Jacques Audiad – Movie Musings

Controversial arthouse film which clumsily tries to do to many things, many of them not well

Director: Jacques Audiard

Cast: Zoe Saldaña (Rita Mora Castro), Karla Sofía Gascón (Emilia Pérez/Juan “Manitas” Del Monte), Selena Gomez (Jessi Del Monte), Adriana Paz (Epifanía Flores), Édgar Ramírez (Gustavo Brun), Mark Ivanir (Dr. Wasserman)

Sometimes a film comes along that manages to annoy everyone. Emilia Pérez seems to have achieved that unwanted goal. Jacques Audiard’s Cannes Jury Prize winner is a wild, audacious piece of film-making that misses as much as it hits. It’s also been bashed as a musical full of people who can’t really sing, denounced as transphobic, and savaged by Mexicans. Perhaps Emilia Pérez shows us the downside when an auteur French director works with Netflix who accidentally promote what would have otherwise been a little-seen arthouse film into the heart of a culture war. I don’t think Emilia Pérez intends to be racist or transphobic (but yeah most of the cast can’t sing), but it does deal with these issues at times very clumsily. It’s also a curious mish-mash that places a transitioning character in a traditional “hard-to-escape-your-past” plot.

That transitioning character is Emilia Pérez (Karla Sofía Gascón), formerly a notorious drug-lord. With the (initially coerced) aid of crusading lawyer Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldaña), Emilia succeeds in faking her death, moving her family to Switzerland to protect them, extricating a fortune from her criminal empire and flying to Israel for her operation. Four years later, Emilia finds she can’t live without her children and Rita is roped back into retrieve her wife Jessi (Selena Gomez) and kids and move them in with their “aunt” Emilia. Simultaneously Emilia, wanted to be cleansed of her criminal past, starts a foundation to “discover” the graves of those killed in Mexico’s drug wars. But returning to a world she left behind only makes it harder for Emilia to escape her criminal past.

Emilia Pérez: an Audiard crime story with songs! Audiard described it as an opera fantasia, and I feel it was his intention for nothing in it to be treated as traditionally “real”. The characters frequently burst into song or throw themselves into dream-like dance sequences to express complex feelings. Aside from the film’s explosive, guns-blaring conclusion, filmed on isolated, dusty, abandoned houses and roads, key scenes are tightly shot on sparse sets with very little back lighting, giving them a dreamy black-box effect. Emotions are as heightened as the (sometimes clumsy) lyrics and the film throws itself into every dialled-up event with a comic-book energy.

All of which means Emilia Pérez is an acquired taste and, like many ambitious films that zig when they should zag, fails as often as it hits the jackpot. Its finest scenes are the key song-and-dance numbers, all left in the hands of Zoe Saldaña (excellently torn between idealism, fear, cynicism and regret with complex feelings about her dubious employer). Saldaña is a dynamic and fearless dance performer, throwing herself into synchronised movements through a Mexican market in the film’s opening “El Alegato” and dominating the film’s central show-piece, an athletic, sensual dance around and over tables at a charity ball in “El Mal”.

But even Saldaña falls foul of the film’s largest musical failing: with the exception of Selena Gomez (who struggles with a Mexican accent so terrible, even non-Spanish speakers can tell it’s awful) no one in the cast can really sing. Criticism like that somehow feels shallow when you apply it to an arthouse film, but it’s legitimate. The cast largely go for fast-paced, Henry-Higgins-ish, rhythmic speaking, big on husky intensity but not exactly something you would sit and listen to. Gascón is a particularly poor singer, especially noticeable with the operatic high notes she is frequently given. Even the controversial AI-upgrade her voice was given in post-production can’t help her.

Throw into that the clumsiness of some of the lyrics. For a film dealing with as sensitive an issue as this, are lyrics like “Man to woman or woman to man? Man to woman. From penis to vagina” really a good idea? Is a song about Emilia’s son singing about how her smell reminds him of his Dad (body smell being a hot topic for this community) tasteful? Since this issue (the perception of bodily odours) is a key issue for the trans community, writing a whimsical song about it rather suggests Audiard and team didn’t really do enough to wrap their heads around controversial issues.

