Source Author: Kristy Puchko
Translation: Protokollant
Public account: Abandon the book
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Adam Driver has long enjoyed playing complex rogue characters.
Infuriatingly combative yet undeniably seductive, he breaks out of the hippie bastard boy he presented in "City Girl." Then he went on a maddening craze in a galaxy far, far away, like Kylo Ren, the black-hearted hunk in Star Wars. In "Marriage Story," Driver brought bubbling anger and sour love back to life, which not only impressed critics, but also earned him his second Oscar nomination.
Now, he's taking that same villainous role back into the realm of surrealism in Leo Calax's provocative and unique musical "Annette."
Don't be fooled by the title, while "Annette" is named after a parent's lovely daughter, the story is firmly centered on Driver's newest villain, Henry, a talk show actor who puts Comedy as a full-contact sport.
Henry, who calls himself "The Ape," strode onto the stage in a dirty green bathrobe, like a professional boxer on a losing streak. Instead of telling jokes, he used manic offensive language to attack the audience, ordering them to laugh.
The audience did, in a lively, swinging chorus that quickly proved Henry was at the top of the game. He swung the microphone around like a whip, he was the master of the audience, the god of the stage. His body was muscular and stiff like a snake ready to attack. His long legs slammed into high kicks in a sweeping pose that Henry considered violent.
"I killed them, I destroyed them, I murdered them," he whispers to his opera singer Ann (Marion Cotillard). "How was your performance?". Ann's performance, a high-pitched aria about fear and death, won rapturous applause. Looking back, Ann smiled happily. "I saved them".
They are an odd couple, not only because of their inconsistent attitude and art form, but also visually. That American male lead is much taller than the petite French actress. When he pulled her to kiss, he didn't know if he was going to hold her or squish her.
Their on-screen chemistry was intense. On hazy days and hot nights, dreamy love ballads swept the audience, where together they made beautiful music, both literally and metaphorically. But unfortunately, this happiness is short-lived. A marriage, career swings and a child have thrown their relationship into a strained situation, pushing them down a dark path that portends doom.
The details of the rupture in their relationship are all too familiar, mostly drawn from celebrity scandals, including allegations from the "#MeToo" movement and even true-crime speculation in classic Hollywood.
First, Sparks (whose director Edgar Wright of American pop duo Hot Fuzz just introduced in his first documentary) was involved in Annette's script and all of the music. Brothers Ron and Russell Mayer deliver exciting moments with exaggerated orchestral music and express their emotions in simple lyrics that are repeated energetically over and over again.
There are some scenes in the film that are clearly meant to make people laugh. For example, a series of gimmicky gossip news stories intertwined with the storyline, complete with snappy imagery, raucous reporters and hilariously clumsy Photoshopped images that look like paparazzi shots of the celebrity couple.
Structurally, the scenes are quick to reveal the truth, but they're also a mockery of celebrity entertainment coverage that makes speculation about the private lives of public figures a feast for the eyes. The tension between reality and performance is a theme that runs through the film. But the lines therein are often blurred, making interpretations of the film's intentions ambiguous.
Clarks pushes the audience out of a standard state of skepticism through the faux pas displayed throughout the work. The beginning of the film is like a stage play. On the black screen, the host ordered the audience not to interfere with the performance by laughing, crying, farting or breathing. Then the lights came on in a recording studio where Sparks was ready to perform. The brothers asked, "Can we start?" So the song of the same name followed them out of the studio and onto the street, along with Driver, Cotillard and their co-star Simon Helberg. Joined in, but not in costume. After the parade, they put on wigs, changed into casual clothes, and changed into costumes more suitable for photos.
Therefore, the story of the film begins here. However, reminders of the shenanigans in the film remain, chief among them the acting choices for their child Annette. This was hinted not only in the trailer but also in the comments after the Cannes premiere, where Annette's central performance is replaced by a series of puppets in place of a real child.
This is the style of American snipers, with no attempt to fool our eyes. Annette's skin was soft and her joints were clearly visible, she was clearly a puppet. In addition to emphasizing the technique in the narrative, making the child a literal object reflects her parents' perception of her. For both parents, Annette is their plaything or art project. Who will shape this gifted girl becomes their final battle, but sadly, it's a one-sided battle.
Carax gave Henry the grumpy antihero too much room to become "Hulk" or "Rhapsody," while Ann's image was sadly too thin. She feels like a character from Christopher Nolan's "Doomed Wife" series, Cotillard's effeminate femme fatale in "Inception." Surprisingly, Annette was a more attractive screen partner for Driver. It's just creepy that the puppet team did such a good job. The clumsy body of a toddler, the tender, sad eyes of a troubled child, and the careless rambling gestures of a living person are all captured with such precision that it doesn't take long for Annette to become a puppet. It felt ridiculous. That's partly because Driver never backs down when confronted with such a strange "reality," treating his child with a mix of tenderness and anxiety just as Henry treats his loved ones. He creates a stomach-churning suspense against the fragile child's chaotic energy, and the song sings more about his ambition than love. Is Henry's story a cautionary tale about toxic masculinity? Is this a lamentation at the sacrifice of fame? Is this a tragedy about slipping from identity to personality? Is this an allegory about the common food of mankind? All of the above are possible, however, the answer probably doesn't matter, as the film is a fascinating journey, despite the instability, explosion of colors, bursts of songs, and an obsession with art.
At 2 hours and 20 minutes, the musical touches on some odd topics, but rarely anything satisfying. The film isn't boring, as Karax brings the raw imagination that made his film "Sacred Car Dealers" astounding and turns it on to Hollywood's romantic anticipation. Maybe that's the point, Annette isn't a movie, it's an emotion. Whatever its intentions, "Annette" is extraordinary. It's an exhilarating collision of film, live concert stage performance and celebrity culture, completely upended and unleashed. Its message may have been lost, but the emotion still takes a heavy toll, especially in the finale where the film fades away from sparkle and contrivance, focusing on something pure, painful, and memorable.
Article source: Annette review: Leos Carax's mind-bending musical is all Adam Driver's show - Polygon
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