Well before his summer at Cannes this year, Jacques Audiard had always been a storyteller who thrives in contradictions. For those familiar with the French auteur’s oeuvre — the gritty prison drama of A Prophet or the migrant saga of Dheepan — his latest turn might seem particularly jarring. This time, he’s taken on his most extravagant contradiction yet: a musical crime comedy about a Mexican drug lord who faked his death to become a woman. For Jacques, the Cannes-winning Emilia Pérez was a logical progression, tapping into the primal themes of transformation and identity that have often defined his work.
At first blush, the Spanish operatic fable sounds absurdly high-concept, even for the man with a particularly brooding filmography. But dive a little deeper, and you’ll find the soul of an unlikely redemption story through which Jacques has pulled from disparate genres and settings to create a world both foreign and familiar — one where the vibrancy of musical numbers and the dark underpinnings of crime intersect in unexpectedly compelling ways.
ALSO READ:‘Emilia Pérez’ selected as France’s official submission for the Oscars 2025
In Emilia Pérez, Zoe Saldaña stars as Rita, a jaded lawyer who, on a whim, agrees to help infamous drug lord Manitas Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón) transition to his authentic self as the titular, Emilia Pérez. Meanwhile, Manitas fakes his own death and embarks on a journey to reconcile a violent past with an earnest desire to live as a woman. This reimagined identity brings Emilia back to the family she left behind, albeit as a supposed distant relative. Jacques’ film uses this premise to not only tell the story of a woman’s rebirth but also interrogate a society teeming with unresolved violence and people grasping for some semblance of normalcy.
“I was drawn to the paradox of it all,” Jacques says. “Here you have this kingpin — a symbol of virility and violence — and within that hardened exterior, a lifelong desire to be a woman. The transition, the paradox, is what captured my imagination.”
Having originally envisioned the project as an opera, Jacques sees natural synergy in the themes of transition: “Opera has always dealt with transformation, voice, and gender,” Jacques says, discussing how the high voices in church choirs were once sung by men alone. With a mention of the Baroque castrati singers and Elizabethan cross-dressers, Jacques feels a “continuity, and a great deal of logic” in connecting a cartel leader’s journey with these centuries-old traditions.
Anchoring the film is the trans actress Karla Sofía Gascón in the dual role of Manitas and Emilia — a character that feels like the bruised love child of Almodóvarian melodrama and the ferocity of the Corleones. With her history in Mexican telenovelas, the paradox in Gascón’s performance is quite potent. She brings an impressive range to her role, toggling between the hard edges of a criminal past and the poignancy of a woman in search of herself.
ALSO READ: Cannes winner Karla Sofía Gascón faces transphobic insults from far-right French politician
“I don’t have a lot of knowledge about queer people,” Jacques confesses. His “teacher” was Gascón herself. “Karla Sofía is extraordinary,” says Audiard, whose admiration for his lead shines through. “She has an empathy, a vibration of softness — this solidity that felt completely irresistible. It comes from her life, her experience. She’s finished with the transition; she is who she is. That brings a power to the role that’s unparalleled.”
For a filmmaker who’s spent decades honing a sensibility steeped in quiet intensity, the musical format itself was a bold step. Working with composer Clément Ducol and singer Camille, Jacques opted for a score that could support the film’s riotous energy without diluting its emotional core.
The genre, he concedes, wasn’t exactly smooth sailing — no easy task to marry the gravitas of his themes with a soundtrack. “Turning the story into a musical was almost inevitable; the epic scope naturally suited itself to music,” he explains, as if a dramatic new tune was always humming beneath the surface. “When Clément and Camille began composing, the songs started to shape the script, and sometimes the reverse: I’d suggest the themes for a scene, and they would create a song around it. This process went back and forth over four years, with many songs and scenes evolving or even getting cut.”
Working alongside Ducol, he orchestrated a score that dances along the tightrope of sincerity without tumbling into melodrama. The music was crafted to mirror Emilia’s journey, offering glimmers of light in the dark, like a quiet voice rising to a defiant crescendo.
Despite his limited experience with musicals, Jacques’ instinct for the theatrical shines through — there’s a natural sense of heightened cinema, rich with sensory cues. “A fascinating discovery was how music accelerated storytelling. In a typical scene, it might take pages of dialogue to unfold an idea fully. But a song could convey the same depth in just a few lines, striking both heart and mind with remarkable speed,” he notes, his knack for understatement unmistakable.
As I muster a faint “Merci beaucoup” to close our exchange, I catch at last, a flicker of mischief in his eyes, slipping out from behind those sunglasses he wore the entire interview, as if already scheming his next audacious genre detour. For now, though, there’s the deliriously original spectacle, that is Emilia Pérez, a fever dream only Jacques Audiard could deliver. And with it, the faint whiff of potential Oscar glory on the horizon.
Emilia Pérez is currently streaming on Netflix
Published - November 13, 2024 12:40 pm IST