Written and Directed by Sam Levinson
**** (four stars)
RATED R
"I feel like once you know someone is there for you, and once you know they love you, you never actually think of them again. It's not until you're about to lose someone that you finally pay attention."
-Marie Jones
It is forever striking to me to see how authentic a film is able to be while existing in a form that is completely inauthentic.
That phenomenon is indeed the magic contained within the art and artistry of the movies and cinematic storytelling. The ability to manufacture a fully invented world, even one that is designed to resemble the very one in which we all exist, through means of an imagined story and characters populated by actors, combined with all of the technicians and creative departments, to gather bits and pieces of information in order to stitch it all together into a narrative created to elicit an emotional response and recognition from a viewer is something akin to a miracle to me. What's more is when the inauthenticity at hand is elevated, and the approximation of our perceived reality is upended, and yet the results remain emotionally recognizable.
This sensation easily occurs from the greatest flights of fantasy. Or even take any film from a filmmaker like Wes Anderson or Quentin Tarantino, to name two filmmakers currently working and still producing work of exceedingly high quality. Both of those filmmakers revel in the meticulously completed invention of worlds that are not quite like our own real world but remain emotionally resonant, the sense of truth is unshakable even when the surroundings are filled with artifice. And yet, and also filtered through the sensibilities of each and every viewer, we all know only too well that feeling when the magic is not happening, when the fantasy feels false, when the story is not being believed, when that very inauthenticity reveals itself.
Which brings me to Sam Levinson.
Writer/Director Sam Levinson is a real curiosity for me. As he is the son of Writer/Producer/Director Barry Levinson, a filmmaker who has more than served as an inspiration with my love of film, as well as writing, with a body of work that includes nothing less than the likes of "Good Morning, Vietnam" (1987), "Rain Man" (1988), "Wag The Dog" (1997) and his "Baltimore series" which consists of "Diner" (1982), "Tin Men" (1987), and "Avalon" (1990), Sam Levinson has already demonstrated that he possesses more than enough skill, talent and high cinematic style to burn.
His HBO series "Euphoria" (2019-present), which he adapted from an Israeli series and largely wrote and directed himself, is a resoundingly dark teenage drama centered around the precarious recovery of high school drug addict Rue Bennett (played by Zendaya) and her connections to a collective of classmates as they all navigate the arenas of sex and sexual identity, body image issues, and pornography, in addition to drug addictions and the standard rites of passage via teenage angst.
It is a compelling, and consistently riveting series but it is also an excessive one, bombastic to the point of being nearly irresponsible as Levinson has populated his cast with a full arsenal of gorgeous, model ready individuals engaging in all manner of debauchery which is visualized in a veritable sound and vision assault that exists somewhere between and the final third of Martin Scorsese's "Goodfellas" (1990), Oliver Stone's "Natural Born Killers" (1994) and Danny Boyle's "Trainspotting" (1996).
Sam Levinson's approach throughout the series threw me off guard and not always in the best way, for when he zeroed in upon that authenticity, he held me tightly in his grasp, especially through his actual screenwriting which is often strikingly literate, deeply perceptive and elegantly profane. But when he stretched his visual palate, sometimes the result came off as exploitative or even grotesque.
This was most notable within an episode when Rue, consumed with debilitating depression and struggling with sobriety, holes up within her bedroom compulsively watching a reality series while refusing to just allow herself to rise and go urinate, resulting in a dangerously inflated and infected bladder. For all of the emotional realism, we were also greeted with a perspective from that infected bladder, and in doing so (and while I certainly appreciate the risk taking), the realism was undercut by stylish overkill, thus deflating the authenticity, taking what could have been viewed as a stark warning and serving it up as the sort of desensitized damage usually witnessed in a Bret Easton Ellis novel.
I watched the entire first season but have since struggled to commit myself to anything more should the series make a full return, partially due to its own hiatus as well as the effects of COVID 19, as the balance of authenticity/inauthenticity felt to be favored more towards sensationalism for my tastes. Yet, I remained curious as to what else Sam Levinson might pursue, as he unquestionably captured my attention.
With "Malcolm & Marie," Sam Levison has firmly proven to me that he is indeed the real deal, armed with a creative vision that affirms his creative personality is fully independent of his Father's work. In addition to being the first Hollywood production to be written, financed, produced and filmed during the pandemic last Summer over a period of a mere 16 days, the film showcases Levinson, working alongside his skeleton crew and two person cast in a feverishly focused collaboration ensuring that the style and substance remained in lockstep.
