Over the past 8 years, Pablo Larraín has crafted three of the most stunning films, in the poorly named ‘Important Women’ trilogy. Maria sees the conclusion of that trilogy, after Jackie and Spencer, Jackie in particular is a favourite of mine, giving a truly unique interpretation of the biopic, a singular iteration that shows the grief of Jackie Kennedy. Spencer followed, which was a biopic of Princess Diana. However, Maria is the first of who I was not aware of the subject.
The film follows the last weeks of Maria Callas, in 1977 Paris, in a journey that explores madness, grief and suffering. Whilst Callas was one of the most renowned opera singers in the 20th Century, however, Larraín chooses to focus on a time when her singing days seemed to be numbered. Not at the height of her career, but rather a time of reflection on her career, whilst attempting to recapture her past vocal excellence.
Immediately present is a distinct tone and atmosphere. Like the previous films, Maria is almost like a ghost story. It is hazy, and over-exposed at times, giving an effervescent quality. This aesthetic matches Maria’s madness. Early on the film establishes her as struggling with addiction, we are unsure whether what she speaks about is real or not. As she says to her staff “What is real and what is not real is my business”. Whilst this has the potential of downgrading the central figure, it portrays her madness is an intoxication, it is as if madness is the only way to make sense of the world.
Like her two predecessors, you would expect Angelina Jolie to get at least an Oscar nomination for this performance (if not the win). A tour de force performance that feels as if she is the only one entirely in the know about what Maria is going through. She is vacant and harsh, yet soft-spoken and kind. Grief-stricken, heartbroken and tormented. An outstanding performance in one of the most multi-faceted characters of the Oscar cycle.
This would not be so powerful without Larraín’s vision, which is a stunning, dreamy blend of memories and puzzle pieces the audience has to put together. Maria’s life is far too wonderfully complicated to have a standard linear narrative. Larraín uses flashbacks intercut with interviews with a journalist who may or may not be real, and lessons in an empty theatre as she attempts to get her voice, and thus her agency and power, back. Mixing 35mm, 16mm and 8mm film stock, as well as black and white, Larraín pays homage to this complex figure.
Whilst the film often stumbles in its pedestrian pacing, it does not take away from the fact that Larraín crafts a wonderful, decedent story about performance, of which is a painful intoxication as Maria states the trauma she goes through to pull music out of her belly and through her mouth.
Maria gives a just end to Larraín’s trilogy of perfectly unique biopics. Showing Maria in her own world of madness. After all, to live in this world of the suffering artist, there must be madness to survive – there is no reason in opera. Larraín casts a labyrinth of weaves that intertwine to perfectly portray the final weeks of the life of the enigma that is Maria.
Comentarios