The Utter Emotional Inauthenticity of Netflixs Malcolm & Marie
b'The Utter Emotional Inauthenticity of Netflix\\u2019s Malcolm & Marie The initial impulses that brought Netflix\\u2019s Malcolm & Marie into being \\u2014 which was filmed during the ongoing coronavirus pandemic in Carmel, California last summer with a twenty-person crew in two weeks \\u2014 weren\\u2019t wholly rotten, even though the film they ushered into being clearly is. A black-and-white two-hander guided by the rising tensions between its central couple could have bloomed into an intriguing picture if it was shaped by the right artists. After all, much of great cinema rests on the sparks that develop between two actors in a room. But to pull off such a spare premise requires strong storytelling and precise casting \\u2014 which this film glaringly lacks, even though writer/director Sam Levinson wrote the story with Zendaya and John David Washington in mind. (The actors also produced the film and had a hand in how it was shaped, especially the former.)\\n\\nMalcolm & Marie is a failure on nearly every level. But the visuals are what struck me immediately \\u2014 from the achingly minimalist home that provides the setting to the use of 35-mm-photographed shadows within it \\u2014 which feel slick yet sterile, devoid of the gravitas intended by such production choices. They set the stage for a film that isn\\u2019t just notably bad but tellingly so, indicative of a larger issue: what Hollywood believes \\u201cserious\\u201d art and modern stardom should look like is frankly abysmal.\\n\\nWhen Malcolm & Marie begins, it\\u2019s evident the titular characters exist in different rhythms. He exuberantly (and obnoxiously) extols the delights of premiering his first feature film as a writer and director, which pushes him to the cusp of newfound power and prestige. She has a mien that reads as sullen, bored, and utterly over it. The it being him and his prickly, delicate ego. Decked in a cleanly designed suit and gown after the evening\\u2019s premiere, the couple\\u2019s resentments and complications simmer amongst the carefully curated instruments of their home. Marie doesn\\u2019t want to talk, preferring instead to fuss over boxed mac and cheese likes it\\u2019s high cuisine. But he pushes, and the hurts they\\u2019ve kept a tally of unfurl. She\\u2019s upset he didn\\u2019t thank her in his speech that night. But this concern obscures an even deeper one. She believes he\\u2019s used her life for his film \\u2014 her history with addiction, her attempt to become sober at 20, her depression. He\\u2019s the artist. She\\u2019s the muse. And she\\u2019s not okay with this uneven dynamic. Through their sundering, Levinson aims to explore not only the demarcation between love and hate in a relationship, but the broader realities of being a black filmmaker in Hollywood, and the value of film critics in this world. (The latter subject serves as bait for the very critics engaging in Malcolm & Marie, which is why it\\u2019s best left alone. Audiences unaware of Levinson\\u2019s relationship with criticism won\\u2019t suffer from not understanding this.)\\n\\nWith so many themes and ideas to unpack, Washington plays Malcolm Elliot like a wind-up toy who doesn\\u2019t know his own limits. At the end of his laborious monologues about the nature of filmmaking and being a black director, he\\u2019s often left spent, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. It\\u2019s such a heavy-handed decision, a grasping at profundity, limning Washington\\u2019s alarming limitations as an actor. He seems unable to wrap his mouth around the overloaded, rapid-fire dialogue. Zendaya doesn\\u2019t fare much better. I\\u2019m not sure any two actors could save the film from its own overwrought script and grand self-importance. She feels especially ill-suited for the bawdy, forceful role, yet Washington seems the easier target for disdain, given how Malcolm is written and positioned.'