It is an unimpeachable fact that Marilyn Monroe remains one of the most recognizable, iconic figures of 20th-century culture, a face that has adorned every conceivable kind of media across nearly every country around the world. Yet, did we ever truly know who she was? Her legacy is one that is unfortunately defined by the fact that she died very young, her premature demise bringing an end to an enigmatic career, and an even more tragic life, and it is almost impossible to discuss her impact on the global culture without including some discussion on how short her life was, or the personal challenges she endured while she was at the peak of her fame. She was the subject of Blonde, a novel by the celebrated but divisive author Joyce Carol Oates, who aimed to peel back the curtain on this cultural icon, and look at her life through a fictionalized lens. For years, Andrew Dominik has been working to adapt it to the screen, and now that it has come to fruition, the results are certainly striking, for better or worse. Blonde is a truly challenging film, a dark and twisted psychological horror masquerading as a biographical drama – and drawing this distinction from the very start is the key to understanding this polarizing film, one in which the viewer is put through some of the most uncomfortable and deeply unsettling imagery possible, and forced into seeing the darkest details of what Oates (and now Dominik) envisioned the life of such a major star would have been like during these tumultuous years in which beauty and youth were the most valuable commodity in an industry run by sinister dealings and outright abuse. The film is an exercise in perseverance, and it is often provocative beyond reason – but through the harsh commentary and often harrowing depiction of her struggles, we find a complex character study that has a lot more to say about the concept of fame and those who experience it than we’d initially imagine based on a cursory glance, just approaching it from a very cynical and deeply disturbing perspective.

Blonde represents a radical departure from the biographical drama genre. These films are normally defined by detailed explorations of their subjects’ lives, driven by fact with very little need for fabrication, outside of a few slight tweaks to make the stories more cinematic. More than anything else, these films are made by people who are actively interested and enamoured with the people at the heart of the story. Dominik seemed to have a very different kind of approach – this is one of the rare instances where we see a director making a biographical film about someone who he seems to genuinely have very little reverance towards. In fact, Dominik seems to have an immense amount of rage-fueled disdain for Monroe and everything she represented, which is one of the few times we’ve seen a biographical film about someone who is not an inherently immoral or evil person, framed in a way that is somewhat hateful towards them, placing them at the centre of a series of torturous episodes. It’s difficult to understand why the director felt the need to approach Monroe like this, and there is certainly a discussion to be had where one looks at how Blonde is essentially a film fueled by the toxic male gaze, to the point where it is clear that many of these events are outright fabrications, designed to exploit the character. Perhaps she was not the most appropriate source for Dominik’s ire, but there is more to how he portrays her, weaving a version of Monroe based on fictionalized aspects of her life structured around real events. Logically, not every biographical film needs to be definitive or faithful to the subject, granted that the audience is aware that what we are watching is a work of creative expression, and that artistic liberty is to be expected. Ultimately, as much as we tend to think it is essential, reverance is not a requirement for a film such as this, and that there is a deeper purpose to how he frames his protagonist, who he never denies is the victim of cruel circumstances, and someone whose tragic life reflects a very disturbing reality.

The characterization of the protagonist is one of the most unique aspects of the film. Blonde covers her life from childhood until her death, but it never feels like it is adhering to the conventions of the cradle-to-grave narrative. Instead, this is an experimental film that tracks the development of the main character over time – but rather than seeing this as a linear transition, something along the lines of a transformation, Dominik views it as something more artificial, functioning as the invention of Marilyn Monroe, by both Norma Jeane Baker and the people who helped create this persona. The film demonstrates the fact that “Marilyn” was a character – someone fashioned from fragments of studio notes and popular perceptions of what audiences wanted to see from their movie stars – and we see a broad distinction being drawn between Marilyn and Norma Jeane. Names are vital in this film – few of the characters are given anything but vague titles alluding to their profession, and we watch the growth of Marilyn as she negotiates her own identity, which is an amalgamation of the person she was and the movie star people wanted to see on screen. One of the characters even remarks that she “gave birth to herself”, creating a persona that was both a way for her to achieve a higher level of fame and recognition with a more intriguing name, but also a veneer behind which she could hide what little remnants of Norma Jeane remain. By the end, Norma Jeane has entirely faded away – she seems to struggle to even recognize her own real name. Fact and fiction have blurred, and she is now solely Marilyn, a tragic figure concocted in studio hallways and audition rooms, having spent her life performing a character for the adoring public that had very little hesitation on turning against her later in life, playing a role in her everyday life that would eventually envelop her entirely, leading to a tragic demise, which Dominik explores in graphic detail.

