When given the opportunity to change your life, every one of us would take it, whether it means small alterations or an entire reinvention of our existence. However, those who make such a decision to completely abandon their identity and take on a new life tend to find that it is impossible to run away from the past, which lingers like a spectre in their day-to-day routine until they either find a way to work through the challenges or simply lose their grip on reality. In yet another example of his off-the-wall directorial tendencies, Jacques Audiard uses this as the starting point for Emilia Pérez, which follows an overworked lawyer who is approached by the leader of a notorious cartel with a very strange request: he needs someone to help arrange a sex change operation, so that he may be able to live his life as a woman, abandoning a life of crime and instead choosing a new identity, which eventually manifests in his transition into the titular character. Audiard has a tendency to choose stories about communities that he feels deserve representation, and couples them with genres that don’t normally tend to jump to mind when looking at these themes, which are here delivered in the form of an over-the-top musical comedy, which is not immediately what we would anticipate for this material, but which was seemingly ideal for the director, who bases this film on a libretto that he himself wrote some time ago, whether for pure experimentation or for the purpose of workshopping the material for an eventual film adaptation. In either case, Emilia Pérez is a truly peculiar film, and not one that I am entirely sure works as well as it believes it should, since there are many aspects that border on controversial, even when it does make some interesting observations, or takes a few bold risks that show a significant amount of effort went into its creation. Ambition means something regardless of quality, and Emilia Pérez proves that audacity can be at least marginally compelling enough to give the audience a memorable experience – it just ultimately doesn’t have the artistic bandwidth or level of intelligence it earnestly believes it is portraying throughout, making it more bizarre than it is effective.

Representation has always been important when it comes to art, and any work that takes a positive view on a marginalized group is immediately worthy of some credibility since it can be quite challenging to explore these themes, especially considering how conservative values continue to dominate the culture, regardless of where we look. In this regard, Emilia Pérez is admirable in its intentions, since it sets out to look at the subject of sexuality and identity, centering the story on someone undergoing gender reassignment surgery so that they may transition into a life that feels more authentic to their identity. At a cursory glance, it seems like the concept of a drug kingpin choosing to become a woman would be used as a way to trivialize the subject since the story essentially revolves around the titular character leaving their criminal past behind by changing their entire identity. However, Audiard is intelligent enough to realize that this would be a problematic approach and instead chooses to look at the themes with a more decidedly compassionate perspective, using the story as a way to investigate gender roles, especially in a country still driven by patriarchal standards, which tend to be intertwined with the strong religious roots of the culture. This approach is not new for the director, and he does show his fascination with the ideas embedded in this story, enough to make some very ambitious choices that ultimately do have some merit, just perhaps not from his specific perspective. The film is essentially the collision of two broad concepts, namely that of gender and culture, and how one influences the other – the characters throughout the film deal with their desires and efforts to realize their identities, which becomes difficult based on the society in which they live, but which doesn’t stop them from finding ways to circumvent these conventions, even going so far as to rebel against the status quo, while still secretly yearning to be a part of it, just from a different perspective or position, which is where the individual journeys of these characters factor into the narrative.

There are certainly fascinating ideas lingering beneath the surface of Emilia Pérez, but rather than making it a social realist parable, as he did in a few of his previous films, Audiard chooses to use this material as the foundation for something much broader and more ambitious, namely developing it as a musical comedy. The specific reasons he chose this approach are not entirely clear and are likely based on the film being driven less by the story and more by the spectacle, and the idea of a film set within the brutal world of drug cartels where the violence is replaced with song-and-dance numbers, while still maintaining some degree of the gritty, visceral style of more conventional depictions of these stories does seem intriguing in practice. Audiard had not previously ventured into making musicals before, but he does show reverence for several genres, having worked in a few of them over the years, such as westerns, neo-noir and romantic drama, all of which show his affection for popular genres that are integral to the development of the medium. Rather than adapting an existing work, Audiard creates his own, and it’s difficult to not be at least partially fascinated by some of his decisions. Emilia Pérez is a maximalist odyssey, with the director taking every opportunity to showcase his style and flair, sometimes to the detriment of the film, since there comes a point where the story becomes entirely irrelevant and it feels as if Audiard is simply using this film as both an opportunity to process his inner desire to make a musical, and to show off his talents, which are evident but not entirely well-utilized in the film, especially when it comes to making the distinction between style and substance, something that isn’t made very clear in this film, primarily because it struggles to do anything particularly memorable with the material, at least in terms of being more than just two hours of wall-to-wall showboating, which is essentially what this film ends up becoming, since there is far too little material for it be anything more than a middling effort at the best of times when it comes to actually exploring these themes.

