Natalie D.C.
An Australian family drama with a dark comedy twist, Audrey follows the Lipsicks after a self-absorbed teenage daughter falls into a coma and her narcissistic mother assumes her identity, irrevocably altering the family dynamic.
Premiering at the 2024 SXSW Film Festival and (fittingly) slated for digital release April 1, Audrey tells the story of Ronnie (Jackie van Beek), a washed-up-actress-turned-mother who–desperately craving the spotlight that comes so easily to her attention-seeking eldest daughter, Audrey (Josephine Blazier)–risks it all after an unexpected accident.
Written by Spanish-Australian screenwriter Lou Sanz and directed by English-Australian filmmaker Natalie Bailey, Audrey is a black comedy that touches on a wide range of universal themes, including (but not limited to): motherhood; sisterhood; fame; aging; and disability. While many of these subjects are serious, Audrey takes on these hot topics with flair and a wide (sometimes pained) smile.
From the beginning, the film establishes itself as a quirky comedy. Small details like Audrey’s hot pink bedroom and more prominent features like Ronnie’s flamboyant personality pull the viewer in. Witty one-liners by youngest daughter, Norah (Hannah Diviney) and emotionally vulnerable scenes with lost husband Cormack (Jeremy Lindsay Taylor) are the dark cherry on top of this, at times, achingly sweet film.
Due to its jam-packed story, there’s something for everyone to enjoy in each of Audrey’s eccentric characters. Younger audiences might appreciate the coming-of-age themes explored by wheelchair-bound Norah as she faces her peers’ ignorant perceptions of her disability as well as her parents’ indifference in the face of Audrey’s theatrics. Ironically, the namesake of the film is not a main fixture (due to her comatose state for the majority of the story), yet her shamelessly angsty personality depicted at the very beginning and end makes her absence a character in of itself–peace personified that allows the dysfunctional family to temporarily regain function, normalcy, and, ultimately, freedom.
Meanwhile, older audiences may find joy in Ronnie’s mission to live vicariously through her unwilling daughter as she wrestles with the past decisions that led to her derailed career as an actress. Sex-obsessed husband and father Cormack has his own B plot as he lies and cheats his way to purpose at his strange, new job.
While there’s a lot to love in this film, there’s also a lot to dislike. The erratic pacing, for one, never allows for a moment of brevity, not even in the second act of the film when the family learns to love living together without their obnoxious daughter/sister around. Scenes that are meant to be sat in are prematurely cut away from. At the same time, some scenes linger too long, usually during an awkward, unfunny bit that the film seems to beg its viewers to chuckle at.
Because of this fundamental issue, Audrey suffers from doing too much with little payoff. While this is a dark comedy, the film could’ve really used some heart-to-hearts between its main cast. For instance, a sincere moment between Ronnie and Audrey—screaming matches and poisoned lemons (long story) aside—could’ve made its rather rushed ending an even bolder twist on typical mother-daughter storylines. Similarly, an expanded exploration of Audrey and Norah’s sisterly relationship (once again, without life-threatening ailments at the forefront of the scene) could’ve helped audiences better connect with this strange cast of characters.
While its writing and editing are weak links, Audrey shines when it comes to its performances. Jackie van Beek seamlessly steps into the role of self-obsessed Ronnie, putting on Audrey’s clothes with glee as she hangs on every word of her idol, Lucinda, at the class her daughter was meant to take. Likewise, Jeremy Lindsay Taylor convincingly plays golden-retriever-of-a-husband Cormack who finds joy outside the confines of his loud, judgmental family. In each scene, his warm smile juxtaposes nicely against his wife’s cold pearly whites.
Actress and activist Hannah Diviney’s debut feature film performance makes a fan favorite out of Norah, a charming girl who just wants to fence and break out of her older sister’s obnoxiously large shadow. Norah is easily—and ironically—the best part of Audrey, a perfect encapsulation of the film’s affinity for quick-witted dialogue contrasted with its need for more slower-paced, heartfelt scenes. Despite the refreshing representation of a character who is never solely defined by her disability, the film unwisely chooses to sideline Norah’s story, especially in the third act.
Speaking of, the worst part of the film lies in its over-the-top ending. One that, while slightly satisfying for Audrey haters, fails to effectively wrap up its characters’ storylines. Does Norah ever find community at her school? Does Ronnie ever respect the balance between attentive mother and wannabe star? These questions go largely unanswered, brushed aside by the final scene’s smug presentation of its twist’s aftermath.
Overall, Audrey is a dark comedy that attempts to not only make its audience laugh, but also make a statement on a variety of intersecting themes. While these statements are mostly flat, its colorful production, charming performances, and relatable storylines make for a fun 90 minutes.
