Annette ★★★½

Sparks Present: A Bergman homaging musical shitpost and the oddest movie of the past few years. I can only respect how deeply director Leos Carax takes us into the Mael brothers' dark cabinet of the bizarre, a singular and tonally jarring comedy (??) adventure. Two women in my screening howled in disgust at the picture as the credits rolled, one of them announcing, "critics should be shot." I didn't share their emotional response, but prospective watchers should buckle the hell in: Adam Driver's well publicized operatic cunnilingus is just this movie's ground floor. As for its ceiling, I'm still mulling over, but it's creative, grim and funny as hell. Think of it as a treat for those who adore black licorice, and you'll be close to appropriately adjusting your palate. I somewhat think the core concept at play - that is unpacking an artist's ego - is a bit basic and misaligned with the unique approach, and I'll probably be see-sawing back and forth with my opinion on this one all year long. It presents an uneven mix of confusing moments and brilliantly effective ones, and I could understand having virtually any takeaway on the film as a whole. All told and after days of consideration, I revert back to my original thought: I admire the hell out of it, even if I struggle to understand some of its bold choices.

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