Written by Giorgia Cattaneo
In spite of biopics being known as usually high-risk movies that tend to fall into predictable and almost caricatured narratives, Larraín once again proves to be a master of the genre, offering a portrait of another 20th century woman that is unique in its kind.
The story begins from the end: it’s September 16th, 1977, the day when Callas is found dead of a heart attack at her own apartment in Paris, by her loyal chauffeur Ferruccio (Pierfrancesco Favino) and Bruna (Alba Rohrwacher), the waitress – both very well-characterized on screen. A flashback takes us back to a few years before the tragic event: Callas has retired from the public eye, as she lost her voice and her body looks extremely ill, consumed by the changes it went through in order to fit those years’ appearance standards for a diva like her. She also suffers from grieving the recent loss of her life-time lover, Aristotele Onassis (Haluk Bilginer). The drug addiction she falls into dangerously affects her mental and physical state and it’s personified in the movie by the character of Mandrax (name of a hypnotic sedative, ndr), a young interviewer (Kodi Smit-McPhee), to whom Callas images to commission the writing and publishing of her post-mortem autobiography. Larraín purposely chooses this escamotage in order to make Callas’ life story sound like a two-way direct conversation between the character-person and the audience-Mandrax. In this tense, dystopically quiet atmosphere, in which Callas is shown in all her vulnerability, it’s impossible not to empathize with her, to the point that her suffering becomes a one with the audience’s. She herself seems to struggle with separating her human side from the career she’s been pursuing her whole life: without her voice, she can barely recognize herself – as if there were two people inside her: one is Maria Callas, and the other is just “Maria” (as the movie title suggests).
References to the previous parts of the trilogy are not missing, casual or not. What is certainly not a coincidence is Larraín’s choice to open and close the circle with two people in real life connected with each other: first lady Jacqueline “Jackie” Kennedy (Natalie Portman) was, in fact, the third wheel in Callas’ tormented love story with Onassis (she’s also mentioned in the movie, even though we never see her on screen). Additionally, fans have noticed that Callas is portrayed in a flashback wearing the shoes of Anne Boleyn for the homonymous tragic opera – the same historical figure is referenced in Spencer, as Diana Spencer (Kristen Stewart) has persistent imaginary dialogues with the queen’s ghost, and eventually becomes her.
Maria's Callas is not just a finished historical portrait: it actually feels like the real person she was during her life-time. To be credited for that is indeed Jolie’s majestic interpretation: through her captivating talent, she manages to elevate the intensity of her tormented soul, with an insane accuracy to the original in facial expressions and body language, other than looks and costumes. A role that could definitely campaign for Best Actress at the next Academy Awards – and, who knows, maybe even win the category and finally become the long-awaited (and long-deserved) actress’ first proper golden statue? At the end, this movie results in a warm-tone-coloured, emotionally turbulent final act of an opera: as the lights are turned off and the curtains are closed, the show is over and reality as all that remains.
Photo credits to IMDb and BFI.