Breathtaking Style Dominates David Lowery’s Latest ‘Mother Mary’

Breathtaking Style Dominates David Lowery’s Latest ‘Mother Mary’

By Alex McPherson

Stunning, beguiling, and wholeheartedly its own thing, director David Lowery’s “Mother Mary” is a polarizing experience where pretentiousness is part of the charm.

This gothic-horror-romance-pop-song-chamber-drama follows the titular Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway), a world-famous, Taylor-Swift-adjacent popstar preparing a comeback tour after she experiences a harrowing onstage accident that we get a split-second glimpse of in the film’s opening moments.

Mary is exhausted and a hollowed-out shell of her former self. She has a panic attack during a costume fitting and rushes to the English countryside to make a surprise visit to her former best friend and costume designer Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel). Sam harbors palpable resentment after being ghosted (no pun intended) 10 years ago. 

Mary is desperate for Sam to make her a dress for the tour so she can “be herself” and find “clarity.” Sam — with a prickly, slyly wolfish demeanor — agrees to take on the challenge. She also sees an opportunity for Mary to address past wrongs in their professional and personal relationship.

Within a foreboding barn-turned-workshop, Sam and Mary get to work, with Sam gradually unspooling years of resentment. Social niceties give way to daggers (and scissors) as the two confront the end of their creative partnership:

Sam’s tireless work to support Mary’s celebrity persona has largely gone unrecognized; the pressures of fame and of constantly being in the spotlight have taken a massive toll on Mary’s psyche and eroded her sense of self. Still, there’s work to be done and a deadline to meet. At least, until things get trippily metaphysical.

Yep, this is definitely a film by the director of “The Green Knight” and “A Ghost Story.” It floats along on its own visually astounding wavelength that never loosens its grip on its insistence for weirdness.

“Mother Mary” is ultimately a difficult experience to pin down — unimpeachable in its craft elements and its central performances, but strangely simplistic in what the narrative boils down to: a whole lot of stylistic extravagance for a story whose emotional beats feel oddly schematic.

Still, Lowery’s latest is a bizarre experience made with such conviction that even when the story’s reach exceeds its grasp, the mesmerizing, phantasmagorical, genre-bending style never loses its impact. “Mother Mary” demands to be watched on the big screen.

It’s filled with gorgeous costumes, eardrum-busting concert numbers (featuring songs by Jack Antonoff, Charli XCX, and FKA Twigs), intensely intimate drama, gnarly horror, and spectral beauty, where the past elegantly blends with the present. 

The shadow-drenched barn becomes a portal to Mary and Sam’s history and imaginations, where their spiritual connection to each other is realized in ways both deeply earnest and unnerving. “Mother Mary” renders the force between the women literal as they each grapple with the weights of their connection and regrets; Daniel Hart’s score’s pulsing bass resembles a beating heart.

Hathaway and Coel are wholly up for Lowery’s wild swings, with Coel in particular commanding her every second onscreen. Cinematographers Rina Yang and Andrew Droz Palermo often frame her in close-up;

Coel’s face almost seems alien at times, her character’s sharp features, deep voice, and acid tongue intimidating and imposing (and sometimes darkly funny), although Sam herself is a heartbroken soul searching desperately for closure. 

Hathaway gives an equally excellent performance as the tormented celebrity. We see the years of expectations and regrets weighing her down, and her embracing a completely different persona onstage amid blinding lights and screaming fans.

One of the film’s best sequences involves Mary showing Sam her dance routine without music — monstrous and animalistic, hinting at the film’s increasingly supernatural influences.

It’s frustrating that “Mother Mary” doesn’t make the characters’ journeys quite as resonant. Indeed, while the film is – mostly – enigmatic to its benefit, Mary and Sam are too thinly-sketched as characters for their relationship to have the emotional thrust “Mother Mary” insists it does.

