What a surprise to learn that Maria Callas was born in New York City and lived there till 13, when her Greek-immigrant mom took her back to the homeland in 1937.
Through film clips, diary entries, and letters, we learn that Ms. Callas's mother recognized her vocal talent early on, and the young lady who would become "La Divina" lied about her age to begin conservatory. Her voice coach, Elvira de Hidalgo, became her lifelong, and perhaps only, friend.
A theme that runs through this stunningly scored documentary is that Callas would have traded international fame for motherhood -- "that is the vocation of a woman," she says, sounding the theme in telling someone, "I envy your family -- there is no greater wealth on earth." Instead, she worked tirelessly at her art till she died in Paris at just 53.
Callas repeatedly says that kids should have a childhood, unlike herself. Her boundless talent kept her continuously rehearsing or performing. Not until the movie's final frame or two do we see anything but a perfectly coiffed, made-up, and wardrobed star who speaks flawless French. Not once does the diva kick back with a burger and fries or kibbitz with a pal.
The film is kaleidoscopic, zooming in and out of stage or concert performances. We learn virtually nil about the man Callas married and came to resent, the toy poodles that accompanied her everywhere, or the destiny of her family of origin. If she ever had a niece or nephew for comfort as she aged, we learn nothing of them.
It is intriguing to see interview clips of Callas's early voice teacher from Athens and a cigarette-smoking Edward R. Murrow. We catch a glimpse of Queen Elizabeth, as well as King Edward VIII with Wallis Simpson, all entering a performance hall to see the phenom -- too bad they couldn't offer recollections!
Then there's the topic of "Aristo" Onassis, who for awhile gave Callas sanctuary from flashbulb-foisting mobs ("He made me feel liberated.") It seems the poor woman rarely caught a break -- be it because she was at the height of her artistic powers, or because her "nerves" forced her to cancel performances mid-way through.
If the movie has a flaw, it's that it homes in on Callas's somewhat frozen-looking smile a little too often. We get that she was a very handsome woman, yet we sense that her facial expression is forced. Callas got a rough start in life, what with her detour around childhood and arrival in Greece on the eve of World War II -- Wikipedia says her mother urged her to fraternize with Axis soldiers in exchange for food -- unhappy marriage, and years-long fling with Onassis -- culminating in his surprise marriage to Jackie Kennedy.
Callas cancelled one performance mid-way due partly to severe depression, and it's a shame that a person of her wealth and privilege apparently never got help.
"Destiny is destiny -- there is no way out," she opines, seeming, perhaps, to reflect the worldview of Medea, protagonist of a film she made after her singing voice gave out (Pasolini, 1969).
Through film clips, diary entries, and letters, we learn that Ms. Callas's mother recognized her vocal talent early on, and the young lady who would become "La Divina" lied about her age to begin conservatory. Her voice coach, Elvira de Hidalgo, became her lifelong, and perhaps only, friend.
A theme that runs through this stunningly scored documentary is that Callas would have traded international fame for motherhood -- "that is the vocation of a woman," she says, sounding the theme in telling someone, "I envy your family -- there is no greater wealth on earth." Instead, she worked tirelessly at her art till she died in Paris at just 53.
Callas repeatedly says that kids should have a childhood, unlike herself. Her boundless talent kept her continuously rehearsing or performing. Not until the movie's final frame or two do we see anything but a perfectly coiffed, made-up, and wardrobed star who speaks flawless French. Not once does the diva kick back with a burger and fries or kibbitz with a pal.
The film is kaleidoscopic, zooming in and out of stage or concert performances. We learn virtually nil about the man Callas married and came to resent, the toy poodles that accompanied her everywhere, or the destiny of her family of origin. If she ever had a niece or nephew for comfort as she aged, we learn nothing of them.
It is intriguing to see interview clips of Callas's early voice teacher from Athens and a cigarette-smoking Edward R. Murrow. We catch a glimpse of Queen Elizabeth, as well as King Edward VIII with Wallis Simpson, all entering a performance hall to see the phenom -- too bad they couldn't offer recollections!
Then there's the topic of "Aristo" Onassis, who for awhile gave Callas sanctuary from flashbulb-foisting mobs ("He made me feel liberated.") It seems the poor woman rarely caught a break -- be it because she was at the height of her artistic powers, or because her "nerves" forced her to cancel performances mid-way through.
If the movie has a flaw, it's that it homes in on Callas's somewhat frozen-looking smile a little too often. We get that she was a very handsome woman, yet we sense that her facial expression is forced. Callas got a rough start in life, what with her detour around childhood and arrival in Greece on the eve of World War II -- Wikipedia says her mother urged her to fraternize with Axis soldiers in exchange for food -- unhappy marriage, and years-long fling with Onassis -- culminating in his surprise marriage to Jackie Kennedy.
Callas cancelled one performance mid-way due partly to severe depression, and it's a shame that a person of her wealth and privilege apparently never got help.
"Destiny is destiny -- there is no way out," she opines, seeming, perhaps, to reflect the worldview of Medea, protagonist of a film she made after her singing voice gave out (Pasolini, 1969).