Angelina Jolie Delivers a Thoughtful Biopic, But I Just Couldn't Love It

Maria Make your intentions clear from the beginning. In September 1977, legendary opera singer Maria Callas (Angelina Jolie) is in her final days and her grasp on reality is tenuous at best. She reorganizes the world with herself at the center, though where once entire multitudes were subject to her whims, now only her loyal butler (Pierfrancesco Favino) and maid (Alba Rohrwacher) remain. They worry about their declining health. When abusing the medication, she hallucinates entire conversations. She hates doctors, who feel compelled to interrupt her with their facts.

But Jolie's Callas is no Norma Desmond; director Pablo Larraín does not intend to make her an object of horror or pity. We learn that Callas had much of her reality imposed on her. At this point in your life, She's taking control, and Maria practically gives in to it. She evokes a filmmaker (Kodi Smit-McPhee), named after his hallucinatory drug, who interviews her about her life, and her visions dominate our experience. Reality can intrude, often quite rudely, but this is Maria's film. The story of hers that we see is the story she is telling about and to herself.

Maria is full of strong and interesting creative choices

And the singing scenes are easy highlights

The result was mixedand in a way that poses an enigma to me as a critic. There's a lot to admire in the way it's put together, and intellectually I found it full of interesting and thoughtful choices. The metanarrative device is skillfully used, as are Maria's hallucinations. There is no attempt to pull the rug out from under the public. While it's fun to see how and when reality is distorted, when it it is not is equally important. The way people outside of Maria's inner circle choose to interact with her can be funny and cutting.

Often the film falls somewhere in between, like Maria slips through time whenever Jolie's protagonist is removed from the present moment, whether by memory, dream or something in between. These scenes are beautifully composed with a cleverly malleable visual palette, heightening contrast. The effect of this is strongest when Callas sings. Her professional days are behind her, but she wants to get her voice back and is going to test it. As Maria sings, she returns to the moment she sang the song before.

The film establishes a divide: Jolie sings as Maria, a shadow of her former self, while real recordings are used for La Callas, the soprano in her prime. We get all the power and glamor of La Callas in sudden bursts, and they drive home the truth that Maria can't quite hide. We can hear Maria's despair just as well as we can see it building up behind Jolie's eyes.

Despite all her cunning, Maria left me cold

There is much to admire Mariaand Jolie's performance, but my connection to certain scenes should not be confused with the fact that I was emotionally absorbed. In truth, I usually felt kept at a distance. The style formed a barrier that I was only able to penetrate in a few moments. This isn't always a problem – some films touch the head better than the heart, and are no worse for it. But this film is so confident in its own cleverness that it was difficult to feel satisfied with admiration alone.

That's where my difficulty lies. I have no doubt that others will have a different experience with Maria and find themselves completely carried away by it, and with everything else it has going for it, I would be remiss not to recommend it. But I can only do it halfheartedly. Even though I would love to spend an evening talking about the finer points of Larraín's choices, I can't deny that I'm in no rush to revisit them.

Maria premiered at the Venice Film Festival and opened in select theaters on November 27. It is now streaming on Netflix. The film is 124 minutes long and is rated R for some language, including a sexual reference.