Review
MALCOLM & MARIE. A Painful Portrait of a Relationship
Malcolm & Marie emerged as the work of a director who had finally grown — maturely written, visually stunning, and centered around a perfectly guided lead duo.
Full sanitary regime. 14 days on set. 22 crew members. Two actors. One director. For Sam Levinson, it had been his third project filmed during the pandemic and his third premiere within just three months. And yet another title that had been impossible to ignore. The film came about completely by chance. Director Sam Levinson had been scheduled to start working on the second season of the acclaimed Euphoria in 2020, when the coronavirus pandemic unexpectedly prevented the crew from going into production. That’s when Levinson decided to write an intimate love story and shoot it under strict sanitary conditions.
Malcolm & Marie told the story of a filmmaker returning home with his girlfriend after a film premiere. He was in a great mood — but that quickly changed as the evening took an unexpected turn and the couple began to confront the issues tearing their relationship apart.
The title roles were played by John David Washington (who had launched his career with strong performances in films like Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman and Christopher Nolan’s Tenet) and Zendaya (the youngest actress ever to win an Emmy for Best Actress in a Drama Series). Their on-screen pairing already looked promising in the trailer, suggesting an intense acting showdown — but during the actual film, the level of their performances far exceeded expectations. After her outstanding role in Euphoria, Zendaya no longer needed to prove her talent, yet in Malcolm & Marie, she showed herself to be a true chameleon — her expressiveness, sensitivity, and intuition continued to surprise. Surprisingly, Washington had no trouble keeping up with her (he himself had mentioned that Zendaya — though much younger — had far more on-camera experience).
On the contrary, he often stole scenes with his layered, nuanced, sometimes explosive, sometimes understated performance. Without a doubt, the casting had been one of the major factors behind the artistic success of this pandemic-era project.
The second key to its success was, of course, the writer and director in one: Sam Levinson (son of Barry Levinson, the creator of Rain Man). As a screenwriter, he once again proved himself to be an empathetic and perceptive observer of life.
This time, he made the central theme of his film a kind of vivisection of a romantic relationship — deeply engaging and painfully truthful, likely a little too real for some viewers. But amid the lovers’ conversation, Levinson also wove in other themes familiar from his earlier work and from Euphoria: capitalism, corporate activism, online life, and of course, substance abuse (Levinson had struggled with addiction himself — a theme that was destined to recur throughout his filmography). Just as strikingly — and often humorously — he also took aim at Hollywood and the world of film criticism. As a director, he once again impressed with the visual richness of his vision. He created an incredibly stylish film, defined by stunning black-and-white cinematography and inventive camera work.
The whole experience was elevated by a standout soundtrack — a minimalist, original score by Labrinth, paired with a smartly curated selection of songs from different eras. The charming opening credits were the cherry on top of an already delicious cake.
Malcolm & Marie had been Levinson’s third feature-length film. After the poignant yet somewhat formally restrained Another Happy Day, and the bold, experimental, though sometimes directionless Assassination Nation, Malcolm & Marie emerged as the work of a director who had finally grown confident in his craft — maturely written, visually stunning, and centered around a perfectly guided lead duo.
Looking back on what had become a painful chapter in global history — the COVID-19 pandemic — I didn’t think about postponed blockbusters or halted productions. I remembered, instead, the creative triumph of Sam Levinson. Bravo.
