So. Now that I’ve gotten a good eyeful of what Sparks tick, let’s take a look at their other big cinematic contribution from this year. Not only have they written the lyrics and music for this musical (yes, 2021 has been a hell of a year for movie musicals), they also wrote what can be considered the book for this musical, all about the turbulent relationship between a stand-up comedian (Adam Driver) and an opera singer (Marion Cotillard). It provides another splash of variety to what this year has already had to offer, and it’s also the kind of idiosyncratic and enthralling work that, after watching The Sparks Brothers, I have come to expect from the duo.
This is a rock opera, where the vast bulk of the story is delivered in song, either by the main characters or by the background actors forming their own Greek chorus. It is easily the most ‘traditional’ musical I’ve seen all year, as it really focuses on operatic storytelling and more than a little bit of melodrama, all delivered through that eclectic Sparks sound palette and (admittedly) repetitive lyricism. That last bit may sound like a downside, but as a collection of statements that really hammer home what is going on (and even what’s taking place under the surface), it works out very nicely.
As for the story being told, there’s definitely something of Sparks’ attitudes to their own work to be found here. Through the dichotomy of the brash and abrasive comedian, and the singer playing for high-class audiences, the comedy/tragedy dichotomy is laid bare and reveals some pretty telling ideas. It plays into the modern perception of stand-up comedians, with Driver’s Henry saying that he became a comedian because “it’s the only way [he knows] to tell the truth without getting killed”, and there’s a lot of jealousy in his characterisation with how much his and Cotillard’s Ann’s careers diverge in terms of success. But knowing the stigma concerning whenever comedians try and do more serious performances, and even how off it can be seeing dramatic actors try and do comedy, it reflects quite a few statements from The Sparks Brothers in how easily comedy-oriented acts can be written off because they’re supposed to be funny.
And in that old-school drama crossfire, where entertainment is stuck between these seemingly mutually-exclusive approaches, there is Annette, a child mainly played by a wooden puppet. It’s… unutterably creepy to look at, but when combined with Leos Carax’s direction and Caroline Champetier’s cinematography, something about the theatrical and ethereal atmosphere surrounding that puppet somehow makes it work. As does how her character is treated in-story, being weaponised in a conflict between two people who, though they proclaim love for each other, are deeply afraid of or just flat-out hate their significant other.
The depiction of artistic narcissism, and even that of troubled relationships where children become pawns in a much larger argument (this is why thinking that having a baby will keep a relationship together is one of the worst ideas this side of butt-chugging), hits pretty damn hard, and the presentation maintains this intentionally-distant but still emotionally resonant tone. It’s very classical and built on old-school Italian opera, yet emphatically modern and takes some cues from the more conceptual work of The Who.
Now knowing how much trouble Sparks had trying to get into the world of cinema, seeing it work out this well is quite relieving. Adam Driver adds another notch to his belt as an actor who apparently has no end to his flexibility, ditto for Marion Cotillard (and even Simon Helberg in my new favourite performance of his), and while I can’t exactly guarantee that a recommendation will hold water (Leos Carax is the kind of filmmaker whose work is met with standing ovations and mass walk-outs at film festivals), I can guarantee that this is an experience worth having regardless.
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