Last year, when the pandemic began to destroy box office hits one by one and the films stopped production or increased their release dates, Zendaya called Euphoria director Sam Levinson and asked if, somehow, they could make a movie at her house.
The end result of this call, as well as many Covid script reviews and tests, is Malcolm & Marie, the story of a night when a couple comes home from a film premiere and an epic hour-long discussion ensues. The story was inspired by Levinson forgetting to thank his wife at the premiere of his own film, something he made a point of doing when we talked about Zoom earlier this month.
Levinson is best known for HBO’s Euphoria, a study of adolescence that leans towards the shocking and sad moments of growth, and the series for which Zendaya won a historic Emmy last year for the main character Rue.
Malcolm and Marie puts the audience in the middle of the fight while the couple exchanges petty insults and deeper lashes in a debate about authenticity, respect, property and the nature of criticism. Malcolm is furious at a criticism – admittedly good – that is published that night, and begins to talk about how the “white lady of the LA Times“does not understand him, or his work. Since then, it has been asked whether Levinson is alluding to Katie Walsh, a ‘white lady of the LA Times‘who gave his 2018 film Murder Nation a poor review.
Levinson spoke to Squire about the reaction to the film’s remarks about criticism, the logistics and the emotions involved in making art in isolation and what we mean, but we don’t say it in arguments.
Esquire: The film has this feeling of claustrophobia that we all live with, do you think the idea would have come had it not been for the pandemic?
Sam Levinson: Certainly not. I think that, because of the restrictions that Covid was imposing on us, we had to reverse engineer this film and elaborate the story that we could tell in these conditions. So there are two people, one place, nowhere to go, not a ton of clothing changes. I think it is exclusive to the restrictions of the world we lived in at that time.
What other practical logistics was there?
Our Covid protocol, which was very strict, considering the beginning of the pandemic. We consulted with epidemiologists and doctors to find the most extreme rules and implemented them. We found this ranch in Carmel that had all these separate units that people could quarantine individually without coming into contact with each other, so for the first ten days, we did that before we started shooting, during the test. There was no script supervisor, no first AD, no real prop department, Z was doing his own hair and makeup and there was no schedule. John David, Zendaya, me and our cinematographer Marcell [Rév] were able to spend those ten days really immersing themselves in the material and analyzing each scene and line.
How was it different to work with Zendaya compared to Euphoria?
I think we both challenge ourselves to be better and to do better. I have always trusted her instincts because I think she is very smart, not just as an actress, but as a producer, so it was a very easy process. John David was the first person I thought of. I called him, read a few pages and he was excited. It was this ongoing dialogue until the day we arrived and throughout the shoot.
The film sparks debate about the role of film critics and if they can determine what the director intended, where did this idea come from?
Good [Malcolm’s] a filmmaker and how the film he made is about Marie, although he doesn’t give her any credit for it, it became an interesting angle to examine their relationship through this work of art that exists separate from [them]. Malcolm receives a brilliant and stellar review from the critic, but not in the way he would like it to be. This completely discourages him as a character and reaches the root of his narcissism.
Marie shares the same criticisms as the critic of Malcolm’s film, but goes one step further and says, ‘My problem with you as a filmmaker is my problem with you as a human being’. It comes to this idea that if we are not able to hear criticism, we cannot grow as artists and human beings.
Do you think it is a challenging film to review because you are critical of criticism?
I don’t know why why Marie agree with the critic and that’s why I don’t necessarily know why it would be difficult to criticize in this sense. I’m not sure if everyone sees it that way, but it’s an absurd scene at its core. I always think again that Marie agree with the critic! I think it is quite evident that Marie is the gravitational attraction of the whole piece and that she is what keeps everything together, whether she gets the credit or not for that.
Their argument always seems like a door threat that will come back, how do you balance this with the most romantic and joyful moments?
It is one of the reasons why we decided to shoot in order that we were increasing the tension and then we could let the air out a little bit. That there may be a moment that was tender and can provide a small sense of relief, and suddenly it comes back. Essentially, it’s this messy debate, [so] we needed to make sure that we were interpreting the narrative in a way that looked like it was going somewhere. The same thing happened with filming inside a place, we needed to let the house unfold so as not to look like we were repeating ourselves.
There comes a point where Malcolm is enraged by the fact that films by black directors or about blacks are always seen as being about race. Was that something you heard from black filmmakers?
It is quite evident in film criticism and history. Do the right thing it was originally received by certain New York critics at the time as a call for violence, and that Spike Lee did not just make a bad film, but an irresponsible film, and should not be released. You look back and think, ‘Who was right?’ There is this tendency among the establishment, and I mean white critics of the establishment, to categorize things and talk about them in a way that can sometimes talk about their own importance. [Films are] so ‘important’ that suddenly nobody wants to see [them] because it looks like homework.
Were you eager to express that as a white filmmaker?
No, because I have faith in the collaborative process and in my partners that if I write something that doesn’t seem true, that JD or Z don’t respond or feel that they are honest, that they will say something and we will resolve it. I didn’t have any anxiety in that sense, because I have a lot of respect for the collaborative nature of cinema.
Did this kind of collaboration lead to improvised moments during filming?
We were doing eleven-minute shots that were choreographed in a very specific way, so naturally there were times when life and certain improvisations infiltrated the dialogue. These are the things that you are so thankful for, because it gives that feeling of laxity and life that you are always trying to find.
The end is a moment that we couldn’t hear because we were in the middle of the fight for so long, did you feel it was important to leave things unsolved in a sense?
I like the idea that it is this ongoing conversation about how we express gratitude and respect for the people in our lives that make us better. It is something they discover or not, but it is something we need to be aware of in all relationships and be aware of the work and partnership of those we love.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity
‘Malcolm & Marie’ is on Netflix now
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