Being a parent is never an easy task, especially when one—most often the mother—is left to manage everything alone. The duties that usually require two people become overwhelming when there’s no support. But what happens if the child is sick, and the husband is working away in another city? Does that make the mother a single parent when the other parent is physically absent? What about the mental toll it takes on someone whose own mental health is already fragile? It’s frightening to imagine how far the mind can descend into darkness when it’s already on that edge.
Linda’s (a brilliant Rose Byrne) life is a constant storm of stress, anxiety, and endless errands. She works, cares for her sick child, and struggles not to lose her grip on reality. Her world collapses—literally—when a burst water pipe causes her apartment ceiling to cave in. Forced to move into a motel while repairs drag on, Linda must juggle her job, her daughter’s doctor appointments, her own therapy sessions, and her patients’ needs. Life doesn’t just feel unkind to her—it’s merciless. And as you watch, you sense things won’t improve; they can only spiral further.
Written and directed by Mary Bronstein, If I Had Legs I’d Kick You offers a tour-de-force performance from Rose Byrne, carrying what is essentially a one-woman show. Yes, we briefly meet her boss and therapist (Conan O’Brien), a troubled young mother Caroline (Danielle Macdonald), who fears she might harm her own child, and Stephen (Daniel Zolghadri), one of Linda’s patients, who persistently questions why she keeps appearing in his dreams trying to kiss him. But it’s Byrne who anchors everything. The chaos swirling around Linda, while she desperately clings to a façade of normalcy, is staggering to witness.
Rose Byrne is reason enough for any movie lover to see a film—context almost doesn’t matter. Her craft knows no boundaries. She brings layers of expression, sharp instincts, and an uncanny ability to embody every character from the inside out. We know by now: she doesn’t take on a role unless she can elevate it. Easy or complex, give it to Rose Byrne and she’ll turn it into gold. Here, she makes Linda seem sane and insane all at once, walking the razor’s edge between composure and an explosive, dangerous unraveling.
As we follow Linda, it feels inevitable she’ll give up. Nobody could possibly bear that much weight without breaking. She’s flawed, raw, and constantly tested. The phone calls from her husband—who offers instructions while enjoying his own freedoms—only deepen her frustration. “I don’t even have time for myself while you go out to watch the game,” she yells, her voice echoing the unfair imbalance she lives with. Parenting is not easy, even for the strongest among us. Some people, as Linda herself observes, simply aren’t meant to be parents. But is she one of them? Can she really withstand the pressure without shattering?
That’s what makes If I Had Legs I’d Kick You so powerful—it drops us into a place nobody wants to be, yet one that is reality for many. It forces the audience to question: what is real, and what might just be Linda’s imagination? We don’t know much about her past, but we desperately want her to survive, to overcome. In the end, the therapy Linda most needs is beyond her reach—but the weight of her trauma may leave us, the audience, needing therapy ourselves. And that, perhaps, is the film’s greatest triumph: when you leave caring about Linda as if she were yourself.