The eponymous rock star (Anne Hathaway - or perhaps Margot Robbie or Natalie Portman?) has had some sort of an incident with her erstwhile friend and fashion designer "Sam" (Michaela Coel) and so when she turns up unannounced at her home in the middle of a thunderstorm, she can't be too surprised that the reception she gets is just as wet. She needs a frock. A frock to end all frocks. She needs "Sam" to design it for her, as only she really understands her; knows her; yada yada... Barring a few interventions from her assistant "Hilda" (Hunter Schafer) and some briefly menacing scissor-wielding moments this is essentially a slightly cryptic analysis of their relationship and visually it reminded me of "In Fabric" (2018) at times. It's extremely dialogue heavy and for a good portion of it, it makes you think it could be far more effectively performed on a creatively lit theatrical stage. There's precious little context for us, either, in terms of what drove them apart in the first place or of just what the motivation is for a reconciliation that "Sam" seems entirely indifferent, even hostile, to. Conceptually, it might be about stripping back the layers of superficiality that surround not just this industry, but of life in general? Perhaps a critique of the fickleness of fame and friendships? In any case it doesn't really present these women with anything like enough depth for us to really care, and as we entered the final, more fantastical and perhaps metaphorical phase, I began to lose interest a bit. I find Coel a very natural actor to watch, but Hathaway was interchangeable with half a dozen actors and despite her best attempts with a couple of musical performances I just didn't feel engaged.

A time-honored adage astutely maintains that, in many cases, “less is more” – unless, of course, there’s little to hold someone’s interest in the first place, in which case “more” needs to be supplemented to create something more worthy of appreciation. At the same time, though, whatever is added to the mix needs to be inherently worthwhile to make its inclusion beneficial, because, if it’s not, it doesn’t matter what’s incorporated for improvement. And, sadly, that’s the core issue plaguing this latest dramatic release from writer-director David Lowery. After a protracted absence from performing, pop star Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway) is on the verge of making a comeback after an on-stage accident. However, the mesmerizing, immensely popular singer, whose works have a spiritual bent akin to some of Madonna’s biggest hits, is frazzled just days before her long-awaited appearance. She’s particularly upset that her costuming doesn’t reflect the “authentic” look she’s going for, one that’s indicative of her character and fitting for her new material. And so, sheepish and desperate, she calls upon her long-estranged former lover and costume designer, Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel), to create the perfect dress for her performance in a matter of four days. Of course, it’s a lot to expect that they’ll be able to get right down to business given that they haven’t seen one another in a decade and have a number of unresolved issues to address, which they proceed to do in a series of long-winded, incredibly overwritten and pretentious dialogues. And, not unlike the nature of Mother Mary’s compositions, these conversations quickly bring up matters of a spiritual nature. In particular, they revolve around ghostly (or is it ghastly?) issues that both parties have experienced and tie back to the unfinished business between them. They also strangely link to the dressmaking process, leading one to think that this picture might have been more aptly titled “Phantom Thread” (even though that was already taken in director Paul Thomas Anderson’s 2017 release of the same name). Without giving anything away, it’s not too hard to figure out where things go from here, though, rather than address these issues in a straightforward, reasonably plausible manner, the material is presented in a series of overproduced quasi-surreal sequences that tend to muddy the waters more than to clarify them. The result is thus an offering that is innately thin (despite efforts to convince viewers otherwise) and that heavily emphasizes style over substance. There’s no denying that the filmmaker’s visual stylings are indeed impressive for the most part, especially in the performance numbers (though some of the ghost story backdrops are a little too Goth for my taste). Comparable praises can also be sung for the film’s soundtrack, vocals, choreography and set designs, all top notch. And the performances of the two leads are generally solid, despite the often-laughable quality of the material they’ve been handed to work with. In the end, though, these strengths can’t overcome the woefully intrinsic weaknesses of the story and screenplay of this overwrought drama/psychological thriller. In fact, in light of what’s on offer here, I truly believe I would have been more satisfied with a simple concert film instead.

I'm always drawn to stories that show the darker side of fame. I went into *Mother Mary* expecting an authentic takedown of the modern pop industry, something that questions idol worship and the price of overexposure. Instead, I found a movie of extreme contrasts. The flawless visuals constantly battle a dense and exhausting script. It’s a visually stunning project, but it trips over its own emotional detachment. The camera work and production design carry a lot of weight here. They capture the brutal intensity of the music and fashion worlds through gorgeous but intentionally suffocating imagery. The saturated lighting and tight framing create a constant feeling of claustrophobia. The shallow close-ups really capture the exhaustion on the actresses' faces, forcing us to look at the fractured minds of people who live to perform. The wardrobe is more than just decoration, too—making the "most beautiful dress ever" feels like a painful, invasive process, turning needles and fabric into tools for psychological torture. Music is the lifeblood of the story. With an original soundtrack by Charli xcx and Jack Antonoff, the movie hits peaks of pure adrenaline during the concert scenes. The heavy club beats clash violently with the dead silence backstage, perfectly reflecting the main characters' internal decay and making up for some of the script's heavier moments. Anne Hathaway absolutely carries the film with a hypnotic performance. She plays a traumatized pop star brilliantly, avoiding the usual clichés of a declining diva. Instead, she shows us the quiet, desperate exhaustion of keeping up a fake persona while slowly falling apart. Michaela Coel is the perfect counterbalance as stylist Sam Anselm, bringing a fierce, bitter energy. Coel doesn't even need to yell; her defensive posture and impatient glares communicate years of repressed hurt. The clash between Mary's narcissism and Sam's hostility creates an explosive chemistry that keeps you hooked. However, hanging out with these characters quickly becomes a chore. Mary is so narcissistic and detached from reality that it's nearly impossible to care about her. The script expects us to invest in her luxurious drama, but her pain feels manufactured and isolated in a bubble of privilege. Sam isn't much better; while Coel acts her heart out, the character is driven by a wall of unjustified arrogance and hostility. Watching them trade toxic, self-pitying insults gets old fast. This artificiality bleeds into the dialogue. Nobody talks like a real person—they just deliver heavy monologues full of obscure metaphors trying to sound profound. It feels incredibly stiff and kills any real, organic emotion. Also, for a movie promising to expose the entertainment industry, it relies on tired clichés: manipulative managers, the loneliness of fame, and a superficial take on the fashion world. It’s an obvious social commentary pretending to be deep. Visually, the movie is physically draining. Director David Lowery traps us in tiny, neon-lit rooms and corridors instead of showing us the massive scale of pop stardom. While it’s meant to mirror the protagonist's chaotic mind, it quickly turns into sensory overload and just becomes annoying. On top of that, the movie tries to throw in some horror and mystical elements, but they feel completely out of place. It’s a clunky mix that disrupts the psychological drama with cheap, hollow weirdness. By the third act, the movie completely loses its grip. The psychological tension becomes repetitive and loud, and the climax just drags on. After spending two hours building up dark mysteries and bad blood between the leads, the script completely refuses to give us any real resolution. It melts into confusing visual poetry, taking the easy way out with a cowardly "open ending" that just leaves you frustrated. Ultimately, *Mother Mary* asks a lot of its audience. You get incredible performances from Hathaway and Coel, but they are trapped in a movie where style completely crushes substance. Still, film criticism is subjective. What felt cold and calculated to me might feel like a brilliant take on trauma to someone else. It's still worth seeing for the raw sensory experience and the killer acting—just keep your expectations for the story in check and see what you make of it yourself.