What has resulted is a sharply stark, beautifully stylish and emotionally exhausting dark night in the soul of a couple that is magnetically riveting, strongly multi-layered and refreshingly bold to behold in this era of sequels, prequels, franchises, and all movies containing characters in costumes and capes. "Malcolm & Marie," by contrast, is a film of increasing and unflinching rarity and daring that speaks volumes with all of its unblinking revelations.
Sam Levinson's "Malcolm & Marie" stars Zendaya and John David Washington as the titular couple, Marie Jones, a recovering drug addict and aspiring actress and Malcolm Elliot, a filmmaker and Marie's lover. The film, essentially playing out over real time, brings us dead center into a bracingly intense night once they return home from the successful premiere of Malcolm's debut directorial feature film, an experience that promises to bring him to the next plateau within his budding film career. Yet for himself and Marie, regarding their life together, there is no next plateau if they are not able to comprehend, navigate and wrestle through their present.
Sam Levinson's "Malcolm & Marie" is a fiercely driven, impassioned film that hurtles upon its own ruthless, ferocious energy and an often brutal emotional force. Both Zendaya and John David Washington deliver career defining and career elevating performances that make each of them absolutely magnetic to regard.
Over the film's first 13 minutes or so, Sam Levinson sets his stage brilliantly and completely, giving us the proper firmament to ground us spatially and emotionally. It is expertly staged and filmed. Malcolm & Marie returning home from the film premiere and on first view, the emotional levels are established. Malcolm in a state of..ahem..euphoria, while Maria is guarded, quieter, colder. Regard how Levinson tracks the camera through their home, allowing us to witness Marie in more stillness and silence as she uses the bathroom and then, prepares a pot of macaroni and cheese while Malcolm is rapturously uncoiled, brashly dancing to James Brown throughout their living room, including the window sills. No real dialogue of major significance has been said as of yet but we have our scene set perfectly, signaling the turbulence to come, and I remained rooted for the remainder of the film.
Working beautifully in collaboration with Cinematographer Marcell Rev, who has visualized this film in luminous, startlingly crisp Black & White, provides an elegant darkness to an experience that feels like a couple's therapy session as boxing match. As harsh as the film often is, it is not a cynical or callous experience. On the contrary, it is the type of film that truly remains in exceedingly short supply, at least regarding the genre of the movie love story. For every movie we have seen in which we witness characters falling in love, Levinson however, has delivered a much more compelling narrative: the precarious nature of relationships when trying, fighting, and nearly failing to remain in love.
And yet, a lot of the criticism that I have seen on-line from viewers to some reviews is directed towards the relentless, and often abusive nature of the fights witnessed within the film and how that brutality ultimately pushed some viewers from spending the complete running time with these characters. I have found that this understandable reaction is largely due to the nature of how and why people watch movies these days.
Believe me, I get it. The average movie-goer, especially in our increasingly vitriolic society, does not wish to view something so emotionally and psychologically taxing when they essentially wish to unwind. I am honestly unable to recount to you how many people that I know that have expressed to me over the years that when they go to the movies they simply do not wish to think, that they just want to be entertained. I understand.
But for me, a person who regards the movies as an art form, this is a dangerous precedent to be set when it comes to viewing the movies for viewers have gradually begun to treat the movies as being more disposable, which saddens me. To become so impatient. To become so conditioned to be given a climax every few minutes. To become so passive that one just cannot afford to feel uncomfortable. That simply depletes the movies of their inherent power as art does not always make you feel comfortable and nor should it. Art is designed to force you to take a step away from comfort zones to experience existence via the means of fictional characters and if done to its finest, we will see ourselves and understand ourselves and the people and world around us.
With "Malcolm & Marie," Sam Levinson has assured that the action in the film is the dialogue and the level through which those words and actions are expressed through the performances. Therefore, all of the violence exists completely in the words. For it is in the dialogue where we view the arc of the night, which is ultimately the arc of the full relationship for all of its peaks and devastating valleys. In doing so, we are given a front row seat into how they love and how they abuse each other. Yes indeed, I know it is not enjoyable to watch a film during which the principals are fighting so much but trust me, "Malcolm & Marie" is not a film about people fighting. It is exceedingly more multi-layered and meaningful than anything so shallow, like any piece of so-called "reality television" during which those shows are only about watching people fight.
For Zendaya, she has certainly already delivered her unquestionable charisma, wry charm and dramatic strengths within Jon Watts' "Spider-Man: Homecoming" (2017) and "Spider-Man: Far From Home" (2019) as well as the aforementioned "Euphoria." With "Malcolm' & Marie," Zendaya has unearthed a previously unseen gravitas that affords her considerably unflinching power, so often in sequences in which she runs a quieter, more stoic visual counterpoint to the often roaring Washington.
