THE CALLAS TOLD BY DIRECTOR PABLO LARRAÍN
A year after his fantastic film about the dictator Augusto Pinochet (The Count), cinema's most famous biographer tackles a classical music legend, Maria Callas. An evocation of the singer's life sublimated by Angelina Jolie's reserved performance.
After Jackie (about Jackie Kennedy) in 2016 and Spencer (about Lady Diana) in 2021, Chile's Pablo Larraín turns his attention in Maria to another sacred figure of the second half of the 20th century: the legendary singer Maria Callas (1923-1977). A fitting conclusion to this biographical trilogy. Especially since, in this personal account of Callas, we come across Jackie several times, since one of the most important men in Maria Callas's life was the Greek shipowner Aristotle Onassis, second husband of President Kennedy's widow. In fact, as a wink, we even see Kennedy, played by the same actor (Caspar Phillipson) in both films. It's the Larraín cinematic universe.
Maria begins with the diva's death one day in September in her Paris apartment. Larraín's eleventh film then recounts her last days in the capital, surrounded by her butler (Pierfrancesco Favino) and her maid (Alba Rohrwacher), who love and watch over her like an adopted family. We discover the suffering of the singer's tumultuous end-of-life, her addiction to drugs, her hallucinations, her desperate attempt to regain her voice, and her loneliness. With its disorganized flashbacks and (fake) archival footage, Maria's style is reminiscent of Mathieu Amalric's highly successful Barbara (2017), another biopic about an eminent voice.
Like the French director, Pablo Larraín offers us, rather than a vain attempt at an exhaustive biopic, an evocation of the life and persona of his heroine. Angelina Jolie is not portrayed as Maria Callas, and if there is a certain resemblance, we may be surprised, at the beginning of the film, to recognize the features of the American actress. But cinema is a pact of illusion. There's no need for hairpieces and other digital effects: we quickly accept that we're looking at a calm, tired, sad and melancholy diva. A dignified, subtle role, in keeping with its interpreter.
Similarly, Paris is not always Paris. Sometimes, Maria seems to be walking through the streets of another city that looks a little like her, but not really. And with good reason: some scenes were shot in Hungary. Like the interior of the magnificent theater a few steps from her apartment in the 16th arrondissement, with its organ and neo-classical architecture, where the singer comes to rehearse every day. It features an anonymous theater, but there's no need to look for it in the streets of the Left Bank: it's the Budapest Opera House (on the outside) and Academy of Music (on the inside). But Pablo Larraín's film never pretends to be anything other than fiction.
Even the actual shots of Paris, showing the Eiffel Tower or the Alexandre-III Bridge, look more like those slightly outdated 1970s postcards you find in bookshops along the banks of the Seine. A vintage Paris for a vintage icon. There have already been many documentaries on Callas, including the very good and recent Maria by Callas (2017) by Tom Volf. But this latest film is different. It's a kind of tribute to Maria Callas, like a poem. Like an aria.
MARIA DE PABLO LARRAÍN
RELEASED IN THEATRES FEBRUARY 5, 2025
