Movies with Meaning, by Brent Marchant, TGMN Movie Correspondent

The Virtues of Hope

 

Hope is an undeniably powerful force, and a belief in it firmly cements our faith in it in our consciousness. It’s difficult to shake, too, hanging on persistently in our worldview. Admittedly, though, when circumstances challenge its validity and viability, that quality can come under fire, perhaps even prompting us to question its strength and resilience. But such conditions can also serve to affirm our convictions, to galvanize us in our views of the power of hope, particularly when it seems like that’s all we have going for us. Such is what can happen when we’re up against dire, intimidating threats to us and those we care about, a scenario aptly explored in the new, fact-based historical drama, “I’m Still Here” (“Ainda Estou Aquí”) (web site, trailer).

In 1971, former Brazilian politician Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) was living what he believed to be a mostly quiet life as a private citizen in Rio de Janeiro with his wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), and their five children. After several years of liberal political activism in the Brazilian Labour Party, his status as a Congressman was revoked when a military coup d’etat in 1964 overthrew the government, removing those with so-called “leftist” views. This subsequently led to Paiva’s voluntary overseas exile in Europe. He later returned to Brazil, however, where he began leading a comparatively low-key existence, focusing on family life and working as a civil engineer.

Despite this new approach to life, though, Paiva’s activism did not completely cease. He quietly assisted others in aiding dissidents who were under scrutiny by the country’s military dictatorship. With his friend journalist Fernando Gasparian (Charles Fricks), he also helped found and oversaw operations of the newspaper Jornal de Debates, a publication aimed at presenting various political opinions, providing a forum for public debate and one that authorities didn’t always approve of. But, much of the time, Paiva was most concerned with his engineering work and the happiness and well-being of his loving family. They were particularly eager about moving from their rented residence into a new home of their own for which they were about to break ground.

However, this new lifestyle aside, the political situation in Brazil was becoming increasingly unstable, especially in the wake of a round of terrorist attacks. Because of that, intrusive incidents like roadblocks with arbitrary search and seizure initiatives were becoming more common, as Rubens’ daughter, Veroca (Valentina Herszage), and her boyfriend, Pimpão (Caio Horowicz), discovered for themselves firsthand. What’s more, anyone with even the slightest anti-government leanings came under growing scrutiny by officials. These “suspects” were routinely rounded up and subjected to arrest, interrogation and torture to discover any secrets they might be harboring, especially when it came to anyone they knew or were associated with. And, in January 1971, Paiva himself became the latest target of such treatment.

When a party of plainclothes armed men showed up at Paiva’s home, he was taken away for questioning. Little information was provided about where he was going, what he would be interrogated about and how long he would be gone. Meanwhile, several members of this posse remained behind with the family. And, when Paiva did not return, Eunice and her children became concerned – and even more so when she and her 15-year-old daughter, Eliana (Luiza Kosovski), were themselves subsequently taken.

Eunice and Eliana were removed to a military interrogation facility, where they were separated and subjected to questioning. While Eliana was returned home quickly, Eunice was held for 12 days and put through multiple rounds of intense grilling. She was finally released and allowed to return home. But, before leaving the facility, she spotted her husband’s car in the parking lot, prompting her to believe that he had been taken to the same location, even though his whereabouts were unknown and remained undisclosed by officials.

Despite the intimidation to which she had been subjected, Eunice was determined to find out what happened to Rubens. She began her own informal investigation in earnest, quietly consulting her husband’s associates, routinely pressing authorities for information and defiantly taking her case to the press, but all to no avail. Nevertheless, Eunice refused to give up hope, even though the situation grew increasingly bleak as the duration of Rubens’ absence lengthened. She insisted on continuing with her inquiry until she received a definitive answer about his fate one way or another. And, as time passed, even though hope of his return began to fade, her hope of uncovering the truth of what happened remained steadfast, a conviction that she passed on to her children and that they adhered to as firmly as their mother did. If authorities harmed or killed her husband, she was determined to make sure that the public knew about it, no matter how long that revelation would take to surface.

