'The Last Day' Review: Alicia Vikander and Victoria Pedretti Shine in a Striking Mrs. Dalloway

The Tribeca Festival has long been a vital launchpad for daring independent cinema, but few films at this year's iteration capture the quiet, suffocating anxieties of modern suburban motherhood quite like The Last Day. Marking the feature debut of writer-director Rachel Rose, this evocative drama places Oscar-winner Alicia Vikander and The Haunting of Hill House breakout Victoria Pedretti into a contemporary, loose adaptation of Virginia Woolf's seminal 1925 novel, Mrs. Dalloway. By trading post-World War I London for an affluent, tree-lined suburb outside New York City on the eve of the Fourth of July, Rose crafts a dual-character study that strips away the polished veneer of domestic bliss to expose the profound alienation of women lost within their own lives.

Quick summary

• A Modern Literary Reimagining: Writer-director Rachel Rose adapts Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway into a contemporary suburban drama focusing on two mothers navigating different stages of identity crisis over the course of a single day.
• Stellar Lead Performances: Alicia Vikander stars as Julia, a former writer mourning her lost ambition, while Victoria Pedretti delivers a raw portrayal of Taylor, a new mother suffering from severe, unaddressed postpartum distress.
• A Tribeca Spotlight: The film, which features key supporting performances from Wagner Moura and Marin Ireland, premiered at the Tribeca Festival under the Spotlight Narrative section.

Why it matters

Beyond its academic and literary pedigree, The Last Day serves as a sharp, timely critique of the systemic pressures placed on modern mothers. By presenting two women at vastly different points of maternal isolation—one mourning her lost creative identity after a decade of marriage, the other drowning in the physical and emotional demands of a newborn—the film challenges the idealized societal narrative of domestic fulfillment. In an era where maternal mental health is increasingly entering public policy and cultural conversations, Rose’s feature debut provides an uncompromising look at how easily women's identities are erased by domestic expectations and societal indifference. It highlights the stark contrast between outward social compliance and inward psychological collapse.

Background

Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway has historically been a fertile ground for cinematic reinterpretation, most famously inspiring Michael Cunningham’s novel and the subsequent Oscar-winning film The Hours. Interestingly, The Last Day arrives amid a broader global trend of filmmakers reframing Woolf's narrative; Neon's recent Cannes premiere Clarissa, for instance, transposed the classic story to modern-day Lagos, Nigeria. Rachel Rose’s adaptation moves the setting to a wealthy enclave in upstate New York, focusing on the sensory overload and emotional detachment that can occur within spaces of immense material comfort. This shift allows the film to examine how class and privilege do not insulate women from existential dread, but can instead serve to mute or invalidate their suffering in the eyes of those around them.

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What makes The Last Day an exceptionally cautious yet vital piece of filmmaking is its refusal to offer easy cinematic resolutions or sentimental breakthroughs. Director Rachel Rose relies heavily on visual abstraction—such as extreme close-ups that slowly resolve into recognizable objects—to mirror her protagonists' psychological disorientation. This stylistic choice suggests that the modern domestic landscape has become foreign and hostile to these women. By juxtaposing Julia’s intellectual stagnation with Taylor’s visceral postpartum crisis, the film illustrates a continuum of female erasure. It is an editorial reminder that societal structures still treat maternal obedience as a baseline expectation, leaving women to silently navigate their identities in the shadows of their families' needs.

A Tale of Two Mothers: Ambition vs. Survival

The narrative structure of The Last Day mirrors the single-day timeline of Woolf's novel, tracking Julia (Alicia Vikander) as she runs errands ahead of her annual Fourth of July party. Julia was once a promising writer, but she hasn’t penned a word since getting married and having a child over a decade ago. This Independence Day becomes a bridge between her past and future, catalyzed by a series of tense encounters. She crosses paths with her novelist ex-boyfriend, Peter (a soulful Wagner Moura), reigniting old arguments about career and family choices. A subsequent meeting with a literary agent, Ellen (played with sharp realism by Marin Ireland), serves as a painful reminder of her creative stagnation, while a visit to her deceased father's apartment forces her to confront unresolved grief and maternal abandonment.

By contrast, Taylor’s (Victoria Pedretti) day feels stuck in an unbearable, suffocating present. Unlike Julia, who has a history to look back on, Taylor is a new mother whose life has shrunk to the immediate demands of her baby. Her journey takes her through a series of mundane but exhausting trials: the pediatrician's office, the local library, and the grocery store. Pedretti’s performance is devastatingly raw, capturing the posture of a woman who wishes to disappear. While Julia’s struggle is intellectual and existential, Taylor’s is an acute crisis of survival, where even her own memories seem to have been replaced by the overwhelming anxiety of the present.

The Visual Aesthetics of Suburban Isolation

Rachel Rose and her creative team use precise visual and atmospheric cues to heighten the film's sense of disorientation. Costume designer April Napier dresses Taylor in a bright, fire-engine red sweatshirt that clashes violently with the tasteful, tree-lined streets of upstate New York. The garment acts as a visual distress signal—as jarring as the sirens that occasionally pierce the idyllic suburban soundscape. Yet, despite this loud visual cry for help, the characters around Taylor remain oblivious to her suffering.

The film highlights how society socializes women to under-react to their own pain. When Taylor’s husband gets called away to work, or when a security guard demands she re-scan her grocery items, she complies without pushback. Her passivity is mistaken by those around her as proof that she is coping. Vikander’s Julia exhibits a similar socialized restraint; when a younger colleague of her husband’s calls her "a grownup," or when Ellen airily praises stay-at-home moms, Julia maintains a perfectly composed face, even as irritation bubbles just beneath the surface. It is this shared, quiet endurance that unites the two women, despite their different circumstances.

Finding Transcendence in the Mundane

While The Last Day can occasionally tilt toward the cryptic, its strength lies in its profound empathy. The film does not seek to provide tidy answers to the complex questions it raises about motherhood, sacrifice, and identity. Instead, it offers a space to observe and validate the characters' disillusionment. From the opening scene—where a baby deer stares at its dead mother on the roadside—to the climactic fireworks that fill the night sky, Rose seeks out moments of transcendence within the ordinary. It is a powerful reminder of the delicate, often invisible threads that keep us connected to ourselves and to each other.

Sources

This review and analysis are based on coverage of The Last Day from its premiere at the Tribeca Festival, with primary reference to the critical review published by The Hollywood Reporter.