Annette
Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard shine in this admittedly bizarre but emotionally penetrating musical -- really! -- about a troubled famous couple who have a puppet for a daughter.
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“Annette” is going to be one of those movies that people ardently love and hate… or more likely stubbornly ignore. Sometimes you can just spot ‘em.
Try this description on for size: Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard are a world-famous standup comedian and soprano singer, respectively, who fall in love and have a daughter, who is a puppet. Later one of them dies under suspicious circumstances, and the kid is blessed (or cursed) with magical powers. It’s two hours and 20 minutes long, contains some pretty explicit sex, and is directed by a French guy (Leos Carax) you probably haven’t heard of.
Oh, and it’s a musical, with nearly every line of dialogue sung courtesy of tunes from the 70-something brothers who form the eclectic pop band Sparks, Ron and Russell Mael, who are also listed as the screenwriters. (They also briefly appear and sing in the film for the “before the show” number, “So May We Start.”)
At this point, you’re either intrigued or have run out the door. I’ll confine the rest of this review for the former group.
Yes, “Annette” is a supremely bizarre film. Imagine a Broadway musical turned into an art house psychological horror film. It’s occasionally a little precious… OK, maybe more than occasionally. It’s waaayyy longer than it needs to be. The puppet baby is hard to get past.
This movie is also magical, transporting and emotionally penetrating. Driver gives possibly his best performance to date as a dark, dangerous man who’s not so much equally motivated by obsessive love and maniacal rage as incapable of separating the two. Cotillard is terrific too, vulnerable and a surprisingly good singer. The puppet child seems like a gimmick, but then takes on a heft we don’t expect, and then keeps growing and growing in our hearts until…
Well, you’ll see. If you’re not turned off by the premise. If you make it that deep into the movie without walking out. This is definitely a film that holds tremendous rewards, but not ones many people will appreciate.
Driver plays Henry McHenry, a misanthropic comedian who’s currently doing a sell-out show called “The Ape of Man,” which mostly consists of him stumbling about the stage in a boxer’s robe talking about how much he hates doing comedy and the people who pay to see him. It’s more performance art than jokes, with backup singers, light show and a call-and-response routine where the audience gets into the act.
Cotillard is Ann Defrasnoux, an accomplished soprano doing a show across town, consisting of her running from threats while wearing a gossamer gown and singing notes of such pure tone they’re almost painful to hear. It seems ludicrous that these two would ever become a couple -- Henry actually makes fun of his relationship to Ann, and her show, in his own act. (“She’s always dying, dying, dying, then bowing, bowing, bowing.”)
But the story doesn’t concern itself with how they got together, but the unbreakable connection they have. They ride around on his motorcycle, strut for the paparazzi, have long bouts of lovemaking at their secluded mansion in the woods.
As Henry’s career sours, sparked in part by some #MeToo revelations about his past, Ann begins to fear him. You can probably guess which direction the story is headed, but not the exact angles and wavelengths it will follow.
Annette the puppet baby is something to see. She looks deliberately constructed, but also seems very much alive and present. Later she grows into a red-haired moppet who can unleash her mother’s ethereal tones, and even fly. Henry is helped in exploiting her talents by The Conductor (Simon Helberg), a colleague and former lover of Ann’s.
The music is simply amazing -- sometimes haunting, sometimes bouncy and silly, playful, sad, grand, thunderous, etc. Sometimes the dialogue-heavy scenes are more weighed down by trying to keep the barest of musical cadences going than they would be if they’d just talked normally for a couple of minutes.
Driver and Cotillard do most of their own singing -- I’m guessing some of her high notes are an actual opera singer’s. They may not have the technique of trained professionals but do an excellent job of infusing emotion into their lines. Both could earn a living from this if they got tired of being photographed or filmed.
“Annette” will hit theaters for a limited run this week and then go to streaming on Amazon Prime a couple weeks later. If you do fall into the curious crowd, I suggest seeing it in a theater where you can be enveloped by the music and the emotions. For those who can appreciate it, this is a gift that deserves to be seen in the best light.