Netflixable? French Biker (OK, Scooter) Gang Goes for the Gold…and diamonds — “GTMax”

“GTMax” is a French thriller about armed robberies pulled off with the aid of souped-up scooters.

No, not Vespas. But modified small-wheel street commuters turned into “battle tanks.”

So the promise of the premise is the sight of superscooters and dirt bikes tearing through the narrow cobblestoned alleys, along the Seine and all over Paris. This promise is at long last fulfilled in the third act, and that chase is pretty impressive.

But the movie that gets us there is dumb, talky and pokey in the extreme.

It begins with a dull set-up that goes on an on — a bike-modifying gang led by Elyas (Jalil Lespert) pursued by a furious, ex-Motocrosser cop Delvo (Thibaut Evrard) draw in siblings from dirt bike racing’s royal family (Ava Baya and Riadh Belaïche).

Meanwhile, in a scene that goes on too long, but not as long as an actual “real” race, Michael (Belaïche) has just lost the motocross championship and tarnished the family legacy, cost them sponsorships and could bankrupt the lot of them. Sister, ex-racer turned bike-tuner Soélie (Baya) must save their skins when Elyas & Co. come calling for bikes tough and fast enough to crash their way into hijacking a shipment of jewels.

The performances are overwhelmingly…adequate.

It took four credited screenwriters (stuntman/director Olivier Schneider added his two-Euros-worth) to cook up “the accident” that made Soélie afraid to mount up again and a finale that’s too illogical to comprehend.

Everything here is generic, right down to the dialogue.

“Whatever happens, we stay alive” is the biker family’s motto. The gangsters? “They’re in this for the adrenalin rush, not the cash!”

“Trust me, OK?” is sure to be trotted out. And when you really need somebody’s attention, “Hey, look at me, LOOK at me” always works.

Well, it “works” in bad scripts. Or is supposed to. In French or dubbed into English.

Rating: TV-MA, violence, smoking, profanity

Cast: Ava Baya, Jalil Lespert, Thibaut Evrard, Riadh Belaïche, Samir Decazza and Gérard Lanvin

Credits: Directed by Olivier Schneider, scripted by Jean-André Yerlès, Rémi Leautier, Rachid Santaki and Jordan Pavlik. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:40

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“Carmina Burana” as a Ballet, because critics can’t live on Cinema Alone

Just caught an extraordinary performance of the epic Carl Orff cantata, music often repurposed in film scores, danced by the Carolina Ballet with grand accompaniment by the huge North Carolina Master Chorale, an eight piece ensemble and a flawless tech crew.

The cantata is a thunderous, overwhelming experience all by itself. John Boorman famously paired it with his Arthurian epic “Excalibur,” and I’ve never passed up a chance to hear it live since.  A brilliant, evocative/interpretive ballet with a stark, stunning design deepens the impact. Several choreographers have produced ballets based on the piece, but I have to say this one illuminated the text in ways hearing it as a vocal piece do not.

This show is a once in a lifetime event. If you live in NC or Southern VA., this is a bucket list performance and production.

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Movie Preview: “My Dead Friend Zoe” is among the vets in group therapy with Morgan Freeman

Natalie Morales has the title role, with Sonequa Martin-Green as the former comrade-in-arms who sees dead people.

Morgan Freeman and Ed Harris bring the gravitas.

A “cute” combat trauma tale? Feb 28, we find out if that works.

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Movie Review: Kirkland Fan and would-be filmmaker makes the trek to “Sallywood”

A film buff meets his Hollywood idol and wins his dream job working for her in “Sallywood,” a lighthearted indie lampoon of show business, showbiz “types” and the indignities of “I used to be famous.”

Sally Kirkland got her start in show business in the early ’60s and finally “arrived” when she won a Golden Globe and earned an Oscar nomination for the dramedy “Anna” in 1987.

