Stream or skip?

Julia Louis-Dreyfus is the main draw of Tuesday (now streaming on Max), but the real star of the film is death. Yes, as in the Grim Reaper himself, who in this particular – and particularly strange – film takes the form of a large macaw. Yes, like in “Polly Wants A Cracker,” but in this case it’s about collecting your soul. Yes, as in your life force or energy or essence or whatever you want to call it, the pulpy juice of which debut feature writer-director Daina O. Pusic seeks to explore through the story of a dying teenager, a mother in denial and her realization, that a big bird who happens to be a hip-hop fan (no, really) has shown up in their lives to teach them about life. Ironic, isn't it?

TUESDAY: STREAM OR SKIP?

The essentials: The first character we meet is Death, a CGI creation voiced by Arinze Kene, who I hope runs his lines through some voice processing effects, otherwise his throat would have to be torn apart like Buscemi in wood chips. Death is a scruffy, soot-blackened macaw that can shrink to the size of an earwig or about the size of a moose, although he usually stays somewhere in between. He has a scarred, blotchy eye and his feathers are battered and worn. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: The guy did it seen some shit. We watch as he flies back and forth, giving eternal peace to suffering people with the simple movement of his wings.

We next meet Tuesday (Lola Petticrew) lying quietly in bed, hooked up to medical monitors, an oxygen tube connected to her nose. A nurse (Leah Harvey) uses a hoist to lift Tuesday out of bed and into a wheelchair. The details of her malaise are never discussed, and we can make some guesses, but what does it matter? It's not good, and considering who we've met in the previous scenes, we know this is one of those situations where it's just a matter of time. Tuesday's mother, Zora (Louis-Dreyfus), should be working, but instead she buys strange heirlooms (taxidermied rats) for cash and sits in a cafe, mindlessly scribbling in a notebook. Death from the division of professional human society long ago counteracted their employment. And so Zora barely exists here, in a vague, wide-eyed space full of avoidance and denial.

Tuesday's panting seems to summon the bird, tormented by a cacophony of voices and countless suffering souls begging him for an end to their pain. But the girl is not afraid of death. He shrinks and she gently takes him in her palms and bathes him, and he grows and embraces her. And although he assures that he is here on this day to fulfill his duty (“Please don't kill me.” “I have to, I have to, I have to, I have to”), he also shows appreciation for the kindness she has shown expressed. And before you know it, they're subverting the austere symbolism of accepting death in lowercase by rapping along to Ice Cube's “It Was a Good Day” and smoking cannabis together. That's all well and good, but two things are unavoidable here: First, Zora must come to terms with her rejection, and to do that she may have to confront a giant macaw. And secondly, who cares about the duties of death while befriending a sweet dying girl? I mean, there has to be some serious reaper talk for that.

What films will it remind you of?: The stuff about the kid hanging with a symbolic entity somehow reminds me of something underrated A monster is calling while Louis-Dreyfus's attempts to navigate the surrealist existentialism of the situation sound unusual Dream scenario.

Performance worth seeing: Louis-Dreyfus finds a road less traveled here and has established herself as a strong, worthy leading lady for left-of-center films like this. Enough said And You hurt my feelings.

Memorable dialogue: “I understand that this is confidential information.” – Zora backtracks on a question she asks Death, namely: whether or not there is an afterlife or a God

Gender and skin: None.

Our opinion: As soon as the big talking bird, who is also Death, raps along with Cube, you know TuesdayThis will be divisive. Maybe Pusic is making it all too self-consciously strange; Perhaps it tests the limits of our tolerance for magical realism. But there's no denying that it's daring and more than a little crazy, turning another tearjerker about “grief and loss” into a dark, absurdist comedy rooted in classic myths and aimed at making profound observations about to make the inevitabilities of existence. It doesn't quite gel tonally, and its ironies tend to be exaggerated (e.g. Tuesday is calm and, while hooked up to an oxygen tank, instructs everyone around her to breathe in and out through the bouts of anxiety caused by her condition). ), but one can't help but admire the risks Pusic takes in the search for a distinctive vision.

What wasn't a risk? Casting Louis-Dreyfus as the film's host, in which he plays a mother who cannot accept the reality in front of her and has lost her grip. She is an absurd and tragic figure who sells her belongings, quits her job and slowly tries to become nothing, hoping to either not be able to feel all this pain anymore or perhaps give up enough of herself to the great cosmic karmic universe to sacrifice to preserve Tuesday on this planet. All of this manifests itself in the subtext of Louis-Dreyfus' performance, as the text explores the extremes of her avoidance and obsessive rage.

Meanwhile, the world around these people (and the bird) erupts apocalyptically as death disappears, and the implication is that Zora's actions are an attempt to bring the world to a standstill and keep her beloved daughter in stasis. It won't. That's not how it all works. There are times when you feel like you're keeping your distance from the oddity that's before you TuesdayBut as Louis-Dreyfus searches for the love and strength contained within her character, all she can do is feel moved by her suffering – and understand how surreal it is to be so frightened in the face of death.

Our call: Julia Louis-Dreyfus saves Tuesday about being too strange or too maudlin. This is no small thing. STREAM IT.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.