Film Review – Maria

December 10th, 2024 | POSTED BY Allen Almachar

Director Pablo Larraín’s Maria (2024) is the third and final entry into his series of notable women in history – following the footsteps of Jackie (2016) and Spencer (2021). And while his latest continues the elegant camerawork, sumptuous production design, and deep examination into the psyche of his subject, this is also his least compelling work. Covering the final days in the life of renowned opera singer Maria Callas, Larraín (along with screenwriter Steven Knight) exhibits clear affection. However, there is a detached quality all throughout the narrative. There is a coldness to the atmosphere, as though the entire production were a porcelain doll locked inside of a glass box. It is clearly wonderful to look at and features excellent performances, but this is a film that has us admiring it from a distance.

It begins with a tremendous opening. Larraín’s direction – along with Edward Lachman’s cinematography and Sofía Subercaseaux’s editing – crafts an extended montage in which we see Callas (Angelina Jolie) at the height of her powers. The images criss cross throughout her life, showing her performing on stage, in front of adoring fans, traveling the world, running from mobs of paparazzi, engaging in romantic affairs, and living the life of a glamorous icon. The montage is partnered by a closeup shot of Callas in black and white, facing the camera as she passionately sings “Ave Maria” from the opera Otello. The combination of sights and sounds creates an entire aura of Callas as a superstar. It’s the most electrifying sequence and sets the stage for everything else that comes after.

The first 10 minutes is so well realized that it’s almost a detriment to the remaining two hours. The narrative focus takes place a week prior to Callas’ death on September 16^th, 1977 in her Paris home. It is here where we see her going through an existential crisis. Callas was only fifty-three when she passed, but at that point she had not performed on stage for years. Her recognizable voice had deteriorated – still beautiful to the average ear but noticeable to opera enthusiasts. Was her declining voice due to stress, being overworked after years of singing, or lack of confidence as she entered middle age? Whatever the case may be, the tool that propelled her entire life was no longer what it was, which forced her to confront herself in ways she was not prepared for. We see this when she performs in front of her hired helpers – searching for validation from those not trained to provide it. 

I can only imagine what it’s like to be an athlete, painter, musician, writer, artist, etc. – a profession that requires a lifetime of dedication and practice – and have those skills taken away from you. To have your entire persona defined by a specific ability can take a person to the greatest of heights, but the deepest of lows once that ability disappears. What is one to do then? How does one continue to be themselves while reconfiguring the essence of who they are? That is the struggle Callas goes through. We see right away her difficulty with this transition. She may not be able to step foot on stage like she once did, but she longs to get her voice back. The mental toll comes in the form of drug dependency, specifically Mandrax. 

The plot doesn’t follow a traditional structure. Framed by an interview Callas gives to a documentary crew – led by a character coincidentally also named “Mandrax” (Kodi Smit-McPhee) – Callas recalls several of the significant moments of her life. These include being found at an early age to have a strong singing voice, performing beautiful arias in elaborate costumes, and the relationships she had with men – including business magnate Aristotle Onassis (Haluk Bilginer). If that name sounds familiar, it’s the very same man who would go on to marry Jackie Kennedy. Scenes in the present are shot in color, showing Callas past the prime of her career. Flashbacks are in black and white, showing her as a vibrant youth. These cinematic choices create a fantastical, dreamlike effect. Watching it, I was reminded of the work of Federico Fellini, such as Amarcord (1973) or 8½ (1963), where scenes play out like jumbled memories.

The production design and costuming places Maria in gorgeous locations dressed in wonderfully stylistic outfits. Whether she is floating through the hallways of her lavishly decorated home or strolling through Paris with the Eiffel Tower in the background, there isn’t a shot that doesn’t feel perfectly composed to look graceful and elegant. But it’s all a façade, a cover to hide the mental and emotional turmoil. It’s a double-edged sword in a way. The aesthetics may operate as a mask for Callas, but it also acts as a barrier for us to engage with her story. It’s as though the outward designs hold us back from digging into and attaching to her character’s psychological trajectory. Angelina Jolie delivers one of her best performances in the title role, but I never felt like I was getting to know who this person really was. I learned a little about her history, her stardom, and her gradual descent, but who was she beyond all that? She moves around her home like a lonely spectator, searching for a place to belong but never finding it. Maybe that was Larraín’s intention, but I never felt pulled into this character’s mindset as opposed to seeing it unfold.

Part of what made Jackie and Spencer successful was that they captured their characters at an inflection point. Jackie Kennedy and Princess Diana were in states of emotional crisis, where they tried to find their voices while trapped in social constructs that worked to silence them. Maria acts as the most literal example of this concept, where Callas worked to regain the voice she felt slipping away. Unfortunately, this notion doesn’t work as convincingly. I found it hard to relate to a person who achieved all they dreamed and still try to swim against the current of time and attrition. It also doesn’t help that the film continuously reminds us that we are watching it. Often, the editing will insert a shot of a clapperboard notifying us where we are in the timeline, complete with titles for each section. Naming parts of a film like chapters of a book is not a new thing, but the image of the clapperboard – a common item used on movie productions – pulls us out of the story’s spell. 

Maria is handsomely made and features a stellar performance by an actor giving it their all. I just wish I was more emotionally invested in it. I appreciated its technical expertise, its style, and its textures – but those elements can only take things so far. The glossiness and shine of its surfaces cannot be denied, it is a sight to behold. But for some reason, I couldn’t connect with its heart.

81/2, Amarcord, Angelina Jolie, Edward Lachman, Featured, Federico Fellini, Haluk Bilginer, Jackie Kennedy, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Maria, Maria Callas, Otello, Pablo Larraín, Sofía Subercaseaux, Steven Knight