In Rubens’ absence, Eunice became the head of the household and had to assume responsibility for her family’s well-being. As difficult as it was, she had to move on when it became apparent that her husband was not coming back. That meant sacrificing much, including the dream of their new home. It also meant that she would need to find a means of support for herself and the children. But, again, Eunice rose to the occasion, ever hopeful that she would be able to pick up the pieces and carry on – which she did, establishing a legacy of her own, one again based on uncovering the truth and taking on the kinds of forces whom her husband combatted. Behind it all though was her assertion that hope would lead the way, setting an example for all of us to follow.

Without hope, however, the merits of this story would essentially be nonexistent, as it plays such a central role in the narrative in so many ways. And, to be sure, the absence of a belief in it wouldn’t mean much, either, given its role in bringing this concept into being in our existence. Such is what our beliefs make possible. It’s unclear whether any of the characters in this film were aware of this school of thought or what it can yield, yet, based on their actions and the results they attained, it’s apparent that they had some kind of connection to its principles, even if they weren’t consciously cognizant of them. And, considering the conditions under which they were operating, such fittingly empowered beliefs were essential if they were to ever realize any of the outcomes they sought.

As noted above, a belief in hope played a pivotal role in nearly all of the aspirations that Eunice and her family were seeking to manifest. Most obviously, and most importantly, this was true in their desire to see Rubens safely returned to them. It kept them going at a time when it might have been easier to just give up. But, as Eunice and her family saw it, there was too much at stake to do that, not just for them, but for Brazil as a whole. If Rubens could so easily become one of the desaparecidos – “the disappeared” – what was there to prevent similar outcomes from occurring among other Brazilians simply because their social and political views didn’t concur with those in power? Even if hope for Rubens’ recovery was a long shot that grew progressively dimmer over time, those who held on to such an increasingly unlikely prospect could at least take some solace in raising awareness about his story in the hope that his fellow countrymen would not suffer the same fate. Such an outcome might not have made up for their loss, but they could nevertheless take comfort in the notion that publicizing his treatment might help to prevent it from happening to others who shared his views and circumstances.

A belief in hope also played a vital role in the revelation of what ultimately happened to Rubens. In authoritarian regimes like the one that was in place in Brazil at the time, it would have been easy for those in power (and even their eventual, more open-minded successors) to just disregard what happened, to sweep it under the rug as a liability or an embarrassment that was more expediently ignored than addressed. But Eunice and her family refused to capitulate on this point: They kept up pressure on the government – even after the dictatorship was out of office – to get an answer on what happened to their husband and father. Even as the years passed, they remained diligent – and hopeful – that an answer would come. And, when word of Rubens’ fate finally surfaced, it served as yet another reminder to the Brazilian people about what can happen when the power of autocrats is unchecked and allowed to run roughshod over its citizenry, a powerful cautionary tale to any nation experiencing such conditions, even in those where human rights protections are supposedly in place and guaranteed to all.

Then there was the role that hope played in helping Eunice to successfully reinvent herself. As a wife and mother, her role had been largely domestic for many years. But, when she was forced into becoming the family’s head of household, she needed to adapt in a number of ways. Her innate resourcefulness and her belief in her ability to successfully tap into that aptitude fueled her hope that she could make the necessary adjustments. In addition to caring for her family, she became a lawyer and activist who specialized in human and civil rights, not only in exposing what happened to Rubens and other desaparecidos, but also as an advocate for Brazil’s indigenous peoples, particularly in the areas of violence committed against them and illegal expropriation of their lands.

Eunice’s hopes for the success of these various endeavors were obviously well placed. Her path may not have been an easy one, but she put faith in her beliefs and clung to them, drawing on their ample power and persistence to tackle the many challenges she faced. She truly showed us the many virtues that are embodied within the spirit of hope and how to employ them in making the world a better, fairer and more equitable place. Her work may not be complete, but she did much to help further the cause – and, one would hope, to inspire others to carry on with it.

Films that incorporate dark political themes are an acquired taste for many moviegoers, but, when they tell personal stories within such a context, they generally become more accessible and relatable for audience members, even those who might not ordinarily gravitate to pictures in this genre. That’s a goal expertly accomplished in this latest work from director Walter Salles. This superb fact-based offering tells the heart-wrenching story of the Paiva family, primarily from the perspective of its steely, determined matriarch, who endured much but staunchly persisted in the face of adversity. In telling this story, the filmmaker not only imparts a tale of high suspense, but also presents a compelling chronicle of a family committed to remaining hopeful and uncovering the truth, no matter how horrendous it might ultimately prove to be.

