
Mother Mary Review: A Supernatural Thriller That Never Was
Production Details
- Director/Writer: David Lowery
- Studio/Distributor: A24
- Starring: Anne Hathaway, Michaela Coel, Hunter Schafer, Kaia Gerber, Jessica Brown Findlay, Alba Baptista, Sian Clifford, and FKA Twigs
- Music: Daniel Hart, with original songs from Jack Antonoff, Charli XCX, and FKA Twigs
- Costume Design: Bina Daigeler
- Cinematography: Andrew Droz Palermo and Rina Yang
- Genre: Musical psychological drama-thriller
- Runtime: 112 minutes
- Rated: R
- Release Date: April 17, 2026 (limited), expanding wide April 24
- Box Office: $2.9 million against a $20 million budget
The Premise
The trailer for Mother Mary sold a supernatural thriller — some dark presence stalking Anne Hathaway's character. What audiences get instead is a film that wants to be about reckoning with trauma, but never bothers to figure out how to actually say that clearly, and the result is a muddled, self-indulgent mess dressed up as prestige drama.
What the Trailer Promised vs. What You Get
The film opens with Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway) at her commercial peak, then spirals into crisis over finding the "right" dress for what might be her last concert — a crisis so disproportionate to its supposed cause that it signals early on the film doesn't trust its audience to sit with subtler character work. This sends her to England to track down her estranged friend, Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel), who barely conceals her contempt: she hasn't listened to Mary's music and has no interest in starting. She agrees to make the dress anyway, demanding full creative control — a condition the film treats as meaningful without ever earning why it should be.
From there, a vague haunting presence stalks both women across different points in their lives, at one point injuring Mother Mary badly enough to make her question her sanity. Eventually the film reveals — or rather, gestures toward — the idea that this entity represents the unresolved trauma between them. It's a promising idea buried under a script that seems allergic to clarity.

Where the Film Falls Apart
The core failure here is that the film mistakes vagueness for depth. It reaches for metaphor constantly, but rarely commits to what any of it means, and the "dress" plotline is the worst offender: a symbol that abruptly becomes literal with no internal logic to justify the shift, leaving the audience stranded between "is this real or not" without any indication the film even noticed the question. This isn't ambiguity used with purpose — it's a script that didn't do the work to connect its symbolism to its story, and hopes atmosphere will cover the gap.
Performances & Craft
The cinematography, score, and performances are genuinely strong — Hathaway and Coel sell the tension between these two women even when the writing gives them little to work with. But strong craft can't rescue a script that doesn't know what it's trying to say.
Final Verdict
If you want a supernatural thriller, skip this entirely — the marketing is actively misleading. What's left is an unfocused drama that borrows religious iconography and trauma narratives without earning either, and stumbles toward a resolution that clarifies nothing. By the end, the emotional payoff the film has been building toward simply isn't there, and what should feel cathartic instead feels like a shrug.
Rating: ★★☆☆☆ (2/5)