You’ve probably heard the buzz. Maybe you saw the viral clips from Cannes or caught the neon-soaked trailer on Netflix and thought, "Who on earth came up with a musical about a Mexican cartel boss transitioning to live as a woman?" It sounds like a fever dream. It’s bold, it’s loud, and honestly, it’s one of the most original pieces of cinema to hit the mainstream in years. But if you’re looking for the name behind the script, the answer isn't a single person—it's a collaboration led by one of France's most decorated directors.
Jacques Audiard is the primary answer to who wrote Emilia Pérez.
Audiard isn't a newcomer. He’s the mind behind A Prophet and Rust and Bone. But for this specific project, he didn't just sit in a room and type. He adapted the story from a novel, brought in regular collaborators to flesh out the dialogue, and worked with world-class musicians to ensure the "writing" extended into the very songs the characters sing. It’s a messy, beautiful, collaborative process that started with a book and ended with a Best Actress ensemble win at the world's most prestigious film festival.
From a 2013 Novel to the Big Screen
The DNA of the film actually traces back to a book titled Écoute (Listen), published in 2013 by the French author Boris Razon.
In Razon's novel, there is a subplot involving a drug lord who undergoes gender-affirming surgery to disappear and start a new life. While it was just one thread in the book, it grabbed Audiard's imagination and wouldn't let go. He saw something operatic in it. He saw a way to explore identity, penance, and the violence of Mexico through a lens that felt more like a Greek tragedy than a standard Narcos-style thriller.
But Audiard is French. He doesn't speak fluent Spanish, and he certainly isn't an expert on the nuances of Mexican slang or the specific legal hurdles of the Mexico City court system. To make the script work, he needed help. He brought on Thomas Bidegain, his long-time writing partner, to help structure the narrative. If you look at their history together, Bidegain is often the guy who helps Audiard find the "spine" of the story.
Then came the language barrier. Writing a movie set in Mexico in French would be a disaster. They brought in Nicolas Livecchi and worked closely with the cast—specifically Karla Sofía Gascón and Zoe Saldaña—to ensure the dialogue felt lived-in. It wasn't just about translating words; it was about translating culture.
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The Secret Writers: Camille and Clément Ducol
When we talk about who wrote Emilia Pérez, we have to talk about the music. This isn't a movie with songs "stuck into it." It is an opera. The lyrics move the plot forward. They are the script.
The songs were written by the French singer-songwriter Camille (born Camille Dalmais) and her partner, the composer Clément Ducol. Camille is a legend in France for her avant-garde pop and vocal gymnastics. She didn't just write "tunes"; she wrote the internal monologues of the characters. When Zoe Saldaña’s character, Rita, sings about the absurdity of the legal system or the cost of plastic surgery, those lyrics are doing the heavy lifting of a traditional screenplay.
Interestingly, Audiard originally imagined the film as a stage opera. He spent years thinking it might never even be a movie. Because of that, the "writing" phase involved a lot of back-and-forth between the script pages and the musical demos. If a song explained a character's motivation better than a scene, the scene got cut. The music dictated the pace.
Why the Writing Matters So Much Here
Most cartel movies are about one thing: power. Emilia Pérez is about the transition of power into something else—reparation.
The writing team had to walk a razor-thin tightrope. On one side, you have the trope of the "violent criminal." On the other, the "saintly trans woman." The script avoids both by making Emilia complex, flawed, and occasionally still very dangerous.
The dialogue handles topics like:
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- The epidemic of the "disappeared" in Mexico.
- The superficiality of the wealthy elite.
- The psychological weight of living a double life.
It's heavy stuff. Yet, the writing keeps it buoyant. You’ll have a scene about a mass grave followed immediately by a song about a rhinoplasty. It shouldn't work. It really shouldn't. But because Audiard and his team committed so fully to the "camp" and the "sincerity" at the same time, it lands.
The Controversy of Perspective
There’s been some debate about whether a group of French creators should be the ones telling this specific Mexican story. It’s a fair question. Audiard has been open about the fact that he is an outsider. He’s stated in interviews that he deliberately chose a "stylized" version of Mexico—shooting mostly on soundstages in Paris—because he didn't want to pretend he was making a gritty, realistic documentary.
He wrote a myth.
By framing it as a musical, the writers gave themselves "artistic license." They weren't claiming to represent the everyday reality of Mexico City; they were creating a theatrical space where a warlord could become a woman and find a way to use their blood money for good. The writing reflects this "heightened reality." People don't talk like normal people in this movie. They talk like they’re in a Shakespearean play, even when they’re talking about kidnapping.
Who Wrote the Character of Emilia?
While Audiard put the words on paper, the character of Emilia was truly co-written by the actress Karla Sofía Gascón.
Gascón, who is a trans woman herself, brought a level of authenticity that isn't in the original Razon novel. She worked with Audiard to refine how Emilia would carry herself, how she would speak to her children, and how she would navigate the shadow of her former life as "Manitas." In the world of high-level filmmaking, the line between "actor" and "writer" gets blurry. Without Gascón’s input, the script might have felt like a caricature. Instead, it feels like a soul being bared.
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What to Watch Next If You Liked the Writing
If the structure of Emilia Pérez blew your mind, you should look into the back catalogs of the people who made it.
- A Prophet (Un Prophète): This is Audiard and Bidegain at their most visceral. It’s a prison drama that feels like a thriller. No singing, but the same focus on how a person changes their identity to survive.
- The Sisters Brothers: Audiard’s take on the Western. It shows his range and his interest in subverting very "masculine" genres.
- Camille’s "Le Fil": If the music was your favorite part, listen to this album. It’s a masterpiece of vocal layered writing.
Next Steps for Film Lovers
To truly appreciate how Emilia Pérez was written, you have to look past the subtitles. Pay attention to how the lyrics mirror the dialogue. Notice how the "Manitas" persona is written with short, staccato sentences, while "Emilia" is given more flowing, poetic language.
The best way to experience this script isn't just watching it once. It’s listening to the soundtrack separately to hear the narrative arc Camille and Ducol built. You can find the full soundtrack on Spotify or Apple Music—track the lyrics of "El Mal" versus "Papa," and you’ll see exactly how the character’s soul was written into the music. If you're a writer yourself, study how Audiard uses a "theatrical" setting to bypass the need for gritty realism. It's a masterclass in how to tell an "impossible" story by simply refusing to follow the rules of the genre.
Check out the official Netflix behind-the-scenes features if you want to see the literal physical script—it's a fascinating mix of traditional screenplay format and musical notation that reflects the chaotic, brilliant mind of Jacques Audiard.