Blonde (2022)

Directing his first feature film since 2012’s “Killing Them Softly”, Andrew Dominik returns after a lengthy hiatus with “Blonde”, a harrowing adaptation of Joyce Carol Oates’ novel of the same name. Slapped with an NC-17/18 rating for its severe nudity, sexual content, and violence , the film is the first American film in over a decade to be given the explicit rating and the first to be majorly distributed since 1995’s “Showgirls” What could’ve been a respectful, elegant portrayal of Marilyn Monroe’s life and success, crashes and burns into a pile of misogyny and dehumanisation and a vicious attack on one woman’s enduring legacy.

Based on the 2000 novel of the same name, “Blonde” isn’t an accurate biopic of Marilyn Monroe and her troubled life, instead, the film is an adaptation of a fictionalised novel that takes way too many artistic liberties when it comes to telling one woman’s story. The film follows Ana de Armas (who plays the iconic blonde) as she grows from her unhappy childhood with an abusive mother, to a career in Hollywood where she’s met with objectification and exploitation everywhere she goes. Switching between the interwoven lives of Norma Jeane and Marilyn Monroe, “Blonde” grows worse with every passing second, ending with a haunting, and frankly uncomfortable scene that depicts the actress’ final moments.

It's a shame that the best performance of de Armas’ career had to have been given in such a disturbing and exploitative film. Her turn as the blonde starlet is mesmerising, except when it comes to her accent, nearly a year of dialect coaching unfortunately couldn’t stop her Cuban accent from slipping into her performance. On the whole, without the brutal objectification in Dominik’s directing, de Armas’ gives one of 2022’s best performances. Also delivering outstanding turns as the people closest to Marilyn include Adrien Brody and Bobby Cannavale, who play Marilyn’s husbands Arthur Miller and Joe DiMaggio, respectively.

Chayse Irvin (“Lemonade”, “BlacKkKlansman”) delivers stylish visuals, taking over from Andrew Dominik’s previous collaborator Roger Deakins. His captivating cinematography bypasses Dominik’s jarring decision to shoot the film in black and white, and colour. However, like the rest of the film there are some unusual parts of the cinematography, including a dizzyingly shot sex scene, and unnecessary shots taken from the point of view of Marilyn’s cervix. But for the most part, Irvin’s work is one of the very few positives you can take away from the film.

If the disturbing depictions of Marilyn’s life weren’t enough, the film’s nearly three-hour runtime details her life from start to finish but comes off feeling too long and overstuffed. The film also gives viewers the impression that Dominik is trying to promote some sort of twisted anti-abortion agenda, including a scene with Marilyn having a direct conversation with her unborn foetus, and at one point the foetus even asks her “You won’t hurt me this time, will you?”. Even Planned Parenthood released a statement in response to the film, speaking to The Hollywood Reporter saying “It is a shame that the creators of Blonde chose to contribute to anti-abortion propaganda and stigmatize people’s health care decisions instead”

Despite “Blonde” being an incredibly stylish film, solely in terms of its visuals, the film has a plethora of issues that turns into nothing more than a frustrating and flawed adaptation of a fictitious novel, which exploits Marilyn’s life and her legacy. The way Andrew Dominik chooses to present Marilyn, and Oates’ retelling of her life, is almost certain to shut the film out of awards season. It’s hard to imagine that the myriad of Academy and awards season voters will want to reward a film as heinous as this in its depiction of a Hollywood icon. Overall, “Blonde” sorely backfires in being the artsy faux biopic it intends to be, instead being a frustrated, mortifying, and perverted feature from Netflix and director Andrew Dominik.