"Emilia Pérez" review — Queer cartel musical reaches for the stars
“Here I am.”
The opening musical number of Jacques Audiard’s eccentric Emilia Pérez is a murmur, more than an explosive, welcome-to-the-show moment. The quickly-uttered, staccato lyrics begin with lawyer Rita Moro Castro’s defence of a man she knows is guilty. As she writes her expertly penned closing argument, which will be spoken by her incompetent senior lawyer the next morning, her pleas for a man riddled with sin begin to be taken up by the chorus around her, building into an intricately choreographed dance. But the energy just remains a simmer, water ready to boil, never reaching its climax. The lawyer, undervalued by her colleagues and defending tabloid-attracting criminals, finds herself distinctly disillusioned with her field of work. She’s good at what she does. Within a few minutes, we see her client walk out of the courthouse scott-free. Rita, as we’ll get to know her, is certainly a woman with a sense of right and wrong, but her morals are certainly more pliable than she would like. Soon, she’s presented with the chance to make it rich, if only she works undercover for one of the nation’s most notorious druglords. And in this fictionalized version of Mexico City, that kind of money is hard to turn down.
Exploding out of this year’s Cannes Film Festival with divisive, frantic reactions and both the Jury Prize and Best Actress awards under its belt, Emilia Pérez has finally finished up its festival circuit and is making its way to theatres and its eventual home on Netflix later this month. Having caught the film back at the Vancouver International Film Festival in October, I can understand the energy this film has generated, for both good and ill. Emilia Pérez, a Spanish-language French queer musical drama, is certainly a memorable film, if not an entirely satisfying and often frustrating one. Gleaming with potential, a star-studded ensemble, and a vivid sense of imagination, the film strives for greatness, yet can never quite achieve its lofty aspirations. The film details the story of a mobster who leaves behind her life of crime and undergoes gender-affirming surgery, before returning home to patch up her old life under a new name. And it’s a musical. This premise hints at something unbridled, perhaps even transgressive, for the film to step into. Maybe images of Divine in a John Waters movie cross your mind. But that’s far from the tone writer/director Jacques Audiard takes here. The film carries itself with a sense of weight, parsing through the depths of Mexico’s complicated social problems. I cannot fully embrace Emilia Pérez, but the film is certainly interesting and quite ambitious, even if it buckles under its own weight.
 |
| Karla Sofía Gascón and Zoe Saldaña in Emilia Pérez. Photo via Netflix. |
Set in present-day Mexico City, criminal defence lawyer Rita Mora Castro (brought to life by Zoe Saldaña) finds herself employed by the ferocious mob boss “Manitas” Del Monte, who wants Rita to do one simple task: stage her death, escort her family out of the country, and arrange a series of gender-affirming surgeries for her so she can live her authentic life as a woman. Rita accepts Manitas’ offer, quickly shuttling herself all over the world in search of the best doctors and physicians to perform the transformation. Manitas’ wife, Jessi (played by Selena Gomez), and his two children are sent away to a chalet in Switzerland “for their safety,” although Jessi has her suspicions. And then the news breaks that Manitas died in a horrific gang-related shoot-out, letting the gangster slip quietly away. Moments later, we’re jumping four years into the future, when Rita encounters the fully-formed Emilia Pérez (played by Karla Sofía Gascón) at a restaurant in London, who wants to use her carefully stashed criminal fortune to fight social injustice in Mexico. The two begin an organization that searches for the bodies of the thousands of missing men and women across the country who died in gang-related violence and reunite the remains with their families. But soon, Emilia’s organization puts her and Rita a little too far into the spotlight while her familial relationships begin to come apart.
That aforementioned Best Actress win at Cannes was, in fact, awarded jointly to all four of the film’s leads, which is a testament to the combined power of Karla Sofía Gascón, Zoe Saldaña, Selena Gomez, and Adriana Paz. The four are electric on screen, even if Audiard’s script can never quite give the actors enough to work with. Gascón’s dual roles are layered in nuance and tenderness, giving her so much command over the screen. Saldaña is considered and impassioned, with her stand-out musical moment in the film’s second half being one of the most memorable moments in a film this year. Gomez, whose acting star has only continued to grow in recent years, adds so much anger and fire to her role. Paz plays the smallest role in the drama, but she’s exceptional here as well. She plays Epifanía, a young widow who comes into contact with Emilia’s organization when they discover the corpse of her abusive husband. This secondary romance adds so much life and character to the film’s second act, giving a strong feeling of hope to a film that stews in the darkness of a corrupt social system.
 | |
|
But while these three lead performances are excellent, it’s hard not to feel like the characters aren’t realized to their fullest potential in Audiard’s scripting. The relationship between the reunited Jessi and Emilia might be the strongest indictment. Emilia, pretending to be Manitas’ distant cousin, brings Jessi and the children back to Mexico City. The dynamic remains woefully underbaked, never letting the two fully encounter each other, which misses out on the complexity and richness of this relationship. When Emilia’s double life is so unexplored, the central relationships never reach the emotional depth they could. Meanwhile, Rita becomes increasingly detached as her desires and agency are pushed to the periphery of the story, leaving her feeling like an exaggerated messenger for Emilia. Paz’s Epifanía lacks any sort of significant resolution to her story. As the film zeroes in on Emilia and Jessi in the final act, Epifanía falls unfortunately to the wayside. All four of these characters are full of deep-seated insecurities, conflicting desires, questionable senses of right and wrong, and rich backstories that lend themselves to very carefully constructed people. The performances certainly acknowledge the depth waiting to be discovered within these women. And yet, the actual screenplay fails to give the right time to uncover the beauty waiting to be found.
Like another divisive, but far less imaginative, fall 2024 film, Emilia Pérez is one of the few original filmic musicals produced in a calendar year (and a dramatic musical as well). While categorized as a “musical,” the film only ever feels tinged in music, with sparse musical phrases and occasional bursts of choreography creeping into the drama, but it hardly ever takes over. The music is often internal and reflective, rather than external and exploratory. The characters sing in their fantasies, expressing unmet desires and frustrations, only to return to a music-less reality. The film, based on an un-produced libretto by Audiard, uses its moments of musicality as temporary pauses in the more dialogue-driven narrative. Much of the use of music is quite effective, especially when Audiard and composer Camille indulge in the more Broadway-esque ensemble numbers. The song “Aquí Estoy,” featured partway through the film’s runtime, is one of the film’s highlights and most emotionally affecting sequences. However, it’s but an isolated moment. The film’s approach to its music is far too half-in, half-out. Audiard never seems to commit to the bit fully enough. The musical moments, stuck in the frustrating realm of fantasy, are never paired fully with the narrative in the way I would like.
 | |
|
These frustrations are greatly disappointing. Audiard appears on the precipice of doing something truly great with this film: a film that tells a complicated story in an original way, with beautiful performances and some stunning production work to boot. The film looks and sounds incredible, thanks to its lively score and original songs, cinematography by Paul Guilhaume, and choreography by Damien Jalet. Emilia Pérez is one of the year’s most interesting movies, even if it results in a largely difficult experience. It’s impossible to fault Audiard for not being ambitious. The film is nothing if not ambitious. It takes some incredibly big swings, from its subject matter to its choice to be a musical. So many of Audiard’s big swings pay off. And still so many more fail. It saddens me that I didn’t love this film more. Emilia Pérez has the makings of something so intriguing and exciting, perhaps something truly great, but this version of Audiard’s story doesn’t quite get there. It just simmers, never boiling.
Emilia Pérez is now playing in select theatres and begins streaming on Netflix on November 13.
Comments
Post a Comment