Biopics often suffer from Goldilocks problems. Too general in scope, and the movie feels too paint-by-numbers, too much like a surface-level recap of the person’s Wikipedia page. Too specific, and the movie ends up giving audiences too limited a window into the person’s life.
There’s also the perennial debate over whether biopics need to be historically accurate. In most cases, audiences tend to accept these films will take some degree of liberty with the facts — after all, they’re narrative films, not documentaries. But the question of exactly how much editorializing or interpreting the film can get away with can depend on what the viewer is looking to get out of the film.
The Goldilocks problems extend to the actor portraying the subject of the biopic. How much should they look like or sound like the person in question? Too fixated on the person’s physical traits or peculiar mannerisms, and the actor risks doing too much of a cartoonish “Saturday Night Live” impersonation. Too far removed from anything resembling the person they’re portraying, and all audiences will be talking about after the film is how much the actor didn’t look like the famous figure at all.
All of this is to say that with biopics, your mileage may — and probably will — vary. It’s especially true when a filmmaker is known for making looser, more impressionistic biopics, like director Pablo Larraín. But even when taking all of that into account, his latest biopic “Maria” mostly consists of just vibes, making for a flimsy story and deflating experience.
Over three films, “Jackie,” “Spencer” — and now “Maria,” which premiered Wednesday on Netflix — Larraín has honed a particular format. Each film follows a larger-than-life woman in history over a pivotal few days of her life, built around a performance that’s often more effective than the film itself.
In “Jackie,” a mesmerizing Natalie Portman as Jackie Kennedy reflects on being under the glare of the White House spotlight, shortly after her husband’s assassination in November 1963. In “Spencer,” Kristen Stewart as Princess Diana is reeling over her then-husband’s affair with Camilla Parker-Bowles while trying to keep up appearances at the royals’ Christmas festivities in 1991. And in “Maria,” Angelina Jolie as prima donna Maria Callas relives her glory days shortly before her death in September 1977.
An ailing Callas putters around her Parisian apartment, leaning on her longtime housekeeper and butler. She wanders the streets of Paris, recalling her past lives and romances by imagining she’s being filmed by a documentary crew. It’s a bit like Norma Desmond in “Sunset Boulevard” insisting she’s still big, but it’s the pictures that got small.
There’s something absolutely transfixing about Jolie’s performance, which may even make the film worth the watch, despite it not being up to par with her star turn. And the film’s sumptuous visuals — Paris in the fall is, of course, glorious — and attention to detail in the costumes and recreations of some of Callas’ seminal performances will likely draw viewers in. But like the glossy images of stardom, the film may look great, but there’s not much underneath. Great gowns, beautiful gowns.
In typical fashion for this time of year, “Maria” is among several biopics coming out for audiences’ holiday viewing (and of course, for Oscar consideration).
Unfortunately, it’s not the only disappointing, substanceless one. There’s also a bit of a “just vibes” feeling throughout “A Complete Unknown,” the underwhelming Bob Dylan biopic starring Timothée Chalamet and in theaters on Christmas Day ― though it feels like the film’s marketing has been happening for an entire year, if not longer. And as is often the case, it’s telling that both of these lauded awards season biopics are about famous white people, once again underscoring the reality of whose stories get to be told and what historical figures’ lives get elevated to the Hollywood biopic treatment, and which will never reach a wide audience.
“A Complete Unknown” is not quite as vibes-based as “Maria.” It unfolds linearly, chronicling Dylan’s meteoric rise as a wunderkind folk singer, and the subsequent tension between him and his folk music forebears, who saw his mainstream success and transition to rock star as a form of selling out. But the film glosses over that transition, going directly from the before to the after, and, like “Maria,” doesn’t have much to say beyond that.
Choosing fact or fiction, or the vast space somewhere in between, can depend on the subject and the project. It’s a bit ironic that throughout “A Complete Unknown,” I found myself wanting to revisit something completely fictional: the Coen Brothers film “Inside Llewyn Davis,” which better captures the vibes of that same era, through the wonderful Oscar Isaac as a fictional folk singer.
To continue the Goldilocks metaphor, determining what is the “just right” approach is highly relative. And after all, a film trying to please everyone may end up pleasing no one. But great films can often do many things at once without being polarizing or alienating. One of this holiday season’s better films is the upcoming sports biopic, “The Fire Inside.” It opens as an inspirational sports drama, following the rise of boxer Claressa Shields as she overcomes obstacles to win her first of two consecutive Olympic gold medals.
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But halfway through, it dares to take a different direction, exploring what happens after the spotlight fades, and who exactly gets to benefit from fame and success. It uses Shields’ story to go a lot deeper, probing the inequalities of the sports industrial complex, when she doesn’t get the endorsement deals that white and male athletes of her caliber typically get. Written by Barry Jenkins and directed by Rachel Morrison, her directorial debut after years as an acclaimed cinematographer, it’s a great variation on the usual biopic and sports movie tropes. I came away from it both entertained and also informed. To me, that felt just right.
“Maria” is neither entertaining nor informative. Larraín’s prior films at least used their subjects’ stories to explore something beyond them: the gilded cage that each woman was trapped in, and the discrepancy between their public and private images. But in “Maria,” the film never really lands on any story about Callas to tell. By leaning on just vibes, “Maria” doesn’t even risk being too this or too that. All it does is sit somewhere in the tepid middle.