Writer-director Xaque Gruber’s semi-autobiographical comedy shows a young man from Maine (Tyler Steelman) who grew up obsessed with that film about a fading Czech actress struggling in New York, who travels to Hollywood to take his shot at being a screenwriter, and who stumbles into his idol the first day there.

It’s the sort of Hollywood cartoon where she asks Zack “Are you my new assistant?” And so he becomes just that.

Working for the 80something Kirkland means guarding the unlocked gallery where she’s showing her abstract paintings (even though no one would steal them), helping her get to auditions for McDonald’s commercials, getting her into Hollywood parties and finding her string cheese on demand.

Gruber, who’s written for TV specials and kicked around at different on-set jobs, makes his film a “My Date with Drew (Barrymore)” mockumentary, with writer Zack setting up each scene with screenplay scene headings — “INT. strip club at night,” etc. and narrating to the camera or in voice over.

“If the Dalai Lama drive the 405 every day, his message to the world would be entirely different!”

Zack’s function in Gruber’s deadpan, cringey and cutesy comedy is to be Ms. “I used to be famous. I’m not famous any more’s” audience.

Kirkland, playing a cartoonish version of herself that she trotted out on talk shows back in the day, is flirty, spacey, hippy dippy and prone to oversharing.

About her “men,” for instance — “Bob Dylan, Kris Kristoffersen, Dennis Hopper, Maximillian Schell, Robert Shaw, Kier Dullea, Ray Liotta, Jon Voight…”

“I had my first ORGASM with RIP TORN!”

Zack’s first task, a “test,” is writing her obituary, the more flowery and flattering the better. But he’s most useful when his hunky Brit filmmaker/roommate Tom (Tom Connolly) cooks up “Outer Space Zombie Chicks in Prison,” with a starring role for Sally.

“If you take a film that’s a piece of crap, but you put a star in it, then you’ve got something” should be taught in film schools. Sally will don a spacesuit and alarming wig as a sight gag.

Jennifer Tilley plays Zack’s doting mom. Eric Roberts is Sally’s smarmy, lazy and self-serving agent. Keith Carradine a famous director who used to love Sally, Kay Lenz is his famous-director ex, the Kathryn Bigelow to his James Cameron. The late Michael Lerner plays a TV producer and Maria Conchita Alonso is a “scammer” and literary agent.

“Sallywood” is the epitome of the genre known as “the film festival comedy,” an indie film aimed at film buffs, that rewards cinephiles who recognize actors much of the world has forgotten and makes wry but unoriginal and obvious observations about “this town” and that “business.” It’s played in a lot of film festivals and won awards in a few.

But watching it, you can’t help but think it could have been more consequential — a lot sharper, sillier and sadder.

Steelman’s “Young Jiminy Glick” choice of voices for his performance, Kirkland’s deadpan dizziness and a sea of Hollywood types — producers, agents, hustlers and porn performers — with their edges rubbed off all work against an Inside Hollywood comedy that might have been.

Sally gives acting lessons to strippers and pole dancers in the film. Perhaps it’s too obvious, but having one of them “discovered” while Sally struggles on would have been a bittersweet and funny homage to her biggest role, “Anna.”

Probably one in three Hollywood “assistants” have funnier anecdotes/stories to tell than this. There’ve been funnier movies about downmarket (indie) cinema and faded stars. You don’t have to aim for “Sunset Boulevard,” but “The Big Picture,” “Swimming with Sharks” and “Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool” all covered similar ground on tiny budgets.

Kirkland gets to fume at all the times people who meet her think she was in the movie “M*A*S*H”–“That was Sally KELLERMAN!” — and trot out her Hollywood “underdog” persona one more time, so that’s something.

But whatever audience awards this pic has claimed on the film festival circuit, there’s no weight to it, and the sentimental lighter touches and limp jokes aren’t enough to carry it.

