ok fine let's talk about emilia perez

(i am aghast)

Approximately once a year, a film — and its corresponding discourse — emerges with the seeming aim of unraveling me, specifically. Last year it was Barbie but god, I didn't know how good I had it, did I? 2024 awards discourse, I owe you an apology.

There were so many wonderful films released last year. So many. Two nights ago I watched All We Imagine as Light, a gorgeous Indian film that was shot so beautifully it almost made me cry. A few weeks ago I finally watched Conclave, which had me riveted from beginning to end. His Three Daughters was a stunning piece on grief, sisterhood, and death. The Piano Lesson once again showed us why Danielle Deadwyler should be cemented as one of Hollywood’s rising stars. And there are tons of Oscar-eligible films I haven’t seen yet that I’m sure I’ll appreciate immensely: Nickel Boys, I’m Still Here, A Better Man, The Count of Monte Cristo, Hard Truths, Maria, A Real Pain, Small Things Like These …

But instead, we’re wasting time discussing French-written, French-directed, and French-produced Emilia Perez, frankly one of the worst movies I have seen in the last decade that people are trying to gaslight me into believing is a revelatory treatise on both the Mexican and the trans identities.

Courtesy of Netflix.

Now, I'm not someone who believes only marginalized people should be able to tell the stories of marginalized groups or individuals. I think that's quite a limited and simplistic view of artistry, one that ignores the empathy required in good film-making and flattens the whole of a person into an identity group. It also implies, in a way, that a storyteller's subject matter is and should be defined by their sexual/racial/ethnic identity. I don't buy that. It is possible to treat subject matter outside of your identity thoughtfully and respectfully (for a recent example, see Martin Scorsese’s direction of Killers of the Flower Moon).

However. If there is one thing that should serve as a storyteller's constraint, it is the recognition of one's own limitations. It's healthy to know what one cannot and as such, should not, do. It is respectful. It is self-aware. It is all the qualities that Jacques Audiard, Emilia Perez's director, seemingly decided to cast aside to make this film.

(As a reminder, I’ve extended the 20% off sale on annual subscriptions until the end of January.)

What I'm about to tell you might shock you, but the movie musical about a Mexican drug lord who fakes her own death, undergoes gender confirmation surgery, and reappears years later to get her family back and also, because she now has the time, money, and identity to do so, moonlight as a philanthropist? It is not good. It is a stunning display of ill-lit (when God closes a door he draws the curtains shut, too) superficiality.

I also have to tell you: I don’t even mind bad movies. They’re part of the ecosystem. Not everything that’s released can be good. I understand that. I even understand that good directors can have misses (see, respectfully, Gerwig’s Barbie). What I don’t understand is how and why the industry elevates patently bad films to the exclusion of more deserving ones.

Maybe you think I'm exaggerating and babes, I wish I were. I wish the movie about a drug lord-turned-philanthropist had any redeeming qualities other than Zoe Saldaña fighting for her life to make this a good film (she is the film's only bright spot).

Unfortunately, Audiard's direction delivers on neither style nor substance.¹ Emilia Perez lasts a little over two hours, and sitting at the movie theater, I can tell you that I felt (derogatory) every single one of those 132 minutes. I was almost in shock, wondering how it was possible that this was the film that had made waves in Cannes.

But then again, Audiard is French. So are his two co-writers. So is the author of the novel Emilia Perez (the movie) is based on.² And here is the list of producers, straight from IMDb.

Merci, IMDb.

Again, I don't think being white and/or male and/or cisgender and/or French and/or a non-Spanish speaker should automatically make you ineligible from setting your movie about Mexicans in Mexico. But if you're going to cast three non-Mexican leads³, make the Mexican Drug War™ a central tenet of your film, and have outlandish songs about transitioning that wouldn't even pass Ryan Murphy's muster, then at least one of those ands better be an or.

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A few people have told me that they liked Emilia Perez because it was daring and creative and tried something new. I've talked about this offline with

Marion Teniade

, whose piece is forthcoming, about how important it is, yes, to encourage Hollywood to take big swings and not simply appeal to the algorithm's whims. One should be careful, however, about pairing excess audacity with too little curiosity. Perils abound. From the bottom of my heart: we must learn to overcome the Black Square Mentality.

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I will not speak on Audiard’s treatment of the trans identity because that’s out of my wheelhouse, but here’s what others have said:

I do not think only trans people can tell trans stories, but I’m curious when we will cease to be a metaphor. I’m curious when cis people who are fascinated enough to make movies about us will also be fascinated enough to learn anything about us.

There are many bad movies made by cis writers and directors about trans women. But you’ve never seen a bad movie about a trans woman like Jacques Audiard’s Emilia Pérez. (Autostraddle)

I don’t demand total realism from every film that I see …. But I expect that a filmmaker so taken by the concept of transitioning, one who’s displayed a certain level of conscious sensitivity in his previous efforts to depict lives unlike his own, to at least display an informed understanding of what that concept actually looks like in practice. (The Cut)

Not great! And yet, it matches what I thought was the film’s superficial and stereotypical portrayal of Mexico, Latin America, and its culture.

