Venice 2022: Blonde
VENICE / NETFLIXCalling Blonde a passion project for Andrew Dominik would be an understatement. Ever since he read the massive 2000 novel by Joyce Carol Oates, he became obsessed with adapting it to the silver screen. He came close in 2010, when Naomi Watts was attached to star as Norma Jean/Marilyn Monroe, but that was ultimately scrapped. Netflix producing the film is a double-edged sword: impressive on the one hand that they financed something so bold, complex, and ready to be misunderstood and hated by Internet mobs, and a shame on the other that it will be relegated to small screens rather than receiving a proper theatrical release.
Chayse Irvin outdid himself with the cinematography here. Mixing black and white with color, Academy aspect ratio with full-screen and cinemascope, Blonde’s gorgeously lit, high contrast visuals are among the finest to be released on the streaming giant. There is a rich texture in the film that brings to life the Los Angeles of the ‘50s, though Dominik cleverly avoids cliched shots and montages of digital reconstructions of the city, for the camera almost never leaves Ana de Armas.
Speaking of de Armas, what a star-making turn this is for her! Already a standout in Knock Knock, Blade Runner 2049, and Knives Out, she gets her first proper leading role in an American production, and she knocks it out of the park. Blonde is a complicated novel to adapt, both for its length and content, but Dominik does a phenomenal job in trimming the fat to focus on what really matters: the duality between Norma Jean Baker and Marilyn Monroe, the real woman and the actress created from the studio.
While mostly known for her sexpot roles in The Seven-Year Itch and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, there was more depth to Monroe than maybe would expect: she loved acting with a passion, losing herself in every role and bringing a piece of her own fears and demons into them. She studied classic plays to improve her acting, and she often got ridiculed and patronised for even mentioning Chekhov or other playwrights. The film shows just how this abusive behavior, where men in the film industry saw Marilyn as “a piece of meat” (as Bobby Cannavale’s Joe DiMaggio angrily states) with no value at all. De Armas is spellbinding on the big screen, seamlessly transitioning from scaredy-eyed Norma Jean to sensual Marilyn, this split persona slowly eating away at her.
Blonde is not an easy film to watch, and potentially quite triggering for a large majority of viewers. Despite being a fictional retelling of her life’s story (especially in the way the final years of her life played out), the narrative features many events that poor Norma Jean endured, from the casting couch to miscarriages. Dominik handles all of this with nightmarish moments and lyrical beauty, the constant transitions between monochromatic images to colorful scenes showcasing the internal struggle with survival of the titular actress. It is far less exploitative and graphic than many were led to believe following its unusual NC-17 rating, showing a lot of compassion and empathy for the main character. The thick atmosphere of dread and beauty is wonderfully helped by another stunning, eclectic score by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, which includes their song “Bright Horses” in one of the final moments of light. The soundtrack has a couple tracks that are reminiscent of some of Angelo Badalamenti's haunting music for Lynch, and Blonde would make a damning anti-Hollywood double feature with Mulholland Drive and INLAND EMPIRE.
“Life is what fades, art is what remains”, states a character in Oates’ novel. Blonde will be easily picked away by vultures that see this as another lifeless attempt to capitalize on a dead celebrity’s fame. That could not be further from the truth. Blonde is a stunning piece of cinema, soulful and dreary in equal measure, a reminder of all the hardships that actresses have gone through, especially Norma Jean Baker. De Armas’ transformative performance is precious, bringing Monroe back to life for almost three hours, hopefully pushing certain viewers to go back and seek out her own films. She may have died prematurely and alone, but her art (including many poems and other writings) will forever keep her alive.