Jacques Audiard is one of those filmmakers whose work varies so greatly that I never quite know what to expect. I’ve loved some of his work and, with equal intensity, loathed others. His latest, Emilia Pérez, a Spanish crime musical, falls firmly in the latter camp. In fact, it feels less like a film and more like a crime in itself.
Emilia Pérez unfolds the story of Juan Del Monte, known as Manitas (Karla Sofía Gascón), who dreams of escape, not just from his fate as a drug lord but into a new self as a woman. Seeking transformation, he turns to Rita (Zoe Saldaña), an overlooked lawyer navigating a world of men, to find a surgeon who can alter his destiny. She also helps her plot a new path, arranging for Manitas’s wife, Jessi (Selena Gomez), and their children to settle in Switzerland, while he prepares to emerge as Emilia. But as the years pass, Emilia’s heart aches for the family she left behind. She asks Rita to reunite them in Mexico, now under the guise of a distant cousin of Manitas. Yet as dreams and reality collide, the threads of their lives begin to tangle, bringing complexities that none of them could foresee.
One of the most bewildering choices Audiard makes in Emilia Pérez is the jarring transformation of Manitas, once a merciless drug lord responsible for countless deaths, into Emilia, a saintly figure who channels her wealth into founding an NGO dedicated to helping the widows and families of cartel victims recover their loved ones’ remains. Audiard further complicates this characterisation: whenever Emilia handles things in a dangerous and brutal way, he casts her with the voice and appearance of her former male self. This decision raises unsettling questions about subconscious transphobia and gender essentialism in a film that centres trans experience by casting a real-life trans actor as its titular trans character.
The film is also, at its core, heartless. Despite the Cannes jury, led by Greta Gerwig, awarding Best Actress to Gascón, Gomez, Saldaña, and Adriana Paz (who plays Emilia’s lover), none were given well-developed characters to work with. Instead, they’re swept into ghastly musical numbers and dragged along as mere prompts for a storyline that leads nowhere. Audiard ambitiously aims to tackle themes of gender, sexuality, identity, and the sociopolitical landscape of Mexico, yet what unfolds is a chaotic blend of slogan-style musical numbers, gunfights, and jarring aesthetic choices. The film lacks the intent and patience to engage these subjects with nuance, leaving only a disjointed spectacle. Ironically, it makes the actresses’ performances all the more impressive, as they manage to carve out moments of sincerity in this cold-hearted carnival.
Like the worst of films, Emilia Pérez concludes in a way that betrays its characters, wrapped in a careless haze. Sloppy and indifferent, it feels as if even Audiard couldn’t see his way out of this farce, turning to bursts of sensational music as a last resort. But by then,it is far too late to breathe life into this heartless tragedy.
Emilia Perez. Karla Sofía Gascón as Emilia Perez in Emilia Perez. Cr. Shanna Besson/Pathé © 2024.
Credit: Shanna Besson/Pathé