Tully

The sound of a mechanical breast pump is one of the most soul-crushing noises in the modern world. It’s a rhythmic, wheezing "thump-whoosh" that sounds like a robot trying to sigh but forgetting how. In the opening act of Tully, Charlize Theron sits in the dark, tethered to this machine, her face a mask of such profound, bone-deep exhaustion that I actually felt my own lower back start to ache in sympathy. I watched this film while nursing a cup of lukewarm Earl Grey that had a literal film of dust on it because I’d forgotten it existed for three hours, and honestly, that felt like the only appropriate way to consume this particular piece of cinema.

The Reitman-Cody Exhaustion Trilogy

Tully is the unofficial closing chapter of a thematic trilogy birthed by director Jason Reitman and screenwriter Diablo Cody. First, they gave us the precocious, stylized teen pregnancy of Juno (2007). Then came the arrested development and jagged edges of Young Adult (2011). But Tully is where the bill finally comes due. It’s the "Adulting: The Horror Movie" entry. Charlize Theron plays Marlo, a woman on the precipice of a total psychic break. She has two kids—one of whom, Jonah (Asher Miles Fallica), is "quirky" in a way that requires constant, exhausting advocacy at school—and a third on the way.

When the baby arrives, Marlo’s wealthy, somewhat patronizing brother (Mark Duplass) offers to pay for a night nanny. Marlo initially scoffs at the idea of a stranger coming into her home to "save" her, but once the sleep deprivation reaches a hallucinatory peak, she relents. Enter Tully (Mackenzie Davis), a twenty-something pixie who doesn't just watch the baby; she cleans the house, bakes cupcakes, and listens to Marlo talk until the sun comes up. She’s basically Mary Poppins if Mary Poppins wore high-waisted jeans and actually understood how much it sucks to lose your identity to a diaper bag.

Theron’s Relentless Commitment to the Grime

We need to talk about Charlize Theron’s performance because it’s easily some of the best work of her career, and it’s a shame it didn't ignite a massive awards firestorm at the time. To play Marlo, Theron reportedly gained 50 pounds, but it’s not the physical weight that registers the most—it’s the psychic weight. She moves like a person whose batteries have been replaced with lead. There is a scene where she drops a phone on her sleeping baby’s head while scrolling in a daze, and the look of sheer, defeated "I am the worst person alive" on her face is devastating. Theron’s Marlo is essentially an urban legend come to life—the woman who finally just snapped under the weight of a Frozen-themed birthday party.

Opposite her, Mackenzie Davis provides the perfect foil. She’s ethereal, energetic, and speaks in that trademark Diablo Cody "cool-girl" dialect that feels both poetic and slightly suspicious. Their chemistry is the heart of the film. It’s not just a nanny and an employer; it’s a woman falling in love with the memory of her younger, unburdened self. Ron Livingston plays the husband, Drew, and while a lesser movie would have made him a villainous cad, he’s just... a guy. He’s "helpful" in that way that still leaves the mental load entirely on his wife’s shoulders. He plays video games with headphones on while Marlo is drowning three feet away. It’s a subtle, frustratingly accurate portrayal of modern domestic "fairness."

Why This Gem Got Lost in the Shuffle

Despite the pedigree behind the camera, Tully vanished from theaters pretty quickly, raking in a modest $15 million. I suspect it was a victim of its own honesty. In an era of "Instagram-perfect" parenting where every milestone is filtered to death, Tully is a sweaty, un-airbrushed middle finger to the "having it all" myth. It was marketed as a quirky comedy, but it’s actually a stealth psychological drama with a third-act pivot that left audiences deeply divided.

Turns out, the production was as grueling as the film suggests. Theron later spoke about how the weight gain led to a very real bout of depression, stating it took her a year and a half to lose the weight and feel like herself again. You can see that genuine gloom on the screen. It’s also a deeply personal script for Cody, who wrote it after the birth of her third child when she was in the thick of that postpartum fog. That authenticity is what makes the film's "twist"—which I won't spoil here, though social media tried its best in 2018—feel earned rather than gimmicky. It’s a metaphor that hits like a freight train once you realize what’s actually happening.

Tully is a film that feels more relevant every year as we continue to have louder, more frantic conversations about the burnout of the "sandwich generation." It’s beautifully shot by Eric Steelberg (Up in the Air), who manages to make a cluttered suburban kitchen look both claustrophobic and strangely sacred. If you’ve ever felt like your "self" has been replaced by a series of tasks and obligations, this movie will see you. It won't necessarily comfort you, but it will let you know you aren't the only one screaming into a pillow. Grab a cold cup of tea, ignore the laundry for 95 minutes, and give this one the attention it deserves.

Just maybe don't watch it if you're currently eight months pregnant unless you've got a really good sense of humor.