Annette is one of the most brazen, weirdest films of the year. Even as a musical, it stands out from its peers. Directed by Leos Carax and with music by Sparks, it’s a tragic tale where two people come together and then come apart as their dueling natures pit them against each other.
The film is not aware of its artificiality, but also revels in it. It starts off with Carax, his daughter and Sparks singing a song called “So May We Start?” as they march through the streets, taking Henry McHenry (Adam Driver) and Ann Defranoux (Marion Cotillard) towards their vehicles so that they may start the film.
Henry and Ann are already in love when the film starts. They are from different worlds: Henry is a strange comedian who performs on stage in his bathrobe, raging against the world and holding his audience in contempt even as they lap it up. Ann, on the other hand, is an angelic soprano who is always dying during her performances. They come together and perform the simple yet moving ballad “We Love Each Other So Much”.
However, as they marry and have a daughter named Annette, they start to grow apart, with Ann worrying that she didn’t really know Henry, while he self-destructs and becomes an alcoholic. Tragedy strikes during a boat trip as they are caught in a storm, and in the aftermath, Henry discovers an unexpected boon with Annette, who sings beautifully even though she’s preternaturally young.
As much as this is Leo Carax’s film, deeply personal and open, it wouldn’t work without the power of the central performances. Driver continues to show why he’s one of the best actors working today by portraying a complex character who succumbs to his darkness. Cotillard, in contrast, is innocent, almost pure. Simon Helberg also stands out as the conductor who secretly pines for Ann.
The songs are literal, sometimes jarringly so. Most of them aren’t earworms, but they are the main method of telling the story. If you are looking for something as lyrically popping as Hamilton, you will probably be disappointed.
Then there’s Annette, the character herself, who is represented by a puppet for most of the film. She is clearly made of wood, but there’s an expressiveness to her eyes that seem eerie and soulful. Cotillard fills in for Annette’s singing, which is apt due to plot reasons I cannot divulge. At the end of the film, she finally ‘becomes’ human, which might be a commentary of her escaping her parents’ clutches and being able to assert her own individuality.
It’s hard to recommend Annette to people, as you might end up either loving it or hating it.
It’s a work of singular vision, and although it is more accessible than most avant garde films, it is not as easily digestible as even something like La La Land.
If you have Prime Video, give it a try and see if you can watch through the first thirty minutes. If you hate it, you can always binge watch comfort food content like Schitt’s Creek or Brooklyn Nine-Nine.