Blonde’s Ambition Falls Dangerously Short
By Eden Al Qahtani
In a collage on my bedroom wall, I have two pictures of Marilyn Monroe. The first is a candid snapshot of Marilyn on a children’s playground set reading James Joyce’s Ulysses. The other is a still from John Huston’s The Misfits (1961), the final film of Marilyn’s career where she arguably gives her most dynamic performance.
Since I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by Marilyn Monroe. As an aspiring actress who has dealt with self-image issues, I saw Marilyn as a beacon of hope that someone like me could have a fulfilling career. She proved that attractive women can also have rich artistic and intellectual lives. Marilyn has and continues to inspire women like myself to break the molds of the male gaze set in place for us.
Needless to say, I was incredibly excited about the release of Blonde (2022), which looked to be a dark and glamorous retelling of Marilyn’s life. However, after about fifteen minutes into the film, I immediately regretted giving Netflix my viewing.
With an NC-17 rating for graphic sexual content and an almost three hour runtime, it’s a wonder Netflix even distributed Blonde. It’s the second film adaptation of Joyce Carol Oates’ 2000 fictional account of Marilyn Monroe’s life. And fictional is key here, as director Andrew Dominik claims that he is interested in images, not reality. Yet nowhere in the depiction is it apparent that Blonde isn’t trying to be a biopic. While Dominik aimed to detail a childhood drama by using the iconography of Marilyn, it’s clear that there was no care or consideration for the woman whose life is manipulated for his artistic goal. There is a scene depicting Marilyn’s unborn child guilt tripping her about previous pregnancies so jarring it’s comedic. The use of CGI and voiceover creates a sense of flippancy on a sensitive issue and equally solemn scene. In reality, there is no record of Marilyn ever having an abortion. She suffered miscarriages that were extremely traumatic for her. One of her biggest wishes was to be a mother, which she never achieved. By placing blame on her for a choice she never actually made, she is metaphysically made to relive this grief.
Dominik, who previously called one of Marilyn’s most famous films, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, a movie about “well-dressed whores” does nothing more than add to the objectification Marilyn battled throughout her career. In a scene of a meeting with JFK, Marilyn is forced to perform fellatio. She then asks herself, “The girl upstairs in a harmless soft porn film. Just once. Why not?” This is asked by the woman who in reality was wholly aware and actually despised her title as a sex symbol. In the documentary about her life, Marilyn on Marilyn, she goes on to say, “…you just hate to be a thing.” The film furthers Marilyn’s portrayal as clueless in dialogue that forces the “dumb blonde” trope that haunted her throughout her career. In a scene where Marilyn is cooking with the women of Joe DiMaggio’s family, Marilyn is handed a hard boiled egg and asks, “Is this for eating?”
In real life, she had a personal library of over 400 books, including Joyce’s notoriously difficult Ulysses.
Through cinematographer Chayse Irvin’s lens, glamorous recreations of film performances, tabloid headlines, and intimate pictures of Marilyn’s life are carefully brought to life. Shifting between color and black and white, Irvin creates a clear visual sense of Marilyn’s supposed public and intimate life. Other than the stunning cinematography, not many positive things can be said for the overall film where gratuitous scenes of nudity and sexual violence taint the considerate choices Irvin makes.
Ana de Armas, who gives one of the best performances of her career, unfortunately couldn’t salvage the wreck of Blonde. Her agreement to portray Marilyn as a helpless as well as topless victim contributes to the film’s exploitative nature. Being a Cuban woman, her casting as Marilyn attracted controversy. While this was entirely unfair to de Armas, her claim that she worked nine months with a dialect coach was baffling. Her accent, combined with a pale attempt at Marilyn’s breathy timbre, is apparent throughout the film. Between these inconsistencies, it’s as if you’re watching a sexed-up caricature.
Unlike contemporary biopics of male artists, namely Elvis (2022) or Bohemian Rhapsody (2018), Blonde doesn’t celebrate Marilyn’s life and only serves to further victimize her. She isn’t a doll to strip, ogle, and use for a male director’s own viewing pleasure. Nor is it true that she was a victim who allowed herself to be beaten naked by her husband, calling him “daddy” with doe eyes. Must women continue to be demeaned by men for the sake of good art? Marilyn Monroe was the woman who showed me and many other women that you can still recognize your power in spite of a world designed to keep you down. That beauty and intelligence can coincide within the same person. That there is strength in vulnerability. But in Blonde, she’s used as an icon, a mere idea to service Dominik’s own thematic motives. If Dominik’s goal was to create a film detailing the long term effects of childhood trauma, manipulating a deceased woman’s likeness was unnecessary. It’s unfortunate that the captivating visuals of production and costume design, by Florencia Martin and Jennifer Johnson, are lost within the shallow narrative and patriarchal characterization.
At the end of The Misfits, Marilyn’s character gives a riveting monologue condemning the male characters for killing wild mustangs and selling them for meat. In this final speech, she proclaims:“You’re only happy when you can see something die!” Let Marilyn rest peacefully by passing on Blonde. Celebrate her life through a viewing of the numerous films she starred in—a legacy presented through her own voice.