By Zury Cordova
“The heart of this movie was not Mexico.” Stated Zoe Saldana in the press room after her Oscar win for best supporting actress in Emilia Perez, which was made clear from the start. Yet the movie was set in Mexico, with Mexican characters placed at the forefront. Mexico’s social, political, and economic problems are being exploited without representation. So, who was this movie really for?
While the film presents itself as an innovative attempt to address real and complex social issues, its execution is deeply flawed and insensitive. Despite earning 13 Oscar nominations (though only winning two), winning three Critics Choice Awards, and three Golden Globes, the film ultimately reinforces negative stereotypes about Mexico. Emilia Pérez fails to depict realities, instead reducing a deeply established problem into a stylized and glorified narrative rather than providing a research portrayal of its real-life topics affecting Mexico.
The 2024 Netflix musical Emilia Pérez, directed and written by French filmmaker Jacques Audiard, follows a Mexican cartel leader known as “Las Mantias” (portrayed by Karla Sofía Gascón), who enlists a lawyer (Zoe Saldaña) to help her transition into a woman. To achieve this, her death is staged, ensuring her family's safety in the process. After transitioning, Emilia finally embraces her true self and seeks redemption, advocating for restorative justice for the country’s thousands of individuals who have gone missing or lost their lives due to drug and crime-related violence.
When creating a film about another country, especially one whose culture and history you are not native to, it is essential to conduct thorough research and, at the very least, approach the subject respectfully. Yet, Emilia Pérez raises the question: Why make a movie about Mexico when it was primarily filmed in France?
When asked about his decision to set the story in Mexico and his research process, Audiard admitted in an interview with BBC, “I went to Mexico, and we scouted there during the casting process as well, maybe two, three times, and something wasn’t working. And I realized that the images I had in my mind of what [the film] would look like just didn’t match the reality of the streets of Mexico. It was just too pedestrian, too real. I had a much more stylized vision in my mind.” The phrase “too real” is particularly striking. It reveals that the film was never intended to authentically portray Mexican culture or the realities of cartel violence. Violence that resulted in about 42,013 homicides deaths only in 2023. This statistic underscores the devastating impact of cartel violence on Mexican citizens, an issue that Emilia Pérez does not fully prioritize in its narrative. The film overlooks the broader socio-political consequences of cartel activity, failing to deeply engage with the lived realities of those affected by the violence. As a result, Emilia Pérez overlooks the suffering of countless victims. Reinforcing the idea that Mexico serves merely as a backdrop for a stylized vision that prioritizes aesthetic over substance.
While discussing the primary language spoken in Mexico, the director made a bewildering statement, "Spanish is a language of modest countries, developing countries, of poor people and migrants." This remark is not only misguided, it is also historically ignorant. Spanish, like French and several other languages, originates from Latin, which makes his characterization both inaccurate and reductive. More importantly, the presence of Spanish in Mexico is a direct consequence of colonization; it was forcibly imposed upon the country through conquest. For a filmmaker attempting to tell a story set in Mexico, making such a statement reveals a fundamental lack of understanding. Audiard’s remark does not just reveal his ignorance, it highlights his failure to grasp the very history and identity of the people his film claims to represent, undermining the authenticity of his storytelling.
Another controversy surrounding Emilia Pérez arose over the authenticity of the Spanish spoken in the film, sparking a social media clash between Selena Gomez and Mexican actor Eugenio Derbez. During an appearance on the podcast Hablando de Cine con, Derbez criticized Gomez’s Spanish, calling it “indefensible.” Shortly after, he faced backlash, prompting Gomez to respond on social media, “I’m sorry, I did the best with the time I was given.” Derbez quickly issued an apology, saying, “As Latinos, we should always support one another. There’s no excuse.”
The truth is, he was not wrong. Perhaps calling her out publicly was unnecessary if he was not prepared for the backlash, but his criticism was valid. While watching Gomez’s scenes, indefensible was the only word that came to mind.
