With Annette, I find myself trapped in a difficult conundrum. On the one hand, I find its “rock opera” approach to be tedious and unsatisfying, but on the other, without all the song and dance, Annette is a rather mundane story about an egomaniacal manipulator. Yet, I enjoyed its oddity, and over time even came to appreciate its brash nature. So here I sit, torn between admiration and admonition, with only a small, slightly terrifying marionette to guide me.
But perhaps I should back up. What French director Leos Carax has crafted is a deceptively familiar story presented in an uncommon manner: most of the dialogue is sung rather than spoken. Stripped to its barest parts, Annette follows the whirlwind romance between Henry (a controversial stand-up comedian with a rather misanthropic outlook, played with brooding intensity by Adam Driver) and Ann (an angelic opera star, played by Marion Cotillard). After a whirlwind courtship, and despite Henry’s negativity and obvious anger issues, the unlikely pair eventually welcome the birth of a daughter – the titular Annette.
As Ann’s star rises and Henry’s falls, jealousies naturally form and drastic actions are taken, all with the fanfare and panache one might expect from a musically driven film. Caught in the middle of it all is poor Annette, who is irresistibly portrayed as one of the cutest, yet most unsettling marionette puppets I’ve ever seen. The symbolism is a bit on the nose (Annette is not seen as a person, but as tool used for the amusement of others and the enrichment of those pulling her strings), but it’s Carax’s choice to go literal that gives the film its most rewarding payoff. Without the puppet, what else have you got going for you? Especially when one considers the low quality of many of the musical numbers (which make up the entirety of the runtime), and the run-of-the-mill, mostly predictable story.
In the end, though, the puppet proves damned effective. By the film’s second half, I had finally settled into its rhythm and found myself somewhat enamored by its set pieces and mostly on board with its story – predictable or not. There’s a profound and perpetual sadness in Annette’s eyes that is truly haunting, and Carax uses it to a full, nearly unspoken extent. Couple this with Driver’s purposeful sulking and angry toxicity and the disaster the film could have been is avoided. Ultimately, Annette remains an oddity that, for various reasons, may not sit well with many viewers, but is still worth a look for what it manages to accomplish by its final act.
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.