Tallulah

Ten years after Ellen Page and Allison Janney co-starred in Juno as daughter and surrogate mother, they are reunited in the respective roles for Tallulah—Sian Heder’s feature-length adaptation of her 2006 short film, Mother. Inspired by Heder’s vastly different experiences first as a nanny for high-society wives and later as a mom herself, this daring and deeply personal study on the blessings and burdens of motherhood results in a film rife with paralyzing honesty.
Heder’s unconventional debut—part drama, part comedy, and part thriller—changes rhythms frequently and without warning. Its choppy structure and style mishmash can be jarring, the blips of magical realism especially so. But it also provides the malleable, forgiving arena necessary for its challenging narrative to play out.
Page is at home in her role as the titular Tallulah, a feisty scamp-type with an ageless charm. The absence of strong childhood role models in Tallulah’s life has contributed to her acute arrested development, causing her to flee from any responsibility or accountability. Armed only with her complicit boyfriend Nico (Evan Jonijkeit) and a dream to maybe visit India, Tallulah enjoys life to the fullest by surviving out of her van on petty theft and shower vouchers. But when she meets Nico’s suggestion of a more stable alternative to their nomad lifestyle with cries of treason, she wakes up the next morning to find him gone—along with her money.
She soon meanders into a luxury hotel, where she finds herself caring for the toddler of a manic young woman named Carolyn (Tammy Blanchard), who mistakes Tallulah for a hotel maid and enlists her sitting services so she can meet up with a gentleman lover.
This pivotal scene with Blanchard, who meets her demanding role with one of the strongest performances of the year, is the first indication of Tallulah’s true intentions. In a wrenching moment of candor, Carolyn confides in her impromptu babysitter about her life as a new mom. Drunk on all fours and acting as much an infant as her daughter, Carolyn laments, “Nobody ever tells you how hard it’s going to be … I see all these women on TV and on the street and they’re doing it, and I don’t know how. Everybody acts like it’s normal because everyone is doing it, but it’s not.”