Angelina Jolie in Maria (Netflix)

How do you solve a problem like Maria—portraying soprano Maria Callas, that is? Where does a screenwriter begin when telling her eventful story, which overflows with war, career highs and lows, tragedy, and international gossip? Steven Knight’s fantastical and seductive, yet at times wobbly, screenplay takes a non-linear approach to the life of the Greek-American opera singer, with much of the timeline set during the final week of her life in September 1977.

The film marks director Pablo Larraín’s third entry in his gloomy-paparazzi-princess trilogy, following Jackie (as in Kennedy) and Spencer (as in Diana). It’s no spoiler to reveal that the biopic-turned-memorial leads up to Callas’s death: The film opens with her body being removed from her opulent Paris apartment as her loyal servants look on. It’s not for nothing that the first aria heard is “Ave Maria” from Verdi’s Otello, sung by Callas as the doomed Desdemona just before she is smothered to death. The tone remains funereal as Callas (Angelina Jolie) reflects on her life through an imagined interview with a lanky German reporter Mandrax (a subdued Kodi Smit-McPhee)—so named after her favorite sedative—for a documentary, Maria Callas: The Last Days.

She charms the pants off her interviewer (figuratively), holding court. Her life’s philosophy can be summed up as this: Life is opera. During a walk-and-talk jaunt with Mandrax through Trocadéro Square, male passersby break out into song, serenading her with the “Anvil Chorus” from Il Trovatore (also featured in A Night at the Opera), the first of many musical flights of fancy.

Ed Lachman’s cinematography dissipates any doom and gloom, with his lush visuals highlighting the autumnal colors of Paris. The production design is equally opulent, particularly Callas’s Louis XIV–inspired apartment with its gilded accents, ornate wooden friezes, and parquet floors. Larraín even films re-creations of Callas’s iconic performances in Norma and Medea on the stage of La Scala, a refreshing break from today’s reliance on digital backdrops. However, the director’s fondness for the visuals occasionally slows the pacing, with perhaps one too many lingering shots of Callas wandering through city. That said, the City of Light’s beauty often steals the show.

Here and there Knight’s screenplay echoes Terrence McNally’s acclaimed 1995 play Master Class, which focused on Callas’s brief teaching stint at Juilliard in the early 1970s. Like McNally’s work, Knight’s script emphasizes Callas’s sharp wit and obsession with personal style. Jolie’s on-screen Callas is impeccably dressed, exuding elegance in every frame. However, unlike McNally’s play, which contextualized Callas’s witticisms within her role as an instructor, Knight’s script sometimes veers into theatricality: Jolie delivers the line, “I’m in the mood for adulation,” with a knowing wink that borders on camp. Other lines, like “I took liberties with life, and life took liberties with me,” edge into second-rate Oscar Wilde territory.

Jolie, often known for her icy screen presence in roles like Maleficent, softens here. She imbues Callas with her trademark elegance and regal bearing, but also warmth, vulnerability, and humor. The magic of hair, makeup, and cinematography transforms Jolie into Callas and will convince skeptics that they are one and the same person. According to Larraín, Jolie’s voice blends with Callas’s on the soundtrack, though 90 percent of the singing is Callas’s. Presumably, Jolie’s vocals are used in moments where the retired diva struggles singing, a choice that contrasts with Callas’s mid-1950s vocal peak.

Callas purists may wince at certain liberties taken. For instance, the film has her diving into an aria from Norma immediately after waking up without warming up—an unlikely scenario for an opera singer. It also suggests that Aristotle Onassis began his affair with Jacqueline Kennedy under President Kennedy’s nose in the early 1960s, a claim not widely supported. The insinuation that Callas was a teenage sex worker during the Nazi occupation of Athens further ventures into the realm of speculation.

While there is no complete filmed performance of Callas, her artistry can be experienced online. For a taste of the real deal, her 1964 Covent Garden performance of Tosca’s second act, alongside baritone Tito Gobbi, is available on YouTube.

Maria begins streaming on Netflix on December 11.