Emilia Pérez

The movie musical’s continued cycle of resurgence has a new entry with Jacques Audiard’s bombastic, audacious melodrama about a cartel kingpin (Karla Sofía Gascón) who leaves her criminal life, her wife Jessi (Selena Gomez), and her children behind to live her authentic life as a woman.

She cuts all ties with the past and changes her name as part of her gender transition. Hiring the ambitious young lawyer Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldaña) to arrange her gender-affirming surgeries and the safety of her family, Emilia Pérez starts a new life raising money for the families of those murdered, disabled, or disappeared by organised crime. Of course, starting over is not quite that easy – especially where her family is involved, and Rita’s own feelings become more complicated.

“…the film is aurally and visually ugly, and the way in which it uses Mexican drug violence and cartels as scenery without engaging with the social reality leaves a bad taste. Worst of all, it is a musical that is ashamed of being a musical..”

EMILIA PÉREZ is heavily inspired by the shocking twists and family secrets of telenovelas, and the casting of telenovela star Gascón as Emilia enhances this genre choice. Unfortunately, the film is aurally and visually ugly, and the way in which it uses Mexican drug violence and cartels as scenery without engaging with the social reality leaves a bad taste. Worst of all, it is a musical that is ashamed of being a musical; songs begin half-mumbled, as in the disastrous film adaptation of DEAR EVAN HANSEN and barely progress beyond speech to rhythm. It is as if Audiard and company do not want to scare the non-musical fans away, yet committing to the genre’s style wholeheartedly and without embarrassment would have made the big, bold leaps of the plot land with more power.

“The idea that transforming the body can transform the mind and soul is quasi-Jamesian and extremely reductive, but [Gascón’s] performance is fully human, transcending sole scriptwriter Audiard’s exploitative tendencies”

Gascón’s vocal lines are written too high for her, which also sits uneasily with the film’s simplistic treatment of gender (breaking down what men and women are “supposed to” sound like still plagues musical theatre and opera genres). Despite this hurdle thrown by the songwriters, hers is a powerhouse performance, capturing a woman whose freedom in her gender opens new avenues for emotional expression and social power. The idea that transforming the body can transform the mind and soul is quasi-Jamesian and extremely reductive, but her performance is fully human, transcending sole scriptwriter Audiard’s exploitative tendencies. His camera, by contrast, often gawks at bodies under transformation, rendering them objects of entertainment rather than individuals.

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