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I’m here to champion a work of art that centers a transgender woman in the lead role, to make the case for thought-provoking cinema that subverts tropes by radically embracing them.
I could only be speaking, of course, of “Johanne Sacreblu,” the “Emilia Pérez” homage and the directorial debut of Mexican filmmaker Camila Aurora. In addition to being the most compelling conflict between France and Mexico since the Battle of Puebla, it’s the critique of shallow Hollywood representation I’ve been waiting for.
To access “Johanne Sacreblu” as a text, you need both a working knowledge of Spanish (there are, as of the time I’m writing this, no English subtitles) and of “Emilia Pérez,” the polarizing musical directed by French filmmaker Jacques Audiard that recently snatched up a mind-blowing 13 Oscar nominations. In order to get to France, we have to cruise through Mexico, which, in “Emilia Pérez,” is just France with a sepia filter. Regardless, allons-y.
A plot synopsis does vanishingly little to capture the “Emilia Pérez” viewing experience, but it’s the logical jump-off: Rita Mora Castro, played by Zoe Saldaña, is an underappreciated lawyer who, fed up with defending murderous criminals, takes up an offer to work with a Mexican cartel boss, Manitas del Monte, played by Karla Sofía Gascón, who hires Castro to facilitate her transition. Following this, and with the assistance of Castro, she fakes her own death, leaving her mourning wife, Jessi, played by Selena Gomez, and her two children in the dark to move forward as the titular Emilia. She then launches an NGO with Castro at her side called La Lucecita that searches for victims of the cartel-related violence that Pérez herself inflicted a great deal of. Don’t worry, this never becomes a real conflict.
Personally, I’ll never understand how someone could make such a reckless lifestyle change (going into grueling nonprofit work), but I tried to keep an open mind before pressing play and to ignore the feverish criticism surrounding the film, which has ramped up significantly in the wake of its Oscar noms. LGBTQ+ media watchdog GLAAD recently decried its representation of trans people, calling it “a step backwards.” It’s also been lambasted by Mexicans, many of whom say that the film’s handling of the very real issue of cartel violence is clumsy and insensitive, and who have noted that it has zero Mexican actors in its principal roles.
They have a point. Looking at it that way, “Emilia Pérez” is a bit like if a Chilean director made a musical about the Jan. 6 insurrection and cast mostly Thai people. That is a film I would absolutely watch, but I suppose that’s neither here nor there. The thing is, “Emilia Pérez” is not terribly concerned with a nuanced or accurate depiction of cartel violence in Mexico. The director has all but stated as such, saying that he “didn’t study much” on the subject.
Sure, but whatever one feels about the ethics of “Emilia Pérez,” the bigger problem, for me, is that it quickly begins to take itself deathly seriously. It uses cartel violence in Mexico as its engine to launch itself into the realm of Very Important Art (and Oscar territory), and I find that to be a rather bizarre choice for this film, which features a musical number set in a Bangkok surgery clinic containing the lyrics “penis to vagina.” I do think it should have chosen between that sort of campiness and “isn’t it a tragedy, how those brown folks down there are living?” “Emilia Pérez’s” lack of homework wasn’t a problem until it started applying to Ivy Leagues and getting in on a full ride. The film crumbles under the weight that it demanded we give it.
In this sense, “Emilia Pérez” feels a bit like “American Dirt: The Musical.” The latter is a novel that should have been marketed as a cut-and-dried narco thriller but was instead positioned as an overdue humanization of the undocumented experience at the Mexican border. It received a backlash so vociferous that Oprah, who previously made it a book club pick, sat down with the author, Jeanine Cummins, to talk about it. Indeed, the parallels between the public response to “Emilia Pérez” and “American Dirt” are striking. The best response to “Emilia Pérez” so far, though, is “Johanne Sacreblu.”
“A group of Mexicans responded to Emilia Perez by creating a short film titled Johanne Sacrebleu--a French-inspired film made entirely without a French cast or crew,” reads a popular post of a screenshot on X, accompanied by the caption, “Gotta love spite.” The short film tells the story of Johanne Sacreblu, a trans baguette heiress, who falls for Agtugo Ratatouille, a trans croissant heir, in a comedic riff on Romeo and Juliet. It’s delightfully lacking in nuance, portraying every last French person as a mime or a beret-wearing wino speaking broken, heavily accented French. They are also nearly universally being piloted by rats, as in Pixar’s “Ratatouille.” It’s a complete mess, which is the point.
