Blonde

Available on: Netflix

Andrew Dominik’s biopic has drawn the ire of many critics for its allegedly exploitative take on the life of Marilyn Monroe, and it’s difficult to argue against many of the most prominent accusations levelled against the film.

Its difficult to know whether Dominik, whose films have always carried an air of smug satisfaction, intentionally sought out to make a picture that is so preoccupied with Monroe the pop culture icon – as opposed to Norma Jeane Mortenson, the woman beneath the veil – but, in doing so, he delivers an uncomfortably dehumanised take on his topic.

Blonde is often unquestionably cruel and unflinching in its violence, even going as far to deliver a scene in which Monroe is forced to perform oral sex on late President John F. Kennedy. Of course, you cannot dispute that abuse was a reality of her life – she was sadly mistreated by many of her spouses, and even more so by her business partners. But there was certainly light to go with the shade, with Monroe remaining an important cultural figurehead for many women around the world. It’s a shame then that this is what is ultimately missing from Blonde.

Ana de Armas is genuinely fantastic in the lead role, but the Monroe she is asked to portray is little more than an abused ingenue with daddy issues. I cannot profess to be an expert on feminism, but this film feels like the most shallow form of it you could hope to find. In presenting the grim truths of Monroe’s life in the spotlight, Dominik is assumedly attempting to bring justice to his topic. The reality, however, is that he is just exhuming her in order to subject her to the same sort of lurid titillation that marred much of her life.

This is a shame because there are aspects of Blonde that are certainly praiseworthy. Dominik and cinematographer Chayse Irvin frame the film in a way unbefitting of the traditional biopic, with their monochrome stylings delivering a rich aesthetic. This visual style is complemented well by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’ haunting, synth-laden score, which gradually builds in intensity as the film progresses. And, as said, de Armas makes for a convincing Monroe.

Sadly, Blonde’s misplaced sense of self-gratification – which is underpinned by its gratuitous (and completely unnecessary) runtime – makes for an uneasy viewing experience, ensuring this will go down as a Monroe epitaph as befitting as the quotes that are so often mistakenly attributed to her.