Rating 5/10
There’s an entertaining movie buried within the 132 minutes it takes to watch Emilia Pérez. Part musical, part crime story, part drug cartel saga, part comedy, and part trans-activist tale, the film attempts to be everything to everyone. It’s a lot. Too much, in fact, ultimately failing to find a consistent tone. What dominates the runtime is a dreary, self-serious crime drama—the most clichéd and least compelling aspect. It’s a frustrating choice, especially given the potential found in its more vibrant moments.
Zoe Saldaña stars as Rita Mora Castro, a disillusioned lawyer in Mexico. Rita’s world changes when she’s confronted by a lucrative proposal. Cartel boss Juan “Manitas” Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón) wishes to secretly transition to live as a woman and leave his criminal lifestyle behind. With Rita’s help, Manitas undergoes a life-altering surgery and re-emerges as Emilia Pérez, beginning a new existence devoted to charity. Emilia even finds love with Epifanía Flores (Adriana Paz) while concealing her identity from family. However, years later, Emilia yearns to reconnect with her estranged children and wife, Jessi Del Monte (Selena Gomez). This fragile reality is threatened as Jessi’s budding relationship with Gustavo Brun (Édgar Ramírez) draws Emilia into a dangerous conflict.
The premise falls apart under the weight of its contradictions. Trying to understand the motivations of a character that kidnapped and murdered hundreds of thousands of people and now suddenly decides to make amends under her new identity as a woman is a lot to accept. It’s not entirely clear whether Emilia truly believes she is a woman inside or if this transition is merely a means to escape the vicious criminals who want her dead. Actress Gascón’s odd vocal delivery (a deep croak for “evil ” behavior and a high-pitched trill for “good” deeds) adds to the absurdity.
The linguistic and cultural distance between French director Jacques Audiard (A Prophet, Rust and Bone) and his Spanish-speaking ensemble is palpable. He has said he prefers to work in languages he doesn’t speak because he can focus on the musicality of the dialogue without getting attached to the language. Seriously? Um okay. The fact that he sets the story in Mexico but photographs it all in a Paris studio adds to the production’s detached and tonally erratic feel. Meanwhile, broad comedy collides awkwardly with heavy melodrama, as if attempting to channel Pedro Almodóvar but landing closer in spirit to Mrs. Doubtfire or White Chicks. The attempts to merge transgender themes with an underworld saga are clumsy, demonstrating a lack of insight into either world.
At its best, Emilia Pérez showcases two standout musical numbers, which deservedly went viral on social media. Saldaña does her level-headed best as the star to bring this bizarre amalgamation of stuff together. Rita flies to Bangkok to discuss gender-affirming surgery for Emilia with a doctor in “La Vaginoplastia.” The absurd lyrics—”From penis to vagina!”—are accompanied by kaleidoscopic Busby Berkeley-style gurney choreography that, unfortunately, is cut short. I only wish that this creative vision was that inspired for the rest of the picture. Another highlight is “El Mal,” a fiery anti-cartel anthem in which Saldaña commands the room in a crimson velvet pantsuit, delivering a campy and arresting performance. These vignettes suggest what might have been if the account had fully leaned into its operatic aspirations.
Ultimately, Emilia Pérez is a bold swing that misses. Its genre-blending ambition is commendable, but its incoherent execution makes for a tedious ordeal punctuated by rare bursts of fleeting brilliance. Paul Guillaume’s visually striking cinematography and the kinetic energy he brings to some songs provide some respite. Still, it can’t salvage the disjointed narrative or shallow exploration of its themes—the chronicle’s goal to be “different” sacrifices coherence and emotional depth. Save yourself the time—watch the viral clips and skip the rest.
11-13-24