You would be inclined to imagine that a film like Emilia Pérez would at least prove to be a strong showcase for its actors, and it is mostly quite solid but nothing remarkable. The most significant problem with the performances in this film is that none of them feels particularly well-equipped for any of the genres that Audiard is looking to explore, and while bold casting choices can be exciting, there needs to be some degree of consistency in how they’re delivered to be even marginally effective. The film is led by a trio of actors, none of whom have much experience in any of these genres, and as a result, they need to work even harder to ensure that what they are doing comes across as convincing. The titular protagonist is portrayed by Karla Sofía Gascón, who is extremely talented and charismatic (and credit must go to Audiard for choosing to cast an actual trans actor in the role, rather than going for a more well-known one – name recognition becomes secondary when authenticity is involved), and she is very earnest in her efforts to bring the character to life. She is mostly strong, but some aspects feel like the film is trivializing her journey and identity, considering it is a rare instance of a major film featuring an actor from a marginalized, underrepresented community in the central role, we can forgive some of the more heavy-handed aspects that accompany the character. Conversely, Zoe Saldaña is one of the most recognizable actors working in the industry today (especially considering she is the star of multiple of the highest-grossing films of all time), and this film presents her with the opportunity to show a different side to her talents, which seems like a promising start to the film until we see it in practice, and we realize there are a few severe deficiencies in her performance. She’s very gifted, but there’s a sense of discomfort that comes across in her portrayal of this already haggard and conflicted character – she has several scenes that are intensely choreographed, and while she isn’t a stranger to physical acting, she always seems a few steps behind, and doesn’t quite convince us of this character’s journey, with much of the same being said for Selena Gomez, who is undeniably charismatic, but is hopelessly out of her depth in such a dramatic, humourless part. The cast ultimately does their best, but they simply cannot compensate for the paltry nature of these roles, which does have quite an impact on the film as a whole.

The reason Emilia Pérez falls apart is not solely due to the lacklustre characterization – in fact, the actors do their best to elevate the material and do manage to improve on some of the film’s more questionable qualities. Instead, the film struggles to keep our attention because not only is it quite badly written (both the dialogue and the songs are beyond mediocre), but there is a sense of artifice that feels poorly placed throughout the film. To craft an over-the-top, bombastic spectacle, Audiard neglects to seek out the heart and soul in the production, which makes the film quite cold and austere. The dazzling colours and enormous scope are essentially meaningless if there isn’t anything beneath the surface, and we consistently feel like we are watching someone tell a story that is simply not theirs to tell. The idea that only certain voices should be given the chance to tell particular stories is a controversial and divisive topic and one that should be taken on a case-by-case basis, rather than being restricted to a blanket statement that only those within a particular community should be allowed to tell these stories. However, Emilia Pérez represents an instance where someone so far removed from the community represented takes it upon themselves to make a film about a subject, it ends up becoming quite insincere and an actively detrimental element of the entire project. A film about the socio-cultural state of Mexico, particularly the queer (and even more specifically transgender) community, made by a cis-gendered European is a peculiar choice, especially when there is a lack of substance, which gives the impression that he approached these themes like any other of his films, as merely something that can be reduced to a few key points. It isn’t actively offensive for the most part (although I cannot speak entirely about how the film represents both the trans experience and the lives of those in Mexico), but rather feels too limited as if Audiard was simply unable to engage with the material beyond the most superficial set of ideas that drive the narrative. The lack of genuine voices, drawn from the communities represented, in the producing and writing stages feels like a blatant oversight and massively diminishes any potential the film had on being a meaningful statement on these discussions, instead skirting around the edges and trying desperately to provide unique insights, but falling short in just about every way imaginable, which is perhaps the most bewildering aspect of this entire film.

Emilia Pérez is the perfect example of how good intentions cannot justify some of the more bizarre artistic decisions, and that it isn’t enough to look at what a film meant to say when the results alternate between tepid and outright myopic. It’s obvious that Audiard didn’t mean any harm with this film, and we can see that he simply wanted to explore a subject that is both relevant and compelling, but the execution is where it went hopelessly off the rails, and made it clear that no amount of supposed compassion can compensate for mediocre storytelling and heavy-handed direction, regardless of how much we are led to believe that he had the best interests of the communities represented in this film at heart.  Some stories quite simply do not need to be told by certain filmmakers, and while some elements are admirable in how they pursue authenticity (particularly casting Gascón in the central role), we have to wonder whether the presence of people who had some degree of firsthand familiarity with both the cultural and identity-based elements of the film would have allowed it to be not only more accurate but also thoughtful. It would have most certainly meant it could have avoided some of the unintentionally questionable content around the main character’s transition and how it is perceived by those around her, which was never meant to be controversial but cannot avoid being somewhat overwrought. Intentions do not equate to artistic merit, and Emilia Pérez is clear proof of just how troubling such an approach can be, even if there was no harm intended. I’d defer to trans scholars and writers who have provided much more nuanced discussions on this aspect of the film, but even without this degree of specificity, it is obvious that this film is not entirely successful in achieving what it wanted to do. Ultimately, it’s a heavy-handed attempt at socially-conscious filmmaking, having admirable goals but not following through when it comes to doing something meaningful with the material, aiming to be a bold and experimental musical, but unfortunately becoming nothing more than a hopelessly tacky misfire that didn’t quite know how to handle all of its themes in a manner that was anything but entirely halfhearted and unintentionally dull.