By Alex McPherson

A grueling, disorienting, and horrific reimagining of the life of Norma Jeane Baker, who became Marilyn Monroe, director Andrew Dominik’s “Blonde” ultimately proves to be a case of excessive, at times exploitative, style over substance.

Based on the novel of the same name by Joyce Carol Oates, “Blonde” isn’t a traditional biopic in any sense, instead plunging viewers into a hallucinatory, David Lynchian hellhole that never lets up for its whopping 2-hour-and-46-minute runtime. Viewers begin with the child Norma Jeane (Lily Fisher, effective in her few scenes), living in Los Angeles with her single, alcoholic, mentally unstable mother, Gladys (Julianne Nicholson), while a fire rages outside in the Hollywood Hills.

Norma Jeane’s absentee father is apparently a bigshot in TinselTown, but she’s never met him, prompting trauma and insecurity that persistently haunt her throughout her life. Gladys, losing her mind and desperate to find him, then nearly drowns Norma Jeane in a bathtub, only to release her at the last second and let her escape to the next-door neighbors.

Flash forward a bit, and Norma Jeane is sent to an orphanage against her will. Flash forward again, and the “Marilyn Monroe” persona has been born, with Ana de Armas portraying our heroine with admirable, if misguided, fervor. Scarred by her horrible childhood, manipulated by devilish studio executives to advance her career, entering one corrosive relationship after another, being frequently underestimated, experiencing drug addiction, and remaining unable to separate her personal life from her public, hyper-sexualized persona, Norma Jeane’s life is tough, to say the least, and draining to watch unfold.  

Indeed, despite Dominik’s stylistic bravado and de Armas’ transformational performance, “Blonde” is difficult to recommend. This is an NC-17 rated film, and Dominik goes all-out depicting Norma Jeane’s abuse by practically everyone surrounding her. It’s too bad that far less attention is given to the character herself, reducing her to a victim sans agency, and robbing her of three-dimensionality that would have lent poignancy to the film’s onslaught of terrors. 

At least de Armas gives her all. A Cuban actor who’s left positive impressions in such films as “Knives Out” and “No Time to Die,” her impression of Norma Jeane’s voice and appearance is uncanny, particularly in Dominik’s painstaking recreations of iconic moments from Norma Jeane’s career.

De Armas’ commitment to the role overshadows the rest of the cast — though Bobby Cannavale and Adrien Brody stand out as Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller, respectively. Her portrayal is especially impactful when we witness the moment she quietly shifts from the crumbling Norma Jeane into the confident, alluring Marilyn — a character that she can disappear into, if never remove herself from. 

But although de Armas has the acting chops to explore Norma Jeane’s multifaceted headspace — and the real-life woman’s successes and triumphs amidst the gloom — “Blonde” doesn’t give her much room to delve into her complexities. A romance with Eddy G. Robinson Jr. (Evan Williams) and Charlie Chaplin Jr. (Xavier Samuel) marks one of the only times she actually feels companionship in the entire film, if only briefly and later upended — including a sex scene that seemingly warps and stretches the screen to pretentious effect.

Rather, more often than not, de Armas is reduced to hysterical outbursts and a performance defined by repetition, enduring violence against her (continually) naked body and her mind. Viewers aren’t granted any noteworthy insights into the dark side of Hollywood, being force-fed familiar points of misogyny, sexism, and mental illness. Even with fleeting moments here and there of Norma Jeane getting a chance to voice her opinions and demonstrate her intelligence, “Blonde” reduces her to a one-note, broken husk of a character, putting Dominik’s in-your-face filmmaking at the forefront. 

Speaking of, “Blonde” certainly doesn’t lack artistic creativity, for better and worse. Jumping between different aspect ratios and switching between black-and-white and color photography (seemingly with little reason), Chayse Irvin’s immersive cinematography is complemented by editing that’s alternately, woozy, ethereal, brutally uncompromising, and invasive.

Through this, “Blonde” effectively creates feelings of discomfort, irritability, and shocked hypnotism. The score, by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, captures a melancholy that hints at the emotion lurking somewhere at the story’s core, begging to be released.

