We
love to be surprised by a refreshing, fine film like Tumbleweeds, a
mother daughter tale. Mama, Mary Jo Walker (Janet McTeer, Golden Globe
for Best Actress in a Comedy), has dragged
her now 12 year old Ava (Kimberly Brown) from husbands (3) to boyfriends
(uncounted) since she gave birth when she was a teenager. Mary Jo clings
to the desperate, poignant illusion that she will find her salvation in
the next man, almost any man. When Mary Jo gets restless or itchy, she
flirts with open suggestion that she quickly consummates. Ava, knowing
the pattern of heartache that will soon follow, tries to interfere,
often comically.
Mary Jo’s is a plain talkin’, gum smackin’, bleached blonde,
honky-tonk Southern woman. She’s developed no real job skills and gets
by on loads of charm, rustlin’ up almost any ol’ job when the need
arises. Anyone who has lived in the South will be amazed at the stunning
realism of Janet McTeer’s performance, especially because she is a
renowned British stage performer with little American movie exposure.
She won a Tony award for the stage classic, Doll House.
Tumbleweeds opens with a scene startling in its primal verbal
violence as Mary Jo taunts her current lover while he is on the verge of
beating her because of his jealous rage and utter frustration prompted
by her brazenness with other men. Even if you prefer lighter movie going
fare, don’t turn away because Tumbleweeds quickly focuses on
the mother-daughter relationship. Though we follow Mama through other
male attachments, the core story is about Ava who demands with obstinate
courage that things change. Ava insists that they stay where she has,
for the first time, friends and school success, roots that she has never
known.
The sheer delight in this film comes in the deeper love and play
between these two women. Even though Ava is still young, her mother
openly shares the mysteries and joys of womanhood in a way that allows
Ava to enjoy her youth and that allows Mama to revel in her daughter’s
growing up. The lilt of their southern dialects in fighting, in fear, in
play, and in soothing words of love are like music to the ear. When
"Auntie Rose" (menstruation) first visits Ava, mother and
daughter dance and cavort around the living room playing with pads and
laughing at the strange complexities of a woman’s life. Thus, the
heavy and shunned transformation some women have been subjected to is
refreshingly cast in a bright, friendly light. In another hilarious and
touching scene, Mama uses an apple to teach Ava how to kiss.
There is deep love, knowing, and connection between mother and
daughter, but Ava is the wiser, objective one who compels the mother to
grow up and to give up illusions that tear at her source of meaning.
Because of Ava, Mary Jo is forced to face a profound despair and
inability to take charge of any aspect of her life not dictated by what
her free sexuality brings her. She does "it" and then resents
the man who brings her no lasting satisfaction, and then runs to the
next town and the next man in panic. This film is balanced in portraying
the realities of feminine dissatisfaction without making anyone the
villain. In fact, the director plays a boyfriend who cannot keep up with
his new girls because he is just not emotionally and spiritually limber
enough.
Like Anywhere But Here, which was released earlier this year, Tumbleweeds
offers a non-preachy look at the maternal bond. Both films illustrate
the mother’s need to mature for the daughter’s sake. Usually,
parents know what’s best, but often, the real blessings of the
parental relationship may come when the parent accepts the child’s
demand to be present for the child’s sake.