In carrying out its mission, “I’m Still Here” successfully fires on all of its cinematic cylinders, perpetually engaging viewers in a gripping, emotionally charged odyssey, not unlike the movies of famed filmmaker Costa-Gavras (most notably “Missing” (1982)). Much of the credit here belongs to Torres for her stellar, Oscar-nominated and Golden Globe Award-winning lead performance, one that skillfully portrays a woman of both vulnerability and resolve, backed by a wealth of diverse feelings. This offering is handily my favorite release of 2024 and, in my view, the nominee most deserving of this year’s Oscars for best picture, lead actress and international picture, hands down. By all means, do not pass this one up.

In addition to the picture’s three Academy Award nominations, “I’m Still Here” is richly deserving of the many other accolades it has received, including nominations for best foreign language film in the BAFTA, Critics Choice and Golden Globe Award competitions, as well its designation as one of the National Board of Review’s Top 5 foreign language films of 2024. In my opinion, this release is genuinely worthy of even broader recognition than it has received, but it’s gratifying to see that it has at least been accorded the attention it has managed to garner. The film is currently playing theatrically.

In 2006, then-Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) published the best-selling book The Audacity of Hope prior to announcing his plans to run for President in 2008. While much of the book focused on political concerns, and regardless of what one might think of his politics, I was most struck by the book’s eye-catching title. While “audacity” may not be a word that one would readily associate with “hope,” it nevertheless accurately describes a trait that we should take into consideration when we contemplate the qualities underlying this notion. Indeed, given the gravity of many difficult situations, “hope” may seem like an unrealistic, perhaps even arrogant, attitude in the face of such daunting circumstances. One might even wonder how anybody could hold onto such a “naïve” view in light of those scenarios. However, if those challenges are to be overcome, “audacity” may be the only way we can hold out under those conditions. It may be the sole quality that allows us to carry on to resolve matters or even to realize an outcome that seemingly defies the odds. And, without it, there may not be any reason to maintain any degree of perseverance, even when it comes to just discovering the truth, regardless of whether it turns out to be what we’re hoping for. Some may call this foolish wishful thinking; others might see it as a bold act of defiance against forces that see themselves as being invincible and unaccountable. If we ever lose sight of that, we could well find ourselves without any hope at all – and what a genuine tragedy that would be.

A complete review is available by clicking here. 

January Movies Rewind and New Movies for February

For those who may have missed the most recent movie review edition of The Good Media Network’s Frankiesense & More video podcast, the recorded version is now available for viewing on Facebook and YouTube. Join show host Frankie Picasso and yours truly for reviews of four new movies, a discussion of the best and worst movies of 2024, and a preview of the upcoming Oscars. Tune in for all the fun and lively discussion!

And, with another month in the books, it’s time for the February movie edition of Frankiesense & More, premiering live on Facebook on Thursday February 27 at 1 pm ET. Frankie and I will discuss four new movies, as well as offer up our predictions for this year’s Oscars. And for more on the awards, be sure to check out my blog on the subject on my web site, BrentMarchant.com, to be posted later this week. Enjoy!

   

A Simple But Profound Message Out of the Mouths of Babes

Sometimes the simplest yet most profound messages come to us from the unlikeliest of sources. In many cases, those sources deliver their insights metaphorically, with an almost “innocent” nature, as if to give license to the notion of “out of the mouths of babes.” So it is with the endearing second animated feature from writer-director Gints Zilbalodis, “Flow” (“Straume”) (web site, trailer).

This stunningly beautiful, inspiringly insightful odyssey from Latvia tells the tale of a band of animals seeking to find their way and survive in a new world. When a great flood essentially destroys the world of man, a wide-eyed black cat must figure out how to get by when this consuming deluge wipes out the existence he has known, armed with only his own wits and the cooperation of fellow animal kindreds, including a capybara, a meerkat, a secretary bird and a pack of dogs, most notably a yellow Labrador retriever. Together this band of diverse creatures navigates the waters of this new world in an abandoned sailboat, learning how to work together to support one another and to stay alive, surmounting an array of challenges along the way. In the process, they collectively learn valuable life lessons that we as humans can all stand to follow, especially when confronted with circumstances not unlike those that we all must contend with in a world on the brink, conditions to which most of us can probably relate these days.

