Annette. (15.)
Directed by Leos Carax.
Starring Adam Driver, Marion Cotillard, Simon Helberg, Devyn McDowell, Ron and Russell Mael. 141 mins. In cinemas.
Many of the most adored, most treasured movies are the ones that never got made, the ones we can only dream about. Those wild enterprises and bizarre collaborations that hands were shaken on but funds not delivered for. Kubrick's Napoleon. Jodorowsky's Dune with Salvador Dali, Orson Welles and Mick Jagger. The Gladiator sequel scripted by Nick Cave. The musical collaboration between pop duo Sparks and legendary French director L. Carax, a popera about the marriage of an abrasive stand up comic (Driver) and an opera singer (Cotillard) and the marionette daughter it produces. Only this one got made, perhaps simply to put a bit of perspective to all those What If Fantasies of Unmade Movies.
As a musical its main problem is that it peaks with the overture, a sprightly number called So May We Start. I won't spoil it but it involves the entire cast including the brothers Sparks – the 70s Bolan/ Hitler combo of Russell and Ron Mael who wrote the script and music. If you look at Russell's face during this he is absolutely beaming. And off-screen so was I; a big smile slapped itself across my face and as the song concludes I was all revved up for what was to follow. But what was to follow is a long, long sequence of Driver's stand up act. It's a brick wall hit very hard and over an extended period.
That Driver's character, Henry McHenry, isn't funny is I'm sure deliberate but it's still a drag. Although Driver isn't a great singer, his performance of a Sondheim number in Marriage Story demonstrated he's very adept at the kind of talky singing that most of the Maels' score requires. Whatever you think of Sondheim, you can't deny he's got a way with words. The Sparks have turned out the odd witty lyric in their time but precious few for this; most of Annette is just scraps of dialogue repeated. Very operatic but really, what's the point of singing if you don't have a song to sing?
Or why write a musical, when you don't have a story worth telling? The piece doesn't seem to be about anything other than the gimmick of it being a musical with actors and a major character that is a puppet. Early on the lyrics make much of the contrast between a stand-up and an opera singer: he is paid to kill on stage while she is paid to die. But that seems to be the extent of the insight and really nothing much happens. The performers give it their all and its novelty makes you cut it some slack but it's thin stuff to be dragging out for two hours twenty minutes.
Fans of Carax – the stunning visuals of his early films, the wild invention of Holy Motors – should be aware that this is quite unlike his previous work. Which is admirable, an artist not simply repeating what worked previously. That said, when there are scenes of people riding motorbikes you can't help but notice how prosaic they are compared to the magic and vibrancy he could give to the same scene in Mauvais Sang. Annette looks good but not remarkable; the big set-piece is an ocean cruise in a storm which is impressive but has a touch of the Ken Russells to it. Before he was a master of off the wall invention but here a lot of it comes perilously close to wacky.
Directed by Leos Carax.
Starring Adam Driver, Marion Cotillard, Simon Helberg, Devyn McDowell, Ron and Russell Mael. 141 mins. In cinemas.
Many of the most adored, most treasured movies are the ones that never got made, the ones we can only dream about. Those wild enterprises and bizarre collaborations that hands were shaken on but funds not delivered for. Kubrick's Napoleon. Jodorowsky's Dune with Salvador Dali, Orson Welles and Mick Jagger. The Gladiator sequel scripted by Nick Cave. The musical collaboration between pop duo Sparks and legendary French director L. Carax, a popera about the marriage of an abrasive stand up comic (Driver) and an opera singer (Cotillard) and the marionette daughter it produces. Only this one got made, perhaps simply to put a bit of perspective to all those What If Fantasies of Unmade Movies.
As a musical its main problem is that it peaks with the overture, a sprightly number called So May We Start. I won't spoil it but it involves the entire cast including the brothers Sparks – the 70s Bolan/ Hitler combo of Russell and Ron Mael who wrote the script and music. If you look at Russell's face during this he is absolutely beaming. And off-screen so was I; a big smile slapped itself across my face and as the song concludes I was all revved up for what was to follow. But what was to follow is a long, long sequence of Driver's stand up act. It's a brick wall hit very hard and over an extended period.
That Driver's character, Henry McHenry, isn't funny is I'm sure deliberate but it's still a drag. Although Driver isn't a great singer, his performance of a Sondheim number in Marriage Story demonstrated he's very adept at the kind of talky singing that most of the Maels' score requires. Whatever you think of Sondheim, you can't deny he's got a way with words. The Sparks have turned out the odd witty lyric in their time but precious few for this; most of Annette is just scraps of dialogue repeated. Very operatic but really, what's the point of singing if you don't have a song to sing?
Or why write a musical, when you don't have a story worth telling? The piece doesn't seem to be about anything other than the gimmick of it being a musical with actors and a major character that is a puppet. Early on the lyrics make much of the contrast between a stand-up and an opera singer: he is paid to kill on stage while she is paid to die. But that seems to be the extent of the insight and really nothing much happens. The performers give it their all and its novelty makes you cut it some slack but it's thin stuff to be dragging out for two hours twenty minutes.
Fans of Carax – the stunning visuals of his early films, the wild invention of Holy Motors – should be aware that this is quite unlike his previous work. Which is admirable, an artist not simply repeating what worked previously. That said, when there are scenes of people riding motorbikes you can't help but notice how prosaic they are compared to the magic and vibrancy he could give to the same scene in Mauvais Sang. Annette looks good but not remarkable; the big set-piece is an ocean cruise in a storm which is impressive but has a touch of the Ken Russells to it. Before he was a master of off the wall invention but here a lot of it comes perilously close to wacky.