As a native Spanish speaker, it was difficult to understand Gomez’s lines without subtitles. Some defended her performance by arguing that her character was meant to be Mexican American. However, her character has been living in Mexico for years, raising two adolescent children who speak fluent, native Spanish. Her pronunciation does not align with someone who has lived in the country for that long. If the film wanted to depict a non-fluent Spanish speaker, it could have incorporated moments of hesitation, code-switching, or English words slipping into her dialogue. Instead, it just felt as though she memorized Spanish lines.
It truly felt that the casting choices had commercial motivations. Selena Gomez and Zoe Saldaña are globally known, which undoubtedly helped market the film; however, the lack of authentic Mexican representation is undeniable. Gascón is from Spain, Saldaña is U.S. born with Dominican and Puerto Rican roots, and Gomez, though of Mexican descent, was born and raised in the U.S. The only Mexican actress in the cast, Adriana Paz, was not even given a significant role until the end of the film. While actors do not have to strictly play characters from their own nationalities, when a film set in and about Mexico is shot entirely in France and produced by French companies, authentic Mexican representation should be a priority. Instead, the film remains a Eurocentric production.
The backlash against Emilia Pérez raises larger concerns about how transgender narratives are crafted, especially when told by cisgender filmmakers who may not fully grasp the experience of trans identity. GLAAD, an LGBTQ+ advocacy organization compiled a series of reviews from publications. In a review for Autostraddle, filmmaker and writer Drew Burnett Gregory pointed out its use of outdated trans storytelling devices, including “deadnaming and misgendering at pivotal moments” and the common but controversial trope of treating gender transition as a death. Rather than consulting trans voices and ensuring thoughtful representation, the film appears to have leaned on sensationalism, reinforcing the very stereotypes it sought to dismantle.
One of Emilia Pérez’s Oscar nominations belongs to Karla Sofía Gascón, who made history as the first openly trans actor nominated for an Oscar. However, in recent weeks, controversy has overshadowed both her nomination and the film’s awards campaign. When journalist Sarah Hagi reposted years-old posts from Gascón’s X (formerly Twitter) account, revealing a series of offensive statements. Among them, she referred to Islam as “a hotbed of infection for humanity that urgently needs to be cured,” called George Floyd “a drug-addicted con artist,” and criticized the diverse winners of the 2021 Oscars, writing, “I didn’t know if I was watching an Afro-Korean festival, a Black Lives Matter demonstration, or the 8-M.”
Netflix quickly responded to the backlash by issuing a statement in which Gascón apologized for her past remarks. However, rather than allowing the situation to settle, the actress withdrew from public appearances as the controversy escalated. In an Instagram story, she reiterated her regret, stating that she wanted to "sincerely apologize to everyone who has been hurt along the way."
As the fallout continued, reports from Variety revealed that Netflix and the film’s PR team had distanced themselves from Gascón, cutting direct communication and only engaging with her through an agent. They also reportedly stopped covering her travel expenses for awards ceremonies and funding her styling for public appearances. Even though she still showed up for the Oscars and was a punchline for the night.
Gascón’s actions and past remarks ultimately raise serious questions about the credibility of the film. Emilia Pérez positioned itself as a progressive narrative, a story of justice—yet its lead actress expressed deeply offensive views in the past. This contradiction severely undermines the film’s intended message, making it difficult to separate the art from the artist.
The most significant aspect of these issues is what it reveals about the institutions such as the Oscars, the Golden Globes, and Cannes, which celebrate and reward films like Emilia Pérez. These award shows are often regarded as the unbiased judges of artistic excellence, yet they repeatedly demonstrate that their decisions are influenced by politics and financial interests. The fact that a film with inauthentic representation still secured numerous nominations speaks volumes. Ultimately, the Emilia Pérez controversy is more than just a single misstep; it highlights the deeper, systemic flaws within Hollywood’s awards culture and how the industry values appearances over authentic storytelling.
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