Mother Mary (2026)

I know everyone else is writing about and watching Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada 2. I will get around to watching that as well, at some point, probably late night on a TV when I’m in need of some easy viewing. But I went to see the other current Anne Hathaway film at the cinema – Mother Mary – much less conventional fare, more in keeping with my pretentious bent.

Mother Mary is billed as a psychological, supernatural drama, written and directed by David Lowery. It stars Anne Hathaway as Mary, the pop diva on the brink of a comeback following an ‘accident’ on stage and Michaela Coel as Sam, a fashion designer. The tone is sombre – which is odd given that this is a film about pop music and fashion. But the script takes these two seemingly frivolous activities and imbues them with the seriousness and pomp of religious faith.

It is a film about an estranged friendship. Sam had been there at the beginning of Mary’s rise to fame, but has since felt locked out, ‘ghosted’ by her old friend. Mary felt claustrophobic within the friendship, seeking a break, a breather but instead found herself about drowning in fame.

The plot centres on their reunion.

There is much to love here: two very fine actors, Coel showing a frosty determination and beautifully lit in the close ups of her animated face, Hathaway with a frightened fragility, the cinematography and choreography of the arena concerts, an ethereal sound track provided by Charlie XCS and FKA Twiggs, swathes of luxurious fabrics, fantasy headdresses, a spooky motif. It would be easy to be dazzled by the style of the piece, and to be seduced by the gothic mansion of fashion.

However, I shifted in my seat. I found myself yawning. The seduction was incomplete. Because beyond the aesthetic and mesmeric vagueness, there was no real depth. This is essentially a film about friendship when great change and ambition get in the way. But the metaphors are clunky. Sam feels she was ghosted, so Mary returns pale and translucent. Mary is so feted in her fame, to the point of sainthood, she has to suffer a great fall, a public humiliation. And between the two of them, old friendship has to be rewritten in blood, literally…

I could forgive this clumsiness more easily if it had been done with audacious high camp. I thought that was what I was going to get, when Sam’s opening monologue talks about being able to sense her old friend's presence before it arrives. She describes her ex-friend as “a carcinogen, you are a tumour.” She tells us, “the bile is rising.” I was ready for a revenge melodrama, the push and pull of toxicity. But I was misled. The script never delivered the humour or self-awareness of camp. The tone turned solemn and ponderous. Eventually, it becomes fully supernatural, with a denouement that references Dracula and The Exorcist.

This is a film that takes itself far too seriously. Apart from the odd side-eye from Sian Clifford as Jade in Mary’s entourage, there is no light to all the shade. It has all the intensity of female friendship, with none of the many laughs that accompany that.

The red dress at the end, however, is beautiful – pleated, draped and sculptural. Maybe, I should have watched The Devil Wears Prada 2…

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