To date, we haven’t gotten a truly strong depiction of Marilyn Monroe’s life, whether it be her rise to fame, or the experiences she had later on in life as a figure of both public adoration and notoriety, with her personal life being frequently subjected to rumours and gossip. She was a difficult figure to fully encapsulate into a single project and have it seem authentic. She may have been a movie star while she was alive, but she evolved into something much deeper as a result of her early death, becoming a mythological figure, someone whose entire life and career were overshadowed by her death. As a result, we’ve yet to find someone who can fully capture everything that made her such an icon – whether it’s her magnetic screen presence, or someone who fought many private battles throughout her life. Credit must be given to those that have attempted to take on the role, with Ana de Armas being the most recent to portray the character of Marilyn. This is a tour-de-force of a performance, a compelling and intricately-constructed interpretation of one of the 20th century’s most distinctive icons. Cynicism towards her casting was justified – a Spanish actor playing someone who embodied the idea of the quintessential American starlet, known for her striking blue eyes and distinctive blonde hair (dyed or not) was a bold choice. Mercifully, de Armas rises to the occasion, and regardless of how one feels about how the film uses her (which are all valid), her performance is the embodiment of commitment to a role, especially one as challenging as this. Her accent work may occasionally slip, and we’re drawn out of the illusion on a few instances, but this is mostly a masterful, beautifully-constructed performance by an actor who has proven herself to be extraordinarily versatile. Like the film in which she is the focus, de Armas’ performance is not perfect, but it has enough audacity behind it to at least stand alone as the epitome of dedication to a role, and her transformation not only into Marilyn overall, but into each phase of her life, is both impressive and deeply disturbing, which is precisely the overall intention of the gambit that came with this casting and the film as a whole.

While I do lean see some merit peppered throughout this film (which I definitely see as a bold statement more than anything else), it should not be mistaken for a resounding endorsement, of either Dominik’s approach to Monroe’s life, or how it looks into some darker moments in her history in contrast with vitally important discussions around issues like abortion, domestic violence and the role of women in the workplace – on the contrary, since Blonde is one of the most brutal films I’ve encountered in recent years, one that is actively questioning morality as it goes along, with an almost reckless disregard for its subject’s legacy. It is objectively disturbing to see how the director manipulates his subject and her life for the sake of his supposed artistic musings, but it is important to remind ourselves that this is not an exploration of Monroe herself, but rather an illusory version of her life and the people she represented, namely the countless “blonde bombshells” that saw themselves filtered into one category for their entire careers, with very little chance to escape. Dominik may not have been the right person to have made this film (especially since a large portion of the narrative focuses on female-centric issues, meaning that his masculine approach was not all that appropriate, particularly since he seems to lack any degree of sophistication when it comes to how he depicts Monroe’s struggles with certain issues), but this just continues to prove how this was not solely supposed to be an exploration of Marilyn, but also the Hollywood legacy she left behind. Fame is a tricky concept, since we have been often led to believe that it is the ultimate aspiration, to be world-renowned and adored by the masses – until one is finally in the clutches of what is proven to be a deeply unsettling industry that has very little interest in the wellbeing of those who represent it. The overall depiction of fame in Blonde is truly harrowing, and Dominik has very little hesitation in actively showing the darkest recesses of Hollywood for the sake of showing how it was the people who pushed Norma Jeane into the role of Marilyn Monroe that ultimately led to her downfall. While he does seem to have some disdain for her as a performer, he never once questions that she was a victim of outside influences, and he vividly depicts the hideous nature of fame, and how there is a deeply sinister side to the glamour we all associate with the main character. Distorted realities and grotesque faces abound throughout this film, which is constantly seeking answers to questions that should not have been asked in the first place, since they reveal an unequivocally disturbing set of truths that remain sadly resonant.