Marie Jones is not exactly a "still waters runs deep" kind of a character, considering the turbulence of her life, addictions, sobriety and sanity. But she operates within a systematic design of multi-layers that affords her the searing ability to cut exact swaths through all of Malcolm's idiosyncrasies, his self-righteous ego, his explosive megalomania, and tortured artist pose (whether justified or not as a Black filmmaker in a White industry) and sucker punch him with one expertly delivered jab that upends him.
Returning to the film's opening sequence, as Malcolm, flying so high from the reaction to his film (and buzzed on some alcohol), struts and prowls through their living room rallying against the racist tendencies that occur when some White film critics tend to provide racial readings and politicizing Black filmmakers they otherwise would not with White counterparts, Marie slyly states, "Malcolm, you're writing an Angela Davis biopic right now." When Malcolm slams film critics as being college educated elitists, Marie, through the veil of her cigarette smoke, softly yet sharply proclaims, "Malcolm, you have a college education."
Marie has seen and heard all of this before and again and we can feel her mental exhaustion with being Malcolm's cheerleader, support system and sounding board throughout the entire gestation and creation of his film...a film in which her own life story served as inspiration, therefore, a work of art that would not exist without her and yet, every piece of it remains thankless.
Marie's rage is more than justified. And still, her grudges border on the supernatural with how unwilling she is to let Malcolm off of the proverbial hook. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be but the ways in which she twists the knife, so to speak, lead to many moments and periods during which she needlessly challenges him, provokes him and even abuses him.
For some, I would wonder if they felt if the ways in which Marie communicates with Malcolm are all justifiable as a means for which to emotionally reach him. Again, perhaps so, as Malcolm is indeed so deeply inside of himself and his own needs.
But there is something to be said for just being honest about one's intentions from the beginning. Is it fair for Marie to tell Malcolm that everything is OK when it is not? Is it fair for Marie to tell Malcolm to not worry about any slights when she honestly feels otherwise? These are the smaller moments that keep Malcolm unbalanced and therefore, his responses to her responses are used against him.
Even further, Marie can read Malcolm easily. She knows what will push his buttons and she seems only to eager to push them. As Malcolm rightfully detects tension, he questions all of the moments of the premiere night which may have caused her pain. He guesses (we know correctly), she deflects (we know she's lying) and all the while, it is Marie's hands on the wheel of their relationship in those moments because it keeps Malcom guessing when she could just express herself openly but refuses to. As Malcolm presses, because she knows that he will do so, Marie then expresses, "I promise you, it's not a good idea. Let's just talk tomorrow...It's not that big of a deal...Malcolm, I promise you. Nothing productive will be said tonight." Again she is not only lying, she is setting up bait she knows Malcolm is unable to leave alone. And yet if he did leave her bait alone, that would only enrage Marie further as she is also more than willing to exploit her own personal trauma and therefore Malcolm's fears to prove a point
Those specific steps in their dance of intimacy pepper and permeate the entire film and believe me, Marie is no monster and I do not feel that Levinson presented her as such. As misguided as her tactics are, she is so often resoundingly correct with her assertions, her criticisms, her grievances, her fury, her intense hurt and sorrow with how far and deeply Malcom has taken her and their relationship for granted, combined with her own sense of guilt, shame and relentless self-loathing due to her past and present as a recovering drug addict. Zendaya hits every note and level with pitch perfect precision and a level of empathy that wounds. She, like the film itself, cuts to the bone.
As Malcolm, John David Washington is unleashed with a tremendous performance that provides him with his best role to date plus the confirmation that his talents are also within the genes as passed down by his Father, Denzel Washington. Yes, on-line commentary towards the character of Malcolm Elliot has been downright harsh, to the point where he is being seen as a new poster child for toxic masculinity. Hell, he even eats that bowl of mac and cheese (and serves himself seconds) with fury. While there is much to be explored and said about the specific topic, relegating him to the role of a monster is not only spectacularly unfair and fully devoid of nuance, it strips him of the humanity of which he is equally deserving as Marie.
I would not think it to be unfair that much of Malcolm's rage throughout this night stems from the fact that after the arduous task of writing, directing and releasing a film, which has now received wide acclaim, all he wishes for is a night of celebratory release, a victory lap for himself. Unfortunately, this one desire is constantly being denied by Marie who seems to undercut his triumph at every step. whether through those aforementioned passive aggressive jabs and even lengthier commentaries (her monologue during which she imagines his dark future as a successful, sell-out filmmaker serves as a warning to remain grounded is nonetheless exceedingly cruel) and even more histrionic moments that serve as grim reminders of the turbulent trajectory of their relationship involving her addiction and his role as her care taker.