While “Johanne Sacreblu” is undeniably a targeted rebuttal against “Emilia Pérez,” I also see it as a layered criticism of Hollywood’s exoticization of Latin America, and the vapidity of its representation of Latinos. The poorly drawn mustaches, mimes and baguettes in “Johanne Sacreblu” assert that “representation” is most often entirely cosmetic and reliant on almost offensively obvious signifiers meant not for the community being depicted, but for people who want to feel good for seeing that community being depicted at all, people who need their diversity in all caps and a ridiculously large font for it to be legible.
I see in it a salient point about the cluelessness of our cultural institutions — institutions that, following the recent presidential election and amid the rollback of diversity initiatives, are all but declaring, “we tried the diversity thing, and it didn’t work!” But, did they? Or did they just pump out a few products meant primarily to assuage their own guilt, products that screamed “progress” at a ridiculous decibel but, ultimately, had little by way of substance?
“Johanne Sacreblu” also models what media criticism can look like in an era in which there’s general fatigue with, let’s call it “call-out culture.” More effective than a hectoring thread on social media is making something new, something funny. Aurora embraced humor to make her point, and it’s been hilarious watching viewers get in on the joke, leaving comments about how refreshing it is to see such an authentic representation of French culture. It’s even on social film platform Letterboxd, where it currently has a rating of 4.6. The audience, too, becomes part of the satire, a mocking representation of Hollywood representation itself. It’s exciting. It’s fun.
Still, it’s worth recognizing that “Emilia Pérez” is situated in a precarious spot in our present cultural landscape. From a U.S. perspective, I welcome trans actors being recognized for their work, and I wish Gascón success in her career. She’s very talented, and with trans people being targeted, seeing a trans woman nominated for best actress is heartening. I also have a knee-jerk reaction to defend difficult films, and I think that, especially around Oscars season, one film tends to find itself in a villain role, and its flaws become magnified to the point of absurdity.
But, ultimately, “Emilia Pérez” invited such scrutiny. If it had been a comedy that touched on themes of redemption, then maybe its shallow deployment of cartel violence would be forgivable. But the film wants to be something heavier than that. As a musical, the songs are mostly forgettable. As a drama, it struggles to maintain tension. What we’re left to focus on is its message about murders and disappearances in Mexico, and on its representation, on it prominently featuring a trans actress and Latino characters. I can only speculate, but I wager that this representation of two often ignored demographics featured in its Oscars campaign.
Representation alone, though, simply isn’t enough. I don’t think “Emilia Pérez” is as evil as some people are making it out to be, but I find it far too confused and unwieldy to have warranted the awards recognition it’s received so far. Between the two, its parody has the stronger message.
Sacrebleu!
JP Brammer is a columnist, author, illustrator and content creator based in Brooklyn, N.Y. He is the author of ”Hola Papi: How to Come Out in a Walmart Parking Lot and Other Life Lessons,” based on his advice column. He has written for outlets including the Guardian, NBC News and the Washington Post. He writes regularly for De Los.
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Ideas expressed in the piece
To begin with, the article argues that the YouTube short “Johanne Sacreblu,” a low-budget musical parody made in Mexico by trans filmmaker Camila Aurora, is a more successful and honest work of art than Jacques Audiard’s much-hyped “Emilia Pérez,” especially in how it engages with trans representation and cultural politics.
The piece contends that “Emilia Pérez” misfires by trying to turn a campy narco musical—with scenes as outlandish as a Bangkok surgery number—into solemn, awards-ready “Very Important Art,” using cartel violence and Mexican suffering as thematic fuel without doing the narrative or research work such subject matter demands.
Moreover, the column criticizes “Emilia Pérez” for its Eurocentric perspective on Mexico: it notes that the film was made in France, features almost no Mexican actors in principal roles, and presents Mexico as little more than a sepia-toned backdrop, echoing broader concerns documented elsewhere about the movie’s “inauthentic” portrayal of Mexican life and trans experiences.[1][7][4]
The article further suggests that the film’s treatment of cartel violence resembles the controversy around “American Dirt,” framing “Emilia Pérez” as a project that sought moral prestige and empathy points without sufficiently centering Mexican voices or lived realities, thereby inviting the backlash it is now receiving.