Perhaps that’s because Emilia Pérez is, at heart, a classic “just when I thought I was out…” movie that tries to spice up the formula by having its gangster character be a trans woman (the partial implication of a sex change being a type of disguise is another hot-topic issue the filmmakers should have got themselves familiar with). It does, I think, make for a fresh take to see even incredibly macho, hardened killers can have longings like Emilia – and Gascón’s performance is actually at its best showing the fear that lies below the aggression before Emilia’s transition, and when embracing her tearful joy at the success of her operation. But the point remains this is a film not looking to make a real statement on transgender issues, or even demonstrating any real interest in the experience of being trans. It is instead just using a trans identity as a new context for a familiar “starting a new life” storyline. With minimal changes, Emilia could have undergone extensive plastic surgery or gone into witness protection and it would have made few changes to plot or themes.

It is interesting to get a trans character who is not always completely sympathetic (although I get that the community find it a blow upon a bruise to finally get a film with a trans lead, and she’s as a morally questionable and unlikeable as this). Emilia’s desire to restart her life away from crime is fatally undermined by refusing to make the sacrifices needed. Slowly she drags her family back in (passing herself off, Mrs Doubtfire-like, as her own sister), reconnects with the criminal underworld (albeit for humanitarian reasons) and reverts to the threats and violence she used in her old life (when, let’s not forget, she had a plastic bag slammed over Rita’s head to motivate her).

Emilia Perez also never explores the outrageous moral stance of a murderer in a new life, using their knowledge to “help” their victims by “discovering” the graves of people she ordered put in the ground. In fact, the only person affected by Emilia’s past crimes whom the film shows her encountering is the widow of an abusive husband (who is actually grateful to the gangsters for saving her the trouble). It scrupulously avoids any contact with, say, a grieving relative of one of her past victims. Similarly, the film avoids engaging with Emilia’s appalling emotional manipulation of her family. Karla Sofía Gascón gives a committed performance, but she is not able to coalesce all these complicated feelings into a character that feels real and the film constantly veers awkwardly between giving her implied criticism and absolution.

Audiard offering not exactly the most flattering image of Mexico was the final nail in the film’s coffin, even if to be honest it’s his nationality as the face of a film about Mexico (Paz is the only Mexican involved) that has probably raised most hackles. Emilia Pérez has moments where Audiard’s impressive film-making stands out, a dance number captures your imagination or there is a flash of compelling acting. But then it will segue into the sort of scenes we’ve seen in hundreds of crime movies, or songs so out-there they raise the wrong sort of gasps. Emilia Pérez might not be intentionally trying to be racist or transphobic, but it certainly handles both themes with real clumsiness. Fundamentally, it’s a traditional plot told in an outlandish style, over-exposed into a world of criticism that Audiard (who has basically apologised if people don’t like the movie) and his collaborators just weren’t ready for. The film itself? Good moments, bad moments, but not worth all the fuss.

Matthias Schoenaerts and Marion Cotillard in an unusual romantic drama

Director: Jacques Audiad

Cast: Marion Cotillard (Stéph), Matthias Schoenaerts (Ali), Armand Verdure (Sam), Corinne Masiero (Anna), Céline Sallette (Louise), Bouli Lanners (Martial)

Audiad’s films combine cinematic artistry with profound, sometimes elliptical, character studies that provoke great work from talented actors. Rust and Bone is no exception.

It’s the plot of a melodrama, staged like social-realism. Written down it sounds like the purest Hollywood schlock: crippled killer whale trainer Stéph (Cotillard) enters into a friendship that grows deeper with would-be kickboxer Ali (Schoenarts), who has a troubled relationship with his 5-year-old son. But the realistic portrayal of the pain of losing your limbs (in a scene of raw intensity from Cotillard) and Ali’s troubled homelife, penchant for casual sex and occasional resorting to violence when frustrated, pegs the film style farcloser to a hard-edged Bicycle Thieves. The film also has a lyrical poetry about it, as their relationship gently develops from friends with benefits to genuine feeling, which stops it from feeling gritty or hard-edged.

