Tags: blog, film, drama, essential, 2026
Author: KickingK
Date: Monday May 25th, 2026
Mary Magdalene, that'd be my first sin
All movies about pop stars are, in one form or another, about the gap between the fantasy of pop music and the mechanical reality it's built on. The interplay between the mask of the performer and the face behind it.
Todd Haynes' underappreciated masterpiece Velvet Goldmine is the absolute pinnacle of the genre and focuses on the idea of the Pop Star as an act of artistry itself, and the centring of that act between the person performing it and the audience who are moved by it.
Mother Mary explores similar territory whilst also taking inspiration from another masterpiece, Céline Sciamma's Portrait of a Lady on Fire, a film about seeing and being seen.
Anne Hathaway's Mary has the ability to hold an audience under her spell but her identity has been at least partially constructed by the dresses and outfits designed by Sam, played by Michaela Coel. Sam is the person who Mary, out of desperation and needing a dress with which to relaunch her career, turns to after being estranged for a long time.
Mary knows that Sam has the ability to create a look for her that captures the way she sees her. And Sam adores Mary with an intensity that combines the infatuation of a first love with the devotion of a pop obsessive. Sam is both a fan and a crush, the two multiplying each other.
Or was anyway. The walls that Sam has constructed since are fierce and solid. The interplay and tension between the two as they try to negotiate the design of the new dress boils and tears at the two of them. Mary attempting to re-inspire Sam (and through her, her audience), Sam trying to remain in control and not get swept away and engulfed by the very idea of Mary.
The characterisation of Mary and Sam are superb. Anne Hathaway is indecisive and unsure of herself but when in a position where she can express herself artistically, utterly magnetic. At one point in the film the pair tell each other a ghost story: Sam's is functional and supremely evocative. Mary's is completely unhinged in a way that drags every part of your attention into the scene, to the point where nothing outside of it even exists.
And yet it's Michaela Coel that the film actually focuses on. She's helped by a script that actors would probably kill for, down to earth yet occasionally so vibrant it veers towards spoken word poetry, perfect for Coel's East London dry and fruity wit. Director David Lowery clearly loves photographing her as the camera lingers on her long enough to capture the intensity of her, the ferocity of her unblinking view, the absolute force of everything she sees and feels.
And it's through this emotion that we tumble through the film, spiralling into the vortex that is Mary's personality and persona. That emotion is as believable as it is powerful, dragging everything to an ending that maybe isn't a conclusion. As by this point reality has been broken down by art and longing to the point where both characters are lost in their own truths. Or possibly fictions.
This film brilliantly updates the philosophies of Velvet Goldmine to a social media age. With that era of pop, there's an air gap between creation and audience where the fantasy and emotion can be poured into. Here and now, fledgling pop artists are in contact with an audience immediately and intimately, fan feedback helping mould the shape and direction of their early career.
How that changes the relationship between artist and audience, especially once they diverge and fall out of love, is what this film explores. It does so with an empathy and sincerity that is completely breathtaking. It treats pop music and it's fans with the passion, imagination and seriousness that they deserve.
The comparisons with Velvet Goldmine and A Portrait of a Lady on Fire are not made lightly, this film stands alongside them. If you've ever been a pop music obsessive then this film is one of the true greats.
