The Hallucinatory Mess That Is 'Mother Mary'

By Natalie McCarty

Photo by Eric Zachanowich. Courtesy of A24.

David Lowery’s Mother Mary arrives dressed in the language of prestige—gothic melodrama, surreal horror, pop spectacle, emotional resurrection—but beneath all the shimmering fabric and grand declarations, it remained hideously unmoving. It’s a film obsessed with its own importance, convinced that atmosphere alone can substitute for substance, and unfortunately, it never does.

On paper, the premise has promise: a global pop icon in crisis, Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway), reconnects with the fashion designer and former confidante she abandoned, Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel), for one final dress and one final confrontation. The film frames this as a haunting meditation on creativity, regret, forgiveness, spiritual connection between artists, and the importance of female friendship. I understood exactly what it was trying to say. I just couldn’t care less, as it was executed so horrifically.

Photo by Eric Zachanowich. Courtesy of A24.

The issue is that Mother Mary mistakes endless monologuing for emotional depth. Conversations stretch far beyond their natural life, repetitive to the point of exhaustion, with dialogue that drones on and on without ever landing anywhere meaningful. The writing feels pretentious and overstuffed with itself—more interested in sounding profound than actually being profound. Every scene insists on its own significance, but very little of it feels earned.

Lowery’s direction, despite all its ambition, doesn’t offer much visual compensation. For a film so dependent on mood and spectacle, the cinematography and editing are surprisingly flat, lacking the kind of visual daring that could have elevated such a hollow script. Yes, the costumes are interesting enough, and the fashion elements certainly try to carry the film’s sense of grandeur… but baby, this isn’t Phantom Thread. Beautiful clothes alone cannot rescue a ridiculous plot or a genuinely terrible screenplay.

Photo by Frederic Batier. Courtesy of A24.

There is a point somewhere around the midway mark where the film briefly picks up with just enough intrigue and tension to keep me from walking out of the theater. But by then, the damage is already done. 

What should have been a rich exploration of art, identity, and unfinished love instead becomes a hideous waste of talent buried under self-seriousness and empty ambition.

With music by Charli xcx, Jack Antonoff, and FKA twigs, and performances from actors more than capable of carrying emotional complexity, Mother Mary had every ingredient to be something unforgettable. Instead, it’s just a big batch of nothing—pretentious, hollow, and frustratingly unmoved by its own supposed brilliance and iconography.