Annette is a great movie if you go into it prepared. But then no one can really prepare for any Leos Carax movie. His last film, the exquisite Holy Motors defies expectations at every turn -a cacophony of eccentric vignettes, uniquely beautiful and at times chaotic (seriously if you haven’t, give it a watch -I guarantee it’s unlike any movie you’ve seen before!). His sensibility seems to be of a certain kind of poetically bizarre, compelling and hypnotizing and full of strong ideas.
The same might be said of Sparks, the weird cult pop band I only discovered earlier this year through Edgar Wright’s The Sparks Brothers, but who have been quietly working on this film with Carax for years -a movie that belongs to them just as much if not more than Carax in fact, being based on their original story (they and Carax share screenwriting credit) and filled with their music. Annette is essentially their rock opera filtered through the lens of this surreal French auteur. And it’s kind of a match made in heaven; the film opens with a single-shot tracking sequence not too dissimilar to the much acclaimed accordion interlude from Holy Motors, with Ron and Russell Mael and the cast members out of character singing directly to the audience the quirky “So May We Start” -the musicians’ and directors’ styles completely syncing right off the bat. It also might even give the opening number of In the Heights a run for its’ money! Carax himself appears in the recording studio here alongside his daughter in reference to the equally stunning opening scene of Holy Motors, and it’s clear he’s at home in this company.
The spawn of the weirdness generated by these two forces is something truly bewildering and magical. Largely sung-through, the movie tells the story of the relationship between an experimental comedian Henry McHenry (Adam Driver) and a famous opera soprano Ann Desfranoux (Marion Cotillard), and how their fame and respective reputations impacts Henry's ego. It is also the story of their daughter Annette -played rather conspicuously by a marionette- and the effects she has on her parents’ life.
That creative device will test the audience’s suspension of disbelief and be a breaking point for many -but it actually makes sense within the world that Carax and the Mael brothers create. There’s a theatricality to the whole film in its’ pace, its’ structure, even some of its’ acting, and especially in how it presents its’ world. The world is an exaggeration, often a parody of our own, especially the media and culture, which are depicted in the broadest possible terms. Likewise, broadly represented are people who are not the main characters. Henry will perform for an audience who will respond in unison to his material -they are a voice box with no minds of their own. And between Henry and Ann’s careers, quite a portion of the film takes place on a stage, other environments besides their house often having a distinct artificiality to them, such as in the storming ocean they go yachting against. All of these are choices that may feel strange on a film but are perfectly natural in theatre. The same goes for Little Annette, who in a stage production would absolutely be some form of artificial toddler. This deliberately unreal pervading atmosphere allows the puppet Annette to exist in this world, but it doesn’t necessarily answer for her being a puppet. That only comes through a choice late in the film that completely illuminates and recontextualizes everything before.
For one thing, it puts Henry in an even worse light, already a harsh, awful person whom Driver plays with an intensely astute sociopathy. As a stand-up he’s something of a bizarre mix of Steven Wright, Andy Kaufman, and a professional wrestler (also a touch of Eric Andre), who doesn’t so much make jokes as he pontificates on being a comedian whilst vocalizing tangential thoughts –often bordering more on performance art than anything. Only in Sparks’ universe could such a figure be a superstar. Driver is an excellent model of male resentment and patriarchal rage and the toxicity of celebrity, as Henry chases validation through spirals, scandals, crimes, and exploitation. Cotillard is very good too as his partner and rival, growing ever more fearful of him as she professionally surpasses him in goodwill and attention. Yet she remains a formidable figure in her own right. Rounding out the cast is Simon Helberg as her lovelorn accompanist and composer, whose relationship to the family goes through its’ own twists and turns.
As this plot all transpires, the films’ visual language and its’ dreamy atmosphere grow more and more interesting. Carax likes to experiment with the imagery of his films, stretch their expression and eccentricity, and Annette gives him plenty to work with -for as theatrical and deliberately unreal as its’ design is, it is exuberantly cinematic. He works in tandem with the movies’ core themes, envisioning and interpreting them in his own surreal, metaphorical, or sometimes heavily literal but very affecting way. There are some sensational moments here, one composition that sticks in my mind is the first time Baby Annette (who by this time we are used to and recognize her humanity) sings, as she and her father are washed ashore on a rock, a heavenly light cast all around her that looks like it might be out of a painting. It is of course a given that the way Carax stages and edits the musical sequences is invigorating too; rotating the camera around Helberg each time he stops his solo to conduct, or building the fantastical world of Cotillard's Aria, or even delicately lighting the lovemaking of Henry and Ann. And in this context, it is indeed true what Cotillard said about Driver singing while simulating oral sex.
“We Love Each Other So Much” is the song, the most frequently referenced motif of the film, and one that really shouldn’t work given it is largely just one phrase repeated ad infinitum; but the Maels manage to pull it off for its' direct simplicity. The rest of the songs in the piece are not as individually memorable, but as in the best rock operas they work in harmony with each other and with the pace of the film as a whole –though sequences like the “Aria”, “She’s Out of this World”, “Girl from the Middle of Nowhere”, “Let’s Waltz in the Storm”, and “Stepping Back in Time” have a certain staying quality, either for their music, their cinematic choreography, or both. And being as Sparks is not quite like any other band, the music of Annette is not quite like that of any other musical. Driver and Helberg aren’t the best singers (and Cotillard used a double for her operatic parts), but it is music that fits their range quite well –they also do a lot of talk-singing, which is easier for limited vocal capacities. It also matters more the integrity of what they put into the song and each actor does so with superb feeling and rawness. And much of the time its’ revolving around the fate of a puppet. This movie is amazing!
I expected nothing less from Carax, and perhaps even Sparks after seeing that documentary. Annette was still impressive, bewildering in the best way, and a movie that is extremely fresh and distinct from anything else coming out within its' radius. Its' portrait of celebrity and media, masculinity, resentment and entitlement (especially among comedians) is curiously resonant to these times for having been a process of over ten years. And I don’t doubt that it will continue to stick around in the minds of those who’ve seen it -much as Holy Motors does. It’s got too much of its’ own peculiar magic not to.
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