TIFF24 Dispatch: “Heretic,” “Emilia Pérez,” & Babygirl
This review was originally posted on Film Obsessive.
The 2024 Toronto International Film Festival is beginning to wind down! Film Obsessive’s News Editor, Tina Kakadelis, is still in Toronto and still checking out films. In her latest dispatch, she breaks down Heretic, Babygirl, and Emilia Pérez.
Heretic
Courtesy of TIFF.
There’s nothing more exciting than watching a beloved actor turn villainous, but only on-screen. In real life, it’s far less charming. Hugh Grant built his career on his boyish charm, and Heretic allows him to use that same charm for evil. Director/writer duo Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, the scenarists from A Quiet Place, have cast Grant in a role that goes against the majority of his career, and for the better.
Sister Paxton (Chloe East) and Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) are devout members of the Church of the Latter Day Saints. Their last stop for the day is a man named Mr. Reed (Grant). He welcomes them into his home and, after some lively theological debates, poses them a question: how much do they believe in what they’re preaching? Heretic is a chamber thriller that sees the two Sisters questioning their beliefs in order to find an escape.
Based on the trailer, one would expect Heretic to be simply more of the standard horror fare that distributor A24 has become known for. In another expectation upset, though, it’s more a religious debate than a gorefest. It has more in common with 12 Angry Men than something like Midsommar. In fact, it’s the moments that are primarily in the horror genre where the film is at its weakest. The lively, tense debate among the three characters is riveting. As the runtime stretches to two hours, the main argument of the film gets twisted, and a third-act twist takes some of the wind out of its sails. Despite that, Heretic is worth the price of admission for its theological debates and a deliciously, deliriously mad performance by Grant.
Emilia Pérez
Courtesy of TIFF.
Emilia Pérez stormed out of Cannes as an early awards season frontrunner after the four leading women collectively earned the Best Actress award this year. Seemingly, the film has everything. It’s described as a “pop opera, narco thriller, and gender affirmation drama” all rolled into one. It’s almost unfathomable to see how all of these genres could convincingly be rolled into one film, but that’s the magic of movies, isn’t it? Emilia Pérez hoped to deliver on all those things.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t. The film follows a lawyer, Rita (Zoe Saldaña), who has been asked by a violent kingpin, Manitas (Karla Sofía Gascón), to help aid in their transition from male to female. In order for her to live her truth and be reborn as Emilia, Rita must convince everyone that Manitas has died and find the finest, most discreet doctors to perform the surgeries. It works, and Emilia is born. Manitas‘ wife (Selena Gomez) believes her husband is gone, and Rita has more money than she knows what to do with. When Emilia comes back into Rita’s life four years later, Rita returns to the underbelly of Mexico City.
YouTuber Jenny Nicholson has created a test of sorts for original musicals, because far too many new movie musicals are simply writing pop songs that wouldn’t feel out of place on the radio. A good musical song would stick out like a sore thumb on the radio (there are exceptions of course) and to Emilia Pérez’s credit, the songs all pass this unofficial test. The problem is that they all sound the same. They’re all patter songs, and not even Gomez, who has had a career in pop music, really gets to belt it out. The film’s first song is its most vibrant, but only because the audience doesn’t yet know the subsequent songs will all be choreographed similarly and sonically be almost unrecognizable from the others.
The greater conversation about the trans aspects of Emilia Pérez should be discussed by trans critics. As someone who does not identify as trans, but exists within queer spaces, Emilia Pérez’s view of the transition process appears to be very limited. It’s not robust enough to appeal to those with intimate knowledge of the experience, nor does it feel accessible enough to serve as an introduction to people who are clueless about what it means to be trans. During the screening of Emilia Pérez, I found my mind wandering to another trans story from the festival with its own musical stylings: Really Happy Someday. While neither Really Happy Someday nor Emilia Pérez is a traditional musical, Really Happy Someday is much more effective in its blending of trans storytelling and singing.
Babygirl
Courtesy of TIFF
Between Demi Moore’s gonzo performance in The Substance and Nicole Kidman’s role in Babygirl, this festival season is celebrating beloved actresses finally being able to let loose. Granted, Babygirl doesn’t ask as much of Kidman in terms of blood or gore, but the film does ask her to lap up a saucer of milk like a cat. Halina Reijn’s Babygirl is an examination of a woman’s (Kidman) desire to be in a BDSM relationship with her intern (Harris Dickinson). The film seeks to look at abuse of power in a professional setting that oozes over to a sexual one.
The conversation around Babygirl is one that won’t be as nuanced as it needs to be. Humans, and Americans specifically, have never been good at talking about sex. That mentality washes over into the film and its explorations of Kidman’s character never reach anywhere different than those that have come before it. The concept of female sexuality on the big screen, where the focus is on the woman’s desire, is still far too rare, but it’s unclear what Babygirl is interested in saying beyond “women should have orgasms too.”
Make no mistake, the chemistry between Dickinson and Kidman is there, and the film’s exploration of the power dynamic between a boss and her employees is more circuitous than anticipated. Even so, it’s too many ideas flying around all at once without giving any of them a chance to breathe and exist. Babygirl will spark a lot of debates, but it seems unlikely to make viewers critically think about the overlap between sexuality and power.
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