The answers that these creatures come up with are often patently obvious, but the film thoughtfully prompts us to ask ourselves that, if these simple solutions are so readily apparent, why aren’t we doing more ourselves to embrace them in addressing our own current challenges? That’s a very good question and one of the greatest strengths of this widely acclaimed release. This dialogue-free offering, whose only sounds come from the authentic utterances of its animal protagonists and its emotive background score, features exquisite animation in its depiction of a world in transition, one showing the remnants of what’s been left behind and the emergence of what’s coming into being. While the narrative takes a little time to initially find its footing and is occasionally episodic as it unfolds, the various incidents it portrays as the story plays out are instructive, touching, meaningful and spot on in conveying the picture’s myriad insights, crafted in a way that shows more than tells and successfully avoids the temptation to spoon-feed audiences.

The film, available for streaming online, has earned more than its share of accolades thus far, most notably well-deserved Oscar nominations for best animated feature and best international film, along with top honors as best animated feature from the National Board of Review and the Golden Globe Awards and best international feature at the Independent Spirit Awards. Along the way, the picture earned comparable nominations at the BAFTA and Critics Choice Awards, as well as a nomination for the Un Certain Regard Award at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival. That’s quite a haul for a little film from a country not especially known for its cinematic achievements. Indeed, “Flow” may be animated, but it’s by no means a cartoon, an accomplishment to which more films in this genre should attempt to aspire, a true gem from which we could all stand to learn a lot – and, one would hope, before we’re faced with circumstances like these ourselves.

The Best and Worst of 2024

With 2024 in the books, it’s time for my look back at the Best and Worst movies of the year. Check out my blogs on the subject on my web site, each of which features a Top 10 countdown, a list of honorable and dishonorable mentions, an open-ended list of noteworthy and unworthy offerings, and a summary of the best and worst in documentaries. For the best releases, click here, and, for the worst, click here. Happy reading and even better viewing!

The Perils of Indecision

 

When one achieves greatness at his or her craft, it’s difficult to walk away when the skills behind it begin to fade. Moreover, facing the hard truth that one’s peak may indeed be irretrievably in the past can be even tougher to accept, no matter how passionate one’s desire might be for it. At times like these, we must often begin making new plans for ourselves and our future, and some of the options open to us may indeed hold considerable appeal, especially if they involve unfulfilled dreams. But what if we have difficulty accepting the reality of such circumstances? We might well be left drowning in indecision, not knowing what to believe, what to do or how to move forward in our lives. And that could be quite a quandary – even a tragedy – if we see that the clock is running out on us. Such is the dilemma faced by a great talent unsure of what she should do with the time she has left, as seen in the stirring new fact-based character study, “Maria” (web site, trailer).

Soprano Maria Callas (1923-1977) (Angelina Jolie) was one of the greatest talents ever to have graced the operatic stage. The American-born daughter of Greek immigrants grew up in a volatile New York household. Her parents quarreled frequently, and her ambitious but cold mother, Litsa (Lydia Koniordou), freely expressed her disappointment that Maria wasn’t born a boy. This animosity would color the troubled nature of Maria’s relationship with her mother throughout their lives. This antagonism showed little change over the years, except perhaps when Litsa discovered that a young Maria (Aggelina Papadopoulou) possessed a beautiful singing voice, an attribute that she saw as a potential meal ticket for the family. This was especially true when Maria’s parents divorced and Litsa moved her children back to Greece in 1937, a time of economic hardship at the peak of the Great Depression and that only worsened when the country was overrun by Nazi forces in 1941.

Nevertheless, Callas’s talent was undeniable. She made a name for herself in Greece, then in the US and at last in Italy, where she blossomed into the grand dame of opera, a reputation that would come to characterize her throughout much of the next three decades. She became famous for performing the works of Donizetti, Bellini, Rossini, Verdi, Puccini, Beethoven and even Wagner. Her beautiful voice, graceful elegance and stunning appearance (the result of a dramatic but fruitful weight loss program) made her the preeminent star of the operatic world, every bit the embodiment of a bona fide diva.

