Mother Mary Film Review: Wear the Wound

Mother Mary is less concert than confession, with Anne Hathaway and Michaela Coel delivering a friendship exorcism that demands patience. 

Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway, of The Devil Wears Prada), one of the biggest pop stars on the planet, is unraveling on the eve of a major comeback performance. The dress she’s been given doesn’t feel like her, so she turns up unannounced at the countryside home of Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel, of I May Destroy You), the costume designer and former best friend she hasn’t spoken to in years. What starts as an awkward reunion develops into a deeper reckoning. Over one long night in an isolated barn, the two women confront the fallout of a friendship that faded like so many do in real life: not with a dramatic split, but through a gradual, mutual disappearance.

That slow tug is Lowery’s signature move here. The first rug he pulls is the scale itself. Mother Mary isn’t built for the megaplex; it’s built for a folding chair in a pop-up screening room. The staging is theatrical and almost claustrophobic. The film often feels more like a play than a feature, with sets that gently transform to revisit the past instead of cutting away to it. Production designer Francesca Di Mottola’s work is the film’s secret weapon. She folds one space into another with such precision that the barn becomes its own character. It’s no surprise this took fourteen months to shoot. 

Hathaway delivers some of her most committed work in years, and the revelation is her voice. Collaborating with Jack Antonoff, Charli XCX, and FKA Twigs on the film’s original songs, she finds a persona that splits the difference between Lady Gaga’s theatricality and Taylor Swift’s raw confessional edge. A few tracks have been on my repeat rotation since they dropped. Coel, though, is the one you’ll be thinking about on the drive home. Her character Sam could have become a bitter grudge-holder or an easy forgiver. Coel finds a third option, aloof and faintly amused, and she plays it with the kind of smart awareness that makes you lean in.

Speaking of FKA Twigs, she turns up in one of the film’s best sequences, a séance that goes sideways in genuinely unsettling fashion. Men exist in Mother Mary only as dancers and assistants somewhere in the background, and the women never discuss them. The fact that the entire speaking cast is female isn’t a coincidence. Whether that’s a statement or simply the story Lowery wanted to tell, it works.

The cinematography shines brightest during the live performances, and I wish there were more of them. Here’s hoping the physical media release allows the musical numbers to play uncut, because what we do see is choreographed with real care. Daniel Hart’s score fills the silences between songs with tension that doesn’t slip into melodrama, and Lowery’s own editing keeps the whole film under two hours, which is impressive in its own way.

It’s easy to see Mother Mary being dismissed as inaccessible or too self-satisfied. The audience expecting a horror film may feel tricked, and those looking for a thoughtful look at friendship and fame might skip it based on the marketing. That would be a shame, because what Lowery has created is worth defending. Challenging doesn’t mean bad. Sometimes, a movie dressed this beautifully and speaking with this much confidence deserves a seat at the table, even if it dances to its own rhythm.

Mother Mary will be released in select US theatres on April 17, 2026, nationwide on April 24, and in UK & Irish cinemas on April 24. Read our reviews of David Lowery’s The Green Knight and A Ghost Story.