Emilia Pérez shows how to make a musical

The musical of 2024 was supposed to be Joker: Folie à Deux. Instead, quietly and stealthily, a drama-gangster-melodrama-musical in Spanish set in Mexico City arrived, featuring a trio of actresses worthy of a Palme d'Or: Karla Sofía Gascón, Zoe Saldana, and Selena Gomez. The director and screenwriter is the Frenchman Jacques Audiard and his film Emilia Pérez also received the Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival, where it premiered. Although they are not comparable - not in execution, but in intent - it is worth noting that while the sequel to Todd Phillips' comic book film failed in its entertainment value, the exploration of the singing and dancing auteur genre is perfectly captured by the filmmaker of A Prophet and Rust and Bone. Once again revealing Audiard's chameleon-like superpower, seamlessly transitioning from prison drama to Western, romantic comedy, and now musical, all with the same grace and agility. With the story of Emilia Pérez, the director further reshuffles the genre, adding a criminal underworld background for a sung debut that has the irreverence of Broadway cult classics, often capable of setting to music even the most improbable themes and stories. However, if the live entertainment industry managed to make a show about slavery and racism like The Color Purple (a 2005 musical based on the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Alice Walker, already adapted for the screen in 1985 by Steven Spielberg), it surely wasn't an obstacle to tell the story of the sex change of a Mexican cartel trafficker who becomes a woman.

Helping the boss Juan "Manitas" Del Monte, destined to become the Emilia Pérez (Gascón) of the title, is Saldana’s lawyer. Tired, disillusioned, a courtroom bulldog still forced to write arguments for others far less talented, her Rita Moro Castro accepts an offer she cannot refuse, a true cinematic godfather moment. She must do research, gather information, and travel the world to find the best doctor and the best treatments for the criminal's transition, receiving a large sum of money and forever binding herself to the old criminal’s life, even when he finally becomes Emilia. But despite the fact that her life will undergo an inevitable change of course, shifting from making people disappear to wanting to find them, the new Mrs. Pérez is determined not to give up her greatest love, her children, reuniting with them incognito, along with her wife Jessi (Gomez). After receiving a call from a stranger in a bathroom, which leads her to accept the role of confidant and bridge between Juan/Emilia's old and new life, Rita/Saldana's character makes a very clear observation: “I have everything to gain” (while, as often happens in the film, she begins to dance and sing). The stakes are high, Manitas is the bloodiest of cartel bosses, but the land Audiard captures pulsates “with love and violence”, a duality that can push anyone to save themselves, as a whole chorus sings in the frenzied and jumpy opening scene. The masses move, advancing and shifting through the alleys and streets of the Latin capital, which from the very first moment conveys the fervor that will be seen on screen and heard in the soundtrack by Clément Ducol and Camille. Warm, psychedelic, and disruptive. The music sets the tone for Emilia Pérez, while the direction adapts to each musical number and its protagonists. These are two of the moments driven by Selena Gomez, with a music video aesthetic that matches the cultural and pop significance of a generational icon who has also worked in the music industry.

The dualism at the core of Emilia Pérez, which explodes to the point of becoming a multitude, goes from a man becoming a woman to a criminal becoming a benefactor, while the absurd and the human, the grotesque and human relationships alternate, keeping the core of the film intact: its actresses. It’s worth praising their intuition for accepting such an unusual script, with lyrics that include songs about vaginoplasties. There’s genius in recognizing genius, and they have done it. Just look at Édgar Ramírez, who, despite a tiny role, didn’t want to miss the chance to participate in one of the films of the year. Amid the multitude of ramifications that Emilia Pérez opens up, Jacques Audiard creates a bold, baroque work, whose explosions unfold unpredictably throughout the film, exploring what it means to change bodies and whether it also entails a change of soul and society. How the mind must conform to the external shell, while primordial feelings—love, parenthood, even friendship—remain there, ready, with a hand on the detonator. And that auteur musicals (the closest comparison, though very distant in terms of style and themes, being the exhausting and magnificent Annette by Leos Carax) can ignite the imagination of a director who, in Audiard's case, has the skill to carefully, yet never rigidly, hold the reins of a narrative that is hard to contain, but which can only be watched, listened to, and admired. A film that dares and loves to dare.