CELTIC spirituality holds that everybody needs a soul-friend. Controversially, a new biopic starring Angelina Jolie suggests that for the opera singer Maria Callas it was Mandrax. In Pablo Larraín’s film Maria (Cert. 12A), the drug identifies itself as a He (played by Kodi Smit-McPhee): a television interviewer constantly at Callas’s side, encouraging her to reflect on her life.
The film begins in 1977 with Callas’s death from a heart attack at the age of 53. On the soundtrack, we hear her rendition of “Ave Maria” from Otello, to which Verdi added “prayers for all who suffer as much as Desdemona does and asking for the grace to live on earth so that she may eventually be admitted to paradise”: a statement in itself of how the movie regards Callas.
Sections of the film are introduced by the slam of a clapperboard, as Callas opens up to her soul-friend, recalling joys and sorrows. It is clear that there were plenty of the latter occasions, many of them due to malicious tabloid conjecture and intrusion. She is certainly imperious, but that is because others controlled much of her earlier life — from her dominating mother (Lydia Koniordou) to Aristotle Onassis (Haluk Bilginer), with whom she had a troubled affair. “Finally,” she sighs, “I am in control of the end.”
Many scenes in her Paris apartment are shot before a large Adoration of the Magi painting. Callas has herself been worshipped by princes and potentates from afar, relishing their attention and the sobriquet La Divina. “I come to restaurants to be adored,” she tells her staff. Four years since she was last on stage, Callas’s singing voice (sometimes intermixed with Jolie’s) isn’t what it was. “The audience expects miracles,” she says. “I can no longer perform miracles.” Her doctor intimates that her voice is now in heaven. Fortunately for us, we glory through flashbacks in breathtaking arias. It’s difficult holding back the tears as we experience the utter vulnerability of her “Vissi d’Arte” from Tosca, as she prays: “In the hour of grief, why, O Lord, do you reward me thus?”.
The screenplay is by Steven Knight, writer of Peaky Blinders and co-creator of the quiz show Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Much gets made of Callas’s Greek heritage — busts and figurines bedeck her home — but there is little overt reference to her faith. We hear from Onassis, her fellow national, that he prefers another god, Hermes, the protector of travellers and thieves. Maria, however, remained a member of the Greek Orthodox Church. The film has a strong sense of self-realisation rather than what others demanded of her. She is in the process of becoming what God requires of her, exchanging, as she puts it, birdsong for human song.
Some quibble about accuracy, but this is film employing the language of poetry, not prose. Mandrax may not be the most reliable of soul-friends, but together we take a meditative journey of our own as well as Maria’s. It is the transcendentally triumphant tone that distinguishes this from Larraín’s previous films about Jackie Kennedy and Diana, Princess of Wales. Interestingly, the final clapperboard bears the title An Ending: Ascent. The Callas voice lifts our spirits heavenward.