‘malcolm and marie’ review- an overindulgent, piece of vomit!
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“Good artists borrow, great artists steal” were the famous words said by Pablo Picasso. The morality of stealing, both artistically and non-artistically have been debated by scholars for many years. Filmmakers like Quentin Tarantino have gleefully taken things from other films, much to the derision of his critics. Maybe all art is just stealing. Maybe original art does exist. No matter what side of the fence you land on, there is not a better argument against stealing than the putrid, cringeworthy, headache inducing, pile of dung that is Sam Levinson’s ‘Malcolm and Marie’.
There is perhaps no greater independent, American filmmaker than John Cassavetes. A filmmaker who broke boundaries with his intimate and ballsy filmography, he examined relationships like few others of his generation did. Whatever one thought of his films, no one could argue that Cassavetes’s work lacked passion and integrity.
Now, there is rather a lot of shouting in Cassavetes’s work. And Sam Levinson has picked up on that. Not, the nuance of Cassavetes’s performances, or his philosophical outlook, but that his actors shouted a lot. Levinson probably does not understand why his characters shouted a lot, but he is sure going to milk that cow for the full 100 minutes.
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Famous as being one of the first films shot during the pandemic, it is entirely set inside the house of the titular Malcolm (John David Washington) and Marie (Zendaya). Malcolm is a filmmaker. Marie is his girlfriend. They return to their home after the premiere of Malcolm’s new film, in which they get into a “philosophical “discussion/argument about their own relationship, Malcolm’s film and the industry in general.
Sam Levinson, son of Barry “Rain Man” Levinson is probably best known as the “mastermind” behind HBO’s ‘Euphoria’. His last film ‘Assassination Nation’ became notable for being one of Sundance’s biggest purchases ever, though was released to tepid box office returns and reviews. Now, Levinson is out for revenge against those pesky critics, particularly the Los Angeles Times who disliked his last film.
Levinson is trying to make an extremely personal and “autobiographical” film. Even the casting of John David Washington (son of Denzel) is clearly a nod to Levinson’s own filmmaking family. The constant, masturbatory comparisons to filmmakers like Spike Lee and Barry Jenkins show how much Levinson loves himself. He uses examples such as how ‘Moonlight’ is still a universally beloved film, despite not being directed by a gay filmmaker, to provide justification for Levinson being a white man making a film about the plight of being a black filmmaker. There is no question that white filmmakers can make powerful commentaries on black experience and vice versa, but this comes across like a minstrel performance at is absolute worst.
It is a shame for its two leading actors John David Washington and Zendaya who sadly are confined to the terrible dialogue. They are equally poor in their respected roles, but one cannot blame them for being under the direction of the filmmaking equivalent of Thomas Kincade. They are merely imitations of Gena Rowlands and the rest of Cassavetes’s acting troupe. Washington has a playfulness at the start, but by the end, both his and Zendaya’s shouting produce a migraine so horrendous that the film can barely be stomached. Even Nicolas Cage would declare their performances unsubtle. Both actors are capable of good work. Zendaya has even (supposedly, as I have not witnessed ‘Euphoria’) done good work in other work by Sam Levinson. And Washington’s role in ‘BlackKklansman’ was one of the best performances of that year. They deserve so much more than what they are given with this utter trite.
It is a further insult to Zendaya who is frequently sexualized by Levinson’s camera. It is quite frankly degrading and insulting to her as an actress. Levinson is trying to show the intimacy of their relationship, but it comes across as sexist and exploitative, especially when dealing with an actress 12 years younger than her costar.
Levinson has chosen the right technicians and craftsmen for the film. Its highest praise should be given to Marcell Rév’s cinematography, as there are frequently striking images that look wonderful in isolation of the diarrhea that surrounds it. But then again, looking at the twitter page ‘One Perfect Shot’ whilst relieving one’s bowels is a more satisfactory experience. Perhaps leave the filmmaking to your daddy Sam.
