Review of Malcolm & Marie, directed by Sam Levinson

I remember exactly when this movie came out. I was preparing to graduate college a year early, it was in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, and the world seemed so uncertain at the time.

While I was doing online college through Zoom and Webex, I was watching a lot of movies and beginning this blog on the side—how it’s grown since then! But I remember when I saw Malcolm & Marie had been added into the new section of Netflix, and I decided to sit down and watch it the weekend after it came out.

Recently, I decided to revisit it after seeing Merrily We Roll Along on Broadway, as I’d just gone to New York City for the day just to see that show.

I thought about this movie after the fact, and while it really doesn’t connect directly in a lot of ways, the themes reminded me of each other when it came to both this movie and that theatrical production. So I saw down and watched the film a couple of nights later.

Let’s get into the review then, shall we?

A fight between a writer/director and his upset girlfriend, who feels left behind.

Shot gorgeously in black and white, we begin this movie in media res, or right in the middle of the conflict. Malcolm, who is a director and writer, just had a premiere of his newest film.

He’s coming home from it with his girlfriend Marie, and he’s ready to find out what the critics said about his movie. Marie doesn’t look happy at all though since they’ve gotten home, and when he looks over at her, he notices this fact and asks her what’s wrong.

She doesn’t want to start a fight and resists at first, but then admits that she’s angry he didn’t say anything about her in the middle of his speech at the premiere.

No thanks or acknowledgement, and she feels bothered by that because she’s begun to believe he based the film on her. The main character of his movie is a Black female drug addict, and that’s what she was when the two of them first met.

He denies this, but Marie continues, saying he would not have been able to make such a story if they did not date.

He then shuts her down by saying she’s overacting and jealous of the main actress, then Marie calls him mediocre. She moves to go draw the water and take a bath, while Malcolm continues to describe other women he’s been with that inspired the character, then admits he made the hopelessness of the character based on Marie, which probably makes things work.

He reads the critic reviews. The first one he reads is positive, but Malcolm hones in on how the film critic is a white woman, and then he roasts her for making a political interpretation.

Marie then makes fun of him for being mad at a positive review, and they seem to make up.

They move to have sex, but Marie poses a question then: why didn’t he cast her as the female lead? That sparks another argument about ego, and Marie moves to act out a scene with a knife to show that she can make it more authentic.

They go back into the bedroom after that, and Marie unloads another accusation: he takes her for granted. They then go to bed, and when Malcolm wakes up the next morning, he’s in it alone. The movie ends with them standing outside and looking out into the distance.

Overall Thoughts

There’s something very theatrical about this movie, which is why I thought to return to it. It unfolds like a masterclass in exposition, and while I don’t think this makes to be a wonderful movie, it would be a great one act play—if done right.

As a film, the dialogue doesn’t do enough to sustain the entire story, and while the acting is really good throughout, there simply isn’t enough meat to hook us, the viewers, onto the rest of the movie.

The cinematography is gorgeous though—I love a black and white movie in general, and this film does it quite well.

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