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Luckily, I do feel qualified to speak on the film’s general incuriosity (a term first used as regards the film by Richard Brody for The New Yorker) and its treatment of Latin culture. To that end, here are a few pertinent quotes from Audiard:

On musicals (the genre to which Emilia Perez belongs):

But to be honest, I don’t have a deep knowledge of musicals as a genre. (Interview)

On his familiarity of the Spanish language (the one in which Emilia Perez is shot):

Spanish is a romantic Latin language, so I can understand some parts of it. (Interview)

And on Mexico (the country in which Emilia Perez is set):

That’s why we shot on a soundstage rather than on location. I scouted a lot in Mexico, but after my third trip, I realized that was silly of me. We took it all back to a soundstage in Paris. (W Magazine)

Like. I’m sorry, but it's uncouth. And it has not escaped my notice how the vast majority of people telling me (yes this is anecdotal) how "creative" and "daring" Emilia Perez is just so happen to be white, straight, and non-Latine. Which is natural, of course; one's limited perspective can certainly impact one's perception of a work of art, but what happened to remedying ignorance with a bit of horizon-expansion? Why not pay attention to what those whose experiences are allegedly depicted by the film are telling you? Why not listen to what Spanish speakers are saying about the clunky (at best) dialogue?

Because famously, none of the three leads (Saldaña, Selena Gomez, and Karla Sofía Gascón) are Mexican, despite the script originally calling for them to be so. In an interview with SAG-AFTRA alongside the main cast, casting director Carla Hool explained this curious development: "[the casting team] did a big search in Mexico, the U.S., and Spain, and all Latin America and ... we wanted to keep it really authentic, but at the end of the day, the best actors who embodied these characters are the ones that are right here."⁴

Shockingly, the implication that the talent in Mexico and Latin America was somehow lacking did not go over well with Mexican and Latin American viewers. Especially those who watched the movie and were not, shall we say, awed by the sense of authenticity Hool described.

The origins of the characters portrayed by Saldaña and Gomez were altered to explain away their non-Mexican accents.⁵ This is fine — lazy, but fine. For Saldaña, it is an offhand remark halfway through the movie in which she tells someone, "I was born in the Dominican Republic, but I grew up in Mexico." Sitting in the audience, it was fairly evident that this was a later addition to the script, something to stop the crowd from wondering why her accent fluctuates throughout the film. But sure, okay.

Gomez, however, presents a thornier issue, as she is not a fluent Spanish speaker. That is not intended as an insult — she has said so herself. So they made her character American. Again, fine. There are plenty of Americans in Mexico speaking passable or even good Spanish. Unfortunately, this was not the case with Gomez. There were frankly times when I, a native and fluent Spanish speaker, could only understand Gomez’s Spanish dialogue by way of context and the grace of God. Is that Gomez's fault? The casting director's? The director’s? I don't know, but it is a problem that perhaps would have been noticed (or better yet, avoided) had there been a heavier Latin American presence in the film crew. It wouldn't have taken much, only ears and like, a month on Duolingo.

Any and all criticism of Gomez comes from me as, first and foremost, an Only Murders in the Building fan. I think she’s a good actress! She’s just not fluent in Spanish! (Photo: Netflix)

Is it not strange to set your film about Mexicans in Mexico and not even ensure that the Spanish being spoken is intelligible to a Spanish-speaking audience who is presumably watching without subtitles? I thought it was strange. And yet it is not surprising when you consider the fact that the movie, available in France in August and in the United States in November of 2024, will not be released in Mexico until late January 2025 (and only in theaters, not Netflix as is the case in the States). It stands to reason that the movie benefiting from stereotypes of Mexico and its woes was not intended for a Mexican audience.

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The story of Emilia Perez, I remind you, is not one based on real life. Which makes me wonder: was a French drug lord undergoing gender confirmation surgery simply too far-fetched for Audiard et al? Because were this movie set in France and about French culture, I can't imagine production would've cast a non-francophone to take on one of the three leading roles. Indeed, I can’t imagine a French audience would’ve stood for it. But because it is Spanish and because it is Latin America, the lack of fluency is seen as a forgivable offense. Why is that?

We need to get over the idea that Representation™ — regardless of its portrayal — is the ultimate goal of diversity and inclusion in the arts, when it is but one rung in the ladder. Believing yourself impervious to criticism under the cover of having made a trans film with a cast of Latinas is disingenuous. Casting a trans actress to play a trans role is the bare minimum, and making Latin America your subject matter does not get you a pat on the back, not when you don’t care enough to portray its language or its culture in a realistic or even respectful manner. Be serious.

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Sorry, everyone. Maybe I’ll write about recent movies I loved in a few weeks. As always, you can find me on twitter, instagram, and tiktok. The newsletter is fully supported by readers, so if you find yourself frequently enjoying these posts, please consider sharing the newsletter with a friend and/or becoming a paid subscriber.

1. And I’m not even talking about the fact that none of the songs are good or well-sung. Like, at this point that’s a secondary concern. Which is insane, because this is a musical. Glee was deranged, but at least the covers were good. No such luck here.

2. Although to be clear, the novel Écoute by Boris Razon is not about a character named Emilia Perez. Audiard got the idea from a chapter in the novel, wherein a drug kingpin transitions. There is nothing in the summaries or articles I’ve read to suggest that this character in Écoute is Mexican, but if anyone has read it and can confirm, svp faites-moi savoir, merci.

3. I'm not going to do the is Selena Gomez Mexican dance, sorry.

4. Adriana Paz, the actress who plays Epifanía and has a brief love affair with Perez, is Mexican. There’s been a sort of ex post attempt by the production to claim Paz as one of the film’s leads; this claim crumbles quite a bit when you consider that for months, it’s been Gascón, Saldaña, and Gomez on the cover of every promotion poster. But okay!

5. Gascón, who is Spanish, actually does a pretty good Mexican accent; she has long worked in Mexican film and television.