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Oct 13, 2024 By Kaveh Jalinous Web Exclusive

The closer of Pablo Larraín’s biopic trilogy of famed female figures (following Jackie and Spencer), Maria is a striking, narratively interesting, and deeply affecting biopic about one of opera’s most talented, unforgettable, and complex figures.

Set in 1977 Paris, Maria follows the last days of Maria Callas (Angelina Jolie), as she attempts to accomplish the last things she can before leaving this Earth. The most important: finally owning and using her voice for the first time, after being controlled by her mother and her lover, Aristotle Onassis (Haluk Bilinger), with whom she had a nine-year affair. Her most desired wish is also her most dangerous—due to her increasing heart issues, the act of singing increasingly takes a toll on her health. It is this struggle that drives much of the film and other plot points, such as her agreement to be interviewed by a film crew, work in support of this central thesis.

Much like Larraín’s other two films in the trilogy—but more similar to Spencer—the film’s narrative never operates in a direct, straight line. Instead, moments of Callas’ last days clash with one another, as the settings she’s in and the people she’s with constantly change. There’s a temporal element at play as well. One second, Callas may be talking to her interviewer in her living room. Suddenly, the camera pans, the film’s color scheme changes to black-and-white, and we drop into a flashback sequence (most of which centers around her experiences with Onassis). While the weaved nature of the narrative can be destabilizing and a tad grueling at first—especially during the film’s opening 30 minutes—it quickly becomes the film’s largest success. Maria‘s complexity, yet constant sense of elegant grandeur, perfectly echoes the inner and outer appearances of its subject. It’s an impressive sync of style and narrative, and it makes the film all the more heartbreaking to watch, especially as it barrels toward the tragic ending we all know is coming.

While much of the film’s emotional power is attributable to Steven Knight’s intricate and delicate script, Maria’s cinematography and performances are what make the film unforgettable. Iconic cinematographer Ed Lachman—who partnered with Larraín on his last film, El Conde (2023)—frames the interiors and exteriors of Paris in a beautiful, melancholic way. Whether that’s the paradoxically grand yet claustrophobic spaces of Callas’ apartment—even referred to as her “prison on Avenue Georges Mandel” at one point—or the leafy streets she strides on, there’s not one shot that isn’t perfectly blocked or not in tune with those around it. The director of photography also captures that specific, picturesque type of sunny fall day in such vivid detail. The crisp blue sky and warm hues in the background of many of the film’s scenes feel comforting but equally dangerous. They signal the eventual end of the season and the impending turn into something much colder and darker—a smart echo of the devastating reality the film’s narrative presents.

Jolie’s performance is not only one of the year’s finest but one of her career’s best as well. She sinks into Callas’ persona with remarkable ease. Nowhere is this clearer than in the film’s opening scene, which frames Callas in a close-up, singing. The actress isn’t signing everything—her voice is mixed with Callas’ throughout the film’s singing sequences since Callas’ voice is impossible to replicate. Even so, her facial expressions and movements are spot-on, instantly showcasing the complexity of her adaptation. In the film’s supporting roles, Alba Rorhwacher and Pierfrancesco Favino—who respectfully play Callas’ cook and butler (and the only two people who truly care about her)—are incredible. Their performances are slightly more muted, but increase in intensity as the film’s stakes ramp up, eventually becoming key factors behind the film’s heavy emotional punch. (www.filmlinc.org/nyff2024/films/maria/)

Author rating: 7/10