Blonde

If you're going to fictionalize the life of one of the movie icons of the 20th century why go there, to the darkest dark. There are some "invented" moments that are, quite frankly, unforgivable. What kept me glued to the screen was Ana de Armas. A tremendous show of talent and fearlessness. I was wondering what the experience would have been to watch it in a theater with other people? I don't know because in the privacy of my own home I was free to stand up and walk away to pour myself a drink and shout at the screen. The awful Kennedy episode for instance. Why? That episode in particular made me question the intention of the filmmakers. So, yes, I can say now that I've seen it. Loved some it and detested some it.

Three hours of sheer boredom with the whole focus of the film being on Norma Jean's father who abandoned her mother before she was born. Nothing new on offer. A lot of nude shots, Marilyn calling her husbands "Daddy" the babies she couldn't have, her intelligence got short shrift and her drug taking a huge focus, fed by her handlers.

John F. Kennedy, the womanizer, is depicted in a particularly revolting scene.

Shock value ruled the day and nothing new was added.

Totally disappointing and the words that comes to mind are crude and vulgar. Good imitative performance from Ana.

But not worth a re-watch or an award of any kind.

2/10.

What a truly disappointing film this is. It offers us a really slow, sterile and disjointed - almost episodic - depiction of just how Marilyn Monroe's life might have panned out. For a start, I couldn't decide whether Ana de Armas was really Lady Gaga or Scarlett Johansson (both of whom would have acquitted themselves better, I'd say) as she offers an admittedly intense, but remarkably uninvolved performance. We move along from chapter to chapter in her life hindered by some fairly weak and uninspiring dialogue and seriously intrusive scoring in what becomes an increasingly shallow and lacklustre fashion. The photography does try hard - it does offer us a sense of intimacy, but the whole thing is presented in such a stylised and un-natural manner that it is frequently difficult to tell whether she is/was a "real" woman. Her marriages are treated in an almost scant manner - and her relationship with JFK is reduced to something rather implausibly one-sided and sordid showing nothing of how their relationship might have come to be. It has no soul, this film. Aside from her glamour - which was, even then, hardly unique we are not really introduced to any of the nuances of her character, we are left guessing a lot of the time as to just how she did become such a superstar, and how she spiralled so inevitably into a maelstrom of booze and pills. It relies to a considerable extent on the viewer's existing knowledge of, and affection for, this flawed lady. Adrien Brody and Bobby Cannavale don't really have much chance to add anything as her husbands and the highly speculative relationship between her and Charlie Chaplin Jnr (Xavier Samuel) and his sexually ambiguous partner-in-crime Edward G Robinson Jr (Scoot McNairy) does suggest something of the rather profligate and debauched existence that some lived in Hollywood, but again their characters are also largely undercooked and again, we are largely left to use our own imagination. It is far, far too long and in a packed cinema, I could see people looking at the ceiling just once too often. Watchable, certainly, but a real missed opportunity to offer us something scintillating and tantalising about this most of iconic of women.

So first off, the movie made the news when it was said to have a NC-17 rating. We were never really told why. It seems like it was given that rating just to drawn attention to the movie because the movie was had about much language, nudity...etc as a R rated movie.

As for the movie itself.... overhyped trash. This is based on a fictional book and not her true story. It's sad that she can't even get a legit story but instead gets a fake version. All that aside the movie is almost 3 hours long. And its very slow moving. There are some disturbing scenes of course, but nothing really shocking compared to other movies.

You still get the feeling she was abused by everyone of course. But that's about it. Again, since its not her actual story, it feels like your watching some tabloid version of her life. What a waste of time and such overblown hype. But I know it will win Oscars because "critics" will probably love it for some reason.

Only reason I even gave it a three was the actress nailed her voice and how she acted.

There's a moment in the opening wildfire scene where Norma Jean's mother expels a sigh that's equal parts anger and exasperation. Who knew that sigh would become my mantra for the rest of this travesty's runtime? "Blonde" is a cinematic snuff film: sadistic and exploitative in how it revels in Marilyn Monroe's pain. The way director Andrew Dominik indulges in her misery is nauseating.

Jumping from one traumatic fever dream to the next, this joyless film reduces a cultural icon into a punching bag for the parade of leeches, con-men, charlatans, abusers, and vultures in her life, culminating with "Blonde's" director himself. Everyone's queued up to extract their pound of flesh from Marilyn Monroe's legacy in this sick sideshow, both in-camera and behind it.

I've never hate-Googled a DP until now, but holy cow: Chayse Irvin's cinematography is self-indulgent, pompous trend-chasing with zero rhyme or reason. It's three hours of "herp derp I bet this will look dope."

Arbitrary transitions from color to black-and-white; aspect ratio swaps for no cohesive or thematic reason; and "trendy" camera set-ups (I audibly scoffed at the random chest GoPro angle for Bobby Cannavale in one scene) are but a small taste of the incoherent parlor tricks thrown your way over the course of Blonde's nearly three hours.

As if there aren't enough sins to go around, the sloppy, unbalanced sound design comes in as if to say, "hold my beer." There's jarring jumps in volume when Norma Jean's mom screams at her, or when certain sound effects or score elements come in and out. It almost feels like they thought the project was a horror movie that needed jump scares baked in. We must also reserve a special lashing for whoever thought FETUS VOICEOVER would be a worthwhile element to add to this turd-pile of a movie.

I love Ana de Armas' work but whoever signed off on her American accent needs to be drawn and quartered. It vacillates between, "okay fine" to "big yikes." Every time Ana utters "Daddy" was NAILS ON A CHALKBOARD.

The choice to luxuriate in Marilyn Monroe's misery as opposed to condemning the parties who precipitated it is telling. There is a brief moment halfway through where you think Marilyn has finally realized her worth and is ready to speak up for herself as deserving of respect as the freaking reason people come to see her movies, but it putters out as a blip in the grand scheme of the tragedy porn this film prefers to live in.

My biggest regret is viewing this film as part of an in-theater early screening. If I had been watching on Netflix, I could have just ended my misery without much fuss.