Lauren Bryant
Andrew Dominik’s 2022 Blonde is described- in rather oxymoronic terms- as a fictionalised biopic. Based upon Joyce Carol Oates’ 2000 novel of the same name, Dominik’s film seeks to reimagine and hyperbolise the life of Hollywood actress and cultural icon, Marilyn Monroe. Perpetually blurring the lines between fact and fiction, one begs the question: what is and isn’t true about the life of Marilyn Monroe? And, in turn, is the nature of this project morally correct?
TW: This article discusses sexual abuse, rape, and mental illness.
Running a few minutes shy of three hours, Blonde begins in 1933 with a young Norma Jeane Baker and her paranoid, schizophrenic mother. The first fifteen minutes provide flashes of a troubled childhood: snapshots of parental abuse, abandonment, and an attempted drowning.
From this point onward, the film focuses primarily on the star’s personal life, purporting a series of lovers and husbands, myriad health problems (including various gynaecological issues and miscarriages), as well as an internal struggle against her public persona as sex symbol and “blonde bombshell.”
Dominik constructs much of Monroe’s short-lived existence around her encounters with men (the good and the bad), highlighting three key relationships: a threesome with Hollywood scions Charles Chaplin Jr. and Edward G. Robinson Jr., an abusive marriage to Joe DiMaggio, and her co-dependency on final husband, Arthur Miller- many of whom she uncomfortably nicknames “daddy” throughout.
Circumventing the more profound details of her marriages or career, instead, Blonde delivers a hellscape of sexual violence and predatory behaviour, so repetitive that it becomes almost numbing. Reduced to a pawn, victim, or, in her own words, a “piece of meat”, Monroe is raped by a studio head named “Mr. Z”, without even a hello. Later, whilst in a drug-induced state, she is coerced into fellating a certain president (implied to be JFK).
“Dominik explores an “idea” of Marilyn, utilising her life as a vessel for the American celebrity.”
Turning the camera on the viewer, with first-person address from Ana de Armas, we, the audience, are thrust into these various roles- predator, rapist, jeerer- and made complicit in acts of abuse.
Blonde attempts to understand what it truly meant to be Marilyn, without glossing over or glamorising sexual violence. For example, at the Some Like It Hot (1959) premiere, we are shown a mob of ravenous reporters lining the streets. Monroe is put on display for the perpetual salivation of men, whose eyes are enlarged and leering, and mouths contorted to a frightening, even monstrous effect.
In an interview with IndieWire, cinematographer Chayse Irvin stated, “we were pushing things to the point of hyperbole…How do we distort it in a way that really harnesses how she must have felt in that moment?’”
The introductory notes of Oates’ novel suggest that Blonde uses “the legendary Marilyn Monroe as an emblem of twentieth-century America.” Likewise, uninterested in fact or truth, Dominik explores an ‘idea’ of Marilyn, utilising her life as a vessel for the American celebrity. If you were hoping for a traditional biography, you’re sure to be disappointed and/or confused. Blonde 2022 is not only about Monroe, but a vehicle for those who endured a similar life of exploitation and tragedy in Hollywood.
In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Adrien Brody, who plays Arthur Miller, said, “I think that’s where the film triumphs, because – whether it’s an extreme depiction or not – it’s honouring the extreme chasm between the public’s perception of…the glory of Hollywood’s most famous, iconic actor, and the reality…the mental turmoil and abuse of that individual.”
The new movie "Blonde" focuses so much on Monroe's victim status that it overlooks her incredible talents as a performer https://t.co/RwdJWOqMXW
— TIME (@TIME) October 9, 2022
Yet, since its debut at Venice Film Festival, Blonde has amassed a wealth of controversy. In an attempt to humanise and reimagine the star’s life, narrating her profound trauma and mangled past, ironically, Dominik further exploits Monroe in ways that she routinely fell victim to whilst alive.
“By the end, Blonde reaches nothing more than a surface-level observation”
Recreating the infamous subway grate scene from The Seven Year Itch (1955), Monroe’s white halter neck dress begins to billow up as she beams towards the crowd. The camera zooms in on her backside and lingers to the point of unease, revelling in the misogynistic male gaze. Extreme instances of exploitation include POV close-ups of inside Marilyn’s vagina during an abortion, throughout which the audience is privy to an agonising and graphic internal examination. Most controversial is a disturbing scene between Monroe and former US President John F Kennedy, featuring a two-minute-long act of fellatio and pornographic close-up of Armas’ face. These invasive moments not only violate the autonomy of Marilyn Monroe, but of every woman watching.
Despite the three-hour runtime, Dominik manages to reduce Monroe to the exact image that he appears to be critiquing- the commodity, the sex symbol, the pinup. By the end, Blonde reaches nothing more than a surface-level observation, disconnected from Marilyn’s wit and tenacity, her intelligence, and the zealous nature of her professional ambitions (including the revolutionary formation of her company, Marilyn Monroe Productions in 1955).
Speaking to BFI, when asked “What do you think the film is saying about female victimhood that we don’t already know?” Dominik replied, “I don’t see the film as essentially female. I see it as being about an unloved child.”
Perhaps this is the very issue with Blonde. Known for directing overtly ‘macho’ films (The Assassination of Jesse James), Dominik’s biopic lacks compassion or empathy for its female subject, unrelenting in its brutality, and is needlessly explicit. In many ways, Blonde’s Marilyn is simply another artificial creation of the Hollywood studio, continuing to exploit her in life, and in death.
More importantly, why is Blonde so preoccupied with Marilyn Monroe’s suffering? Knowingly adding fictionalised trauma to an already traumatic life? Historian Michelle Vogel, author of Marilyn Monroe: Her Films, Her Life, argues, “Marilyn Monroe’s life needs no fictional embellishment.”
Vogel also states that there is no evidence that she ever had an abortion, let alone multiple or forced. Monroe’s three-way relationship with Chaplin Jr. and Robinson Jr., portrayed using graphic sex scenes, is completely fabricated. In these instances, Dominik exploits Marilyn’s household name for his own pornographic fantasies.
In an interview with Discussing Film, Dominik was asked, “What are you hoping people will take away from the film’s specific perspective of Marilyn Monroe and her life?”
He answered, “I hope they feel shafted and numb…That’s usually what I’m going for, like, complete devastation.”
Does this not vocalise the privilege of men? Uninterested in Monroe’s legacy, or the repercussions of such a cruel portrayal of female victimhood? Of course, Blonde most definitely achieves this aim, but we must ask, at what cost?
If you or somebody you know needs help and support, please use the resources below:
womensaid.org.uk
victimsupport.org.uk
mind.org.uk
Featured image courtesy of pure julia via Unsplash. Image license found here. No changes were made to this image.
Lauren Bryant
Lauren is one of the Social Media Managers at Empoword, and a first-class English graduate planning to convert to Law in September. Alongside working for non-profits tackling public sexual harassment, she is extremely passionate about sociocultural, feminist issues.