‘Emilia Perez’: visually stunning & narratively disappointing

Why I think the new Audiard tale falls flat

The first section of this review is spoiler-free.

Gracing the cover of Netflix Queue’s latest edition, the ensemble of actors leading Emilia Perez were awarded the accolade of Best Actress collectively at Cannes this year. Although the narrative they were working with actually quite reductive and diminished, their performances maximised the themes where they could.

Watching Emilia Perez with a foreword from Jacques Audiard himself, I was not only intrigued by the genre-bending telenovela-musical-crime-noir-thriller, but really setting myself up to be astounded.

Regrettably, some of what I thought was actually quite cringy seems to be what the film has been critically acclaimed for. With such great themes that could have stood to be explored with a more genuine, non-stereotypical lens, Audiard unfortunately ends up with another generalised tale of love and loss that isn’t specific to the trans experience and clearly a misunderstanding, judging by its reception from both Mexican and trans communities.

In the process of criticising the storyline, I don’t wish to downplay the true artistry of Gascon, Saldana and Gomez combined. Not only do they take lyrically-poor musical breaks and elevate them with their incredibly collaboration on screen, but they carry a story too heavy and broken to bear with surprising consistency. It is evident that each actor took the time to empathise with and understand the story of their character, and as a result, the personal journeys of characterisation were well-received and elicited a healthy amount of empathy. Yet again however, the weightless and redundant plot meant there was little to no reward for such an outstanding set of performances.

Spoilers ahead!

My main concern with Emilia is actually whether it needed to be a musical. I understand that the expression of the characters is, of course, detached from the main reality of the film through song; but surely true empowerment would be to showcase the characters as engaging with their emotions? There is a scene where Rita is visually sandwiched in between Emilia and Jessi as they rant about each other in song: not only did this feel comical but it also felt disingenuous to the very different types of frustration both women were feeling. With Emilia’s unwilling disconnection from her children and Jessi’s confusion and outrage at Emilia’s possession over her life, the singing detracts from these heavier themes and lightens the storytelling where it is not needed, or in fact welcomed.

Of course for Audiard, this form is experimental and expands the narrative possibilities in theory: it’s shame that in practice, it’s made Emilia’s story rather reductive.

I was thankful for the Spanish language’s dominance in the film at least retaining some element of realism and immersivity: without it, I think Saldana and Gascon’s performances especially would have failed to break through. When Rita and Manitas first meet in the unidentified cartel vehicle, the tension is palpable and enhanced by the insidiousness of Manitas’ tone, evoked further through their Spanish. The illusion is broken almost instantly when Manitas starts singing in a Lin-Manuel Miranda-esque way.

Regardless, there are some brilliant songs in the film; ‘Papa’ is a heart-wrenchingly sad tune and Gascon’s tears remind us why she was part of a Best Actress-winning ensemble. Where Audiard’s tale has failed, these women have picked up the slack, filled in the gaps, and marched on.

You can read my review on Letterboxd here.