In my adult life, there hasn’t been a more formative year for world cinema than 2012. When I was 23 and more in tune with the direct conversation, I was exposed to a lot of filmmakers who would become personal favorites. Among that list was Holy Motors (2012), Oslo August 31st (2012), and Alps (2012), which have remained among my favorites in the 13 years since. It also helps that each of these directors have gone on to prominent careers by producing work that remains provocative and worth seeking out. As a year, 2012 is a period encased in amber in such a way that I’ll always mythologize for the rest of my life.
And then there was Rust and Bone (2012).
Next to only Holy Motors, the Jacques Audiard drama was one of those formative viewing experiences that made me excited to explore world cinema. While I’ve always had this romanticization of French culture, there was something about this contemporary narrative that stuck with me. Maybe it’s that Marion Cotillard was still in the glow of her Oscar win for La Vie En Rose (2007) and two Christopher Nolan movies, but a lot of the marketing piqued my interest. The image of her standing before a fish tank and quietly moving in time with an Orca Whale remains one of the most beautiful images I’ve ever seen. Watching a disabled woman fall in love with Matthias Schoenaerts’ scrappy boxer character was a love story that I connected with on a deep level. This was cinema that felt human, so full of purpose. It pushed my understanding of what the medium could do.
As 2025 is about to approach its third month and The Oscars are coming yet again, I find myself thinking a lot about Rust and Bone for a handful of reasons. It’s not that France snubbed it as their country’s submission for Best International Film for the more accessible The Intouchables (2012). No. The reason that I think about Rust and Bone is because we’re 13 years past its release and I’m finding it difficult to grapple with the idea that Audiard is a filmmaker who was crucial in getting me to love world cinema. Even before Rust and Bone, I had seen A Prophet (2010) and appreciated what it was trying to say. To me, he’s not a god tier filmmaker, but still one I owe some debt to.
If the Oscars are consistent at anything, it’s awarding filmmakers for their lesser work. Much like Joaquin Phoenix for Joker (2019) following a decade of superior work, Audiard is currently up for awards contention with his latest project: a Netflix musical that was sold on its crazy byline. Emilia Perez (2024) follows a trans woman escaping her dark past as the leader of a drug cartel who is now trying to redeem herself in the eyes of the Mexican public. As someone who loves a good musical (and even Tom Hooper), I was excited to see Emilia Perez. It felt like this lofty, self-indulgent ode to some truly chaotic emotions. Could it match the magic of Sion Sono’s balls-to-the-wall Tokyo Tribe (2014)? Given that Emilia Perez now sits in the record books of Oscar history with 13 nominations, I have to believe it has some merit,
Anyone who likes cinema has had this experience of supporting an artist whose career randomly takes off. I’ve had that a few times, most notably with Brie Larson, and it’s so fulfilling to see them get their due. In theory, I WANT to support Jacques Audiard. I’ve been there since Rust and Bone. I was a fan of The Sisters Brothers (2018) and thought that Paris, 13th District (2021) had a lot of interesting ideas. To me, he’s never dipped far from a compelling filmmaker, so I wanted to believe that his eventual breakthrough would be this very unique passion project that spoke to the humanity and artistry that drew me to his work in the first place.
If it’s not clear by now… I disliked Emilia Perez. Of the five Audiard films I’ve seen, it’s easily the worst thing he’s done. Unlike most people who are more willing to nitpick everything, I find myself struggling to give into the dogpiling in part because I’ve formed a bad tendency for trying to “appreciate” the work of directors I like. There is a need for me to find the effort on display and highlight what makes me proud to follow them into every odd project.
I’m sure if I watched this in a bubble, I’d be more able to prop my defense on sturdy legs. Aesthetically, I really like what this film is doing. The idea of presenting characters who feel oppressed by their environment singing the music is a clever plot device. I’m especially in awe of how Audiard shot the music sequences and believe wholeheartedly that it’s some of the best movie musical composition that I’ve seen in the past decade. Even filmmakers I love more like Jon M. Chu have valid criticisms thrust at them for backlighting and sometimes lacking better choreography. Emilia Perez was accused of shooting on soundstages, but I think it uses it to full effect as Audiard creates eye-popping visuals that stick with you. He embodies what I want out of a musical. Hell, even the idea of centering a story around trans actors is conceptually something I aspire to see more of.
