Pop stars often burn brightly and quickly across our cultural night sky, and the longer they burn, the greater the odds of personal collateral damage. It seems that the longer you spend on the top of the charts, the higher the number of rehab stints, bankruptcies and marriages.
“Mother Mary” knows we know this and lets us bring all of our preconceived notions to fictional pop star Mother Mary (played by Anne Hathaway) who stumbles onto the screen after years in the spotlight and seemingly on the verge of a psychological breakdown.
Desperation has brought Mary to the door of one of the casualties of her fame, her former fashion designer Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel), who is still deeply hurt by their falling out.
Writer/director David Lowery drenches this movie in atmosphere, as the two women spend most of the movie performing an autopsy of their relationship in Sam’s studio, which is housed in a well-worn, Victorian-era estate in the English countryside.
While both women refrain from hysterics, hurt feelings and raw emotion are in play in every scene, while the tiniest threat of violence seems to be lurking in the shadows. Chekhov’s sewing scissors make more than one appearance.
What anchors this movie to the ground, even as the story stretches thin and the proceedings become vaguely supernatural, is the strength of the two lead performances.
While playing an emotionally wrung-out, aging pop star is well within Hathaway’s wheelhouse, her on-stage persona (which is extremely Lady Gaga-coded, complete with extreme fashion and dark lyrics) is captivating as she performs original songs with a commanding stage presence. If Mother Mary showed up at the Grammys next year, I wouldn’t think twice about it.
It’s also an incredible physical performance, highlighted by a dance routine she performs for Sam without any music that is part ballet and part demonic possession.
But while Hathaway is dazzling, Coel is a revelation. She is the emotional center of the film, and while we’ve seen plenty of behind-the-scenes characters who are cast aside and never given proper credit for their contributions, Coel manages to give us something new.
Sam is more hurt by the death of a partnership and being removed from the presence of Mary’s talent than she is by being mistreated and denied her due. She also shows so much restraint in her performance that you feel like Sam is capable of doing anything at any moment. It’s riveting stuff.
“Mother Mary” doesn’t quite live up to its ambitions as it stumbles around through its muddled third act. But it does demand your attention from beginning to end and wrestles with big ideas surrounding fame, friendship, betrayal, artistry and redemption without giving an inch.
“Mother Mary” is a beautiful oddity, like a piece in a modern art gallery that you would never hang in your own home, but one you find yourself still thinking about days later.
“Mother Mary” is rated R for some violent content and language.