Because her talents were in such demand, she was working much of the time in the years to come, thanks to the promotional efforts of her husband, Giovanni Battista Meneghini (Alessandro Bressanello), an older, wealthy industrialist who took over management of her career, an arrangement that was more of a business deal than a romance. During her marriage to Meneghini, however, Callas met and fell in love with Greek shipping tycoon Aristotle Onassis (Haluk Bilginer), with whom she had a prolonged and less-than-subtle affair, a relationship that led to her divorce from Meneghini in 1959. But, once separated, Callas’s romance with Onassis never led to the marriage she hoped for due to disagreements over what their future might hold, ending in 1968 with the tycoon’s marriage to former First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy.

Callas’s separation from Onassis would prove to be one of the great tragedies of her life, given that it didn’t lead to the sought-after marital and family bliss that she had thought it would. A life of domestic happiness was something she had longed for, perhaps because of its noticeable absence during her upbringing. In any event, the lack of such an existence left her with only her work. And, as she aged, as her talents began slipping away, she faced an uncertain future – one without a fulfilling personal life and one with questionable prospects for being able to continue to perform.

This is essentially where the film’s narrative begins, in 1977, not long before her death. Much of the picture tells her story through a series of flashbacks (photographed gorgeously in black and white) focused on key moments in her life and how those developments had led her to where she was now. At the time the film begins, Callas has become something of a recluse, living in Paris and having not performed in four years due to a decline in her vocal capabilities. She lives with her two domestics, Ferruccio (Pierfrancesco Favino) and Bruna (Alba Rohrwacher), who dutifully care for her at a time when her physical and mental health have begun to slide. They stand by her as she contemplates her future, trying to decide if she wants to attempt a career comeback or to settle into the quietly satisfying home life she has always craved but has never been allowed to experience. And they also surreptitiously watch over her during a series of interviews she has granted to an aspiring young filmmaker, Mandrax (Kodi Smit-McPhee), who’s producing a documentary about the artist with whom he’s quite obviously infatuated.

Audiences expecting a rote, by-the-book treatment of Callas’s story might be somewhat disappointed by how director Pablo Larraín has presented it here. As in two of his previous works, “Jackie” (2016) (about First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy) and “Spencer” (2021) (about Princess Diana Spencer), the filmmaker serves up more of a character study than a straightforward biography. Larraín explores what makes his protagonist tick, showing the factors that shaped her character, a thematically interpretive approach designed to reveal more about her nature than offering a standard recitation of the names, dates and places that were part of Callas’s life. This becomes apparent in the somewhat unconventional, nonlinear format of the film, one that routinely switches back and forth between the black-and-white flashbacks and the events of the day in which the primary events are set. In addition, because the film profiles the life of an artist, these narrative elements are intercut with performance sequences showcasing some of Callas’s greatest operatic moments, some of which are presented conventionally and others of which are surrealistic or symbolic in nature (particularly the emotive overture and postlude segments, performances quite likely to move viewers to tears). This approach may not be what audiences were presuming at the outset, but what they get is probably more than what they might have anticipated.

Given how Callas’s story is told here, then, one might legitimately ask, what qualities is this film designed to bring out about her? This is where the examination of the perils of uncertainty comes into play. As the foregoing summary explains, and as the picture’s narrative illustrates, “Maria” explores the role that this issue played in her life, especially in shaping the core of her being and worldly existence. And, to understand how those qualities fell into place, it’s vital that we look at the beliefs she held about her life and self, as they steered the direction in which events unfolded. Those who may question this notion – both for the protagonist as portrayed here and in their own lives – should give this issue serious consideration, as it’s fundamental to the functioning of the manifestation of our world. It’s unclear whether Callas was aware of this way of thinking, but, as this film depicts the materialization of her life, it becomes apparent how the role of one’s beliefs – whatever form they might take – ultimately impacts the nature of one’s existence.

