Malcolm and Marie

I’ve never fallen in love with a movie so fast based entirely alone on tone, and treatment, so foreseeable and laid out within a film’s first few minutes of commencement. (Yes, I found myself mentally clapping just a few minutes in.)

Opening scenario; John David Washington(Malcolm), in a black suit, inside his girlfriend Zendaya’s (Marie) cohabitated house, amply setting up the screenplay’s intended inflections about racism in the movie industry as an up-and-coming director through a 5-minute non-stop dialogue. 

Keen to point out how magnanimous he’s feeling after just getting home from a very successful movie premiere, in just a short while, one can tell that a more serious couple problem encapsulated in witty dialogue and realistic drama is about to unfold. 

This, together with an animated camera mounted on an obvious dolly track going back and forth in an attempt to display an awkward contrast between its film noir setting and the deliberately thought-out modern set design. 

This and the fact that I have not seen this kind of treatment since the Hollywood days of long gone, where dialogue was given more credence and respect as a true and final form of entertainment. Washington, in a somewhat surrogate attempt to simulate his father’s acting chops (seemingly managed to do it overnight and turned it into something better but still reminiscent of Denzel’s Oscar-worthy performances combined in one neat Denzel Oscar-worthy package), is a bizarre yet bright as day example of exceptional cinematic drama artistry acquired through genetics. Watching him perform is like a Denzel Washington timeline of every human emotion he’s ever displayed in every movie that he was in. 

But here’s where it gets weird. They sound exactly alike. 

Now the moment Zendaya immerses herself in dialogue is where I threw in the towel. The stress, the stare-downs, the sideway glances, the kissing and then not kissing, the up and down ramblings, the tension in her eyes, the tension in his mouth, the fake sincerities, the fabricated pleasantries, the temporary ceasefire, the foreplay by the sink, the banter and the laughter, the flirting on the sofa, the moment of understanding, the unwanted epiphany, the truth that never was and the knowledge that you can never have it all. I mean, I just knew that this tandem is just a product of purely excellent casting. These two just played off each other and seemed locked in a battle of acting supremacy. The back-and-forth musings of their inherent personal differences are really what ordinary people go through behind closed doors. And both were very successful in proving that they deserved to be in this industry. This film then gives us that feeling of being able to look inside people’s lives and see the many aspects of how relationships can break down in a matter of minutes because of a single significant event in our lives. 

Quite astounding. Yet. Totally believable. 

Few films come to mind if we’re talking dialogue-heavy platforms. There’s Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise trilogy, The Man from Earth, and Chris Evans’ Before We Go. Yes, Captain America writes and directs films too! But this one’s different. So much more different. Imagine Casablanca meets Annie Hall meets Blue Valentine.  Ah, this strangely feels like a homage to the last, oh, four years of my life told in stunning unadulterated fashion with race and skin tone as the only apparent contrast. 

Oh, well. 

All in all, you have to watch this. It’s a stage act with only two characters who paint a very visual background of their intimacies and vulnerabilities as a couple. Intellectual. Engaging. Worthy. These are the words you’ll walk out with at the end. An astute observation of the many complexities of a relationship and its demise is showcased in its entirety in a mere 90 minutes of visual airplay. 

Mental audience clapping. 

Just now.