Annette ★★★★½

“You know, it just seems like yesterday I found Annette in that church choir. I got her singing lessons. I taught her how to dress. I got her first club job, and I paid off a columnist. He did a beautiful story on her. I taught her who to be nice to, who to... I fed her drugs to get her through the road tours. I made her record a hit. Then I sold her to you. You made her the biggest thing in rock. So now what does she do? [...] She was more than a piece to me. She was the light of my life. And now she’s gone.”

— from Brian De Palma’s Phantom of the Paradise

Annette is absolutely a wild, magnificent audiovisual journey about the notion of (artistic) creation through which Leos Carax and Sparks take us unto many origins: the most fundamental effects of the sounds and images, to the origins of myth, history and fairytale (Adam and Eve, The Great Flood, Darwinian evolution, The Beauty and the Beast) to the cinematic origins — earlier French films (Jean Vigo’s L'Atalante and Jacques Deray’s La Piscine), Japanese ghost movies (Kenji Mizoguchi’s Ugetsu or Kaneto Shindo’s Kuroneko) and indeed, the splendor of classic musicals. Annette (the movie) just like Annette (the character) is a child prodigy that borns from the marriage of pop art and high art, from the copulation of comedy and tragedy, from the forbidden love affair of rock and opera. And all that, in an era when the mass media and the showbiz’ discourse are ready to kill both the father and the mother. Leos Carax’s Annette is, moreover, about the necessity of saving the innocence and purity of cinema through cinema.

By the way, Marco Ferreri would have loved this!

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