As noted above, the key nature of the beliefs involved here centers on matters of uncertainty, and that notion can be particularly problematic when it comes to shaping the reality we hope to create. This is perhaps best evidenced by Callas’s indecision on whether to attempt a comeback or retreat into the contentment of a quiet personal life. As the film shows, however, she’s conflicted about which option to pursue.

Callas obviously sees the merits in both possibilities but seems unable to pick which lifestyle she wants for herself. The acclaim likely to accompany a return to the stage is undoubtedly seductive, but, given her long absence from the stage, she would have her work cut out for her to prepare for it. Indeed, would she be up to the rigors of such an undertaking? By contrast, embracing a life of relative seclusion would provide her with the peace of mind and personal satisfaction that have long eluded her, something she genuinely craved at many times in her past. But could she realistically give up the attention and admiration she had grown so accustomed to as a diva?

Callas’s inability to make a decision about seemingly equally viable options, unfortunately, leaves her stuck in place. And, as a result, neither possibility emerges. This kind of stagnation reflects one of the three underlying conditions chiefly responsible for preventing successful manifestations from occurring: inherent contradiction. Callas appears to believe in the viability of both possibilities open to her, but, because they collectively call for innately conflicting conduct and supporting beliefs, they cancel out one another and inhibit the manifestation of both choices. Stalemates such as this are indeed frustrating and unsatisfying to anyone who experiences them, because they clearly keep us from moving forward, leaving us with lives that are anything but fulfilling. Such conditions are particularly maddening to someone like Callas, circumstances far from what someone of her notoriety and stature is accustomed to experiencing.

Contradiction alone is not what’s solely responsible for these conditions. The other two underlying influences – doubt and fear – are also present here. And they, too, can be intrusively meddlesome in the flow of the manifestation process, given that they’re each forms of belief in themselves.

Doubt, for example, clouds Callas’s thoughts about which course to pursue. When it comes to her comeback efforts, for instance, she participates in a series of informal rehearsals to test the waters where her voice is concerned, some of which don’t go as well as hoped for. And, when outsiders hear excerpts from those sessions and share their observations with members of the press, Callas is confronted with hostile questions from them, making her doubt the viability of her proposed comeback.

Similarly, when Callas ponders a retreat into private life, she’s reminded of how events unfolded in her previous relationships. When Callas met Onassis, for example, Meneghini didn’t put up much of a fuss when she began paying attention to her would-be suitor, a reaction that prompted her to wonder how much her husband really cared for her. And, after her divorce, when she began her involvement with Onassis in earnest, she grew doubtful about their future together when he showed hesitancy about having a family. At the same time, she also had questions about the nature of their relationship, given that she sought to keep up her career despite his pressure to treat her more like a possession than as a partner. In her mind, just because she was willing to be a wife and mother didn’t mean that she wanted to give up her artistic calling, that she was eager to continue perceiving herself as an individual in her own right, that she didn’t want to abandon her own sense of personal sovereignty. Despite all that, however, she was terribly hurt when their relationship ended and Onassis began courting and eventually marrying Jackie Kennedy.

Taken together, these memories about her professional and private lives figured largely in her belief outlooks, fueling her consciousness with considerable doubt and everything it can do to derail her plans for materializing her hopes and dreams. What’s more, comparable effects were similarly induced by the power of fear and how it can hinder what we seek to create. Even though Callas was not one to necessarily show her innermost feelings outwardly, she experienced them nonetheless, and the foregoing incidents personally and professionally undoubtedly had to have inspired their share of anxiety, further enhancing the influence of doubt and contradiction already in place. It’s no wonder, then, how Callas came to wrestle with their combined impact in the form of such overpowering indecision.

To make matters worse, this crushing uncertainty spawned a number of undeniable, if unintended, side effects. This became apparent in the health issues Callas was experiencing in the film. She had become heavily dependent on prescription medications, some of which may have been related to the weight loss program she underwent, a regimen whose effects some believe might have contributed to the decline in her vocal abilities – and the disappointment that accompanied that, a serious impact on her mental well-being. She also felt that she was beginning to experience hallucinations, a development that troubled her deeply but that she only confided to her sister, Yakinthi (Valeria Golino), in an anxious, tearful confession.