Rating: unrated, sexual innuendo

Cast: Sally Kirkland, Tyler Steelman, Jennifer Tilley, Tom Connolly, Keith Carradine, Eric Roberts, Nikki Tuazon, Michael Lerner, Kay Lenz, Vanessa Dubasso and Maria Conchita Alonso

Credits: Scripted and directed by Xaque Gruber. A Sneak Previews release.

Running time: 1:29

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BOX OFFICE: “Wicked” opens wicked fierce, “Gladiator II” clears $55

I joked on social media that I was catching a Thursday preview of “Wicked” with a cinema full of “high school theater kids.”

There were certainly a lot more of them — chatting, endorsing the Arianda Grande ole’ time — all two hours and forty mintues of it — than there were at an opening night showing of “Gladiator II” I caught.

Russell Crowe’s only in this “Gladiator” in flashbacks. A well-preserved Connie Nielsen and the venerated old man of British theater and British accents in film Derek Jacobi are the only two returnees from 2000’s “Gladiator.”

But Pedro Pascal and Paul Mescal have their fanbases. Apparently. And Denzel draws a crowd, as always.

Deadline.com is calling it a “Wicked” weekend, with the first film in a two-part adaptation of the stage musical based on a fanciful, fantasy “prequel” to “The Wizard of Oz” earning perhaps double the take of the “Gladiator” sequel — $114 million to $55 million.

“Wicked” had “fan screenings via cineplex paid previews earlier in the week, and opened Thursday afternoon. It picked up $19 million from three days of “preview” showings to launch this weekend. Folded into Friday’s “opening” day, that added up to $49 million+.

Projections Friday pointed to a $120 million opening. Sat. that dropped to $117, falling off to $114 Sunday. 

“Wicked” is the most popular stage musical of the 21st century, so it has fans. Lots of them. The formidable and tuneful Cynthia Erivo and the bubbly/dizzy former child starlet turn pop star/one-time Pete Davidson dater Ariana Grande take over roles held by Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzel on Broadway.

Chenoweth and Menzel have cameos in this bloated, joyless bore. Most reviews have been more generous, but not all and not by much. It still may earn $120 million from people looking for a break from TV news. That BO number may be high by a pretty big margin, as taking three days of showings to make up the “preview” total loads the math. Saturday will be the tell.

“Gladiator II” picked up $6.5 million Thursday night and a decent Friday ($23 million+) and Sat. did not get it up to its projected $60 million take. Reviews for it weren’t great, either. Mine included. Lumbering and tedious, derivative and kind of pointless, to boot — I thought. It earned $55 million and change.

“Red One” just  cleared $13 million on its second weekend  — a 60% or so falloff from its opening.  Word of mouth wasn’t good

“Bonhoeffer,” an anti-fascist/Christian nationalist bio-pic from WWII era Germany, cleared $5 million for its opening. Not terrible, but not great. Not the message that crowd wants to hear, before or after the election. It’s not that good, either.

The last weekend “Venom: The Last Dance” will be in the top five will earn it another $4 million. It should reach the $142 million mark, all-in from the North American take by the time “Moana 2” takes many of its remaining screens.

And for those keeping score at home, Judy Greer’s star vehicle, “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever,” is showing some legs — finishing in the top five Sunday and clearing the $25 million mark at the same time.

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Movie Review: “Spartacus” III, “Gladiator II”

Epic-scale filmmaker Ridley Scott turns 87 on November 30. It’s safe to assume that, like Clint Eastwood, Scorsese, Almodovar or Bigelow, any film he makes could be his last.

But Scott’s still carrying on as if he has no laurels to rest on, that for every ambitious “Napoleon” or “The Last Duel,” every attempt ( (“House of Gucci”) to step out of historical epic or science fiction, he has to focus on serving up another “Alien” sequel or prequel, that some studio’s long-cherished wish for a “Gladiator” sequel must be fulfilled.

So if we ever want to see “You Should Be Dancing,” his Bee Gees biopic, the Western “Wraiths of the Broken Land,” or sci-fi dystopia “The Dog Stars,” we’ve got to line up for “Gladiator II” first.

