan O’Brien (“The Simpsons,” “Conan”), and, as the film begins, an unusable apartment due to a massive hole and water leak in her bedroom ceiling. The latter results in her and her daughter living at a strip motel as she deals with her job, her daughter’s increasing medical appointments, and the stress of the world at large bearing down on her.

For a film as inherently unpleasant as this to work, you need a central performance to anchor it all together. Byrne completely throws herself into this project, delivering an exasperated portrayal of motherhood that is a feat of her skills. She treats each and every bit of the jet-black humor here as deathly serious, and her ability to commit to the surrealist events as they occur makes for a fantastic experience. The rest of the supporting cast are all more or less content to sound exasperated towards her and leave it at that. Slater is good but confined mostly to the opposite end of a cell phone, and Quinn manages to be just as annoying as is required as she is heard but not seen. Bronstein’s genuinely genius use of her in the end, though, delivers one of the film’s best moments.

The only two who take a massive step above their supporting counterparts are O’Brien and Danielle Macdonald (“Dumplin’,” “The Tourist”) as one of Linda’s patients, Caroline. O’Brien completely runs away with the film when he appears, turning his trademark sardonic wit into something deeply unnerving and infuriating. He’s a true highlight of the picture. Macdonald, meanwhile, turns what should easily be a grating minor character into the heart of the film. Whenever she appears, things shift slightly and Bronstein’s vision on how the world treats mothers in distress becomes crystal clear.

Bronstein’s script is both a huge asset and a borderline hindrance to the film writ large. She clearly wants this to be an experiential kind of film, one that tracks in feelings of unease and genuine confusion as we wonder what part of what Linda is seeing and dealing with is real. The problem is there’s no baseline established in the film itself for these sorts of surrealist moments; one sequence in the film’s third act seems to so clearly be a dream or hallucination based on how its shot and what happens, that it becomes even more upsetting to reveal that it is, apparently, real. It absolutely makes its mark as a distinct kind of voice, but the discomfort it deals in might simply be too out there for most.

The claustrophobic sense of camerawork from cinematographer Christopher Messina (“Golden Arm,” “The New Radical”) helps to establish the deep discomfort on display though. Rarely does a moment go by without at least a few seconds of the camera being zoomed directly onto Byrne’s face. The lack of any kind of musical score drills the paranoia further into the viewer’s brains, and the dreamlike appearance of each pop of color, especially at night, further fuels the hallucinatory effects of this tale. It’s a visual feast of displeasure and cold sweat.

“If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You” will likely be an odd kind of catharsis for anyone who’s ever had to deal with a difficult child or anyone who’s been a mother period. It manages to deliver a distinct kind of viewing experience that is unlike any other movie out this year. Byrne is truly fantastic, and O’Brien steals the spotlight in his minor role. But this is the sort of film that doesn’t remotely care about establishing any kind of baseline and wants you to have a bad time. Do with that knowledge what you will. 3.5/5