A Brilliantly Deranged Rose Byrne

Most people seek escape when they go to the movies, while others go to see other people’s anxiety, drawing catharsis or comedy from the idea that someone else has it worse. Sporting a Poison-Cookie title like “If I Had Legs, I’d Kick You,” there can be few questions as to which category best describes the Mary Bronstein-fueled second feature. With her husband far away and her daughter connected to a constantly beeping medical device, exasperated Linda (Rose Byrne) may be out of her mind, but Bronstein puts us squarely inside, as the walls close in, the Ceiling collapses and the floor buckles beneath it.

An A24 version forged in much the same mold as “Good Time” or “Uncut Gems” (which Bronstein’s partner Ronnie co-wrote), the SAFDIE-esque — but refreshingly female — indie film could be “Mom Without Legacies” To these guys, “Daddy Longlegs” from these guys: a virtuoso portrait of mental fetters that uses every tool in the director’s arsenal to recreate a feeling of the end of the world on the largest scale intimate. Delivering a feverish, raw performance that’s sure to go down as one of the year’s greats, Byrne has never had a role remotely so intense to prepare us for the emotional acrobatics his writer-director has in store.

Like Bronstein’s 2008 debut, “Levy” (which paired the multi-hyphenate Mumbecore with Greta Gerwig), his oppressive, zero-oxygen new film is shot mostly in close-up, holding tight to the face from Byrne as Linda juggles more than she can handle. The film doesn’t explain these pressures, but rather puts us directly into the profound ending with its protagonist, whose “job” as a mother of a child in maintenance (Delaney Quinn) registers long before her employment as a guidance counselor at The Center for Psychological Arts and Mom Talk.

In theory, Linda should have all the skills one needs to deal with an anonymous, spectered girl, who is barely seen – but often heard, asking histrionic questions from the back seat or the next room – until the end, when cinematographer Christopher Messina (who worked as a camera operator on “Good Time”) finally reveals the child’s face. So far, the daughter almost seems like a manifestation of Linda’s feelings, from impending breakdown to resentment of her absent husband (a pragmatic-sounding Christian Slater, who checks in by phone) to an overall inadequacy as a mother.

This latter subject – and the conclusion of the tradition that follows, by which modern women can pursue callings other than parenthood – has been an increasingly common theme in recent films directed by women, from “Nightbitch” from Marielle Heller to Maggie Gyllenhaal’s daughter. ” Here, Linda struggles not only with the idea that “I’m one of those people who isn’t supposed to be a mom,” but also the fear that she might do something rash, like suffocate her own child – an idea which echoes in the media’s coverage of the murdered moms that plays on the film’s margins, with sound bites that suggest “untreated mental illness is to blame.”

Too on-the-nose to be disturbing, such clips offer a window into Linda’s state of mind, as do the antagonistic sessions with her therapist (and colleague), played amusingly by Conan O’Brien with an aspect of constant gastric discomfort on his face on his face which suggests her Concerns can give him ulcers. Bronstein doesn’t immediately drop the ironic details that Linda is trained to give the kind of advice she needs – although it’s clear from her conversations with various medical professionals that she has the vocabulary to understand what ‘she crosses.

This might actually make things worse, as Linda tends to outsmart or challenge people who try to help her (while the dream she describes in session implies that she has an unresolved crush on the character of O’Brien). Meanwhile, she has no patience for her own patients, who include Danielle MacDonald, “Patti Cake$,” as another overwhelmed mom, Ella Beatty as a vaporous millennial, and Daniel Zolghadri as a necessary man.

While not everyone here is crazy, the word “normal” doesn’t remotely apply to any of Bronstein’s characters – not even James (a rocky $ap), the well-meaning stranger in the next room from Linda to the hotel she is going to after the family’s apartment floods. Factor in the self-medicating influence of marijuana and several bottles of wine a night, and the audience may wonder if some of the more surreal moments are really happening, like the gaping hole in his bedroom ceiling, which creates a cosmic void in which Linda lets her worries float.

Intensely subjective without ever pulling off the literal first-person POV trick seen in last year’s “Nickel Boys,” “If I Adgs” is closer to “Beau Is Peur” or “Punch-Durk Love” in the way which it uses an agonizing score, abrupt cuts and claustrophobic cinematography to approximate the pressure its main character is under. Some may find this hilarious, while others are sure to abandon ship as Bronstein puts us in the uncomfortable position of experiencing Linda’s slow-motion nervous breakdown. Society’s expectations are held up about expectations, how men are often seen as stable (but rarely take on the same responsibilities), and where the line is between extreme stress and mental illness.

The film makes clear that Hollywood has largely underestimated Byrne thus far, casting rival Kristen Wiig’s “Bridesmaids” largely as comedic or generic women, moms and lower-charting supporting parties . Compared to such flat characters, Linda feels almost four-dimensional – a role that practically shakes everything but your seat from the screen with its anxiety, the way premium theaters do with their chair-weary 4DX projections. It’s almost too much to take in at times, although Bronstein injects moments of absurdist humor here and there, like the scene where Linda relents and allows her daughter to adopt a demonic hamster.

Studying Linda’s forlorn expression in her car’s rearview mirror, it’s astonishing that any actor could make it thunder like that. “If I Had Legs” demands next-level commitment from its star — and no small amount of audience Schadenfreude.