MARIA’s atmospheric cinematography transports us to a time, a place, and a mood of sorrow and despair.
Pablo Larraín has made a name for himself in the last decade for absorbing moody character studies focused on 2000 century women, finding a precise moment in time that allows him, and audiences, to explore their life and stories captured in a microcosm of emotional highs and lows.
In 2016 there was Jackie, in 2021 Spencer and now his unofficial trilogy is capped off by Maria, and we certainly hope he doesn’t stop after this one.
The year is 1977, we follow the story of Maria Callas (Angelina Jolie), once the world’s greatest opera diva, who lives in seclusion in Paris with her butler Ferruccio (Pierfrancesco Favino), her housemaid Bruna (Alba Rohrwacher) and her two poodles as her health is getting worse and worse, during the final week of her life.
To describe Maria as melancholic while not inaccurate, would be a superficial understatement, and a misunderstanding of Larraín’s thematic contemplations on the self and our relationship to the arts. He ruminates powerfully on how we are connected to those around us thanks to our art and celebrates the passion to pursue it even if it kills us by taking a back seat & instead stages the story to be told from the perspective of a sickly Callas, who while voluntarily living a life of solitude, longs not for the life under the spotlight she once had, nor the admiration that came with the limelight, but rather to discover if the art she loves so much loves her back.
As we take meta-infused strolls with the opera diva through the sunny Parisian streets being interviewed by a Mandrax induced hallucination, where she is interviewed by a documentarian (Kodi Smith-McPhee) sharing the same name as the addictive sedative, what could otherwise be just a deep dive into Callas’ addiction is instead a showcase of Maria taking command of her story in spite of her addiction and fall down, in a way only she could.
A story captures with the masterful eye of Edward Lachman, his moody lighting creates for memorable, lavish imagery with immaculately designed interiors and costumes, and thanks to the way Larraín frames the story, Lachman’s eye adapts to convey the glamour of the art, the exuberance of Callas’ voice & fame, as much as he conveys the aching sorrow in all kinds of set-pieces: grandiose stages with thousands offering Maria a standing ovation, the lonely immenseness of her apartment, the endless streets and luxurious high end cafés of Paris.
As the film shifts gears through time, taking on a journey from the 20s until the 70s, it offers sequences that strikingly convey an immersive sense of loneliness, undoubtedly how Maria constantly felt in her final days, despite the efforts her only friends to help her overcome it. This feeling is ever more present whenever Maria walks into the theatre to sing on stage with her pianist, who encourages her desire to bring back her voices, cross-cutting between seemingly pointless rehearsals and the glory years of her career: from Milan, to London, to New York and Paris too.
Jolie is a powerful screen presence, having trained seven months to sing opera for the film, and while it’s tricky to say whether it worked or not, as the film uses audio of Callas’ own voice from her records for the singing scenes, her dedication is clear to see. Even in the beautiful black & white flashbacks Larraín’s focus illustrating Callas’ marriage to her career, there’s nuances to Jolie’s performance that evolve through the years and the relationships with the men in her life, these nuances are what eventually gives us Maria Callas in the final days of her life, where her autonomy is hers and hers exclusively.
Despite the overwhelming sadness observed in these sequences, they ultimately give us the most intimate moments we share with Callas, who, knowing this is all an hallucination caused by the drugs she hides around the house against the doctor’s wishes, reveals, is her true self sans the defensive shield being held up towards the world, including her closest friends, Ferruccio and Bruna, beautifully played by Favino and Rohrwacher respectively.
Framed as a tragedy from the first moment, Larraín choses to make the pair our POV characters to bring us into Maria’s homelife, we observe their desperate attempts to save Maria and drive her away from her drug addiction, but this Maria’s story and only Maria will be allowed tell it. We are nevertheless treated to beautifully humanistic moments with Maria and her friends/staff, moments when it’s easy to see Callas is truly happy, small interactions where her desire reclaim who she once was are far from her minds, they appear as welcomed moments of peace and respite from the chaotic and perpetual longing to once more be the voice of a generation.
It’s a strange mix of elements, a meta-tragedy that explores fame and death and passion, and yet thanks to Larraín’s injection of self-awareness into the story, the layers of depth given to Maria Callas offer a compelling sense of comfort, as whenever a fan or a waiter at a coffee shop, a journalist or even Maria’s own sister try to take command of the story, it’s Callas’ stubbornness, her most self-destructive tendency, that gives her the power to grip on tight and take back the helm to tell her own story.
A story that while narratively its own, emotionally echoes two of Larraín’s past works, both it in its praises and faults, and it won’t be surprising to see Maria being accused on being emotionally monotone, it is unquestionably a film with sadness to spare, filled with plenty of tear-jerking moments and performances and the expected monologue that makes Jolie the Oscar frontrunner at the moment, but there are glimpses of welcomed humour and levity thanks to the presence of Ferruccio and Bruna in Maria’s life.
But it is a slow burn, one that while atmospheric can hit some as uneventful, but Larraín must be praised for offering a musical biopic that essentially avoids all the tired tropes that make it a tired and over-exposed subgenre.
Maria doesn’t quite reach the heights of a Spencer, but it’s in good company with Jackie, Larraín even cheekily plays with the fact that Callas meets with President Kennedy in the film and her ex even marries Jackie Kennedy that the president’s assassination. Unfortunately, no, Natalie Portman doesn’t cameo in this film, but perhaps for the better as it would be to distract and would’ve played as an easy “ah ha!” moment with anything of substance to offer the film.
MARIA’s atmospheric cinematography transports us to a time, a place & a mood of sorrow & despair. Larraín’s hypnotising fable of liberation may be perhaps too one note emotionally, but the undeniably heartfelt tragedy sees Jolie in a career best raw & transformative performance.
FINAL GRADE: B+
About Maria
Maria tells the tumultuous, beautiful and tragic story of the life of the world’s greatest female opera singer, relived and reimagined during her final days in 1970s Paris.
Maria premiered at the Venice Film Festival 2024.
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Renato Vieira. 28.
Film Critic/Screenwriter from London UK
Masters Degree in Film Directing.
EIC of YouTube Channel “Ren Geekness”.