Malcolm & Marie: Social Commentary or Just a Film?
The rhetoric that Black creators must comment on societal shortcomings with the same diligence as politicians is not a novelty in Hollywood.
Sam Levinson’s late January release Malcolm & Marie channeled a specific Hollywood classic aesthetic. The film explores an explosive fight between director Malcolm and his girlfriend after returning from his film premiere. Malcolm forgot to thank Marie during the premiere and this avalanches a night of brutal back and forth. Although a simple plot, this narrative structure had potential since it very openly mirrors the multi-academy winning Whos Afraid of Virginia Woolf. Evidently, audiences love watching the unfiltered experiences of couples (when it’s done well).
Despite the narrative’s exploration of toxic relationships, however, a standout theme was the exploration of the politicisation of black artists’ work.
The white woman from the LA times
Throughout the film, Malcolm expresses disliking ‘‘the white woman from the LA Times.’ He is disgruntled by the white press at his premiere, specifically because they automatically assume political undertones in his work. As a black director, his voice is seen as perpetually political, he can never simply express his creativity. This sentiment resonated with me. Art created by black people and other people of colour is primarily labeled as just that ‘created by someone who is not white.’
This is not necessarily negative, potential socio-cultural influences should be recognised in any artist’s work but there needs to be some form of malleability. White artists are afforded the luxury of not having their race precede their work. In the case of Malcolm, he creates his film as an exploration of the human condition; shame, guilt, and addiction. Still, reviewers grasp for any connections to race, and the director’s creativity and actual intentions are overshadowed.
The rhetoric that black creators must comment on societal shortcomings with the same diligence as politicians is not a novelty in Hollywood. Actor Daniel Kaluuya expressed similar frustrations in 2020, stating that he was tired of being asked about race. Kaluuya has been in many roles that were not about race or even politics. However, his image had become highly politicised because of a few roles. His race, much like Malcolm, precedes him and his talent and creativity take a back seat.
Allyship has been a great conversation in recent times. Black Lives Matter has helped foreground that silence is violence. However, I can’t help but question whether Levinson uses his voice as a form of allyship or speaks for black directors, thereby silencing them. As a white director, what authority does Levinson have to lead such a conversation as this?
Death of the Director?
Roland Barthes coined the term ‘death of the author.’ In his essay of the same name, he stated that any text; films, music, books, etc should be perceived disregarding its author. The author’s biography should not (according to Barthes) influence how the text is received. I disagree with Barthes, I believe in some cases it is imperative to question an author’s intentions based on their gender, race, social class, etc.
I realise it seems contradictory for me to ask that black artists be considered as more than their race then question Sam Levinson's voice. Because of his race. However, it seems Levinson wanted to rant about his frustrations as a director (eg. reviewers missing the true meaning). That is understandable and possibly liberated him, but to disguise his vexation with a conversation about black identity in Hollywood is at the very least distasteful.
Levinson’s experiences as a director are not limited by race. Therefore, it is disturbing that Levinson chose a black character as a medium to vent his own annoyances with Hollywood. Levinson (maybe subconsciously) garners more sympathy and attention from audiences by centering the story around race particularly using black characters.
He baits audiences by alluding to potential racial commentary, this is prominent in the constant references to race. There is no real social commentary offered by the narrative, just vain allusions to potential discussions; domestic abuse, drug dependency, etc. Levinson never actually starts a productive conversation, he simply forces his own words into a black director to seem more justified in his complaints. Malcolm and Marie exist not as a social commentary but it doesn’t feel like just a film. There seems to have been a goal that was not quite achieved. Regardless, I appreciated the film for what it was.
I would more earnestly recommend the predecessor of it, Edward Albee’s play Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Or the film adaptation of the same name dir. by Mike Nichols, it’s a far better fulfillment of what Malcolm and Marie wanted to achieve.
