For a specific breed of pop music devotee, the appeal of the “diva” often includes a high tolerance for a particular brand of high-concept psychobabble. When Anne Hathaway, playing the titular singer in David Lowery’s Mother Mary, describes her latest single, “Spooky Action,” as an exploration of Einstein’s “transubstantiation of feelings,” it feels almost authentic to the genre. It evokes the era when artists like Lady Gaga would frame their work as a “reverse Warholian explosion”—the kind of bold, avant-garde nonsense that defines a superstar’s brand.
However, this generosity wears thin as the film progresses. While the Mother Mary review reveals a production of staggering visual ambition, the film—and its protagonist—suffer from a critical deficit of self-awareness. Distributed by A24, the movie positions itself as a “psychosexual pop thriller,” but it often feels more like a lavish style exercise that forgets to anchor its drama in human truth.
The plot follows Mother Mary, a former music A-lister attempting a comeback after a mysterious hiatus has left her haunted and emotionally frayed. Facing a looming return to the stage and a total lack of wardrobe, she arrives in the rain at the gothic estate of Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel), a fashion designer and former partner—both professional and perhaps romantic. The reunion is far from warm; Sam views the pop star with a visceral, almost biological disgust. “You are a carcinogen, you are a tumor,” Sam declares in an ominous voiceover. “The bile is rising.”
Despite this loathing, a supernatural pull draws Sam back into Mary’s orbit. The two spend the majority of the film in a dilapidated, “Miss Havisham”-esque barn, where Sam attempts to craft a stage costume from reams of chiffon. The tension is heightened by Mary’s specific constraint: she cannot wear the color red, as she is pursued by a demon of that exact hue. This premise sets the stage for two hours of preposterous, yet consistently stylish, tension that blends Dalí-esque surrealism with the sterile gloss of modern stadium pop.
The High Cost of Pop Spectacle
Visually, Mother Mary is an undeniable achievement. Much of the film’s reported $100 million budget is evident in the arena sequences, which dwarf the pop concert depictions seen in recent films like Trap or Smile 2. Hathaway is convincing as a “main pop girl” in these flashbacks, executing sharp choreography under cold blue lights. The sonic landscape is equally curated, featuring a soundtrack with contributions from Jack Antonoff, Charli xcx, and FKA twigs, the latter of whom penned the serpentine track “My Mouth Is Lonely For You.”
While the spectacle dazzles, the narrative weight is unevenly distributed. The film oscillates between these high-octane memories and the claustrophobic, wind-howling atmosphere of the barn. This contrast creates a jarring rhythm, where the film’s most impressive technical moments are interrupted by a screenplay that often struggles to uncover its footing.
| Key Element | Detail |
|---|---|
| Director | David Lowery |
| Lead Cast | Anne Hathaway, Michaela Coel |
| Reported Budget | $100 Million |
| Key Musical Contributors | FKA twigs, Charli xcx, Jack Antonoff |
| Genre | Psychosexual Pop Thriller |
A Study in Contrasting Performances
The film’s success rests largely on the chemistry between its two leads, though they operate on entirely different frequencies. Hathaway plays Mother Mary with an earnestness that occasionally veers into the melodramatic, treating the role with the gravity of a classical stage play. In contrast, Michaela Coel is the film’s secret weapon. Her Sam is glacial, imperious, and possesses a sharp, cutting wit that provides the only real relief from the film’s dour tone.
Coel manages to find humor in a script that often delivers “clangers”—lines of dialogue that attempt profundity but land as absurdity. In one exchange, Sam asks Mary if she “wants to look like a knife,” to which Mary replies, “I aim for to have a point.” This proves a moment that highlights the film’s struggle: it wants to be a piercing critique of fame and identity, but it often settles for being a series of clever-sounding phrases.
The supporting cast is a mixed bag of brilliance, and waste. FKA twigs delivers a standout, quasi-erotic tango sequence involving a Ouija board, and Sian Clifford provides effective comic timing as Mary’s stressed manager. However, other high-profile additions feel superfluous. Hunter Schafer is given very little to do, and Kaia Gerber—who showed impressive comedic instincts in Bottoms—is barely utilized.
Cinematic Echoes and Missed Opportunities
Lowery’s directorial hand is heavy with references that may be too on the nose for seasoned cinephiles. A sweeping backstage shot clearly nods to Peter Greenaway’s The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover, while the use of fading reverse shots between the leads’ faces is a direct lift from Ingmar Bergman’s 1966 masterpiece Persona. While the nods are technically proficient, they often feel like placeholders for original thematic development.
More frustrating is the film’s handling of its central relationship. For a movie billed as a “psychosexual thriller,” there is a surprising coyness regarding the queer dynamic between Mary and Sam. In an era of increasingly explicit and unapologetic sapphic pop culture, Mother Mary feels oddly prudish, side-stepping the “chewier” issues of desire and power that could have elevated the story.
A more daring version of this film might have explored the mirroring between Hathaway the global movie star and Mary the pop icon, examining how decades of public scrutiny wreck a person’s inner psyche. Instead, the film remains focused on the aesthetics of the “comeback,” treating the psychological trauma as a backdrop for fashion and ghosts.
Mother Mary is a film that understands the look of a cult classic without quite grasping the soul of one. It is a visually stunning hodgepodge of ideas that, like the dress at the center of the plot, is exquisitely crafted but lacks a clear point. It remains a fascinating, if flawed, experiment in pop-cinema fusion.
As the film moves toward its wide release, industry analysts will likely look to its performance among niche audiences—specifically the “stans” of its lead actors and the A24 faithful—to witness if its visual splendor can outweigh its narrative gaps. Further details on the film’s awards trajectory are expected following its full theatrical run.
Do you think the film’s style justifies its narrative leaps? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