Computer generated imagery (CGI) has transformed cinema since 2000’s “Gladiator.” Ancient Rome and its world is a lot easier to realize on the screen. Gladiator duels in the Roman Colosseum can cover even grander bloodsports that the enslaved fought to the death in — a simulated naval battle on the flooded arena’s floor, for instance.

But for all the expansions in scale, all the back-engineering a fresh plot onto the existing one — that of a great general politically purged and enslaved as a gladiator, forced to fight for change in a tyrannically corrupt regime and his chance to save his bloodline — “Gladiator II” has nothing fresh to say on the subject or the movie genre.

Hollywood’s already made four TV series out of the 1960 Kirk Douglas-and-Kubrick classic “Spartacus,” all of them coming out in the decades since the Oscar-winning Ridley Scott/Russell Crowe epic “Gladiator” arrived and revived the setting, subject and shirtless-duels-to-the-death genre.

But that doesn’t mean Sir Ridley can’t remake his version of a “Spartacus” gladiator-as-martyr tale.

Yes, CGI means that you can stage a naval battle on a budget and pit gladiators against a warhorse-saddled foe riding a rhino or fighting for their lives against CGI zombie baboons. That doesn’t mean you should.

Everything else in “Gladiator II” has the ring of “Spartacus” about it. Soldiers (Pedro Pascal, Paul Mescal) are enslaved for the crime of defying Rome. They endure a montage of gladiator training led by a sadistic veteran (Lior Raz) of the “sport.” Their “owner” (Denzel Washington) is a sinister, vindictive operator angling for social, financial and political gain from their feats.

Mescal, last seen in “All of Us Strangers,” is Hanno, an officer in the army of Numidia, an African nation-state coveted by second century Rome. He sees his archer-wife (Yuval Gonen) ordered slain by the Roman general (Pascal of “The Mandalorian”) who conquers the city, his adoptive home.

Hanno is enslaved along with his Numidian commander (Peter Mensah of “300” and TV’s “Spartacus”). Only one of them is destined to survive to be a gladiator, not the one who sees slavery as “something I cannot endure.”

Hanno proves himself in the arena, but not with the aim of earning his freedom from Macrinus (Washington, berobed and venal). He wants his revenge on General Marcus Acacius (Pascal), who happens to have married the widowed daughter (Connie Nielsen) of the late emperor Marcus Aurelius. And she sees something she recognizes in this young fighter, a hint that he might be Lucius, her lost-long son with the late general turned gladiator Maximus.

We glimpse and hear Maximus (Russell Crowe) in flashbacks.

Rome is ruled by two pale inbred siblings, Caracalla (Fred Hechinger) and Geta (Joseph Quinn), each too inept and bloodthirsty to effectively run a nearly-exhausted empire they’re intent on expanding.

No, this “Gladiator” is no more historical than the first one. It’s all a bit of a bore, the sea of extras filling the stadium, the vast mob in the streets, the colorfully-adorned armies (and navy) marching and sailing under their SPQR banners, mere tools bent and used for political purposes.

We’re treated to a taste of the poet Virgil, quotes from the late Maximus, who has become lionized by a later generation of gladiators — “What we do in life echoes in eternity.” There’s even a twisting of a quote by non-Roman novelist Bernadine Evaristo — “When you’re a slave you don’t dream of freedom. You dream of owning your own slave.”

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Movie Review: “Wicked” girlfriend, you’ve put on an awful lot of weight

“Wicked” moves from the Broadway stage to the cinema, an epic that transitions from “musical” to “intellectual property” in a bloated, lumbering, gear-grinding crash.

Whatever Disney or most any other producing studio might have done to this beloved prequel to “The Wizard of Oz,” Universal smothers the life out of it, slowing it down for a tedius exercise in theme-park attraction-scale “world building.”

