Completing his trilogy of highly publicized iconic women from the 20th century, Pablo Larraín enlists Angelia Jolie in a hazy commanding depiction of the original diva, Maria Callas.

Maria Callas may not be known as well to the general public, proving Pablo Larraín’s point that Opera has moved away from the people into an elitist outing. He is hyper-focused on the end of Callas’s life, out of the spotlight in Paris, hoping to make a comeback to the stage if she can get her voice back to the bravado it once was. Following suit to his previous installments, the director is tasked with balancing how image can be power and a prison for Callas. 

Delicately like a piece of bubble-wrapped porcelain, Larraín protects his leading lady leaving her untouched in his imagining of her final days. Larraín has called this one of the most personal films he has ever made which could infer why he holds back so much on Callas’s legacy having her set as an actress playing her instead of being her. The only times he lets up are through some fantastical elements like the Parisians assembling into a choir for Callas on her walk with the hallucinated Journalist Mandrax. A meta storyline of a film being created about Maria interjects Larraín as a stand-in for the dreamt-up journalist digging into Maria’s life in a movie about the singer’s life haphazardly throws off the central narrative but at least is an inspiring choice in a rather safe space. 

The compelling nature of Maria’s story is her journey to find her agency on her terms which is largely her voice. The music of Callas is the guiding light through the labyrinthine of her life, with different moments picked apart and closely magnified to suggest their impact on her current state.  She has given herself to crowds by projecting the gift in her throat that has brought those she entertained to tears, made them feel, or given them hope. The dynamic between musicians and their admirers versus actors and their admirers could not be more stark. Musicians give their physicality to the world to produce and poke without the luxury of hiding behind a role. Maria has embodied roles in her operas but the vulnerability of her voice brings it to a more personal light. Jolie having her unhealthy relationship with the press through tabloids and gossips adds a layer to making Maria’s pain more poignant. Jolie is felt in every space Maria is combining them into their entity sharing the same trauma and hauntings the world and their private lives have thrown their way. Watching someone trying to use their voice for themselves for the first time but being met with the idea that it will never be how they once knew it is agonizing. Jolie pushes her body to its brink with stretched cheekbones to fit Maria’s oral patterns letting the famed singer’s spirit take over through music.  As Maria faces pain trying to belt it out the pain transcends the screen, chilling anyone on the receiving end of her power.

On the opposite side of her deteriorating vocals, Maria wears perfection as an armor never allowing those around to see her in a volatile state, that is meant for the stage. She holds herself together with pills and all as a woman cast out of a society that once flocked to her and now with nothing to give them in return she no longer holds meaning to them. Her only two companions the butler and housekeeper are seen as strictly meant to cater to her every need including moving a piano back and forth in her impulsive direction.  Maria seeks to control every aspect of her life trying to take the reigns in hopes of avoiding her spiral into abyss. 

Structured between a past and present Maria, its choice of moments from her life glued together like a mismatched collage from a vintage Paris high fashion catalog of different camera lenses and filters to illustrate the way the diva immediately lights up a room through her beauty housing that infamous voice. A crisp autumn day ambiance fills Maria’s past while the black and white colors of her past are full of questions. Using her past to manufacture the idea that she lived a life of pleasing others and is finally at a point of wanting to please herself. This would work if the chosen frames were used of value in unraveling her psyche versus making the recreations of her most well-known performances the focal point. It’s always impressive to see the artisans behind a film pull off recreations of a lost moment in time from Maria’s decadent costuming for performing to sold-out crowds in the most regal theaters around the world, but these scenes feel like they are used to try to convince audiences that Angelina is Maria instead of adding any support to its main thesis. Even Maria’s dialogue by Steven Knight feels like artificial one-liners written like riddled enigmas meant to play as crowd pleasers instead of the actual way a person might speak. The accent donned by Jolie makes the words tolerable as they roll off her tongue like a harmonious transatlantic melody though they mean nothing. 

Jolie’s turn as Callas is a reminder of what a star she has always been after a break from acting and some small parts in films over the years. It has been a long time since Jolie was rightfully center stage in a leading role and Larraín knows exactly how to make sure all the lights are pointing at his story. Jolie, whose movie stardom has overshadowed her acting abilities takes the opportunity to lose herself into a woman with a built persona of protection both on and off the stage.  A real character study for Jolie to meld her traumas into Maria for a satisfying release through her belting where her pain radiates in operatic levels. The thought of singing as a force using the entire body being allowed to operate at any vocal level one wants to by putting everything into it is an exhausting task at hand where Jolie wears it in every scene as Maria breaks down. She allows Larraín to craft his fantasy of La Callas exactly how he would see it and Jolie is his muse.

Maria plays like an ode to Jolie’s beauty in over two hours of the most stunning shots by the masterful eye of Edward Lachman. A floating figure down the halls of her lavish apartment and empty streets of Paris, she is mythlike and mysterious but never comes truly alive in a state of melancholy.  A woman who has stepped away from public singing for the last four years, as an artist her voice consumes her, pointing her to one purpose in life to sing opera with a piercing pitch. The perfection of her past upsets her, causing her to not even bother to listen to the voice she once held. Half of her holding the pain is Maria and the owner of that bold voice was the towering La Callas the people yearn to hear once more. La Callas’s mythological form traps Maria from being set free and living as herself, she sees no point in being Maria without the La Callas. She is not striving for tangible realism in her world but her inevitable dommful fate has already been set.

Maria plays like a ghost story not only with the haunting of a past Maria stalking the now older opera singer almost taunting her for what she has become, but also due to its hollowness of substance. As for the story of Maria, there is not much learned about who she was in this introspective of a legend. The opulent chandeliers and wooden walls of production designer Guy Dyas trap the heroine into a gilded cage of isolation where pills serve as her only comfort outside of her two staffers. It’s the classic formula of a tortured artist and with Jolie’s angular cheekbones at the forefront, she hypnotizes the viewer with her effortless grace and pain of a fallen woman reclaiming their voice.

Grade: C

Oscars Prospects:
Likely: Best Lead Actress (Angelina Jolie), Best Cinematography
Should be Considered: Best Production Design, Best Costume Design, Best Make-up and Hairstyling

Where to Watch: In Select Theaters Now
Netflix Release Date: December 11, 2024