Anne Hathaway and Michaela Coel deliver one of the most electric screen pairings of the year in “Mother Mary,” David Lowery’s moody new thriller about a pop icon forced to confront the ghosts of her past. Known for the meditative stillness of “A Ghost Story” and the tactile fantasy of “The Green Knight,” Lowery here pivots to the jagged intersection of celebrity culture and psychological haunting.
Hathaway stars as the titular Mother Mary, a pop icon reeling from a disastrous public performance mishap. On the cusp of a high-stakes comeback, she finds herself stifled by her curated image and retreats to England to reunite with her estranged former designer and one-time best friend, Sam (Coel). What begins as a quest for the perfect dress quickly devolves into a reckoning with long-buried wounds and the tension that defines their past.
While Hathaway and Coel are both radiant, it is Coel’s Sam who truly drives the narrative. Her performance is pained and poignant; she dominates the screen, exerting a control over Mary that feels both professional and deeply personal. As she works to create an outfit that reflects Mary’s journey, she forces the singer to peel back the layers of their shared trauma. The exact nature of their relationship—whether they were best friends, lovers, or something in between—is left deliberately vague. While that narrative abstraction has its own kind of poetry, it also slightly undercuts the emotional stakes; the depth of Sam’s resentment might hit harder if the audience knew more precisely what was lost between them.
Hathaway’s performance is a masterclass in duality. For much of the runtime, she inhabits a state of raw fragility, especially when at Sam’s mercy. She is a woman desperate to reclaim her identity, aware that the price of her perfect dress is a painful psychological stripping-down. On the flip side, when she steps into the persona of a pop icon, Hathaway radiates with the stadium-filling charisma of Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift.
FKA twigs makes a haunting impact in a mid-film sequence involving a spirit board. Her character, Imogen, becomes a vessel for something—or someone—else, and twigs delivers a frightful physical performance that delivers a jarring, visceral jolt, setting the tone for the second half of the film.
The film’s soundtrack is equally vital. Hathaway performs all the songs in the film and even co-wrote the lyrics to several of them alongside pop heavyweights like Jack Antonoff and Charli XCX. These aren’t mere movie songs used as background noise; they are powerful, moody, and intentionally crafted. The film’s accompanying album, “Mother Mary: Greatest Hits,” stands on its own as a genuine pop achievement.
Visually, Lowery continues to prove he is a master of the frame. One of the film’s most effective techniques is the way scenes begin in the present and seamlessly transition to the past, as if a memory were physically manifesting in the room. It is an immersive, non-linear approach, yet the film occasionally leans so heavily into metaphor that the viewer is left questioning if certain events are literal or purely allegorical. For a film this invested in emotional clarity, that ambiguity occasionally works against it.
Overall, “Mother Mary” is a compelling, visually arresting thriller anchored by standout performances. It’s worth noting that the film’s trailer suggests something wilder and more overtly supernatural than what Lowery ultimately delivers. There is an otherworldly element to the film, but it doesn’t run as deep as the marketing implies. For some viewers, that gap between expectation and reality may sting. But given the strength of the film’s actual vision, it’s a disappointment that fades quickly.
