By Rebeca Riofrio at the BFI London Film Festival 2024
Pablo Larraín’s latest film, Maria, offers a compelling, if sombre, portrayal of the life of opera legend Maria Callas, with Angelina Jolie taking on the daunting role of the iconic soprano. The film’s intricate direction and screenplay, matched with Edward Lachman’s visually stunning cinematography, create a rich, atmospheric narrative that invites the audience into Callas’ world—a world that blends beauty and tragedy in equal measure.
The film opens with a haunting scene, capturing the final moments of Maria Callas’ life in her opulent Paris apartment, setting the tone for a drama steeped in melancholy. Larraín, who has previously explored the lives of iconic women like Jacqueline Kennedy (Jackie) and Princess Diana (Spencer), turns his lens on Callas with a similarly intimate approach. Yet, in Maria, the setting feels less like a gilded cage and more like a personal prison, echoing the psychological struggles that defined Callas' later years.
Initially, I wasn’t convinced by Jolie's performance. She seemed too restrained, almost robotic, in the early scenes—a stark contrast to the fiery, tempestuous diva that Maria Callas was known to be. However, as the film unfolded, I found myself captivated by Jolie’s subtle transformation. She gradually breathes life into Callas, drawing the audience into her torment, fragility, and enduring artistry. Jolie’s portrayal becomes deeply emotional, especially as she navigates the complex relationship between Callas’ fading voice and her suffocating self-expectations. By the end, her performance resonates powerfully, evoking a tearful response from many, including myself.
Perhaps the film’s most poignant strength lies in its sequence, elegantly woven together with flashbacks that reveal critical moments in Callas' life—her rise to stardom, her tumultuous love affair with Aristotle Onassis, and her battle with an obsessive quest for perfection. These glimpses into her past offer insights without overindulging in melodrama, reminding us that behind every tragic figure lies a deeply personal story of love, loss, and resilience.
However, one element I found distracting was Jolie’s lip-syncing during Callas’ opera performances. Despite her commendable efforts, it felt disjointed at times, failing to fully capture the magic of Callas’ legendary voice. It is, of course, an insurmountable challenge—no one can truly replicate the ethereal presence of Maria Callas. Yet, despite this minor shortcoming, the film triumphs in presenting an authentic portrayal of Callas' internal world.
As I watched, I couldn’t help but reflect on the recent loss of another singer, Liam Payne, who tragically passed due to drug-related issues. The parallels between Payne’s and Callas’ stories—the immense pressure of fame, the torment of personal demons—struck me. In a way, Maria serves as a timeless reminder of the fragility of great talent and the personal sacrifices that often accompany it.
In sum, Maria is a deeply moving film, and while it may not offer the triumphant narrative arcs of Larraín’s previous works, it excels as a richly detailed portrait of a woman trapped by her own greatness. Angelina Jolie delivers a performance that, in time, reveals itself to be more than commanding—it is a respectful homage to an artist whose voice transcended her time.