RIOTUS

The first thought that came to me while watching David Lowery‘s Mother Mary was “dark women, witchy film craft.” It’s an incomplete thought for sure, but some of you will know what I’m talking about. Sometimes art isn’t about story, even though it is almost always storytelling. So let me rephrase, sometimes art isn’t about plot. That thought is one part of my setup for this two-handed, darkly witchy, pop opera about unreconciled resentment. 

But since I can’t summarize the premise any better than A24 already has, let’s get that out of the way: 

Long-buried wounds rise to the surface when iconic pop star Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway) reunites with her estranged best friend and former costume designer Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel) on the eve of her comeback performance. 

Let’s get into it. Anne Hathaway is the pop music icon known as Mother Mary. The trailers may lead you to believe she’s based on Lady Gaga, but this is an alternate universe Taylor Swift with a blood infusion from Madonna. Don’t believe me? Look at her. Then listen to her. The concept album for the movie is called MOTHER MARY: GREATEST HITS (so very cheeky). Still don’t believe me? It’s performed by Anne Hathaway and co-written by Jack Antonoff, Charli xcx, FKA twigs, and Hathaway.

Listen to MOTHER MARY: GREATEST HITS

Listen to MOTHER MARY: GREATEST HITS

Yes, I know. I told you. And we can’t forget the absolutely stunning costume design by Bina Daigeler—who, prepare yourselves, did the upcoming The Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping. Costuming always matters, but it takes on multiple layers of relevance here. Why? Michaela Coel is Sam Anselm, the equally extraordinary designer who cut and sewed the imagery that made Mother Mary an icon. Exhibit A: the Met Gala magnificence of the Joan of Arc look that becomes a set piece in the film. Exhibit B: the series of halo headpieces that the pop star can’t rock an audience without. 

Mother Mary and Sam are artistic soulmates, the kind of pairing that boosts each other’s careers into the stratosphere. Picture Audrey Hepburn and Givenchy, Cher and Bob Mackie, or Zendaya and Law Roach. Then focus on Zendaya and Law and imagine them having an irreparable rift. I’m talking about a fallout of such proportions that all that remains of the love and inspiration they shared is rage. Now you’re here. 

How the pair confronts that rage is where the story of Mother Mary gets, not so much told, as meditated on in a sparkling theatrical musing of memory, big mad-ness, and music that should go to Broadway immediately. All of that is clear from the trailers and promotions. Here’s what you might not expect: Mother Mary is a ghost story, feverishly poetic but perhaps overflowing with symbolism. That’s not a bad thing. You just have to recognize that it’s a visual—the thing we used to call a music video— and that juxtaposition of art and music is what makes it work. If you understand the work.

As I mentioned, this is a two-hander something Coel has made hers in 2026 [see The Christophers with Ian McKellen]. Watching her and Hathaway play against each other is mesmerizing. Hathaway drips with desperation and regret, while Coel burns with a cold resentment bordering on turning mad into madness. Call it friendship, or lost love, or codependency; whatever you call it, Hathaway x Coel turn these characters into fuel. Lowery‘s film wouldn’t spark without that combustion. And in a surprising turn, FKA twigs becomes the creepy embodiment of their obsession (or if your mind works like mine, let’s call her a love child—just not the way you think). Symbolically, twigs is the perfect intersection of Hathaway and Coel in this film; as is the fabric that binds them.

Symbolism is what makes and keeps you enthralled with Mother Mary. Act 1 is a psychological drama where we fear Coel might get stabby. Act 2 is A Christmas Carol, where Hathaway’s Scrooge is visited by the ghosts of the past and present, with the future undecided. All of it fueling an Act 3 that brings “Running Up That Hill” by Kate Bush into sharp-edged and bloody theatrical life. The film is built on symbolism—from halos, to the ties that bind, to stigmata. Yes, there are references to the holy wounds, but reinterpreted—the focus is on women and our relationships with each other. There are no men, other than background dancers, and none of them utter a word.

Yes, it’s a bit messy, overblown, and indulgent, but that’s what makes Mother Mary fascinating. It is cinema, and it is theater—the arts should take big swings. This film does, and I’m seated for its twisted beauty. See it for yourselves. I’ll warn you, the ending might be tidier than you’d want, but I’ll reference the Mother Mary song “Cut Ties” and recognize that sometimes that’s all you can do. With that in mind, you have to applaud the ghost story of a dead romance. 

The last thought Mother Mary left me with was: When the fabric of life rips apart, make a new dress, and bloom from the ash. You’ll see what I mean when you get there. Although the symbolism is hard to miss, Mother Mary shouldn’t be.

— MOTHER MARY PLAYING IN SELECT THEATERS, NATIONWIDE APRIL 24 —

STARRING

Anne Hathaway, Michaela Coel, Hunter Schafer, Atheena Frizzell, Kaia Gerber, Jessica Brown Findlay, Alba Baptista, Isaura Barbé-Brown, with Sian Clifford, and FKA twigs

WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY

David Lowery

ORIGINAL SONGS WRITTEN AND PRODUCED BY

Jack Antonoff and Charli xcx

ORIGINAL SONGS BY

FKA twigs