The film’s main strength is the brilliance of its two leads. Cotillard is outstanding as a passionate free-spirit whose entire world ends overnight. Her expressive face carries a host of confused feelings which shift and reform across her like a human kaleidoscope. Stéph’s vulnerability is married with a great strength of character, but Cotillard avoids many of the clichés of movie paraplegics by making her a woman who adapts without anger to her new condition. Instead, after overcoming depression, Stéph is looking actively (and with a curiosity) for something new to fill her life with.

Cotillard is so wonderful in the role, it’s very easy to overlook Schoenaerts’ skilful underplaying and Brandoish physical mastery. Ali is, I’ve got to be honest, a hard character to like – selfish, childish, in many ways thoughtless, blunt and fixated on himself. He’s also a terrible dad. Not malicious or cruel, just easily bored and frustrated with his kid. This frustration appears with anyone who doesn’t react the way he wants – “You’re so annoying!” he whines at both Stéph and Sam. Despite this, Schoenaerts’ is the heart of the movie. The film is his story, and he makes a difficult character engaging enough to carry the audience with him.

Rust and Bone is a film constructed around brilliant scenes and striking moments. In a wonderful sequence, Stéph repeats the arm signals she used to train the whales: at first she seems sad, then a warmth of enjoyment crosses her face. It’s the prompt for her to revisit the zoo, but the visit seems bittersweet: we see hugs with her friends, but Audiad cuts out the dialogue, adding to Cotillard’s own confused feelings about her return. Later she visits the whale that crippled her. Her mood here (with the camera to her back) is hard to read – is she forgiving the whale? Is she saying goodbye to this part of her life? Moments like this work so well because of the brilliance and humanity of the performances of both leads and Audiad’s patience and control as a filmmaker.

Audiad packs this beautiful film with moments like this. I particularly liked the bookend images he uses for each act. Each sets up the act thematically, from a bloodied tooth spinning on a pavement to the cover of a transit van flapping in motion. Audiad bathes the film in a series of cool blue colours, interspersed with flashes of light at moments of suggested revelation. He also has the discipline not to belabour the points of scenes or hammer home the feelings of characters (sometimes leaving you wanting more definition for the emotions they experience).

For a film immersed (to a certain degree) in a social realist world, there are odd gaps in logic: after throwing Ali out of her home (at gun point!) over his serial disregard for Sam, his indirect responsibility for her losing her job and his stroppy temper, would Anna really happily allow Sam to visit him a few months later? The disappearance of Stéph for much of the final reel of the film also pulls the focus from the central relationship and makes the final ending both rather sudden and slightly pat, out of step with the rest of the movie.

Audiad does bring a degree of engaging ambiguity to the story. The relationship between Ali and Stéph is intriguingly hard to define. She seems drawn to him for his lack of guile and his treatment of her disability with a matter-of-factness free of pity or embarrassment (qualities that linger around many of her other interactions). However, shifts in her character over the course of the film are deliberately kept low-key and open-ended, allowing moments where she surprises herself and the audience with the strength of her feeling. Similarly, the lack of depth in Ali’s personality makes his emotional development halting and discordant – he is attracted to her physically, but which qualities in her cause those feelings to deepen? It’s not immediately clear watching it – and I suspect many viewers would have different opinions from watching this curiously inscrutable film.

It’s a thoughtful film, but somehow never quite as moving as you expect. I think a lot of your connection with it depends on how much you feel Ali deserves redemption, or if you can forgive the constant stream of selfish and thoughtless things he does. I’m not quite sure I did. Similarly Stéph remains, for all the expressive humanity Cotillard brings to her, strangely unknowable.

That’s partly the problem with the film. Despite its beauty, it’s a little too enigmatic to be completely engaging. Wonderfully shot, and strangely haunting as it is, I think this is one every viewer will have a personal reaction to. I can imagine many would be deeply moved by its blue-tinted mystery and fragile dissection of damaged souls. For me it didn’t quite have the impact I think the film needs, and I didn’t feel this love story quite coalesced into a something truly profound in itself. It’s a beautifully made and intelligent film but not one I fell in love with – though I can imagine many people have.