Casting Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande in the leads can seem inspired, here and there, with kids’ TV sitcom alum (“Victorious”) turned pop pixie Grande dazzling in ways only the original stage show’s Galinda could rival.

But bringing in Kristen Chenoweth (the original Galinda) and Idina Menzel (Broadway’s Elphaba) for cute-but-pointless cameos late in “Part 1” of what will turn out to be a five hour+ magnum opus musical just underscores the bloat, the Seussian excess of production design, costumes and the joyless art deco kitsch of it all.

Whatever the charms of the stage version, they’re budgeted right out of this “product.” The songs, separated by excessive filler between the musical highlights, are robbed of much of their wit and pathos. The characters are underscored with some cute cinematic touches and undermined by dead weight scenes and dull, overdressed supporting characters.

The story is about the unloved life that Elphaba (Erivo), the Wicked Witch of the West, endured before meeting and befriending her rival Galinda (Grande) at Shiz University, which can only be seen as a derivative Ozian Hogwarts.

Elphaba has a ready response to ridicule for her green skin that includes “No, I did not eat grass as a child.” Galinda’s life of fashionable, effortless and shallow beauty has made her spoiled.

“Something is very wrong! I didn’t get my way!”

Studying under Madame Morrible (Oscar winner Michelle Yeoh), competing for the amusingly vain and handsome Prince Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey), these two will supposedly learn the depths and limits of each other’s compassion. They’ll matchmake Elphaba’s paraplegic sister Nessarode (Marissa Bode) to tall-for-a-Munchkin Boq (Ethan Slater), and understand the cruelty of caging animals, denying even some of their professors (Peter Dinklage voices a PhD goat) the power of speech.

Belittled and discriminated against for being green and thus “different,” Elphaba has grown up bitter, with her magical powers unleashed in fits of fury. Galinda’s friendship might soften that, and befriending the outcast Elphaba might make the dizzy blonde drop the “Ga” from “Galinda” as she learns emphathy and earns her own powers.

The Wizard of Oz? He’s a remote, feared and admired God, in a “Thank Oz,” “Oz help us,” Oz bless you” sense. The two star pupils will have to study hard to “find your way to the Wizard of Oz.”

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Movie Preview: To be Young and Distractingly hot on the Sunny Coast of Italy in the summer — “Partenope”

She is a siren, literal or figurative. And the men? They must swoon, because nature or the supernatural has ordained it so.

Celeste Dalla Porta has the title role.

Gary Oldman’s the geezer who has to pretend he’s not interested in this new film from the director of “Il Divo,” “Youth,” “Loro,” “The Great Beauty” and “The Hand of God.”

The new film from Paolo Sorrentino opens in the U.S. on Feb. 7.

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Movie Review: A Black Boy’s Odyssey through the London “Blitz”

A single photo in Britain’s Imperial War Museum — a mixed-race child snapped as he joined the sea of children being evacuated from a British city early in World War II — inspired the brilliant writer-director Steve McQueen’s “Blitz,” a harrowing, moving and nostalgic day and a couple of nights in the life of a Black boy lost during the darkest days of World War II.

“Twelve Years a Slave” and “Small Axe” filmmaker McQueen used that photo to sweep away the whitewashed history of Britain’s “finest hour,” a trial by fire that’s almost always been depicted as a united, forthright and all-white country, loyal to its king, relying on the Royal Air Force, keeping calm and carrying on.

“Blitz” restores the many immigrants there to that not-that-calm story, and the ghoulish opportunists, the officious prigs behind early government blundering and the impersonal tragedy of it all in an odyssey undertaken and experienced by a nine year-old mixed race boy evacuated from the city, but determined to get back to his mum.

It’s sentimental, as such “Hope and Glory” enterprises always are. But “sentimental” gets a bracing reimagining through McQueen. The “truth” about the past wasn’t the misty lore of generations of WWII movies. It can include minorities of various stripes facing discrimination and outright hostility, and a Nigerian-born air raid warden (Benjamin Clémentine) reminding racists that “there is no segregation” in the Underground, where one and all take shelter from German bombing, and that using racism to “divide us” is just the sort of thing “Hitler” does.

