Reviewing popular films can be tough. Is it more contrarian to speak up against the establishment? Thirteen Oscar nominations is a definitive statement on that end. Or is it more interesting to take a stand against popular opinion, which has it pretty strongly out for Emilia Pérez (2024)? Populist online critics and analysts, reputable magazines and opinion columnists alike have seen fit to rip into Emilia Pérez (2024) for a great deal of its apparently tone-deaf, technically flawed and insensitive choices as a film. How can this be an Oscars darling? Has everyone lost their minds?
This review is forced to take the middle ground. Here’s the thesis: Emilia Pérez (2024) is a downright weird little film. It makes a lot of choices that appear stupid, unimaginative or just plain bizarre. But that weirdness is absolutely part of its charm; this film is, if anything, elusive, shrouded behind layers of irony and exuberant glee until its true intent can seem lost. If you can worm your way past the messiness of it all, there’s a really excellent concept there, and a burning emotional core that follows through. It’s not pretty and it’s not perfect, but Emilia Pérez (2024) hangs together by the strength of its convictions, and refuses to be compromised.
The basic premise of the film is so well-known (and so controversial) now that only a very short recap seems necessary. Zoe Saldana plays the haggard Rita Mora Castro, a talented Mexican lawyer desperate to scrub her soul clean. Her chance comes when she’s abruptly kidnapped by Manitas Del Monte, a cartel kingpin of terrifying repute – who, er, wants Rita to help her covertly transition into a woman and flee her past life. But in her new life as the titular Emilia, she can’t help but seek deeper atonement for what she’s been, and so our narrative points back towards Mexico.
This is one hell of a hook. It’s strange enough to pique anyone’s curiosity. But Emilia Pérez (2024) goes stranger still, and manages to both alienate and enthral by doing so. Because this film is also a musical. At any point of heightened emotion, our characters burst into song and dance. This might be an interesting stylistic choice, but the critics aren’t wrong – yes, fine, the songs are terrible. The lyrics are dire, poorly performed, and accompanied by what seems closer to pub dancing than ballet, with musical sequences are so grating that they almost seem ironic. Emilia Pérez (2024) ought to be looking quietly at the floor with Wicked (2024) next door on the Oscars nominee list.
And speaking of irony, the rest of Emilia Pérez (2024) has had some technical choices baked into it that seem to speak to an incomprehensible practical joke being played on the audience. Common and well-known cinematography rules are routinely broken. The camera is constantly obsessed with peoples’ legs. Narrative arcs reach high points and abruptly disappear. All of these help explain the immense negative backlash against the film. On top of that, it’s been slated as grossly stereotyping Mexican culture and failing to provide an authentic insight into the trans experience. All of this is fair criticism, too.
But then back to the thesis. In all honesty, Emilia Pérez (2024) isn’t a film about Mexico. It isn’t really a film about being transgender, either – it deals with the subject tastefully, but it’s not interested in dealing with transphobia, gender dysphoria, or the physical struggles of transitioning. It seems, all in all, to be playing around with a key question: with unlimited resources and unlimited freedom, is it possible to change who you are so completely that you undo the previous damage you’ve done to the world?
And that’s such an interesting idea that it drives Emilia Pérez (2024) like an engine, past the misplaced song and dance routines and uncomfortable stereotypes. The relentless optimism and downright bizarre energy of the film are testing, seeming to be slyly questioning the audience as to whether they’re willing to go along with the nonsense and embrace the film’s commitment to change and justice. Nor is that done without nuance; the film doesn’t embrace Emilia’s transition as a progressive feel-good moment, but as something only possible due to her immense wealth and the corruption that her money facilitates. None of that would work without Karla Sofia Gascón, whose portrayal of Emilia from a hardened but vulnerable gangster to a big-hearted campaigner would seem impossible from almost anyone, but manages – somehow – to stay right on point. Her performance keeps the emotional core of Emilia Pérez (2024) burning, and everything else comes second.
This review won’t prove popular. The bandwagon is firmly on the road, and despising Emilia Pérez (2024) is in vogue at the moment. There’s a lot of surface material to dislike at first glance, and no excuse can be made for the songs in this so-called musical. But sheer energy, solid acting performances and a relentlessly interesting exploration of change, forgiveness and self-erasure make this unlikely awards contender a far more fascinating watch than you might expect from its backlash.
Still: Netflix