The main appeal is seeing just what elaborately hallucinatory set-piece Lowery has in store next, rather than investment in their (bluntly-spelled-out) inner battles. The film is so sincere, so earnest, about matters of the heart, but it opts for spectacle, which betrays the more nuanced drama that would truly let viewers into Mary and Sam’s worlds.

So, “Mother Mary” is a bit of a mixed bag, albeit one that deserves to be celebrated nevertheless — creativity and eccentricity like this should be supported, whether or not it fully lands. It’s a beautiful mess.

“Mother Mary” is a 2026 dramatic music thriller written and directed by David Lowery starring Anne Hathaway, Michaela Coel, Kaia Gerber, Hunter Schafer. and FKA twigs,, Its runtime is 1 hour, 52 minutes, and it is rated R for some violent content and language. It opened in theatres April 24. Alex’s Grade: B+.

Glossy Cosplay, Icy Heat for a New Generation in ‘Wuthering Heights’

Glossy Cosplay, Icy Heat for a New Generation in ‘Wuthering Heights’

By Lynn Venhaus

Visually stunning but emotionally empty, “Wuthering Heights” is an abomination for fans of the classic gothic romance, a disservice to Emily Bronte’s dark source material about eternal love, longing, hurtful pride and ruthless revenge.

The 1847 novel took place on the harsh Yorkshire moors. The impoverished, abused Heathcliff, adopted into the affluent Earnshaw family around 1771, works manual labor, and forges a special bond with the privileged, petulant Catherine.

However, writer-director Emerald Fennell claims it’s not an adaptation, but a bold and sexy interpretation of how the book made her feel when she read it at age 14. Maybe she could have changed the title to avoid less-than-flattering comparisons?

Fennell’s spin is edgy excess as she favors kinky bodice-ripping sexual compulsion over the book’s spiritual obsession that lingers long after reading. The emotional heft that the novel delivered for 180 years is lacking,

Australians Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi are pretty people who are magnetic on screen and talented Oscar-nominated actors.

Although Robbie, at 35, is too old for her character, and Elordi’s modern casting is controversial because he’s not a person of color, they display a spark as the doomed lovers — refined, selfish Catherine and rough, tormented Heathcliff.

In this salacious version, the heavy lifting required for such complicated characters in what would be considered a toxic and manipulative relationship in today’s world isn’t important.

Treated as an outcast, Heathcliff is described by Bronte as a “dark-skinned gypsy in aspect” and “dirty, ragged, black-haired,” so speculation that he was black or brown-skinned continues.

Playing the young roles, Brits Owen Cooper (Emmy winner for “Adolescence”) and Charlotte Mellington, excel at establishing the characters’ demeanors.

 In previous screen portrayals of grown-up Heathcliff – Laurence Olivier in 1939, Timothy Dalton in 1970, and Ralph Fiennes in 1992, with Richard Burton in a 90-minute DuPont Show of the Month in 1958 and Tom Hardy in a two-part series on Masterpiece Theatre in 2009 — all were white.

Only one – James Howson, a black actor, portrayed the brooding anti-hero in a 2011 film by director Andrea Arnold. So, the debate continues.

The tone is troubling too – Elordi is never savage or a brute to Robbie, and she’s not nearly as wild as the book depicts Cathy. Their relationship, so-called “forbidden,” was thwarted because of societal constraints in the Victorian Era.

Fennell gussied up the look with ready-for-influencers’ glossiness that is distracting and merely decorative — and at times, not period-appropriate.

The shiny surface spotlights the crafts over substance, foregoing the book’s deeper meaning about twisted, destructive intergenerational consequences because Fennell cut out the second half.

She has reduced this timeless tale to a tedious 2 hours, 16 minutes of fan fiction, with too many scenes reminiscent of 1990s perfume ads, complete with.artsy shadows and peculiar attitudes.

Costume designer Jacqueline Durran goes increasingly over-the-top with Catherine’s opulent, outlandish outfits – including an iridescent cellophane dress accented with a large pink bow, as if she’s a gift for her new husband. How meta!

