By Matthew Moorcroft

Strong Recommendation

• Directed by David Lowery
• Starring Anne Hathaway, Michaela Coel, Hunter Schafer, FKA Twigs
• R

Playing into the metaphysical and poetic, Mother Mary is exactly the kind of film that you would expect David Lowery to make. At his core, Lowery is a filmmaker that plays into emotion and vibes first and foremost, with all of his films carrying a level of painterly like ambiguity to the true nature of what’s on screen. And what better premise to take advantage of that then a glamorous, world famous pop star whose performances on stage are as much part of the art as the music she makes? After all, music and performance itself tends to paint in vague, metaphorical gestures.

Like the best pieces of pop music that this particular story is so clearly inspired by, Mother Mary lingers in your head like a fine tuned, rhythmic sound. The words that are spoken are almost entirely standing in for something else, with every line or spoken word having some sort of separate, more introspective meaning to it’s characters. And yet, just like that music, it’s also deeply enthralling and hard to look away from; every costume and movement is a piece of art in it’s own right.

That’s something our title character absolutely seems to subscribe to as well, as she comes back to her old costume designer in a desperate attempt to find some level of clarity to herself in the midst of a clear creative crisis. That costume designer isn’t exactly thrilled, but is willing to put up with her need out of a mix of curiosity and her own personal feelings towards the pop star. As the dress is slowly produced, we get their feelings laid bare towards each other, with both sides needing to let down their walls and admit that there are indeed ghosts haunting them – whether literally or metaphorically – and they need to be confronted if that dress is going to be made.

It plays like a two woman stage play, with Anne Hathaway and Michaela Coel carrying the entire picture by themselves with exquisite monologues and beautiful, flowing dialogue that, in true Lowery fashion, is purposefully verbose. This is especially true of Coel’s character Sam, whose poetic musings about the nature of celebrity worship and her own feelings towards our lead idol are almost as complicated as her own mixed emotions towards her. Those expecting Mother Mary to be more of a gothic concert film will likely be disappointed, but there is something to be said on just how good Lowery always is at staging chamber pieces and long sequences of beautiful, painterly imagery that feels like you’ve gone to church and back.

That feeling of religion is particular apt here, as our fascination with the pop star as a concept sometimes wraps back around to being religious in nature. We view them as these larger then life figures, wrapped in halos and gorgeous garments, and it’s that mystique that Mother Mary actively seems to confront. It’s not critical of it, not necessarily; if anything, Mother Mary is disinterested in demythologizing the pop star. Instead, it leans into full haunting, ethereal ghost story mode by the end of it, almost like it’s begging it’s lead character to strip herself bare and embrace her own mythology not as a curse but as her true self.

But even if you can’t get behind Mother Mary‘s strangeness into it’s second half – with feels very apt for Lowery, ever the lover of the supernatural and otherworldly – you can certainly get behind how it looks. A beautiful tapestry of a picture, there is imagery here that will be seared into your brain with reds and blues and backlights that just sing as loud as the stellar music here. That tapestry almost reads like the final dress itself; a collage of images and ideas that all shape together to create one singular, bursting at the seams vision that’s equally personal as it is maximalist. The film posits that this isn’t a ghost story, which isn’t entirely true, but maybe it really isn’t. Instead, in those images, Mother Mary feels like a rebirth story, one where that rebirth is literal as well as metaphorical.

There is something truly beautifully entrancing about Mother Mary as a flick. I suspect that time will be exceptionally kind to it, and that multiple viewings will continue to unveil new layers to it’s multitudes. In the moment though, after a single enthralled viewing, I found it a wildly original, engrossing chamber psychodrama that’s another winner from one of our most distinct voices in the medium at the moment.