Last week, as a little early Valentine’s day celebration for myself (because who loves me more than me? Evidently no one), I decided to watch the movie “Malcolm & Marie.” Because, come on –– what is a better way to spend a day in February than to simultaneously celebrate the two things this month is revered for: Black people and love.
Armed with only the information provided by it’s short and enigmatic trailer, I lounged across the 5 pillows on my bed and began the black and white film about Black love. For the most part, I was enjoying myself. The movie’s cinematography is beautiful, the acting is enjoyable, and most of the script, though at a few points tiresome, is engaging. About 50 minutes in, however, I had to hit pause.