“Blonde” supposedly intends to challenge viewers to look past the looks and status of cultural icon Marilyn Monroe (Ana de Armas, “No Time to Die”) and instead dive deeper into the tortured mind of the true person behind the celebrity: Norma Jeane Mortenson. However, what may have been intended to be an ambitious, critical take on the actress’ life and her treatment by her lovers and the film industry conversely comes off as nothing more than a woeful tale of victimization and powerlessness told through a misogynistic lens.
A clunky amalgamation of both fact and fiction, “Blonde” depicts the life and career of Monroe in a sort of disorienting, nightmarish haze. The narrative’s unconscious state ushers in abrupt transitions between plot points, and certain events seem to be exaggerated so as to amp up emotional tension. For the most part, this effect works less toward enlightening viewers on Monroe’s hardships, and more so to generate shock value and sometimes pity for her.
The narrative’s dreamlike framing also translates into its accompanying visuals. Psychedelic, overblown representations of both historical and fabricated happenings inflate the gravity of these situations from realist conflicts to questionable melodrama. Changes from black and white to color shots and shifts in aspect ratio toggle on and off like a light switch, dizzying viewers with nonsensical, sporadic transitions, despite the eye candy which fills each frame.
Through its depiction of Monroe’s story, the narrative initially expresses a desire to make social criticisms that are greatly relevant to both Monroe’s era and our own, namely revolving around sexual abuse and womens’ treatment in the film industry. However, the film’s presentation greatly undermines these goals, especially through its excessive use of female nudity and the actress’ submissive portrayal. Its depiction of abuse, Monroe minding the cruelty dealt on her and slowly crumbling in the process does less to critique such issues, and instead feels more like an emotionally manipulative ploy to showcase such behavior for the sake of drama and shock value. Rather than sympathizing for Monroe or her circumstances, viewers may instead be left with feeling exhausted and disgusted by the film’s flagrant handling of such delicate topics.
If it were not for de Armas, “Blonde” would have practically no legs to stand on. The “Knives Out” actress’ uncanny ability to emulate Monroe’s looks, mannerisms and cadence is something which warrants significant admiration. Perhaps the most dazzling moments throughout the film are those where she replicates the actress’ work, namely the “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” sequence from “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.”
However, her amiable performance is overshadowed by her character, who is written to be viewed as a groveling victim whom the film incessantly objectifies. Constant pleas of “Daddy” to her abusers and a hyperfixation on showcasing her body and image through the male gaze, namely in portions which helped “Blonde” garner its excessive NC-17 rating, expose the film for what it truly is: A piece of disturbing, exploitative and scandalous smut, which aims to do nothing more than capitalize on its subject’s torment, rather than make any substantial statements or criticisms toward the events or behaviors depicted.
Photo via Netflix via YouTube
