“This is not a love story. This is not a ghost story.” That is the tagline to Mother Mary, the newest film from writer/director David Lowery. It’s a project that has long been in the shadows, dripfeeding signs of its existence over the years. First look imagery came in the fall of 2024, followed by nearly a year of radio silence as rumors swirled around regarding what its eventual shape and size would be. The trailer didn’t offer much in terms of concrete answers, maintaining the mystery by literally bathing the screen in shadowy visuals. It built anticipation and intrigue, something that the marketing team at A24 has excelled at in this age of oversaturation and an unwillingness to trust audiences to plunge into the deep end.

Now, after wading through the murky waters of the finished product, I’m still just as confused as to what it was supposed to be, both literally and figuratively. Indeed, it isn’t a love story, as its two central characters hardly exchange a compliment throughout the entire runtime. But it’s only not a ghost story in the literal sense that this isn’t A Ghost Story, the 2017 film by Lowery (I’m dying to know if that tagline wording was intentional). The ghosts of the past and the supernatural perpetually haunt this film, keeping it in limbo between our world and the next.

Somehow, Lowery takes that semi-intriguing, fluid concept and turns it into the most boring and shapeless version of itself. This is not a love story, nor a ghost story. It’s barely a story, with interminably long scenes that immediately dissipate from memory once they’ve concluded. I’d bet good money that more than half the audience would fail a pop quiz about what happened and why it occurred as they walked out of the theater. Honestly, they’d probably be better off failing, as retaining that information likely offers no benefit to their mind, body, or soul.

Anne Hathaway plays the titular Mother Mary, a stage persona dripped in religious iconography (halos, robes, bold colors) that seems primarily inspired by Lady Gaga. As the kids would say: She’s giving mother. Her devoted fans flock to stadiums by the tens of thousands to watch her perform vastly sleek, colorful production numbers. But as a blink-and-you-miss-it sequence of visuals hints at just before the opening studio logos, the sun, often surrounding Mother Mary’s head, has been shrouded in darkness.

Her sudden appearance at the London doorstep of Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel) is actually not a surprise. Despite nearly a decade apart since their mysterious fallout, Sam and Mary maintain a spiritual connection. Although, as Sam puts it, she felt Mary’s presence on this side of the pond by the way the bile in her body continually rose to the top. She flings her acerbic tongue at every turn, seemingly savoring this moment of Mary’s weakness. The star desperately needs a new dress before her next show in a few days, something that only Sam can accomplish, thanks to her years of designing the outfits that launched both of their careers.

But based on Mary’s fragile persona and inability to describe what kind of dress she wants, it’s obvious that this is really about something else. Hathaway is particularly strong at being vulnerable, drenched in rain, and shaking as the years have worn her down to a blunt object. Sam is here to resharpen her, with Chekhov's stipulation being that there will be no use of the color red. The first hour of the film is almost entirely comprised of the pair in Sam’s workshop, reopening old wounds through their separate viewpoints. It’s tediously slow, with dialogue that goes in one ear and out the other. I didn’t think it was possible for a film filled with this much pop music to be so lethargic.

A pulse is finally found once Mary performs a Suspiria-esque dance for Sam. From there, Lowery merges reality and memory with highly stylized and haunting visuals. It’s still not all that interesting, but it at least looks fantastic. Daniel Hart provides an eerie original score, while  Jack Antonoff, Charli XCX, and FKA twigs supply original songs that are totally serviceable and forgettable.

Based on the time it's taken for this project to be conceived, produced, and released, I fear that it stayed too long within Lowery’s head. It feels shaped to the audience of one person, with everyone else scrambling to figure out what it’s trying to say, and why it’s so important for us to hear it. Many films have successfully overcome that obstacle, and this one potentially could upon further rewatches. But I doubt that will ever happen unless I’m suffering from insomnia and need something to put me to sleep.

A24 will release Mother Mary in select theaters on April 17th, followed by a nationwide expansion on April 24th.