The much-anticipated rock opera from Leos Carax, “Annette,” fell short with audiences after it’s opening ceremony debut at the Cannes Film Festival on July 6th. A collaboration with Sparks, hot off the tail of Edgar Wright’s documentary “The Sparks Brothers,” – a prerequisite screening both for lovers of Sparks and anyone unfamiliar with their work – “Annette” was set not only to be a summer blockbuster, but was expected to set the tone for the 74th edition of the festival; eyeing not only the Palme d’Or, but a run in the Academy Awards. Despite the nearly 10-minute-long standing ovation received at the end of the film in which Adam Driver could be seen smoking a cigarette, audiences and critics alike have fallen into a discourse around the film that I could only describe as a bad trip, bookended by hilariously uniting and satisfying opening and closing numbers.
The film begins with a Carax voiceover demanding audiences to “hold your breath until the show is over,” but as so eloquently put by Indiewire’s Eric Kohn, audience’s breath is instead “held hostage until the credits roll.” Audience members that stayed in the theater for the entirety of the film, that is. A moody and self-indulgent story, “Annette” kicks off with Carax, the Mael brothers of Sparks, and the main characters of the film strutting through the streets of Los Angeles, asking the audience permission to begin the film, and arriving to their characters through the film’s opening number “So May We Start?” Defying the rules of the musical genre, “Annette” pairs a raucous and ego-driven stand-up comedian Henry McHenry (Adam Driver) with the beautifully elegant opera singer Anne (Marion Cotillard), who mysteriously fall in love in a whirlwind romance, get married, and have a child, Annette. Oh yeah, and she’s a marionette doll. Off to a strong start.
For a film that begins by so blatantly demanding the audience’s attention, “Annette” seemed to drone on through the repetitive nature of Sparks seemingly never-ending musical numbers. More than half of the film’s dialogue being sung, the story is told both through the Sparks simplistic lyrical style and the odd lens of Carax’s war on classical cinematic form. The avant-garde style of filmmaking implemented through Carax’s style leaves much to the viewer’s imagination, so much that I’d journey to say this film was more of a “make your own adventure” article than a musical – lacking the substance and context needed to be able to deconstruct the director’s intended meaning of the film.
It seems that Carax’s mission with “Annette” was nothing more than providing a vehicle for Sparks to achieve their goal of creating a musical and allowing Carax to question the tenets of the musical genre. Having asked the question “why don’t people have sex in musicals?” when conceiving the plot for “Annette,” Carax answered his own question… three times. Not to say Carax has never experimented with bizarre, avant-garde filmmaking before, he took the music created by Sparks and remixed it with a dose of his own imagination. Saying he initially eyed Joaquin Phoenix for the lead role of Henry McHenry, the tortured comedian themes that mirrored Todd Phillips smash dumpster fire “Joker” found great benefit from Driver’s fresh, whirlwind performance.
Driver’s Henry McHenry, the “Ape of God,” seemingly exists solely to invoke a response from his audience, joking about killing his audience each night, wrapping the microphone cord around his neck to mime hanging himself, presenting a monologue about killing his precious and beloved wife, pretending to be shot in the middle of his set, and basing the opening of each of his soirees on stage around suffocating in a cloud of smoke. Trying incredibly hard to impress the audiences that he has to remind to “laugh, laugh, laugh,” Henry McHenry prepares for each show by eating a banana, smoking a cigarette, and punching an imaginary boxing bag, wearing his most comfortable robe, boxers, and slides – the supreme stage outfit.
McHenry’s bad comedic taste mirrors his disillusionment with the rest of his life, but the laughter he receives continues to stroke his ego, allowing him to forget that he’s bad in nearly every single aspect of his life. As his life descends into jokes about murderous tickle fights, foreshadowing his very predictable homicidal tendencies; Henry becomes unable to even muster the strength to put on a show, his interactive audience asking, “Why’d You Become a Comedian?” to which Henry has no answer. Drunkenly speeding down the highway and through the streets of LA on his motorcycle, McHenry’s “bad-boy” attitude only becomes darker as his stardom begins to fade and as he continues to be overshadowed by his beloved Anne, who he must remind the audience, if not himself, that he loves so much.
Anne, the perfect operatic beauty, dies on stage each night, but always brings her audience to life. It’s obviously questioned why someone like her would be with her perfect antithesis – someone like Henry, who the press and the rest of the world are aware of being nowhere close to deserving of her. Before long, a literal chorus of #MeToo statements against Henry (this is a musical, after all), press statements about his violence and their rocky relationship, and Henry’s alcoholic tendencies overshadow the birth of Annette, and drive Anne’s need to regain control over Henry and their tumultuous relationship.
Annette, a literal marionette for much of the film, serves as nothing more than a puppet for her parents to gain leverage over each other and, eventually, for Henry to gain leverage over his own life. Using her fame and talents to remain relevant in a world that so badly wants to forget him and the fame that they accidentally loaned to him in the beginning of his career, Henry discovers that she’s also magically got a voice exactly like her mother’s, signing only when light shines upon her. Henry, thinking he must be dreaming, initially shrugs off his daughter’s talent until he quickly realizes that she belongs under the spotlight, and how much money this child prodigy could bring for his stalled career. Annette eventually realizes that she is being used as a pawn and eventually exposes her father for the heinous crimes he commits throughout the film, leaving him to wish he’d allowed the world to forget him when he had the chance.
Simon Helberg’s “The Conductor” brings a much-needed humorous break to the largely unconventional and violent film, trying to drive both his character’s exposition and the plot of the film itself during a slam-poetry style monologue that is consistently interrupted by his need to direct the band that sits ahead of him in rehearsal. Explaining how he’s in love with Ann and how Henry stole her from him, The Conductor sets up the tragedy that lies ahead, and brings into question what the audience has already found out, what exactly happened to Ann on that boat trip?
Agreeing to team up with Henry to take Annette on the road because he loves her and Ann and must do what is right for the child; The Conductor becomes Annette’s best friend and pseudo-father as Henry continues to use Annette’s fame as nothing more than a way to serve his need for attention, women, and nights out on the town. After Henry, yet again, allows his violence to take everything from Annette, he decides it’s time to end her career with one final performance. Annette, realizing what her father has done, and piecing together many events from the past, decides that his time is up and that she is no longer willing to be a pawn in his game. Rather than performing, Annette so simply announces, “Daddy kills people.”
Annette’s marionette comes to life in true form years later while visiting her father in prison. “My How You’ve Changed” he remarks, before she repeats that the same can be said for Henry. Annette gains her human form and her own identity when she gracefully tells her father – through song, of course – what a worthless piece of shit he is and how he doesn’t deserve to love anyone, including her. Driver’s performance reaches its peak in this scene as he continues to sing through his tears, finally coming to terms with the damage that he has done. The grand message of “Annette” is nothing more than an introspective at how a man who can’t seem to do anything right and who doesn’t love himself, will muscle through anyone and anything to gain the power and respect that he thinks he must find from others. And what’s with the consistently growing mark on Henry’s face? Any ideas?
The one savior of “Annette” was Driver’s incredible performance as Henry McHenry. From his gleeful and audacious comedy performances to his violent outbursts, Driver’s performance might be the only potential hope for an Oscar nomination related to this title. Marion Cotillard’s name is also often associated with big, widely memorable performances, but her character lived only in the shadow of Henry’s monstrous grip on the plot and the audience’s attention, just as his character would have wished.
“Annette” had its world premiere during the opening ceremony of Festival de Cannes 2021 on July 6th and opens theatrically on August 6th in the United States. It will be available to stream on Amazon prime beginning August 20th.
Common Man's Critic 