In the pantheon of film criticism, few figures loom as large as Derek Malcolm, whose recent passing has prompted a profound reflection on his extraordinary contribution to cinema. Through the lens of those who knew him best, a vivid portrait emerges of a critic who was far more than a mere reviewer – he was a passionate advocate for the art of film.
Stephen Frears captures Malcolm’s essence perfectly, describing him as perpetually “up to mischief” with a “wickedly impish face.” His critique of “My Beautiful Laundrette” was transformative, changing lives and challenging cinematic conventions. Asif Kapadia, among many others, testifies to Malcolm’s profound influence, recalling how his Guardian reviews were pivotal in expanding the horizons of young cinephiles.
Malcolm’s approach to criticism was anything but conventional. Stephen Woolley emphasizes his integrity, noting that Malcolm was “steely-eyed” and “couldn’t be bought.” His reviews were not mere assessments but passionate arguments for cinema as an art form. At a time when the internet and social media had not yet fragmented critical consensus, Malcolm’s erudite prose demanded careful interpretation.
Jeremy Thomas recalls Malcolm’s multifaceted personality – a lover of films, cricket, and horse racing. Their friendship, forged in Bombay, involved long nights of conversation and numerous beers, revealing a critic whose passion extended far beyond the cinema screen. Mike Downey remembers Malcolm’s legendary storytelling, their conversations effortlessly moving from industry gossip to discussions of Kurosawa.
Asif Kapadia, a filmmaker who deeply respected Malcolm, speaks to the critic’s unique ability to champion international cinema. Malcolm’s “Film of the Week” was rarely a mainstream Hollywood production, instead highlighting incredible international directors and introducing audiences to world cinema’s greatest talents. His reviews were a gateway to cinematic discoveries.
The tributes paint a portrait of a critic who was simultaneously irreverent and deeply committed. Woolley describes Malcolm as a “giant among critics” who wielded his considerable influence with “delicacy and sense of justice.” His support was not just analytical but deeply supportive, illuminating films that might otherwise have remained in darkness.
Malcolm’s connection to cinema was profoundly personal. His love for Indian cinema, noted by Asif Kapadia, surprised many but demonstrated his genuine, expansive appreciation of global filmmaking. He was not constrained by geographical or cultural boundaries in his critical approach.
The remembrances suggest Malcolm was more than a critic – he was a cultural guardian. At a time of dwindling cinema attendance and commercial pressures, he remained steadfast in protecting cinema as an art form. His reviews were not just assessments but passionate defenses of cinematic expression.
Asif Kapadia and his contemporaries recognize that critics like Derek Malcolm are increasingly rare. In an era of fragmented media and instantaneous online reviews, Malcolm represented a more considered, deeply knowledgeable approach to film criticism.
The tributes collectively paint Malcolm as a unique figure: irreverent yet serious, cutting yet supportive, global in his perspective yet deeply personal in his approach. He was, as Stephen Woolley eloquently puts it, a critic whose “twinkling eyes and words of constant support” illuminated the world of cinema.