Still, for all the transfixion gleaned from the film’s flourishes, “Blonde” is chock full of scenes that dehumanize, violate, and demean Norma Jeane, bashing viewers over the head with the awful ways she’s treated, as well as the ever-present public eye, full of men whose mouths gape open as if to swallow her whole. From abortions viewed from the perspective of Norma Jeane’s vagina, to an absolutely vile fellatio scene late in the film that juxtaposes a spaceship crashing into the White House with reaching an orgasm, it all just begs the question… Why was this necessary?

And that’s the final takeaway from “Blonde.” Despite individual elements that shine, the overall piece is more confusing and maddening than satisfying, leaving me frustrated thinking of the powerful film that could have been.

Blonde. Ana de Armas as Marilyn Monroe. Cr. Netflix © 2022

“Blonde” is a 2022 drama-fantasy written and directed by Andrew Dominik and starring Ana de Armas, Adrien Brody, Bobby Cannavale, Xavier Samuel, Garret Dillahunt, Julianne Nicholson, and Lily Fisher. It is rated NC-17 for some sexual content and the runtime is 2 hours, 46 minutes. It streams on Netflix beginning Sept. 28, and is in selected theaters Sept. 23 (but not in St. Louis). Alex’s Grade: C- 

By Lynn Venhaus
Based on the 2000 fictional novel by Joyce Carol Oates, “Blonde” is a deeply flawed semi-biopic that blurs fantasy and reality regarding the life of movie star Marilyn Monroe. The reality is an alarming American tragedy, and the fiction is a relentlessly disturbing film.

The film “Blonde” reimagines the life of the Hollywood legend, from her traumatic childhood as Norma Jeane Baker, through her rise to stardom and romantic entanglement. Writer-director Andrew Dominik blurs the lines of fact and fiction, exploring the difference between her public and private self

With its NC-17 rating and shocking graphic sexual content, “Blonde” is a polarizing, controversial take on one of Hollywood’s most enduring icons. Norma Jeane deserved better in life, and a much better  representation in a film after her death.

Not that Ana de Armas doesn’t impress in a remarkable transformation as the stunningly gorgeous, breathy-voiced actress whose traumatic childhood forever damaged her psyche. She has the look, the voice, and the demeanor down pat in her recreation, but regrettably, spends a huge chunk of the film in tears.

She wears those memorable outfits well, and costume designer Jennifer Johnson captures every look in meticulous detail.

With such copious nudity and its 2-hour, 46-minute runtime, at least a half-hour of bare breasts could have been cut. Not that more incisive editing would have saved the film, but it sure would have helped.

Writer-director Andrew Dominik worked on bringing this adaptation to the screen for over 10 years. The source material is already suspect anyway because it’s filmed as a dreamy fantasy – so unless you know the factual details of Marilyn’s life, you will be adrift. What’s fake and what really happened? You’ll have to find that out on your own.

For instance, her first husband, baseball legend Joe DiMaggio, is not referred to by name in the credits, only “Ex-Athlete.” To be fair, Bobby Cannavale is a fine embodiment of the slugger.

Bobby Cannavale and Ana de Armas

As her second husband Arthur Miller, Adrien Brody fares better and has the best scene when they first talk. It’s well-established that Miller was captivated by her enthusiasm for ‘the work,’ and her knowledge of literature and characters. She had an intuitive sense of the material, but sadly, wasn’t allowed to realize her great potential.

Growing up with a schizophrenic mother (a terrifying performance by Julianne Nicholson), Norma Jeane was sent to an orphanage. She endured so much hardship that we see why she had massive daddy issues and just wanted to be loved. Young actress Lily Fisher is gut-wrenching as the young Norma Jeane.

Starting out as a model, Monroe transitioned to film – her first role was in the Oscar-winning “All About Eve” as the wicked George Sanders’ date. The studio system’s casting couch is nothing new, but the way Marilyn was brutalized by men in power is upsetting. Treated like a boy-toy and nothing more than a sexual plaything is quite unsettling, and when the film dissolves into porn-like scenes with her lascivious pals Charlie Chaplin Jr. (Xavier Samuel) and Edgar G. Robinson Jr. (Garret Dillahunt), it’s squirm-time.

(I’m wondering how long it will take Netflix viewers to turn off the film after those graphic sexual encounters take place). The sleazier things, especially the lewd JFK scene, are painful..

The fantasy aspect is reason for concern, and after revealing she has a studio-ordered abortion, then she loses a baby through miscarriage, later. Did we need a voice and image of the fetuses?

