Pablo Larraín is doing his usual Pablo Larraín thing here. For my money, Maria is not nearly as good as Spencer, but it's a good deal better than Jackie (not that that would be difficult).
On the one hand Maria is overwrought and melodramatic and excessive. It frequently feels theatrical and false, calling attention to itself as a performance or dramatization. But on the other hand, all of the masks in Maria feel true and deep and desperate.
In many ways, although this is a film about a diva who was never not on stage, never not faking it, Larraín gets to something honest and sensitive. Just because the tears had to be manufactured doesn’t mean they don’t come from real grief.
The art direction is gorgeous in this, and the makeup is exquisite. Jolie is luminous and every bit the movie star. I was also in love with Pierfrancesco Favino (he’s always good, but he is the real heart of Maria, and he teaches us how to love her).
No comments:
Post a Comment