To be sure, Callas had supporters at her side through all of these trials and tribulations, most notably her trusted servants, Ferruccio and Bruna. She also had a sympathetic ear in Mandrax, as well as her physician, Dr. Fontainebleau (Vincent Macaigne), and pianist Jeffrey Tate (Stephen Ashfield), the accompanist at her rehearsal sessions. But, regardless of all the shoulders she had to lean on, the onus of this situation was on Callas herself, and it was up to her to resolve it.

That, of course, depended to a great degree on whether she wanted to resolve it. And that, in turn, would have required Callas to make a decision on what she wanted to do. In the end, it could be argued that that’s exactly what she did, in her own way, even if her “resolution” wasn’t part of her original palette of options. The crippling indecision she was contending with may have ultimately been more than she was capable of handling, leading her to pursue another path, one that embodied an alternative set of beliefs that many of us likely would not have chosen but that nevertheless provided her with a solution to decisions she was ultimately unprepared or incapable to make. Unfortunately, such choices carry consequences that may be more daunting than we realize, too, so we should weigh our options carefully in such situations. In the end, indecision truly might be difficult to deal with, but is avoiding it altogether the right answer? Only we can decide that for ourselves.

As this film so aptly illustrates, Callas lived a life full of triumphant highs and agony-ridden lows, as well as times in which she struggled to distinguish reality from suspected fantasy. It gives us pause to wonder how someone so gifted could also be so tormented. As in director Pablo Larraín’s previous films “Jackie” and “Spencer,” “Maria” provides viewers with yet another offering about a strong, powerful woman who lived an extraordinary but turbulent life, the third installment in a captivating cinematic trilogy. In this case, as in all three pictures, the filmmaker accomplishes this by delving into the mind of the protagonist, showing us what was unfolding in the individual’s inner being, the source of what transpired (or failed to do so) in her life and why.

What separates this release from its two predecessors is the career of its protagonist, whose broad range of operatic performances is beautifully captured in an array of captivating sequences. It also showcases Callas’s reputation for being a prima donna, but it does so without going over the top. In fact, some have criticized “Maria” for being too subdued in its portrayal of the grand dame. But I personally appreciated the restraint exercised here, an approach that prevented Callas from being turned into a caricature or cartoon. This outcome is largely made possible by the positively stellar Golden Globe and Critics Choice Award-nominated performance of Jolie, who has turned in her best work in years in this offering, a comeback of sorts of her own. Add to this the film’s superb production design, Critics Choice Award-nominated costume design, gorgeous Oscar-nominated cinematography and capable supporting cast, and viewers have an opportunity to witness yet another fine work from an underappreciated director who, in my opinion, is one of the best auteurs in the business these days. Admittedly, the film’s screenplay could have used some work, especially in the depth of its back story, but I’m willing to forgive that in the face of everything else this release has to offer. That’s particularly true in its highly emotive opening and closing sequences, musical montages that are sure to move anyone who doesn’t have ice water running through his or her veins. Indeed, pay no heed to the nitpickers when it comes to this one and savor it for all it’s worth. The film is available for streaming online.

Indecision can be a nagging circumstance to contend with. I frequently encountered it myself in my youth in dealings with relatives who were often paralyzed at the prospect of making a choice when one was called for. However, as someone who is generally capable of making decisions when needed, I didn’t always appreciate the difficulty associated with doing so among those who are fundamentally ill-equipped to do so. Fortunately, I’ve come to understand the value of clearly assessing my beliefs and drawing upon them when required, doing all I can to keep contradiction, doubt and fear at bay. With those hindrances aside, moving ahead with decision-making becomes eminently more possible, meaning that realizing our sought-after manifestations also becomes eminently more attainable. Granted, those decisions might not always turn out to be “the right ones,” fraught with perils of their own. But whatever “mistakes” that result from them also often provide us with important learning opportunities, which can ultimately prove to be just as valuable as the creations we had hoped to manifest. In either case, though, the value in making decisions and rejecting uncertainty frequently outweighs the drawbacks that come with a lack of decisiveness, and that can be far more beneficial than doing nothing and simply hoping for the best.

A complete review is available by clicking here.

Copyright © 2024-2025, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.