On the second weekend of this year’s Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, headliner Sabrina Carpenter brought out a special guest, Madonna, who performed her 1990 dance floor anthem “Vogue.” Released in 1990, at the height of both Madonna’s fame and her artistic powers, the song’s video by future super-director David Fincher was inescapable on MTV. In the crowd at Coachella, people who weren’t even born until the 21st century knew how to vogue, largely because Madonna had elevated the dance form from the drag and gay clubs of Downtown New York into the pop culture spotlight. Carpenter and Madonna then duetted on their new song “Bring Your Love,” which will appear on Madonna’s upcoming album, her first in 20 years.
From Beyoncé to Lady Gaga to Taylor Swift, we live in a pop music era that Madonna built. Her vision of the total pop star, who controlled not only her music but also her ever-changing visual aesthetic and borderline scandalous public image, has become a template for those who came after her. Carpenter sharing her shot on the world’s biggest stage with the Material Girl is meant to be her coronation as the next great female pop idol. But where does that ruthless Blonde Ambition to be the most-known and most-loved woman in the world ultimately lead? Madonna, who has lived her life in public since she was a teenager, seems well-suited to nonstop scrutiny. Even when harrowingly personal details about her ill-fated relationship with Sean Penn were revealed in the ravenous tabloid press, you didn’t see a crack in her well-crafted facade. Lady Gaga, on the other hand, has been open about her mental health struggles with the alienation and demonization that happens when you get everything you’ve ever wanted.
Photo: Courtesy A24
That’s what David Lowery’s new film Mother Mary is about, albeit in a roundabout way. We first meet the titular pop star, played by Anne Hathaway, doing what she does best onstage in front of 18,000 rapturous fans who wave their cellphone lights in the darkness beyond the floodlights. “This song is cursed,” she says, before stepping backwards off a raised platform and falling into her audience. Years later, after recovering from her injuries, Mother Mary is plotting a comeback. That means a whole new wardrobe. But while she’s being fitted for the dress to wear when it’s time to sing the greatest song of all time, she has a bit of a meltdown. She throws off the bold new take on her trademark halo and runs screaming from the building, straight to the airport where she flies to London. There, in the mossy British countryside, she barges into a farmhouse which is now the headquarters and home of fashion designer Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel). She brushes past Sam’s harried assistant (Hunter Schafer) and demands to see the boss. They’re good friends — or at least they used to be.
Sam, it turns out, was the creative force behind Mary’s meteoric rise to fame. Mary’s ever-present halo headdress was her idea. But after years of erotically charged collaboration, Mary ghosted Sam without even having the guts to fire/break up with her in person. Now, the halos Mary wears make her head hurt, because, Sam says, they’re too heavy.
Sam recovered from her heartbreak, and built her own fashion empire. She remains in fierce control of every detail of her life. Mary went on to untold heights of fame, but she wears a harried, haunted look. After much begging, Sam agrees to make Mary a dress. When she asks what it should look like, Mary says “me.” All of the shows and adulation, being everything to everybody, have taken their toll. Now, the diva has forgotten who she was, and what about her made her so irresistible.
But it’s much weirder than that. When Sam relates a dream about a red floating ghost, Mary is taken aback. She has seen the same ghost many times — in fact, she believes it possesses her. It all began when she and her loyal crew of backup dancers got involved in a drug-fueled after-show seance with a super-fan named Imogen (FKA Twigs), who stabbed Mary in the hand with shears and invited the red ghost in. Mary holes up in Sam’s private studio, a dusty, converted barn, to try and literally exorcise her demons.
The pleasures of Mother Mary are all sensual and visceral. It carries the same visual flair as some of David Lowery’s best work, such as the longingly eerie A Ghost Story and the impressionistic Arthurian tale The Green Knight. The ghost’s first appearance in Sam’s dream landscape is particularly striking. Lowery’s inventive, noir-tinged lighting highlights every graceful curve of Coel’s face. Hathaway is fully committed to the role of the aging pop star who no longer knows the person she sees in the mirror.
The craftsmanship is impeccable, but I came away from Mother Mary feeling cold. The supernatural confrontation between two former soulmates fizzles out, as the movie spins its wheels. Sure, there’s lots of impressively staged eye candy, and the couture is pretty stunning, but after yet another close-up of billowing fabric, you start to think maybe this isn’t going anywhere. The drastic tonal shifts make it seem like the director lost interest in making a psychological portrait of fame and decided to make it a ghost story. Lowery was shooting for alchemy, but what he ended up with is a sprawling mess.
Mother Mary
Now playing
Multiple locations