Dominik is a tremendously gifted filmmaker, and as both a storyteller and visual stylist, he has a unique approach to the process of putting a film together, even if his methods were beyond questionable (and his statements around the film prove that he holds very little respect for his subject). Blonde is an incredibly disturbing film in terms of the story it tells, and one might be inclined to praise the actual filmmaking as being an attempt to distract from the harrowing, gritty realities faced by the character, a way to soften the impact of the story. This is actually quite the opposite – the film is beautifully-made, with an immersive and unique visual landscape used to bring the story to life. However, there are many aspects of the creative process that actually highlight the crude and harrowing story of Monroe’s decline – the juxtaposition of stark black-and-white photography in her darkest moments and the bright, dreamlike imagery in those few fleeting sequences of undeniable joy that are peppered between tragedies creates a disconcerting and wildly unpredictable experience, and one that as an abundance of artistic relevance if we look at it objectively. However, this is not an excuse to help justify the more controversial aspects of the film – Blonde is extraordinarily difficult to watch, and anyone who claims to derive enjoyment from this is likely to be somewhat morally questionable, since this was designed to be an intentionally torturous, challenging experience that provokes us and draws out a very strong, passionate response. There’s a rawness to the film that is a unique marvel all on its own, with the gradual descent into truly disturbing imagery being vital to the message of the film as a whole. As far as Dominik is concerned, comfort was never a priority when it came to making Blonde, which could be seen as its ultimate flaw, especially since some of his morals are brought into question in how he tackles the subject and her life. We’ve seen so many attempts at showing the sordid side of Hollywood that ultimately feature the same sobering conversations that ultimately reach the same conclusion. Blonde seemed to be striving for something far more complex, and its ability to incite the most visceral reaction in the viewer, whether repulsion or fury at what we are witnessing, is one of its greatest strengths. 

When it comes to discussing Blonde, the term “exploitative” is certainly relevant, since it does feel like a lot of it is the director using his supposed right to artistic liberty to curate a sprawling epic into the life of an iconic figure, using her as the mannequin through which all his disdain and apoplectic rage towards the industry can be filtered, and often dipping into outright misogyny in certain moments, and it is genuinely very unpleasant to see how he actively seems to be aiming to tarnish her reputation. Dominik is one of our angriest filmmakers, and even in the quietest moments of his work, he reflects a certain hostility that makes his work very cynical and heartwrenching, and often extraordinarily difficult to get through without the right amount of attention and the abandonment of all hopes for a satisfying conclusion. However, the ambition that drives this film is more than enough to justify its existence – running at just under three hours in length, and telling a story that is filled with some of the most disturbing details about the supposed glamour of Hollywood, the film is a masterful exploration of the theme of fame, and the temptations and consequences that come packaged with any degree of celebrity. We have to view Blonde less as a step-by-step account of the main character’s life, and more as an intentionally sensationalised exploration of her oscillation between identities, her attempts to reconcile the character of Marilyn Monroe with Norma Jeane Mortensen, finding common ground between the world-renowned icon adored by humanity, and the shattered young woman who simply wanted to live a fulfilling life, but never got the opportunity to even come close to achieving it due to being perpetually in the public eye. It is a postmodern odyssey that uses a recognizable cultural icon to explore darker aspects of not only showbusiness, but the human condition as a whole, which becomes the foundation for this shockingly miserable and deeply disturbing psychological character study that misleads us into thinking that it is in pursuit of an icon and her rise and fall from fame, but emerges as a much bleaker, harrowing account of immorality and societal decay, as filtered through one of the most tragic figures of the last century, a film that is increasingly difficult to watch, and should be approached with caution.