At the same time, the piece acknowledges that, from a U.S. perspective, there is something genuinely heartening about seeing a trans woman, Karla Sofía Gascón, nominated for best actress in a major awards race, and it stresses that Gascón’s talent and visibility are meaningful even if the surrounding film is flawed.[1]
Nevertheless, the column ultimately maintains that representation alone is not enough: it argues that Hollywood has often relied on cosmetic diversity—obvious signifiers and “all caps” identity markers—rather than substantive storytelling, and that “Emilia Pérez” exemplifies this tendency by leaning on its trans lead and Latino characters while failing to deliver coherent drama or memorable music.[1][7]
In contrast, the article praises “Johanne Sacreblu” as a layered work of satire and media criticism: it highlights how the short inverts “Emilia Pérez” by depicting a hyper-stereotyped “France” with Mexican performers in mimes’ stripes, berets, curled mustaches, and deliberately mangled French, mirroring and exposing the crudeness of the original film’s depiction of Mexico.[1][7][4]
The piece suggests that this inversion makes a sharp point about how institutions and studios “do” diversity: instead of genuinely changing power structures, they often produce a few loud, self-congratulatory works that scream “progress” but lack depth, and “Johanne Sacreblu” mocks that dynamic by turning France into the butt of the joke.
Furthermore, the column frames Camila Aurora’s parody as an example of a different kind of critique in an era tired of “call-out culture,” arguing that it is more effective—and more fun—to answer a problematic film with an original, funny counterwork than with didactic social-media threads; it notes that audience reactions and high ratings on platforms like Letterboxd show viewers enthusiastically participating in the satire.[1][4]
Finally, the article concludes that while “Emilia Pérez” is not as “evil” as some critics have claimed, it is too confused, unwieldy and self-serious to merit its awards haul, and that, between the two, “Johanne Sacreblu” delivers the clearer, sharper message about representation, cultural ignorance and the limits of Hollywood-style progress.[1][7][4]
Different views on the topic
By contrast, LGBTQ+ advocacy groups such as GLAAD take a more unequivocally critical stance on “Emilia Pérez” than the article does, describing the film’s trans representation as “deeply retrogressive” and arguing that it reinforces outdated stereotypes rather than offering the nuanced, progressive portrayal its awards campaign implies.[1]
Additionally, some critics and commentators characterize “Emilia Pérez” not just as confused or shallow, but as a “racist Eurocentrist mockery” of Mexico, emphasizing that it was written and shot largely without Mexican creative leadership and treating its depiction of Mexican life as a textbook example of cultural appropriation and exotification.[2][4]
In another vein, awards bodies and segments of the international film community appear to see “Emilia Pérez” very differently from the author, as evidenced by the movie’s 13 Oscar nominations and status as a major awards frontrunner; those honors suggest that many voters and reviewers regard the film as artistically ambitious and politically significant, particularly for putting a trans actress at the center of a high-profile musical drama.[1][7]
Moreover, some observers worry that the intense backlash against “Emilia Pérez” may overshadow what they view as a historic milestone: a trans woman being celebrated for a lead performance in mainstream cinema. From this vantage point, critics urge that discussions of the film’s flaws not erase the importance of Gascón’s visibility or discourage studios from taking similar casting risks in the future.[1][2]
There are also voices that frame “Johanne Sacreblu” less as the sophisticated, multi-layered critique the article describes and more as an act of “vengeance” or “destruction” of the original movie, with viral commentary celebrating how the parody has “destroyed” or “outshone” “Emilia Pérez” in Mexico and reveling in its success as a way to humble the larger, better-funded French production.[3][5][6][7]
In addition, some coverage casts “Johanne Sacreblu” primarily as protest art and grassroots activism rather than as a fully autonomous cinematic achievement, emphasizing its origins in online anger and crowdfunding and underscoring that its main purpose is to call out “Emilia Pérez” rather than to stand on its own as a polished film.[2][4][6]
Finally, while the article treats “Johanne Sacreblu” as a model for future media criticism, other perspectives highlight the risk that such pointed parodies can narrow public debate: by reducing complex issues of trans representation, cartel violence and cultural power imbalances to meme-friendly clashes between an original and its spoof, this approach may encourage audiences to choose sides in a binary “real France vs. fake Mexico” narrative instead of engaging deeply with the underlying structural questions.[4][6]
