Biopics often suffer from Goldilocks problems. Too general, and the film feels too much by the numbers, too much like a superficial summary of the person’s Wikipedia page. Too specific, and the film ends up giving the audience too limited a glimpse into the subject’s life.

There is also an ongoing debate about whether biographies need to be historically accurate. In most cases, audiences tend to accept that these films allow themselves a certain degree of freedom with the facts – after all, they are narrative films, not documentaries. But exactly how much editing or interpretation the film can tolerate may depend on what the viewer expects from the film.

The Goldilocks problems extend to the actor portraying the subject of the biopic. How much should they look or sound like the person in question? If the actor is too fixated on the person’s physical characteristics or quirky behaviors, there’s a risk of becoming too much of a “Saturday Night Live” cartoon. Too far from anything resembling the person they are portraying, and what audiences will be talking about after the film is how much the actor looked nothing like the famous character.

All of this means that your mileage on biopics can – and probably will – vary. This is especially true when a filmmaker is known for making looser, more impressionistic biopics, like director Pablo Larraín. But even taking all that into account, his latest biopic, Maria, is mostly just vibes, resulting in a bland story and a disappointing experience.

Across three films, “Jackie,” “Spencer” — and now “Maria,” which premiered Wednesday on Netflix — Larraín has honed a particular format. Each film follows a larger-than-life woman in history over a few pivotal days of her life and is based on a performance that is often more impactful than the film itself.

In “Jackie,” the mesmerizing Natalie Portman as Jackie Kennedy reflects on finding herself in the White House spotlight shortly after her husband’s assassination in November 1963. In “Spencer,” Kristen Stewart as Princess Diana reels from the murder of her then-husband’s affair with Camilla Parker-Bowles while trying to maintain her appearance at the royal Christmas festivities in 1991. And in “Maria” Angelina Jolie, as prima donna Maria Callas, revisits her glory days shortly before her death in September 1977.

The ailing Callas runs around her Paris apartment, leaning on her longtime housekeeper and her butler. She wanders the streets of Paris, remembering her past lives and romances by imagining herself being filmed by a documentary film crew. It’s a bit like Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard, insisting that she’s still big, but it’s the images that have become small.

There’s something absolutely captivating about Jolie’s performance that might even make the film worth watching, even if it doesn’t measure up to her star role. And the film’s lush visuals – Paris in the fall is gorgeous, of course – and the attention to detail in the costumes and recreations of some of Callas’ groundbreaking performances are likely to captivate viewers see Great, but there’s not much there. Great dresses, beautiful dresses.

As is typical of this time of year, “Maria” is one of several biopics being shown to holiday audiences (and, of course, nominated for an Oscar).

Unfortunately, it’s not the only disappointing, insubstantial post. There’s also a certain “Just Vibes” feel to “A Complete Unknown,” the disappointing Bob Dylan biopic starring Timothée Chalamet and in theaters on Christmas Day – even though one gets the impression that the film’s marketing has been going on for a whole year takes time, if not longer. And as is often the case, it’s telling that both of the critically acclaimed biographies of awards season are about famous white people, underscoring once again the reality of whose stories are being told and which historical figures are being treated in Hollywood biopics that will never reach a wide audience .

“A Complete Unknown” isn’t quite as vibe-based as “Maria.” It unfolds linearly, charting Dylan’s meteoric rise as a prodigy folk singer and the resulting tension between him and his folk forebears, who viewed his mainstream success and rise to rock stardom as a form of selling out. But the film glosses over this transition, going straight from before to after and, like “Maria,” not having much to say beyond that.

The choice between fact and fiction or the vast space in between can depend on the topic and the project. It’s a bit ironic that in “A Complete Unknown” I felt the desire to revisit something completely fictional: the Coen brothers’ film “Inside Llewyn Davis,” which captures the mood of the same era better than fiction by the wonderful Oscar Isaac captures folk singers.

To continue the Goldilocks metaphor, determining the “just right” approach is highly relative. And finally, a film that tries to please everyone may end up pleasing no one. But great films can often do a lot of things at once without polarizing or alienating. One of the better films this holiday season is the upcoming sports biopic “The Fire Inside.” It begins as an inspirational sports drama and follows the rise of boxer Claressa Shields as she overcomes obstacles and wins her first of two consecutive Olympic gold medals.

But halfway through it takes a different approach and explores what is happening after the spotlight fades and who exactly stands to benefit from fame and success. It uses Shields’ story to go much deeper and examine the inequities in the sports industrial complex when she doesn’t receive the endorsement deals that white and male athletes of her caliber typically get. Written by Barry Jenkins and directed by Rachel Morrison, her directorial debut after years as an acclaimed cinematographer, it’s a great twist on the usual biopic and sports film tropes. I came away both entertained and informed. For me, that felt exactly right.

“Maria” is neither entertaining nor informative. Larraín’s earlier films at least used their protagonists’ stories to explore something beyond themselves: the gilded cage in which each woman was trapped and the discrepancy between their public and private images. But in “Maria,” the film never really gets around to telling a story about Callas. By relying solely on vibes, “Maria” doesn’t even risk being too this or too that. It just sits somewhere in the tepid middle.