Review: Annette
It’s hard to think of a bolder way for a film to start than for the director to demand the audience hold their breath for 140 minutes. And yet, a film with as long of a production as Annette should really demand nothing less, in all fairness. Especially because the result is something so staggeringly epic and excellent that, yes, it is perfectly capable of frequently taking your breath away.
Annette is less of the “movie musical” it’s been consistently pitched as and much more of a sweeping opera put to the screen. In order to put something so melodramatic into a format like film, director Leos Carax wisely cultivates a layer of blatant artifice, starting with the fourth-wall shattering “So May We Start” sequence. The number starts in the recording studio with Ron and Russell Mael of Sparks walking from their microphones, out of the studio, and meeting up with Adam Driver, Marion Cotillard, Simon Helberg, and a bunch of background actors. It’s a way of transitioning the audience into the often-jarring film, as Driver collects his costume and wig from crew members and takes off into the story, now in character for the rest of the runtime.
Perhaps the best example of deliberate artifice is in the depiction of the titular character, Annette. From the moment she first appears from between Cotillard’s legs, she’s a small wooden marionette puppet, somehow both a little terrifying and kind of adorable. While her presence is disarming and weird at first, there’s a turning point about halfway in where her odd presence finally clicks and makes perfect thematic sense. And of course, it helps that the actor most commonly opposite the puppet is Driver, who sells that this wooden prop is his own flesh and blood with remarkable ease and honesty.
Which brings us to the biggest feature of this film: Adam Driver's turn as comedian Henry McHenry. This is decidedly some of Driver’s best work, which is saying a lot with that impressive resumé of incredible roles. He throws himself into this role with an intense physicality that we haven’t seen from him since The Last Jedi. There are multiple moments here where his physical commitment to the insanity of this film, and his character within, left my jaw hanging open, absolutely stunned at the bizarre vulnerability being displayed by this actor who’s so normally withdrawn in real life. On top of this element for which Driver is so well-known, this film also showcases just how great of a singer Driver is. From the snarling rage of “You Used to Laugh”, to the mournful melancholy of “Stepping Back in Time” and “Sympathy for the Abyss”, to the rapidfire, anatomical lyrics of “The Zygomatic Rap”, his voice is as adaptable to any situation Sparks throw at him, as is his body.
All that being said, with how superbly and empathetically Driver performs, it can be easy to get swept up and forget that, at his core, Henry McHenry is a monstrous man. We’ve all seen Driver yell and scream and fight a million times by now, but it’s never been used to as great of effect as Carax achieves here, showing the underlying menace of a man that may not seem outwardly so. Driver has made a career of making villainous men into remarkably human characters through honest and brutal performances, but this is the one that echoes with the most truth, with the most real life parallels. It’s the abusive, problematic comedian we’ve seen so much in real life; simultaneously subtle and heightened-as-all-hell that lends to the staged falseness of it all. It doesn’t make sense; it shouldn’t work. And yet, because it’s Driver, it’s perfect.
Surrounding Driver is a supporting cast that’s doing a great deal with a little. Cotillard has a few great character moments and her own “I want” song that make Ann into a real enigma of a character, a human with so many layers and knots to untangle within her. Yet, we’re given very little time to grapple with and unravel this character.
The same can be said of Annette herself, with whom we only get one real song. While, in many other films, this treatment of women would be troubling and problematic, it makes sense here, in a film about the wasted potential of women surrounded by subpar, self-hating men who won’t hesitate to take advantage of their skills to get ahead.
All in all, everything culminates to such a wonderfully weird film that’s a perfect culmination of all those involved. It’s a Sparks opera, it’s a Leos Carax film, it’s an Adam Driver production. And it’s just as weird, compassionate, off-putting, heartfelt, lovely, and disarming as all that would suggest. Yes, that means that many will be completely turned-off and repulsed by it, but those who click with this weird little thing will find a wealth of fascinating material here to return to over and over again.