She and production designer Suzie Davis get carried away with a color palette emphasizing red and pink. An odd collection of leeches on the wall of Catherine’s palatial dainty pink-and-freckled bedroom is a ridiculous misuse of the era’s medical customs.

Oscar-winning cinematographer Linus Sandgren (“La La Land”) emphasizes unrelenting weather elements to convey the windy, rainy and foggy conditions of the rugged moors, employing impressionistic lighting and sweeping long takes to heighten the gritty geographic-specific realism.

When Cathy marries aristocratic Edgar Linton (Shazad Latif) of neighboring estate Thrushcross Grange for financial stability, as her gambling drunkard father (Martin Clunes) has frittered away their fortune, a devastated Heathcliff feels betrayed and leaves, only to come back five years later a rich man.

After he buys Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff later seeks revenge on everyone who has wronged him (although the film misses the mark here by not continuing that storyline). As soulmates, he and Catherine maintain an intense and tumultuous relationship, more sexually explicit here than the 18th-century book.

Spitefully, he marries Edgar’s sheltered, child-like sister Isabella (a terrific Alison Oliver). This sadistic-masochistic relationship is the film’s most troubling insertion, next to the shocking hanging scene that opens the film as a sexually arousing public event (things you can’t unsee).

Known for her provocative, twisted takes on relationships (“Promising Young Woman,” “Saltburn”), Fennell has established herself as someone with a fresh, unique vision. In this strange misfire, the mood is more important than the message, and her tinkering has cut out some crucial characters or revised them in ways that don’t make sense.

She eliminated Catherine’s bully brother Hindley, who was cruel to Heathcliff while the dad was kind, changed the parents’ narratives, and dropped the second half of the book, among other puzzlers.

Therefore, characters aren’t haunted by the tragic past, and the supernatural elements aren’t brought up. That’s a huge part of this story. Fennell didn’t want to go the distance, and because of that, the character development is scattered.

Fennell has made Nelly Dean, the maid who is more of a Heathcliff ally in the book, the villain here, and is slyly played by the superb Oscar-nominated actress Hong Chau as someone wounded and lashing out (Mrs. Danvers, anyone?). It’s another confusing element.

In her Oscar-winning screenplay for “Promising Young Woman,” Fennell presented an original view on gender disparity, and “Saltburn” was an intriguing class clash, a twisty take on “The Talented Mr. Ripley,” both ramping up shocks and dropping jaws — effective contemporary pieces that kickstarted conversations (and brisk business for the novelty candle “Jacob Elordi’s Bathwater”).

The frenzy/firestorm continues here with a polarizing work, but this time it’s rooted in a beloved book. Does the original intent come through for the uninitiated, who aren’t familiar with the star-crossed lovers’ tragedy that continues to fascinate?

What will be the lasting impressions? It seems disposable, save for.bizarre images of dog collars, messy broken eggs, mountains of gin bottles, scarred flesh, pig’s blood, voyeurism, eccentric dolls, and lots of ribbons.

To add to its surreal aesthetic, Charli XCX, a pop star known for her synth-electro beats, has created a modern techno soundtrack.  

In its favor, Fennell kept some of the most revered quotes in: “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same,” “I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!” and “I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.”

If an adaptation – say Baz Luhrmann’s “Romeo + Juliet” and “The Great Gatsby” — brings a dynamic energy to the moral complexities of a moment in time – then we can accept the changes, but when one ignores the psychology in favor of spectacle, it’s merely a parade of ‘strike-a-pose’ cosplay scenes.

Call me a romantic traditionalist, but this ‘loosely based’ adaptation is cringy, turgid, unnecessary and interminable.

“Wuthering Heights” is a 2026 period drama romance directed by Emerald Fennell and starring Margot Robbie, Jacob Elordi, Hong Chau, Shazad Latif, Alison Oliver, Martin Clunes, Owen Cooper and Charlotte Mellington. It is rated R for sexual content, some violent content and language and runs 2 hours, 16 minutes. It opens in theaters Feb. 13. Lynn’s Grade: D.