Shocking: Angelina Jolie’s Icy Performance as Maria Callas Falls Short of Expectations!

Maria Callas, known for her performances as the tragic figures Tosca, Medea and Carmen, rose to prominence despite enduring the horrors of the Nazi occupation of Greece, being jeered at La Scala, facing global media scrutiny, and suffering a humiliating public affair. However, her coping mechanisms – sedatives and self-imposed starvation – eventually got the better of her.

The film “Maria”, featuring Angelina Jolie in the lead role, is director Pablo Larraín’s latest attempt to immortalize 20th-century tragic heroines. His earlier films “Jackie” and “Spencer” depicted the struggles of two hyper-aware celebrities: Jacqueline Kennedy and Princess Diana. Yet Callas, notorious for her explosive temper, is presented by Larraín in a more reserved light, seemingly in deference to her domineering persona.

We meet Callas towards the end of her life, her lifeless body being the first image that greets us on screen. A series of flashbacks follow, with Callas attempting to dismiss her liver disease as casually as one would a bad wine. Throughout the film, she is portrayed as being under the influence of Quaaludes, a popular sedative of 1970s Paris, sold under the brand name Mandrax. The film’s writer, Steven Knight, even introduces an imaginary character named Mandrax (played by Kodi Smit-McPhee), a television reporter conjured by Callas to maintain her sense of self-importance.

Anyone who has watched old interviews of Callas knows that she was often subjected to harsh questioning. Journalists would often probe her about her reputation as a ‘monster’ and her failed relationship with Aristotle Onassis, who later left her for Jacqueline Kennedy. They seemed to derive a perverse pleasure in poking holes in her larger-than-life persona.

In her early years, Callas handled these intrusive inquiries with wit and humor. However, as she aged, her responses became more rigid, and it is this version of Callas that the film presents to us. Jolie’s portrayal of Callas is that of an aloof, stubborn, and regal woman in her fifties who has rejected love, fame, happiness, and music, and doesn’t seem particularly eager to regain them. Her character’s journey is somewhat vague, and it’s often unclear whether she will take any decisive steps. Callas yearns for admiration but shies away from truly revealing herself. Her housekeepers Ferruccio (Pierfrancesco Favino) and Bruna (Alba Rohrwacher) communicate volumes through their silent, apprehensive expressions, and when they overstep their boundaries, Callas reprimands them by ordering them to move the piano.

Larraín makes a somewhat tepid attempt to portray Callas as a feminist martyr, implying that she was once coerced into selling her body for money and food. Details of her life are blatantly omitted, such as her marriage to a man who is discarded for Onassis (Haluk Bilginer) without so much as a name. Further adding to the confusion, the young Callas (Aggelina Papadopoulou) bears no resemblance to Jolie. However, this casting decision underscores how Callas reinvented herself in the 1950s, losing a significant amount of weight to morph from an archetype of a curvy soprano into a fashionable, slim figure, albeit at the cost of some of her vocal power.

Callas had the ability to captivate an audience with her stillness. Her emotions were expressed through her eyes and voice. Jolie, who trained in opera for seven months to prepare for the role and reportedly did her own singing on set, delivers a commendable performance, although her voice cannot match the electrifying impact of Callas at her peak. Larraín attempts to replicate Callas’ commanding presence in an early close-up of Jolie singing directly into the camera in stark black and white, but the shot falls short, highlighting Jolie’s static throat and somewhat passionless eyes.

Once known for her fiery passion, Jolie appears overly restrained in this film. There is only one brief moment in a montage when Jolie, performing as Medea, allows her character’s intensity to shine through. This electrifying moment leaves you longing for more such instances throughout the film. We don’t get to see Callas’ vibrant personality again until the end credits, which feature archival footage of the real Callas flashing a playful smile.

Callas believed that a song should never be perfect, a sentiment I concur with. Some critics described her singing as ‘ugly’, not in a literal sense, but to highlight the discordant elements that made her performances interesting. However, Jolie’s flawless portrayal acts as a shield, making her performance of Callas’ intoxicated madness feel somewhat sober.

Though Larraín occasionally indulges in some visual spectacle, much of the film is confined to Callas’ delusions, resulting in a somewhat flat narrative. Callas asserts her control over reality, declaring, “What is real and what is not real is my business.”

Interestingly, after being exposed to numerous grand arias, the sound design choice that stuck with me was a small one – the clink of a spatula against a pan as Callas, even in her bathrobe, serenades Bruna in the kitchen. This seemingly endless solo serves to emphasize that although Callas had a massive fan base, she could also be quite tedious. And the small sound of the spatula hitting the pan reminds us that even within Callas’ carefully constructed world, her ego doesn’t always reign supreme.

I wish Larraín had been more willing to present a less flattering portrayal of Callas. He seems too protective of his subject to delve into the rage that fueled her art. Despite Callas’ ability to sing across three octaves, the film largely remains monotonous.