Earlier this year, Baz Lurhmann’s flashy, epic biopic Elvis was released. The film recounts Elvis Presley’s rise to fame through the lens of his relationship with his mysterious, ultimately exploitative manager Colonel Tom Parker. Glitzy and extravagant, Lurhmann shares Presley’s tragedies and triumphs. Everything about this camp blockbuster shows Lurhmann’s deep love for Presley: he honours, cherishes, and respects the mythic rockstar.
Netflix’s Blonde, a semi-fictionalised Marilyn Monroe biopic, tells a very different story.
Since her death in 1962, Marilyn Monroe has stayed as culturally relevant as ever. Monroe’s name has been attached to vibrators, makeup lines, and hair products. Her face was painted by Andy Warhol, and her dress was worn by Kim Kardashian. We have had, and perhaps always will have, an insatiable obsession with exploiting and profiting from the image of Marilyn Monroe. Blonde is no different. Despite this continued exploitation, we often fail to acknowledge Monroe as a real adult woman who ensured her own agency in a male-dominated, often vicious industry. The latest adaptation proves, once again, our failings to honour Marilyn as the woman she was.
Time to separate fact from fiction.
Blonde fails to acknowledge Monroe’s activism, philanthropy or groundbreaking masterminding of her own career. Produced by Brad Pitt and with a soundtrack from Nick Cave, it seems many rich and famous faces wanted a hand in exploiting the Monroe name as part of this 22 million blockbuster.
Director Andrew Dominik presents a frail, childlike Monroe (Ana De Armas) stripped of agency, memorialising the same exploitative culture he attempts to condemn. Across the lengthy run time and disjointed plot, the Hollywood legend is nearly drowned, raped, attacked by a husband she calls “Daddy”, and forced to have an abortion. It's no exaggeration to say that Monroe cries in every single scene. Dominik seems intent on inflicting misery and humiliation upon Monroe’s memory like never before, graphically depicting sex, violence and emotional trauma with little purpose or message.
However, it must be said that Andrew Dominik’s film has not strictly been branded as a biopic. Based on Joyce Carol Oates sprawling historical fiction novel, both the film and novel exploit the image of Marilyn, taking elements of her harrowing childhood and turbulent career, yet insist both to be works of fiction. A weak excuse for the creation of shallow trauma porn, it seems.
Somewhat ironically, in 1952, Marilyn Monroe actually co-authored the article Wolves I Have Known, daring to describe the abuse, perversion and manipulation she encountered as a young actor. “In Hollywood, we have to work overtime to outwit the wolves,” wrote Monroe. Decades ahead of her time, Marilyn boldly narrates inappropriate encounters with police officers, Hollywood executives and photographers.
Backlash against the Marilyn Monroe biopic continues.
Regardless of her cruel depiction in Dominik’s film, Monroe was a pioneer and Golden-Globe-winning actor who has been hailed for her comedic talents and activism time and time again. She actually headed her own production company, Marilyn Monroe Productions – the romance Bus Stop (1956), which was produced under the company, earned Oscar and Golden Globe nominations. Monroe also used her status to support the career of Ella Fitzgerald, forming an unlikely friendship in a time of fervent racial prejudice.
After her passing, 25% of Monroe’s estate was donated to the Anna Freud Children’s Clinic of London. While working on the film Girl In Pink Tights, it was revealed to Monroe that her co-star Frank Sinatra was earning over three times her salary. Monroe walked off set in protest, and 20th Century Fox suspended her. When she returned to acting from suspension, she was granted a higher salary. In 1957, Monroe famously auctioned a pair of her earrings for The Milk Fund for Babies. Time and time again, we refuse to acknowledge her endless triumphs. After all, why watch a beautiful, successful, talented woman thrive when we can watch her burn to the ground?
Monroe undoubtedly experienced some shocking, disturbing things during her short life. But why does Lurhmann get to offer Elvis Presley a legacy of excellence, extravagance, and brilliance? Why is Monroe not portrayed with the same nuance, the same respect? It’s doubtful Monroe would watch Dominik’s Blonde as proudly as Elvis Presley would view Lurhmann’s Elvis. Dominik hasn’t even honoured Monroe by naming the film after her, the image of Blonde being far more marketable, more palatable, than the bold, talented Norma Jean.
After all, we don’t want to see Marilyn as she was; we want to see her as we created her: troubled, effortlessly beautiful, sexy, and in need of a saviour. We don’t want to see her lifelong friendship with Ella Fitzgerald, her countless acts of philanthropy, her striding into 20th Century Fox and her protesting for equal pay. It seems we don’t want to see female successes; we want to see their degradation, flaws, and failures.
Marilyn Monroe is not the first, nor will be the last, successful woman who will meet a tragic end. She is not the first, nor the last, woman who will be exploited both during and after her lifetime. But it’s essential to remember her triumphs, ground-breaking agency, and her dedication as an actor.
The fierce backlash against Blonde by critics suggests an attitude of respect and adoration towards Monroe. It’s shameful that it took Brad Pitt producing a 22 million dollar example of misogynistic trauma porn to make us finally assess our exploitation of her. Perhaps we will spend another 60 years using Monroe’s image to sell lipsticks and hair masks and vibrators. Perhaps our infatuation with her will finally fade one day. But one thing remains clear; we must begin to acknowledge the woman she was, the woman of agency, bold bravery and incredible generosity.
Consider our minds well and truly blown.
