This is an odd movie, fairly opulent looking, yet barely released.
A gay rock music promoter named Larry Kelly (I wonder if the REAL Larry Kelly, who started the Dallas Opera and worked with Callas, is still alive) is also a friend of recluse Maria Callas. He talks Callas into starring in a movie of Carmen, using her 13 year old recording as a soundtrack. She is difficult, but superb. The Carmen movie is a big success, but Maria feels uncomfortable with the concept and asks Larry to withdraw the film.
Fanny Ardant is pretty good, but too variable. She swings from crotchety to alluring in a matter of seconds. You don't see much behind that beautiful mask. Anne Bancroft or Audrey Hepburn might have been better if the project had been done earlier and written better... Jeremy Irons is wince inducing: it is always unpleasant to watch an actor trying to make something out of nothing - the character of Larry is simply one-dimensional. Joan Plowright brings commonsense - a rare commodity in this film - to her few scenes.
A few moments linger: Ardant, as Callas-Carmen, smoking a thin cigar before throwing her flower at José. Callas starting to seduce a hunky tenor, but thinking better of it after a little kiss.
It is all very bizarre: outrageous Chanel product placement, saccharine gay subplot ( awww, the young boyfriend got a hearing aid so that he could hear Callas LPs), hideous punk rock music under the credits... and as others have remarked, the characters live in 1977, but the look is 2000.
Basically yet another example of Zeffirellian effects without causes.
A gay rock music promoter named Larry Kelly (I wonder if the REAL Larry Kelly, who started the Dallas Opera and worked with Callas, is still alive) is also a friend of recluse Maria Callas. He talks Callas into starring in a movie of Carmen, using her 13 year old recording as a soundtrack. She is difficult, but superb. The Carmen movie is a big success, but Maria feels uncomfortable with the concept and asks Larry to withdraw the film.
Fanny Ardant is pretty good, but too variable. She swings from crotchety to alluring in a matter of seconds. You don't see much behind that beautiful mask. Anne Bancroft or Audrey Hepburn might have been better if the project had been done earlier and written better... Jeremy Irons is wince inducing: it is always unpleasant to watch an actor trying to make something out of nothing - the character of Larry is simply one-dimensional. Joan Plowright brings commonsense - a rare commodity in this film - to her few scenes.
A few moments linger: Ardant, as Callas-Carmen, smoking a thin cigar before throwing her flower at José. Callas starting to seduce a hunky tenor, but thinking better of it after a little kiss.
It is all very bizarre: outrageous Chanel product placement, saccharine gay subplot ( awww, the young boyfriend got a hearing aid so that he could hear Callas LPs), hideous punk rock music under the credits... and as others have remarked, the characters live in 1977, but the look is 2000.
Basically yet another example of Zeffirellian effects without causes.