French filmmaker Jacques Audiard’s Emilia Pérez sizzles with energy, acing its tempo by rapidly pushing one scene after the other with a weaving of strategic ellipses. Audiard maintains the film’s accelerated pace with a steady hand, anchoring it as a musical crime melodrama like a bouncy symphony. The scenes are placed like a staccato, contributing to a mosaic that’s playful yet strikingly coherent. The plot of the film is emotionally charged, and the storyline moves with electrifying motions and creatively utilizes the brilliant use of cinematic language through which the filmmaker brings them to life. His approach allows us to focus closely on the characters’ words, their moments of hushed intimacy, and the smallest of gestures or expressions, all delivered in a pulsating style. The mastery shines through in his ability to draw empathy for morally ambiguous characters, making the audience feel invested in their fates. The film’s ambition, while commendable, results in a narrative that occasionally buckles, struggling to balance its many themes. While it transcends its genre but leaves the viewer with the sense of an experience that’s as overwhelming as it is captivating—a haunting exploration of identity, loyalty, and the cost of desire that feels at times overextended.
Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldaña) is a hard working lawyer working in Mexico under a corrupt senior lawyer. She is now involved in a high-profile murder case involving the wife of a prominent media figure. She knows that her client is the culprit but due to pressure from his senior, she has too admit that the death was a suicide, winning the case despite doubts. That night he receives an anonymous call from a mysterious caller who lures her with a strange offer to become rich. Soon, she is abducted and discovers that the unknown caller was a Manitas (Karla Sofía Gascón), a notorious cartel kingpin. He wants to have a sex change operation and become a woman and start living the life he always wanted for. He forces Rita to become his ally and help him find doctors around the world willing to perform the procedure. Rita becomes compelled to do so and one of the doctors agrees to operate on him. After the surgery, Manitas’ family is relocated to Switzerland for their safety, while Rita is handsomely compensated. Manitas stages his death and emerges as Emilia Pérez, embarking on a new life. Four years later, in London, Rita unexpectedly encounters Emilia, who confides her strong wish to reunite with her family.
From its very beginning, the film wastes no time in establishing itself as a musical journey where characters grapple with their consciences while facing the complexities of their lives. When Rita realizes she must plead guilty on behalf of her client, a murderer, her inner conflict unfolds through a musical number that highlights the country’s corrupt legal proceedings. Each time characters confront a life-altering decision or situation, a song is used to underscore the moment, creating a seamless blend of music and narrative that enhances rather than distracts from the storyline. Rita’s fantasy dance sequence during a fundraising event further exposes the dent in government machinery and the deep-seated injustices of the country. In another particularly poignant song sequence, characters express heart-wrenching laments over scattered, unidentified human remains haunting the Mexican countryside—innocent lives lost to the nation’s relentless drug wars. Such moments become a powerful statement, using the medium of film to expose the brutal reality of violence and loss wrought by the unending political conflict. Through such scenes, the film not only mourns these victims but also challenges viewers to confront the pervasive impact of this violence on society.
Jacques Audiard has been directing films for three decades, with each work intricately layered with characters in perpetual states of crisis and transformation. Emilia Pérez, inspired by Audiard’s opera libretto, loosely adapted from Boris Razon’s novel Écoute, explores similar themes. However, in its quest to be edgy and stylistically provocative, the film falls short of treating multiple issues with the depth and gravity they demand. Audiard broaches significant topics, such as corruption in the Mexican justice system, the redemption journey of a drug kingpin, and the struggles of a trans woman in a repressive society. Yet these themes appear more as plot devices meant to shock rather than as avenues for genuine exploration. The film misses the nuanced examination of human relationships and the unifying resilience of shared suffering that marked Audiard’s previous works, such as The Beat That My Heart Skipped (2005), Rust and Bone (2012) and Dheepan (2015). The emotional depth that defined these films is notably absent, leaving Emilia Pérez feeling ambitious but ultimately hollow.
The cinematography by Paul Guilhaume elevates the film’s visuals, with urban neon lighting bathing the darker scenes and creating a mood that perfectly complements the story and its setting. His framing of the characters delves into their psyche, allowing us to grasp the emotional battles they face. Guilhaume adds subtle yet impactful touches within the frame, enhancing the dramatic power of the narrative. As this musical crime drama unfolds rapidly, the editing by Audiard’s longtime collaborator Juliette Welfling becomes a cornerstone of the story’s architecture. Her precise choices—what to withhold and what to reveal at key moments—keep the viewer constantly surprised. This approach not only deepens our understanding of the characters but also shapes the film’s brisk, engaging pace. New revelations consistently challenge our assumptions, keeping the narrative dynamic and compelling. The music, composed by Clément Ducol (score) and Camille (songs), is seamlessly woven into the fabric of the film. The score captures the essence of the characters, magnetically drawing viewers into the narrative and amplifying the emotional weight of the story. Together, the visuals, editing, and music form a cohesive tapestry that propels the film forward.
Zoe Saldaña shines as Rita Mora Castro, infusing her role with spunk and determination as a lawyer who will go to any length to help a trans woman. Not only does she assist Manitas in becoming Emilia Pérez, but she also steps in to support his family, navigating complex emotions and relationships along the way. Saldaña’s portrayal adds layers of empathy and resilience to the character. Karla Sofía Gascón delivers a compelling performance in the dual roles of Manitas and Emilia Pérez. She beautifully conveys the internal struggles of a person yearning for acceptance and love while reconnecting with family. Her journey, from a feared cartel kingpin to a woman seeking solace and redemption, is heartfelt, particularly in her tender relationship with a woman trapped in an abusive marriage. Selena Gomez plays Jessi, Manitas’s wife, with quiet strength, capturing the emotional toll of her circumstances. Adriana Paz, as Emilia’s wife Epifanía, delivers a nuanced performance, enriching the emotional intricacies of the story. Together, their portrayals ground the film in the raw realities of love, identity, and healing.
Emilia Pérez is a well-acted and directed drama, with the spark of female bonding between the various characters proving both exciting and deeply moving. However, despite the sheer quality of the performances, the film cannot escape a sense of contrivance. The ending lacks the impact of a powerful conclusion, fading out weakly in its final moments. There’s an underlying sense of indulgence in the storytelling, with an over-reliance on technical flourishes that occasionally overshadow the narrative. While it is undoubtedly Audiard’s most stylish film, it falls short of being his most emotionally resonant work to date. At best, it’s a one-time watch.
