Directed by Leos Carax
Written by Ron Mael, Russell Mael, Leos Carax
Music by Sparks
Starring Adam Driver, Marion Cotillard, Simon Helberg
Runtime: 2 hours, 12 minutes
Rated R for sexual content including some nudity, and for language
In select theaters now and streams exclusively on Amazon Prime, August 20

by Ryan Silberstein, Managing Editor, The Red Herring

The climax of Annette is set at the Hyper Bowl–a clear stand-in for the Super Bowl–a mostly artificial environment that doesn’t attempt to pass for reality. Still, it is the closest oddball band Sparks will get to a Super Bowl halftime performance, and likely the same for Leos Carax to direct a blockbuster. That isn’t a criticism of those artists, either. Those things are only one measure of success, and both Sparks and Carax have more notoriety than many other anonymous artists. Yet the desire for mainstream success and its Mirror Universe counterpart, the urge to tear down what is traditional and mainstream, is present in a lot of artists. Annette is most potent when exploring this dichotomy, which is sadly just one of many ideas stuffed into the film.

Henry McHenry (Adam Driver) is a comedian known as the Ape of God, a provocative standup that seems hostile to audiences. He is deeply in love with Ann (Marion Cotillard), a soprano embodying traditional performance. The two pair up in their rise to the top–their celebrity status is tracked by cheeky Entertainment Tonight parody interludes–and have a child, Annette (played mostly by a series of puppets). In true A Star is Born fashion, Henry becomes frustrated as Ann ascends higher and higher.

While everything presented by Carax and the brothers Mael feels artful and purposeful, it often lacks focus, with the smaller moments leaving a bigger impact than the whole. Ann watches a news report of wildfires in the back of a limousine, the camera on the television screen driving into the burning while the camera following the limo moves in the same way, surrounded by idyllic landscapes. A clear comment on the insulated life of the rich, but one of many scattered ideas that sometimes move by before they can be fully grasped. In an experience that would invite repeat viewings, this might work better, but so much of Annette is off-putting enough that most will not take a bite at that particular apple.

And not off-putting as a substitute for provocative either. Much of what Carax offers is not more groundbreaking than the stoner kid in your freshman philosophy survey. As in Holy Motors, the ideas often feel like simple truths or feelings, but expressed in a way that is fascinating, entertaining, and often funny. While the structure of his previous film offered a natural transition between its sequences, Annette bounces around in tone, often within the same song or scene. If the intent is to keep viewers on their toes, it works, but it is also exhausting with such a generous runtime.

So far, this review may sound overly negative. The experience of Annette is often fun, exciting, filled with possibility and novelty in equal measure. Much of the disappointment here is more frustration at the potential within. Similar to my experiences listening to Sparks’ music, Annette often feels like it is keeping you at arm’s length. Close enough to recognize the emotions within, but not close enough to feel them. The songs in the musical are rarely catchy, and there were only one or two that I could recall melodies or more than a single line from after just a few hours.

The biggest strength is Adam Driver, as his performance creates a foundation upon which the entire film rests. Once again he taps into the depths of male entitlement, trying to impose his will on an indifferent world and lashing out when things don’t go according to plan. It is similar energy to that of Kylo Ren, a man in a mask (or motorcycle helmet in this case) being provocative because they can’t help but lash out at all the things that make them angry. Over the course of Annette, we see shades of his Paterson and Marriage Story performances as well, but those are also masks–the anger and entitlement is what ultimately drives this story forward. Henry rages, the ocean roars and swells around him, a tempest inside and outside, in what is truly one of Annette’s best sequences.

If Annette had been a little more provocative, leaned into the pop sensibilities of its crafters, or more scathing, it may have broken out of its self-imposed distance. Any of those could have pushed it into being an experience worth pushing on people who might otherwise not seek it out. Instead, those curious enough to explore it should savor the many beautiful smaller moments within the film and not wait for a big showstopper to sweep them away.