Maria

It's no wonder that event cinema thrives when you consider just how impressive it is to hear a full orchestra, some Pucchini or Verdi and the magnificently powerful voice of this eponymous soprano through big screen sound. Of course I could have been doing with a great deal more of her singing, but Pablo Larraín wasn't offering us a "Now That's What I Call Maria" compendium. Instead he has teamed up with Angelina Jolie to share this temperamental woman's last week of life in Paris in 1977. She lives in a lavish apartment staffed by her two faithful and loving retainers Bruna (Alba Rohrwacher) and Ferruccio (Pierfrancesco Favino). These two have been with her for many years and are now well used to managing her mood swings, her addiction to medication and to her obsession with moving the piano around with spine-straining regularity. Each day she leaves her apartment bedecked in furs and jewels, strolls the city and ends up in a theatre where she vacillates about singing again - after over four years. I did quite like the technique used to thread the story together, using Kodi Smith-McPhee as her handsome new friend "Mandrax" who is conducting a television interview which serves as a conduit for her to reminisce. She has plenty to reminisce about, too, as we mix her childhood in Nazi occupied Greece with her rise to fame before her rather toxic and controlling relationship with Aristotle Onassis (Haluk Bilginer) ends her career. Her staff are so concerned, they recruit the services of a doctor (Vincent Macaigne) who has some stark warnings for a lady who rarely eats and has pills hidden throughout her home, but what's clear from Jolie's quite sensitive performance here is that she isn't a person capable of differentiating between real and make believe any more, and who really just wants to finally live her life - and sing - for herself, regardless of the consequences. It's astonishing that so many people who found fame and fortune in the entertainment industry ended up like Callas, and that rather depressing fait accompli is quite effectively delivered here by a considered effort from a star whose physical resemblance also helped to convince and elicit some sympathy. There are also a couple of then and now voice comparisons for her (and us) to compare and possibly despair over too. The characterisation is shallow, there's no getting away from that - we sort of flit about her life without really getting our teeth into what drove her - up or down, but I suppose it was never intended to be a documentary, more a sympathetic introduction to her beautiful voice, music and tragedy. If you're looking for facts and figures, then this isn't the film, but a superficially effective glimpse of a musical genius - well I can readily give it that.