Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Warning: The following review is of a film that is part of TIFF 2024 and may contain spoilers for Emilia Pérez. Reader discretion is advised.

What does it mean to be fully in tune with one’s self? Jacques Audiard has hopped from genre to genre (and even transcending countries and cultures) over the many decades of his life, mainly in the late stage parts of his career; his magnum opus, A Prophet, observes the French-Arabic connection within the confines of the prison system and the crime genre; The Sisters Brothers is a Hollywood-esque Western and the race for gold; his Palme d’Or winner, Dheepan, is an action thriller involving Tamil refugees fleeing Sri Lanka; Rust and Bone may be traditional in the sense that it is in Audiard’s native French language, but it is an unconventional romantic drama in the face of permanent tragedy. Sure, Audiard likes to toy with pacing to see what he can get out of semi-long run times, and he is fascinated by what humans are capable of in the faces of fear, adversity, and danger, but he is always telling new stories to see what new truths he can unearth.

Enter Emilia Pérez: his latest, and possibly most audacious, project to date. This is a Mexican dark comedy crime film that is, even more importantly, an homage to the classic Hollywood musical; even if the sugary, bombastic music isn’t indicative of the Golden Age, the escapism via musical numbers sure is. While some other similar films may feel gimmicky and as though the music wasn’t actually important in the grand scheme of things, Emilia Pérez is different because the entire project is about hidden truths, subdued identities, and the need for revelation and freedom when our life is on the line; why not live the rest of our time as the truest versions of ourselves? Much in the way that the titular character begins to live a new life under a different moniker and identity, Emilia Pérez is a film within a film: a musical film that is condemned to continue forth as a crime drama because it is too late to be separated from these dark deeds.

Criminal lawyer Rita Castro (Zoe Saldaña, who has never been better) is struggling to be noticed for her hard work and expertise; that is, until drug cartel mastermind Manitas Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón, with one of the great performances of the year) gives her a phone call to inform her that, yes, at least one person is paying attention. Manitas needs to hide his identity because of the threats that he and his family, including wife Jessi (Selena Gomez) are due to face. Furthermore, Manitas will use this opportunity not to just go in cognito, but to fulfill the life he has always imagined for himself: as a woman. Rita is tasked with finding a fast and precise way of having Manitas undergo gender reassignment surgery and general plastic surgery to begin living as his own fictitious cousin, Emilia Pérez. Manitas “dies”, and Emilia goes into hiding with her new identity (or, rather, the person she was always meant to be).

Four years pass, and Emilia reconnects with Rita by tailing her (some habits die hard). Emilia cannot bear to be separated from her kids anymore and wants Rita’s help to bring her family back in some capacity. Without giving too much away, one’s criminal past will always be a part of their lives, and Emilia’s many years as a ruthless drug lord prove to not just chase her to the present: they poke out of Emilia’s everyday habits and responses despite her best efforts to be someone else. This is quite the blend of characterizations, because only now do we know who the true Emilia Pérez is: a woman who lives a far more ethical and brilliant life, but a person with a temper and jealousy issues to boot (amongst other things). If anything, Emilia Pérez is all about people trying to discover who they are, with Rita wanting to be recognized for her hard work and ambitions, and Jessi fighting to understand what it means to be truly loved.

The film has its own dilemmas, as it effortlessly shifts from gritty crime action, dark comedy style, and dynamic musical numbers. If the musical sequences weren’t so blatant (as they are), it would feel a bit more impossible to define Emilia Pérez as just one or two genres because of how well all of the film’s parts blend together. Audiard handles each component with such mastery. Outside of only a couple of musical numbers which feel a little too self aware or silly (perhaps overlong, too, to the point of feeling “off”), the vast majority of original songs and choreography here work with flying colours. The repetitive clunking of a cartel’s jeep begins to act as the rhythm for Manitas’ orders; Rita acts as the messenger for both Emilia and Jessi, and their overlapping feuding (which sounds like a chorus) with the former being caught in the middle turns into a multi-shot extravaganza; even the loading of heavy weaponry becomes a dance routine with a pulse. In the same way that Lars Von Trier’s Dancer in the Dark has a protagonsit who wants to escape reality by turning the world around her into a Hollywood musical, Emilia Pérez is forever wanting to cut ties with the crime film genre but the corrosive darkness envelops any hopes that the film has for itself. It’s an exquisite battle taking place before our very eyes and ears.

Unlike some other “dark” musicals, Emilia Pérez is truly prepared to get dirty and as grim as it needs to, and its payoffs are all the better for it. It isn’t all just misery, as many jokes land quite well (even the ones where a major revelation will make you gasp at the same time). Emilia Pérez is strange as it is equal parts unpredictable and very much what you would expect; perhaps it is the efforts to distance one’s self from their sins that are all in vain. What we also get is a hard hitting diary of gender dysphoria and transgender euphoria amidst society’s expectations, particularly as the film reaches its final act and Emilia is torn between the life she wants to live and the one being bestowed upon her. All of the film’s strengths — from music and celebration to tragedy — collide in the one proper amalgamation of the entire feature: the final sequence, where no component outshines the other. This makes for a haunting, unforgettable moment that brought tears to my eyes. With the film’s title to cue us out, we learn that this moment is Emilia Pérez: all of the parts of her life and being that made her, from the good to the bad.

Life is a wild ride, and Emilia Pérez is indicative of that. You never quite know what you’ll face around the corner, from tribulations to triumphs, new responsibilities and old, cyclical patterns, and so many other endeavours. Emilia Pérez doesn’t stop sprinting as soon as it begins, and you will feel the beat of your heart try to keep up within the nape of your neck. Whether it’s the instinct of flight, fight, or dance, Emilia Pérez is as electric and active as film gets. I’m insisting that you catch the film on a big screen, with an audience of eager participants who don’t know what they are in for. Audiard’s Emilia Pérez is going to be the musical that defines 2024, and you’re going to be hearing about this motion picture a lot. It’s for good reason: Emilia Pérez is exhilarating and uncompromised. It’s as rampant as an auteur’s imagination can get without going off the rails (but Audiard frequently presses his luck to gripping effect).

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.