Saoirse Ronan is Rita, a Stepney East Ender who keeps her Rosie the Riveter scarf around her blonde scalp as she’s building bombs for the war effort. It’s September of 1940, and the Battle of France has been lost. The Battle of Britain — an air offensive — is just ramping up. And city Britons and those from the south of the country, closest to the German bombers and under threat from Nazi invasion, are evacuating their children, en masse, to the north.

Rita’s boy George (Elliott Heffernan) is a prime candidate. He’s nine, living with her and her father (Paul Weller) in a townhouse, with danger arriving every night from German bombs plummeting out of the gloom.

We meet George’s Grenadian father via flashbacks, Rita remembering their jazz club courtship and the racism that “took him away.” We don’t know what happened, or if they got around to getting married.

George doesn’t want to get on that evacuation train, but he does. Slack supervision by the few adults in charge and the state of rail safety in those flimsy, wood-and-steel carriages (with doors everywhere) make it easy for George to make a break for it.

That begins his quest to “get home” and maybe apologize to the mum he told “I HATE you” to when he departed.

George will meet fellow escaped evacuees, kind strangers and a gang of “artful dodger” thieves who rob bombed stores and pillage the dead before the authorities can remove the bodies, because McQueen knows his Dickens.

George will face racism and deny being “Black,” until he meets that no-nonsense air raid warden (Clémentine) whom even the bigots have to listen to.

Rita will work, get dolled-up to go out pubbing with the girls — “Hey, sailor!” — and sing a sentimental song on the radio when the BBC comes by their factory for a morale-building broadcast.

She doesn’t know George is missing, and George doesn’t know that she’s not yet looking for him as they experience air raids and the comraderie of sheltering in the tunnels — where everybody had a “talent” or even an “act” to keep everybody else enterained.

In a lot of ways, “Blitz” is McQueen’s most conventional film, serving up the cliches and tropes of many a Blighty during “The Blitz” movies. But the melting pot world of foreign-born Brits who appear here — from an all Black big band at a club to the Caribbean islanders and Africans living in besieged Britain — freshen up those plot conventions.

McQueen may oversell the idea that Britain was as diverve in 1940 as it certainly became by 1950, but pretty much everything we see here is historically defensible if not literally ripped from this or that page from history.

Showing a swank nightclub where plentiful fresh food, drink and a Black big band let the swells pretend there isn’t “a war on” seems off — with the U-boat war/Battle of the Atlantic raging and the country under strict rationing since the preceding Jan. But nothing else here earns a “Surely that never happened” dismissal.

McQueen’s bomb-lit fires and post-bombing calamities above and below ground are vividly, impressionistically real recreations, adding to the sense that we’re experiencing not just history, but history forgotten or erased.

Ronan is properly feisty and stoic, and a believable new-to-running-a-drill-press factory woman and amateur (wavering pitch) singer.

Character actor Stephen Graham makes a properly demented leader of the gang of thieves.

And young Heffernan impresses as a child who uses grandpa’s parting advice to deal with bullies and bigots at every turn — “All talk and no trousers!” His George is just the sort of plucky, reckless kid we’d want as a tour guide through a familiar war-is-hell-on-Earth setting, a tour that lets us see this moment in history through fresh eyes.

Rating: PG-13, violence, sex, some profanity

Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Elliott Heffernan,
Benjamin Clémentine, Harris Dickinson, Paul Weller and Stephen Graham.

Credits: SCripted and directed by Steve McQueen. An Apple release on Apple TV+.

Running time: 2:00

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Netflixable? A Transgender Telenovela with Tunes — “Emilia Pérez”

“Emilia Pérez” is bold and daring musical treatment of subjects most often covered in telenovelas — Mexican soap operas — and in crime series such as “Queen of the South.”

