The movie Andrew Dominik made on Marilyn Monroe isn’t truly a biography, but there is still a lot of actuality in it. Few movies are as terrifying, terrible, and magnificent as Blonde, the newest picture from Andrew Dominik. Mother! and Requiem For A Dream by Darren Aronofsky are the two closest analogies I can make. Both are contentious, magnificent, and utterly infeasible to see more than once. Marilyn Monroe is the subject of the fictitious biography Blonde, which is a reworked version of the real-life story.
Dominik raises Marilyn from the dead and grants her the worst existence imaginable. The movie is far from an enjoyable viewing about a Hollywood superstar since it contains several scenes of rape, harassment, child abuse, sexual assault, domestic abuse, miscarriages, forced abortions, drug addiction, mental diseases, and suicide. Dominik, however, also makes sure that Norma Jean always commands attention beneath the mask of Marilyn. Ana de Armas also excels in her dual roles as the gorgeous star and the tormented individual that she truly was.
Why did you have to choose the worst variant?
She attempted to kill her as a kid, accuses her of the father abandoning the family, and eventually checks herself into a mental institution, forcing Norma Jean to live in an orphanage. We then moved to her eventually getting her big break in the movies thanks to several terrible, extramarital affairs with strong guys. If one is unfamiliar with Don’t Bother To Knock, Niagara, and her early works, it could be harder to follow the progression from one movie to the next.
The picture also has a fever dream-like feel to it thanks to the zany transitions and editing. When all the different males start showing up in her life, things feel more grounded. The guys play a significant role in every aspect of her journey, from being a member of the most wholesome threesome ever to finding herself a wife abuser to eventually (nearly) finding herself an idyllic existence. These also include the people who sexually assaulted her, the millions of people who fucked her in her flying skirt, and, most importantly, her father, who abandoned her before the narrative ever began.
After she becomes famous, her “daddy” writes her letters, and they aren’t always written in the nicest terms. Her absentee father (and unborn children) became Norma Jean’s sole motivation for being and, ultimately, dying. Sometimes they would express their sympathy for her, other times they would stop short of labelling her a slut. She submits to these men as if she were their biggest disciple, seldom objecting in what I have come to refer to as “abhagan chic” style. It sounds like a song by Lana Del Rey.
Even though the plot is linear, it still requires some mental effort to follow. Dominik uses a variety of filming techniques, unique frames, and colour palettes, seemingly at random. The identical scene would be captured on black-and-white film before switching abruptly to the hazy golden hue aesthetic I typically associate with Joe Wright’s breathtaking historical plays. Beyond perplexing the spectators, I’m still unclear as to its goal. The goal of persuading Ana de Armas to remove her clothing in every other scene also serves this aim. After a while, it becomes really hard to explain why we were made to spend what felt like an eternity watching the camera focus on her underpants in the flowing skirt sequence.
However, Ana makes sure that you are impacted whether you are dressed or not. She makes Norma Jean seem like the most stunning lady you’ve ever seen as well as the most tormented person you’ve ever met. She woos men for jewels in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and lets her skirt fly in The Seven Year Itch, and she is essentially the same Marilyn Monroe in both films. She will undoubtedly appear in the Oscars’ sizzle reel for Best Actress prize the next year in moments when she sobs hysterically during film auditions and sobs like a baby on her mother’s lap. There could not have been a better candidate than her to play Norma Jean and Marilyn Monroe due to her incredible ability to sell innocence (remember Knives Out) and the absence of it (remember Deep Water).
Although Blonde is ultimately divisive, it is used to highlight Ana de Armas’ star power. Many will avoid it because of its horrifying visuals and harshness against a deceased lady who was misunderstood. However, if you were to fully give up on that notion and consider it as the tale of a single fictitious Norma Jean who didn’t actually exist but we all know how she very well might have, you would have the terrible tales of several women who were harmed by the wider community. In my perspective, blonde has accomplished that goal with great accomplishment.