Blonde

 

Blonde

Director – Andrew Dominik

Writers – Andrew Dominik (written for the screen by), Joyce Carol Oates (based on the novel by)

Stars- Ana de Armas, Lily Fisher, Julianne Nicholson

 

Well, you’re not going to make many friends with such an interpretation, surely. With ‘Chopper’, Andrew Dominick was on safer ground with an irredeemable subject; and ‘The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford’ had the advantage of historical distance and being about criminals too. But Norma Jeans was a much more controversial and tricky choice, for Marilyn Monroe is much beloved. I was never one for the breathlessly ditzy blonde sex-bomb type and if nothing else the film established that Norma herself wasn’t much for it either. A criticism is that the Norma Jeane here doesn’t have much agency, but surely that’s the point. She is totally defined, concocted, manipulated, and abused by the male gaze. Projection is a central theme. And not every woman is an ass-kicker who can overcome and march defiantly towards the camera. This Norma is a far milder affair, not stupid but not bold enough to fight the overwhelming odds against her.

 

But make no mistake that this is all fiction, a fantasia, a somewhat sleazy imagining of a superstar’s sordid start and fall. Based upon Joyce Carol Oates’ novel, this should not be mistaken for a biopic and Dominick doesn’t pretend that’s the intent: it’s all impressionism and arty, dreamy and pretty, moving between black-and-white and colour at a whim. In this imagining, Norma Jeane’s happiest time is her marriage to Norman Mailer. In fact, it is this section where we get a little beneath the skin of the character, with her first meeting with Norman Mailer being the film’s highlight, for it effortlessly conjures how men underestimate her and her charm. Soon, Mailer mentions that she has no cruelty in her, and it’s hard not to think that these kind of insights come a little late in the film. Up until then, there’s a sense of speed-walking through Marilyn touchpoints, scared of not hitting all the beats. Although arguably this drags out the running time and rushes some of the rhythm. Arguably, this also stymies Ana de Armas’s performance as Norma in places, although she is always compelling, staggering and coping through the black-and-white Golden Age of Hollywood, sometimes with some exploitation nudity.

 

It reminded me of Mickey Keating’s ‘Psychopaths’. And perhaps that’s a clue as to the edginess and atmosphere of the film, that it would remind of such an arthouse horror oddity that’s about performance, artificiality and something unhinged. Certainly, Mark Kermode calls ‘Blonde’ a horror film. It’s to do with the tone of a woman’s fall, of the exploitation and tragedy. David Lynch is often namechecked when talking about ‘Blonde’, and certainly Cave and Ellis’ score hits on a ‘Twin Peaks’ Badalamenti feel at times. And again, to reiterate that this is a fiction based upon the narrative of Marilyn Monroe as victim. Marilyn Monroe through ‘Inland Empire’. When we get to a close-up of Norma fellating the President and then to the abortion, it even touches on Gasper Noe provocation.

 

There’s plenty of play and provocation in ‘Blonde’, and it’s apparent it doesn’t want to be everyone’s friend. There’s as much exploitation as artistry, and the lurid touches is to expose the seedy side of Tinsel Town, but there’s also a sense of having its cake and eating it. Where a real person/icon is involved, this can prove problematic, which is where all the accusations of misogyny come from, such a Stacey Henley’s condemnation. Perhaps a conventional biopic by Guy Maddin would look like this, but that would probably lean towards the humanitarian worldview rather than victimhood. Although its aesthetic goes all-in in a way that insists on its fiction, ‘Blonde’ hues so close to the Monroe-Jeane beats so that you can’t deny that making misery porn of a real life, all-but denying her agency and looking like you are joining in the objectification, leaves a somewhat sour aftertaste.