On stage and in “Maria” reality has no significance. It’s all about that raw emotion, which serves the dream better than a history lesson about La Calais in the film. At the beginning, she takes some mandrakes and tells her devoted butler Ferruccio that a television crew is about to arrive. Are they real, he wonders.

“As of this morning, what’s real and what’s not real is my job,” she says calmly and certainly, relishing Steven Knight’s sharp script. This is one of many great lines and moments for Jolie, whose intensity and determination belie her fragile appearance. And it’s also a signal to the audience: Don’t worry about boring facts or that Jolie doesn’t actually resemble Callas at all. It’s a biopic like an opera – an emotional journey of the great diva, full of flair, beauty, betrayal, revelations and grief.

In “Maria,” we are companions to a protagonist whose grip on reality is increasingly loosening, traveling with her through Paris and her life for a week in September 1977.

Cinematographer Ed Lachman’s images, playfully shifting form and style, take us on a spectacular journey through her triumphs on the stage, her scandalous romance with Aristotle Onassis, and her painful youth. Currently, at 53, she sleeps until noon, drinks minimal calories, goes to restaurants where waiters know her name and looks for praise and watches scenes of demonstrations organized for her across the city.

Callas is always impeccably dressed and confident, whether reflecting on an imaginary news crew or attempting to find her voice again. Her vitals had diminished significantly, leaving her wondering what was left to live for. The only praise she receives consistently comes from her obedient maid Bruna. It’s no secret that the destination is death. And you suspect she’s well aware that everything will become very blurry when her spotlight goes off.

Larraín has left a lasting mark on cinema with her seminal trilogy about the tragic narratives of these famous women. With “Jackie,” “Spencer” and now “Maria,” his films are an unwitting antidote to Ryan Murphy’s take on the gorgeous women of recent history, which is all style and scandal and little substance. And yet Larraín’s films are not for everyone. If “Jackie” and “Spencer” didn’t speak to you, didn’t show the women you expected, “Maria” won’t make you a believer. From the three films it seems the audience either agrees with his point of view or it doesn’t. There is very little space to live in between.

And yet it’s hard to deny that his films are incredible showcases for the actors. As a movie star, Jolie is somehow both omnipresent and elusive, and lately she has rarely seemed to appear in front of the cameras. Sometimes you wish she could follow in the footsteps of Nicole Kidman, for whom quantity never jeopardizes quality, and she enjoys doing it all, all the time. Maybe that’s because Jolie’s performance in “Maria” looks so impressive.

In the film, Maria scolds a fan for daring to question that she had faked an illness to miss a performance. He doesn’t understand the total commitment of body and soul required to make it look effortless, which is probably true. Jolie, at least publicly, isn’t so dramatic about what it takes to make art. But here the lines blur: character and actor blend so seamlessly, so brutally, that you leave with increased sympathy not only for La Callas but for Jolie as well.

In one of the film’s few regrettable scenes, he is shot by John F. He is placed face to face with Kennedy, whose wife has caught Onassis’s lustful eye. As a testament to the power of Jolie and the script, you almost forgive another JFK impersonation, giving her one of the great brushoffs, completely romantic and withering at the same time. Is this all a bit much? Of course, but that’s Maria’s point.

“Maria,” out in select theaters now and streaming Dec. 11 on Netflix, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for “sexual references, some language.” Running time: 122 minutes. Three out of four stars.

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