Toning down the oblique flirtations with horror he sometimes dabbles with, Pablo Larraín’s cinema isn’t quite there even though it often cuts through to the hints being there. In his work, the hints are painted vividly in the character of Tony Manero who idolizes John Travolta’s portrayal of a dancer in Saturday Night Fever. But if he exemplifies horror then his gorgeous political satire El Conde demonstrates the opposite: it was one of the craziest films made in the 2023 that considered Pinochet to be a 250 year old vampire. El Conde is a self evident after the directors genre masterpieces, combining the magnificence of Jackie and Spencer, two exquisite films about the troubled lives of women who shaped the 20th century.
Now with “Maria,” about the last days of the famous American-Greek soprano Maria Callas, Larraín completes his collection of “historical women” films that for the most part is close to perfection, and this gives unquestionably stunning final to his trilogy. A few months ago, while at the Telluride Film Festival, this critic recalls asking himself why “Maria” was almost the only one of the three that was not only the mildest but also the best. The answer was perhaps never in doubt being an opera lover, Larraín is unmistakably (and at times, quite sentimentally) cultist over one of the most transformational female singers in the genre’s history throughout “Maria,” a detail which neither “Jackie,” nor “Spencer” included.
It is not that the psycho-dramatic dreads we feel in those former two films are not here. For all those who hold the fear of losing a sizeable chunk of their identity, whose open hearts embrace objects of their love so broadly and without limits, only to realize that a many forms of viciousness lie therein, this wonderful and beautiful film should come as a painful and visceral surprise. But you can quite often feel that Larraín, one of the most perceptive directors currently working, practically wants to protect Callas from the bleak consequences of those cruelties.
Although she’s been dead since 1977 at age 53, expectations for Maria Callas’s performance in the film are somewhat mixed. However, that’s not the primary reason why Callas: In four minutes is still a poignant film; if anything, it has been bolstered further by Larrain’s lifelike handiwork. Maria is, at her core, a spirit: that of all the things we adore.
Jolie embodies Callas with an air of grace and elegance while being fiercely captivated by the sorrow that the beloved singer of the generation feels at the thought of losing her voice. Ed Lachman’s work at the beginning of the movie sets the tone, he transitions Jolie to in a way where she looks into the camera while Callas, dressed as her icon defies every limitation and delivers an unparalleled rendition of “Ave Maria” from the opera Otello created by Verdi. Point of thought being, it can be viewed both as an appeal to her past or a conformation of her present. Scenes such as these combined with multiple arias serves as a marker of Callas true voice for the viewers. Larraín blended in hints of Jolie’s voice into the performance but it still remains unmistakably Callas voice for the most part. One cannot forget how Jolie passionately engages her entire body and jaw to deliver true Callas. However, her showcases of engagement are more subtle than they seem because of how little Callas portrays them to begin with. Callas is jet effortlessly expansive throughout her singing with her emotions encapsulating everything she sings and I believe, that is precisely the depth Jolie’s artistic capabilities stem from.
Jolie’s nuance performance during the last part of Callas’s life serves as the best peak for Callas being the embodiment of flesh and bone and not just an idea, and from my perspective, Larrain and Steven reach this goal wonderfully.
In her Paris residence, she roams around where the extravagant vintage decor that makes her feel extremely enclosed. (Production Designer Guy Hendrix Dyas is a genius on catapulting both realism and nostalgia together). She seeks the acceptance of her devoted staff, particularly Bruna (Alba Rohrwacher) and Ferruccio (Pierfrancesco Favino), who bring much warmth and humor into the movie. While taking a cocktail of drugs, mainly Mandrax, which Kodi Smit-McPhee creatively personifies, she converses with herself. In other instances, she battles with the intrusive press and her seemingly overbearing admirers. At the same time, she reminisces over her past- she thinks about the glamour and at times, heartbreaking memories that trotted her towards a grinding relationship with the Greek-Argentine billionaire, Aristotle Onassis this is portrayed by the fantastic, Turkish actor Haluk Bilginer. All of that, of course, was achieved while wearing Massimo Cantini Parrini’s astounding costumes which are a mixture of replicas and brand new designs custom made for the film.
To pay tribute to her journey, Larraín intersperses black and white recollections of a young Maria’s life interspersed with scenes of Paris bursting with color, gorgeous locations, and fantastically detailed settings with the intention of getting to know La Callas. But with the intention of attempting to see the world through the eyes of the diva, that endeavor is clearly affectionate. But if you are far removed from the world of opera, Larrain’s vulnerability could lead you to sentimentality. In my opinion, “Maria” breaks ground supporting the strident belief that opera belongs to everyone. It is completely selfless and utterly ridiculous to aim for pleasing and educating the “masses”, but disallowing them from using and appreciating the art. “Maria” brings opera to everyone. In the film, Maria Callas is unapologetically blasphemous and unbearably humane. You will feel as if you have enjoyed a full course musical meal and keep asking for more, as Larrain masterfully and deliberately incorporates pieces into his plot. It adorns you with a pang for more Bellini, however, the composer can do no wrong.
In conclusion, is Callas still shrouded in uncertainty or will you know her by the time you finish Maria? For Larraín’s filmic tribute, Larrain getting to the bottom of it, isn’t essential as he seeks to elicit a different type of reward. The only reward is the fascinating and deeply moving two hours that will come up with La Callas and a director eager to establish nothing lesser than the love he has for her.
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