Directed by:
Andrew DominikScreenplay:
Andrew DominikCinematography:
Chayse IrvinCast:
Ana de Armas, Bobby Cannavale, Adrien Brody, Julianne Nicholson, Xavier Samuel, Lucy DeVito, Sara Paxton, Garret Dillahunt, Scoot McNairy, Toby Huss (more)VOD (1)
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Based on the bestselling novel by Joyce Carol Oates, Blonde boldly reimagines the life of one of Hollywood’s most enduring icons, Marilyn Monroe. From her volatile childhood as Norma Jeane, through her rise to stardom and romantic entanglements, Blonde blurs the lines of fact and fiction to explore the widening split between her public and private selves. (Venice International Film Festival)
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Reviews (9)
Andrew Dominik recreates the heavy atmosphere surrounding Norma Jean’s horrific life right from the very first scene, with Hollywoodland in flames. His work with the picture, alternating cameras, colors and lighting and even picture size surprisingly enhances the storytelling, rather than being a distraction. Ana de Armas’ performance is fantastic, styled as housewife on the brink of madness, slash promiscuous movie star. The way the story is broken up into separate scenes is sometimes confusing, but necessary, otherwise the movie would have to last four hours. The dream and drug sequences at the end are a delight. The premiere of Some Like It Hot ("I Love Love Love You All") with the monster photographers is the high point of the whole movie. It is certainly more watchable than Mank, but Blonde just isn’t a movie for everybody. If you let it, it’ll swallow you whole. P.S.: The White House scene is far from a disappointment!
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A dark retro downer with a bold artistic signature, a specific formal aesthetic and a riveting performance by Ana de Armas, who plays her most ambitious and challenging role to date. In terms of expressive means, Andrew Dominik sometimes wants to resemble Terrence Malick, especially with his efforts at long, heartfelt expositions and voice-overs, but he only succeeds halfway. Malick is an expert at this and chooses stories better suited to his style where he can afford to do that. It is better to watch long shots of "sounds of nature" than to watch a 3-minute shot of a crying, lost girl, however brilliantly acted. At times formal refinement, but at other times sheer suffering for the viewer.
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Rewriting a fictional biography is a problematic category in and of itself. I dismissed Joyce Carol Oates' book years ago considering all the fabrications therein, but the filmmakers found it interesting to take this material and base an experimental look at the life of the eternally unhappy Marilyn Monroe on it. People who don't know the era and the old movies won't appreciate anything about it. MM fans and connoisseurs continue to prefer any other biopic (including the problematic My Week with Marilyn), while others may not care about this Netflix event. Blonde is just another pointless affair. It is instead important to point out that a film about or with MM has been in the works since her untimely death and thus is nothing new under the sun.
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It's the kind of film that, as someone who writes about movies for a living, I should be blown away by. And I really appreciate the formal intentions that twist the story of the shining icon of the silver screen into a non-linear, audiovisually precarious mosaic of the hardscrabble life of a woman exploited by everyone and desperately seeking male support. But Blonde didn't touch me once in its 166 minutes, and, apart from a reminder of the 1950s feel, cut with disorienting halos, its style didn't impress me at all. It's nice that it comes across as the opposite of theatrical, that Armas gives a fantastic performance and Dominik directs his dream defiance of clean and respectful iconography, but what's the point when all I get out of it is a long moment? I was expecting this film to give me a lot of ideas, especially on the formal, stylistic and narrative level, but it just doesn't interest me... 65 %
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Blonde is an exceptional work for the same reasons many people hate it: its fragmentation, the excessive length of many scenes, the focus on the surface, the inconstant visual identity, the building of pressure without catharsis, it’s not an empathetic biopic but a pessimistic collection of horrors with a dissociated protagonist who wanders through her own subconscious – the whole film can be seen as her nightmare (also, the Badalamenti-esque soundtrack by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis is reminiscent of Lynch, who had prepared and ultimately shelved a film about Marilyn Monroe in the 1980s). The breaking down and decontextualisation of the myth and iconography of Marilyn Monroe work better in images than in Joyce Carol Oates’s graphomaniacal book on which the film is based (though the film uses the book’s narrative and storyline relatively consistently, its nihilism is closer to Ballard or Palahniuk). I understand that sexual violence, nervous breakdowns and ideas outside the boundaries of taste (a foetus talking to its mother) may be too much for some. I understand that not everyone will accept the concept of a film in which beauty is almost always associated with pain and sex with humiliation, a film that places the viewer in the extremely uncomfortable position of voyeuristic accomplice. However, I would expect critics to at least have the ability to distinguish between a real historical figure and a textual construct that serves a certain narrative or symbolic purpose, or rather between a misogynistic film and a film about misogyny (and the cruelty of the looks that strip a person of their identity and turns one into a projection screen for someone else’s fantasies). 90%
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