Annette

The latest film from director Leos Carax (Holy Motors, Mauvais sang, Boy Meets Girl) is written by Ron and Russell Mael of the band Sparks, who also composed the music and songs. But Annette is not a musical; it’s a modern opera. When we think of musicals or rock operas, we think of catchy tunes and lyrics full of clever wordplay. Whereas modern operas are often dissonant, non-melodic affairs where the vocals are meant to act as just one of many intermingling acoustics. The words sung by the actors are often as repetitive as the notes played by any other instrument. The effect of these recurrent words and phrases can be hypnotic and their meaning often changes in a fascinating Sanford Meisner kind of way.

Annette begins as the story of an unlikely romance between provocative stand-up comedian Henry McHenry (Adam Driver) and celebrated Opera singer Ann Desfranoux (Marion Cotillard). Their public courtship occurs at a tipping point in both of their careers; the press coverage of the relationship makes Ann more famous and Henry more infamous. Driver delivers yet another terrific and surprising performance, but it takes quite a while before those surprises kick in. The movie begins with a production number where we see the filmmakers and actors out of character, priming the audience for what we’re about to see. It’s a cool opening but it doesn’t actually set the stage all that well. The catchy pop song leads us to believe the rest of the music that follows will be in the same vein, and although it sets up the performative nature of this melodrama about performers, it doesn’t establish how the world of the film is going to work.

For example, when we see Ann performing on stage, we understand that we’re going into her head and seeing her thoughts as much as we’re watching her performing for an audience. But when we see Henry on stage, we can’t really tell if this is the filmmakers’ operatic interpretation of what an edgy male stand-up comedian’s show is like, or if it’s meant as a literal kind of performance art that his act has evolved into as he’s become more famous for being provocative than funny. Either way, it’s hard to understand why anyone would be drawn to him—Ann or his fans. It’s a little like if you were introduced to Lenny Bruce by only seeing the drug-addled First Amendment rants he did on stage after losing his obscenity conviction. You’d wonder, why is this guy considered such a groundbreaking comedian? 

A similar confusion occurs watching Henry strut around on stage in a boxer's robe, interacting with four backup singers, and addressing his adoring audience, since most crowds that cheer controversial stand-ups would never go for a show like this. And the toxic meltdown he has on stage that causes his fans to turn on him doesn’t seem all that different from what we’ve seen him do before, which they loved. Maybe that’s the point—his act doesn’t really change, the public’s perception of him changes because of his off-stage life. But in this day in age, when the lines between celebrities’ public and private lives have blurred completely, isn’t it on stage when performers like this are the most accepted?

But all issues around the credibility and logic of what we see in this sluggish first act become irrelevant once Henry and Ann marry and give birth to a daughter, the titular Annette. The film that bears her name shifts effortlessly into the kind of magical unreality Carax is known for—a filmmaking style he helped pioneer called the “cinéma du look.” As each stylistic element in the movie is heightened, the themes take on greater weight. What at the beginning seems a shallow exploration of the nature of fame transforms into a surprisingly deep meditation on artistic expression and exploitation. The tension and drama become increasingly engaging through to the devastating final scene, which could never have been as powerful without everything that came before. So, while I can’t say I loved Annette or will be eager to see it again, of all the films I’ve seen since theaters reopened in 2021, it’s the one that has stayed with me the longest.