A sequence midway into the film is striking in its emotional brutality, one that is simultaneously directed towards Marie as well as being filled with self-doubt and self-lacerating. The sequence takes place shortly after Marie's dressing down of Malcolm's possible filmmaking future, to which she chides him as being "mediocre" instead of the visionary he wishes himself to be. It cuts deeply for Malcolm and from there he flies into a vicious monologue of how much Marie actually did not influence his art, which then goes into more personal territory involving past lovers he claims to have discarded, a fate that could be Maire's future should he just snap his fingers.
It is an ugly sequence. Undoubtedly, especially as he is launching his vitriol while she is at her most physically vulnerable as she is taking a bath. But yet, listen to Malcolm's words as you study his face which Levinson keeps in a tight close up. Malcolm's eyes betray his violence. Of course, he knows 100% how deeply Marie inspired, influenced and contributed to his film, a reality that undercuts his desires to be that singular cinematic visionary. Yet, Marie's words forced him to face his fears of being disposable. So, what does he do but to try and make Marie feel equally disposable. Yes, Marie does seem to take a tally of her grievances against Malcolm, but he is looking to draw blood and the levels to which he eviscerates her is close to unforgivable.
But his trauma goes much deeper than just this night and his longing to be a celebrated artist. His trauma is housed in his honest love for Marie and his desire to tend and care while also existing in a state where he does feel resentful as being the caretaker is a thankless role to play. What Maire perceives as Malcolm's neediness is indeed Malcolm's love, concern and worry that Marie's past psychological instability will once again rear its terrifying head, potentially leading to tragic results. At points during the film when Marie disappears from view and Malcolm is compelled to seek her out, listen to how he repeatedly says her name. It is not out of need. It is out of fear.
"It's about you being so scared and selfish that you have to break me down. Second guess everything I do...God forbid that I am secure enough in my own opinion that I don't need you...You just need a reason to be needed. Because if I don't need you, then what the hell am I doing with you, Marie? You want control because you can't imagine the reason I'm with you is because I love you."
Malcolm is absolutely right when he makes these statements but while he is looking at Marie, he is also speaking to himself.
Indeed, Sam Levenson's "Malcolm & Marie" is a rough ride but I felt it to be impassioned and purposeful. In a film comparison that I feel Malcolm would appreciate, considering it would go against the grain of the "white lady from the L.A. Times" he is constantly rallying against in his rants, I felt to film to be a close cousin to Mike Nichols's "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?" (1966), his cinematic adaptation of the rapacious Edward Albee play.
Like that film, and in addition to its structure of one long, dark night in the life of a couple, Sam Levinson gets so much of the rhythms and details of how fights like these in relationships begin and flow. How they flare upwards, subside, and then, ignite all over again due to recriminations, resentments and a desire for one-upsmanship. I also loved how he utilized verbal silence and allowed that very silence to speak for both Malcolm and Marie, as well as scenes where songs playing upon their home speakers work as interior monologues our conversations. Even how they are dressed speak to their contradictions and juxtapositions. Marie, often more scantily clad, can be seen as being more open and less guarded but we realize that is not often the case. While the tightly dressed Malcolm, in dark suit and tie seems more closed off than he actually is.
But again, "Malcolm & Marie" is not a film about a fight. And frankly, it is not solely about a relationship. It is entirely about authenticity and even authorship and therefore, ownership, for who claims the right to tell the story of your life, to ultimately define you?
And that is why I sincerely hope and wish for everyone who tries this film to go through the fire and reach the film's final monologue, which is a jewel of a piece of writing and performance. Delivered by Marie, the speech is what the entire experience is leading towards and ultimately, it is the speech that the film superbly earns, which made me feel that all is not lost for these two. But just as these characters experience, for us as viewers, to get to the dawn, we have to go through the night.
Sam Levinson's "Malcolm & Marie" is a film so worthy of discussion and debate as it so proudly stands itself straight upwards and demands to be noticed and experienced to its fullness. It refuses to be disposable and disregarded and nor should it be. To me, it speaks superbly to the vivid detail and excitement the movies can bring and cinematic spectacle can be regarded in the gift of performances, writing and direction just as much, if not more, than all manner of CGI bombast and operatic comic book mythology.
For what is greater than the art and act of life being lived? Is there anything that could be more authentic?
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