It’s about a Mexican cartel boss who decides to change his life and his gender, to “leave everything behind” but still have the blood money earned as a ruthless gang leader. A defense attorney willing to do anything for money will be coerced into arranging it all.

But the Israeli surgeon’s warnings about the limits of hormonally and surgically ending gender dysphoria will come back to haunt one and all.

“I can fix the body. I will never fix the soul.”

It’s a French film — written and directed by the writer-director of “A Prophet” and “The Sisters Brothers”– a tale told mostly in Spanish, with a Mexican subject and Hollywood and Spanish stars.

Action franchise queen Zoe Saldana has perhaps her best role ever as Rita Moro Castro, a driven 40something single lawyer whose defense of drug lords draws her into the orbit of that one cartel king who’d like to be a queen, and give up the stresses of murderously maintaining an empire. Saldana sings, dances a bit and lets us see the calculations that go on when someone is promised great riches to arrange and keep the biggest secret of all.

Transgender Spanish actress Karla Sofía Gascón has the break-out role of Manitas Del Monte, one of the top men in the illicit drug trade who’d trade all that for the chance to be her true self, reborn as Emilia Pérez.

Selena Gomez is Jessi, the unknowing younger wife and mother of Del Monte’s two children, spirited off to Switzerland after her husband’s faked death, never the wiser. Being the most experienced singer and dancer in the cast, Gomez tackles the few moments that could be called “production numbers.”

And Edgar Ramírez plays the rough customer who wins the love of Gomez’s “widow,” but who brings out the cartel killer in the “newborn” jet setter who misses her children, Emilia.

Audiard’s audicity, adapting a Boris Razon novel, folding in songs by Camille and Clément Ducol, bowls the viewer over in the first act, which is all Saldana as we’ve never seen and heard her before. We see Rita kidnapped and coerced, then globe-trotting, diving into the research that brings her to the Tel Aviv doctor (Mark Ivanir) who will do the surgery, pocket the cash and deliver that warning.

The film’s big finish has action, pathos, fury and bloodshed.

But the middle acts, where Emilia Pérez has her coming out, reconnects with her “fixer” lawyer and pulls her kids and her still-clueless ex-wife close to her, sag and slow the movie’s sprint to a crawl.

The forgettable songs and limited dance sequences remind us of all the things this genre-bending/gender-bending thriller is not — a proper, emotionally resonant musical, an opera (despite somes songs recited, “recitative,” not sung) — and the one sure thing it is, gimmicky.

Gascón is effective as the gender-changing lead, a convincing grilled (gold teeth) and face-tattooed goon transformed into a woman. But before we stamp her name on an Academy award, maybe we should consider the performance beyond the stunt. Does she make anybody care about her fate? A non-singer “singing” (recitative) with one convincing release-her-inner-thug moment in between scenes caressing her kids doesn’t really make the sale.

Adriana Paz brings more humanity to her performance as the woman Emilia falls for after her transition and Gomez, adding another credit to her own transformation, is able to hold her own with her elders.

But the film’s opening act is where we connect with the most interesting character and performance. Saldana may not have the title role, but she’s the observer swept up in all this, the one most will identify with and frankly, the Oscar contender worth rooting for. She abandons her action credentials and glam (showing her age) to play a woman with her own agenda, risk-assessing skills and hole in her soul.

Audiard loses track of her in the middle acts, and “Emilia Pérez” palpably withers away when he does.

Rating: R, violence, sexual situations, profanity

Cast: Zoe Saldana, Karla Sofía Gascón, Selena Gomez, Adriana Paz, Mark Ivanir and Edgar Ramirez.

Credits: Directed by Jacques Audiard, scripted by Jacques Audiard, Thomas Bidegain, Léa Mysius and Nicolas Livecchi, based on the novel by Boris Razon, songs by Camille and Clément Ducol. A Netflix release.

Running time: 2:12

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