Director David Lowery has had an interesting career trajectory, continually hopping back and forth from independent movies to big studio projects.
As such, few filmmakers as young as Lowery bolster a filmography so diverse (yes, the same guy who directed the Disney+ movie Peter Pan & Wendy and two episodes of Star Wars: Skeleton Crew also helmed A Ghost Story and The Green Knight). His latest project, Mother Mary, represents a rare misfire for a filmmaker who has become known for his versatility behind the camera.
Mother Mary stars Anne Hathaway as the titular character, a singer and pop icon who has stepped away from the industry following a crisis. Desperate to secure a costume befitting her upcoming tour, Mother Mary reconnects with Sam (Michaela Coel), her estranged best friend and former costume designer, at an isolated country residence in England. From there, the two engage in a series of conversations that examines long-buried wounds and desires.
A quick glance at posters for Mother Mary will reveal that the film sports two taglines: “This is Not a Ghost Story” and “This is Not a Love Story.” It’s an interesting marketing decision that oddly sums up the film with uncanny accuracy. With a story that approaches the supernatural as talk of ghosts creeps in and attempts to thoughtfully examine an intimate relationship between women up-close, the film fails to commit to either narrative path, so much so that it ends up having very little to say in either area. For so abundantly wearing its attempts to be thematically rich and layered on its sleeve, the film shockingly feels hollow.
Virtually the entire film unfolds as one extended conversation between Coel’s Sam and Hathaway’s Mary, and is interspersed with concert scenes of the latter performing on stage. To keep the audience engaged with a dialogue-heavy movie like this is a tall order, and one that Mother Mary ultimately falls short in achieving.
The film is painfully flat and uninteresting, especially in an uneventful and monotonous first half. The two leaders often speak in riddles and metaphors, telling vague stories that hint at their history with one another, but with such ambiguity and lack of focus that the audience doesn’t actually learn anything new about either of them. Not only does this render the film dizzyingly repetitive, it finds Lowery caught up so unwaveringly focused in his desire to be thematically rich that the back-and-forth between Sam and Mary becomes increasingly wayward and meaningless.
As a two-hander (that also features small roles for the likes of Hunter Schafer and FKA Twigs), Mother Mary affords Hathaway and Coel ample opportunity to showcase their respective talents. Hathaway nails the elusive aura of pop idol, seemingly drawing on her own decades of being in the public eye to craft a character that generations of fans adore. Hathaway’s commitment to the role is clear, as she sings, dances, and engages in a tug-of-war with Coel’s character that exposes the dark corners of their past. Her performance, however, disappointingly relies far too heavily on looking upset as tears well up in her eyes.
The real star of Mother Mary is not its titular character, but, rather, the person Mother Mary left behind. Michaela Coel, the exceedingly talented writer and star of I May Destroy You, plays the role of a former friend scorned by the past yet tantalized by the creative opportunities presented to her with precision and command. Coel uses the imbalance between Mary and Sam fostered by Mary’s public-facing stardom and Sam’s reserved creativity to deliver a performance rich in subtle emotion and capable of persevering through overly ornate and poetic dialogue.
Hathaway and Coel share electric chemistry. The two bring plenty of tension to a tumultuous relationship between former friends who have not met in years. Throughout their dialogue, the film tries to have something to say regarding their friendship, the mistakes Mary made, and the possibility of redemption (and whether Mary is worthy of being redeemed), but an overly ambitious screenplay inundated with unnatural dialogue means the film gets lost in its own layers.
Mother Mary begins to pick up when Sam first tells Mary of her experience with a ghost, detailing a long piece of red cloth laid at the foot of her bed before being shooed away. Mary tells a similar story, but one that has more of a sinister tone to it, which goes a long way in giving the film the tiniest bit of tension and suspense it so desperately requires. With the introduction of the ghost into the story, the film finally gains a clear direction with its narrative, although this is hindered by far too many hallucinatory experiences and dreamlike, almost delirious atmosphere.
With nine wildly different films under his belt to date, David Lowery has demonstrated that audiences never know what to expect from his movies. While admirably ambitious and bolstering a stellar performance from Michaela Coel, his latest film fails to operate effectively either as a ghost story or love story. Instead, Mother Mary unfolds as a drab and monotonous watch more likely to lull you to sleep then to provoke profound thought and emotion.
Mother Mary expands nationwide Friday April 24, 2026, only in movie theaters, via A24. Visit their official site for locations and showtimes.