This is all to say that everything else about Emilia Perez is a complete disappointment. The further I wade into the queer discourse, the more I notice how surface-level Audiard’s larger take is. Despite getting input from lead Karla Sofia Gascon, the film still feels largely designed for cisgender audiences who have never heard of the “bury your gays” trope and consider trans women as hiding a dark past. Despite the efforts to convey empathy and create complex characters that are more than their trauma, I feel like Audiard failed spectacularly. I’m also thinking about Rust and Bone because where I felt that was a powerful drama of human emotion, I find Emilia Perez largely absent of it. In its place are tropes and a songbook that is… lacking. Where’s the beauty? Where’s the innovation? A story like this shouldn’t feel so regressive.
To quote a recent Kat Blaque video, I’m feeling gaslit when people say they like Emilia Perez. I’ve listened to actors I’ve appreciated like Javier Bardem praise its portrayal of a strong Mexican mentality. There is something that resonates with artists that make much better work than Emilia Perez, and I’m not too sure what. I’d even argue that Joker: Folie A Deux (2024) is a more successful swing at the fences than what Audiard does, if just because it works to fulfill an erratic tone. Emilia Perez is a movie that depreciates worse than a car being driven off the lot. The further away things get, the more I forget the music. Had this mediocrity not received any Oscar nominations, it’s likely that me calling this “fine” wouldn’t seem so radical. As it stands, it’s a fun reminder that Eddie Redmayne's Oscar nomination for The Danish Girl (2015) was done within the past decade. Progress is SLOOOW, people.
But beyond my personal read of the film, the discourse around Emilia Perez has been rough. Deep down, I want to believe that every artist of certain repute has good intentions when they make a film. This includes a reverent use of forms, including language. High on the list of controversies that almost everyone brings up is that the film feels like it’s been Google translated from French into Spanish. Spanish speaking audiences have been quick to point out how poorly the language comes across in the film, even pitting a lot of criticism against Selena Gomez for doing subpar work. But why set the film in Mexico if there is such a disconnect from the culture to the point that Audiard is giving acceptance speeches in French? As the director would candidly admit, it’s the language of the poor. Never mind that nobody in the central cast comes from Mexico. This is a complete disregard of an artistic code that should’ve been obvious to anyone with any level of empathy for their narrative.
Where was the Audiard who made Rust and Bone, where Cotillard and Schoenaerts can sit in an apartment and make me feel the intensity of their emotions? Where was the man who inspired me to see the good in flawed characters? Emilia Perez is technically about all that, but it becomes clear how little Audiard cared to collaborate with people who would’ve made the small details pop, who would’ve made this feel truly revolutionary. For as tragic as Rust and Bone is, there’s not a lot that feels predictable or rehashed. Emilia Perez can’t help but play into trope after trope both in the Mexican and queer communities. The ending is such a pandering mess that I can’t imagine the messaging is saying much that’s affirming.
It hurts to process Emilia Perez because every new development makes me feel like Audiard has been cheating me for 13 years now. The lack of blame he’s gotten for making Emilia Perez is especially alarming while Gascon has been under constant scrutiny for past comments. There doesn’t feel like there’s a support between the director and the actors in the press, and it is disappointing. More than the campaign falling apart, it’s disappointing how little defensiveness Audiard has had to put up. At most he goes to AARP’s Movies For Grown-Ups and gives a speech in French about being lost in translation. It would be funny if so much of Emilia Perez wasn’t defined by the errors.
There is a chance that I’ll like whatever film Audiard does next. Provided he doesn’t become one of those petty jerks whose work becomes a self-defense against his critics, he might return to finding a humanity that I care about. For now, I feel like it’s so absent from Emilia Perez that it’s translated to the awards narrative. The whole thing feels deceitful, so removed from the themes that connected me to his work all those years ago. Instead of being a surprise smash that’s inspiring young cinephiles to see his excellent back catalog, it’s a moment where everybody stands to take away the wrong lessons. Gascon’s P.R. failures may keep other trans actresses from having their shot at Oscar glory instead of being just your run of the mill celebrity trainwreck. It’s making fun of Gomez’s bad acting when she’s stated that Audiard didn’t give her enough time to rehearse. It’s not hiring people more sensitive to cultural differences, let alone who sees Spanish as something more than a poor language. In an effort to make a film that’s forcing its deep message into a box it doesn’t fit into, it stands to keep innovation from feeling truly fresh. It’s not about keeping to yourself, but learning to listen to others and appreciate how expansive the world is. It’s something I learned from Audiard in 2012, and I hope he figures out when the smoke has cleared from this garbage fire.
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