Dominik’s overly melodramatic and turgid script, which he describes as an avalanche of images and events, is muddled and messy, and does not serve the actress well. No one is depicted in a good light. (Although cinematographer Chayse Irvin’s work with stark black and white vs. scenes of technicolor is interesting).

The movie shows only fleeting snippets of joy, and yes, her public and private images are contrasted in a very uncomfortable way. — lecherous and leery distortions.

“Blonde” is a confusing, perturbing, grim film that does the tragic star a disservice and winds up more of a nightmare because of its fever dream elements. I will never watch this again, and I can’t unsee things I wish I could.

“Blonde” is a 2022 drama-fantasy written and directed by Andrew Dominik and starring Ana de Armas, Adrien Brody, Bobby Cannavale, Xavier Samuel, Garret Dillahunt, Julianne Nicholson, and Lily Fisher.
It is rated NC-17 for some sexual content and the runtime is 2 hours, 46 minutes.
It streams on Netflix beginning Sept. 28, and is in selected theaters Sept. 23 (but not in St. Louis). Lynn’s Grade: D.

By Lynn Venhaus
Think New Yorker meets Highlights for the literary geek chic. As a paean to print, “The French Dispatch” is a glorious reminder of how turning pages, enraptured in an article, can take us away to other worlds.

Set in an outpost of an American newspaper – the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun — in a fictional 20th century French city. It brings to life a collection of stories published in the final edition of the newspaper empire’s Sunday magazine, following the death of the editor (Bill Murray).

Experiencing a Wes Anderson film is like being transported into an illustrated picture book with stunning artistically complex worlds both familiar and of wonder – feeling new and nostalgic at the same time.

It is always a unique event that I look forward to with great anticipation, having listed “The Royal Tenenbaums,” “Moonrise Kingdom” and “The Grand Budapest Hotel” among my favorite movies of the 21st Century. And his whimsical stop-animation features “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” and “The Isle of Dogs” (his last movie in 2018) are genius.

No matter if they connect or not, all his films of the past 30 years are painstakingly detailed works of art that offer something different – and feature wit, eccentric characters, superb music accompaniment, and striking composed visuals as common threads.

Therefore, it pains me to say that while “The French Dispatch” is a love letter to journalists and has considerable quirky charms, with dizzying fanciful techniques and the director’s distinctive symmetrical style, color palette and designs, it is at once too much and not enough.

‘THE FRENCH DISPATCH.’ (Photo Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures. © 2020 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation All Rights Reserved)

Set in the truly inspired metropolis Ennui-sur-Blasé (which translated, means “Boredom-on-Apathy,” with a wink), this sophisticated exercise is an overstuffed toy box that melds too many concepts to be as satisfying as his top three. And despite its splendid cast, there isn’t a single character that emotionally resonates.

This anthology, running 1 hour 48 minutes, is crowded with enough content for 10 movies. Anderson’s offbeat screenplay, with a story conceived with Roman Coppola, Jason Schwartzman, and Hugo Guinness, is divided to fit the magazine’s sections: arts and artists, politics/poetry and tastes and smells, but starts and ends with the life and death of diligent editor Arthur Horowitz Jr. – played by Anderson all-star Bill Murray, just as droll as ever.

In “The Concrete Masterpiece” by J.K.L. Berensen (Tilda Swinton), which goes off the rails two-thirds in, Benicio del Toro plays Moses Rosenthaler, a psychopathic artist who paints critically acclaimed abstracts in prison, uses Simone (Lea Seydoux), a female prison guard as a nude model, and attracts the attention of Cadazio, an imperious, impatient art exhibitor played by Adrien Brody, backed by his two businessmen uncles (brief appearance by Henry Winkler and Bob Balaban).

“Revisions to a Manifesto” has student radicals protest, which leads to “The Chessboard Revolution,” with rebel leader Zeffirelli (Timothee Chalamet), who gets the attention of no-nonsense scribe Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand). This meanders and should have ended midway.

The third is “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner,” as recounted by urbane food writer Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright) in a television interview with talk show host (Liev Schreiber). This is a complex crime caper involving multiple characters, many locations, and quite a roster of talent.

At times, these short stories seem indulgent, rambling, and tedious. Sharper pacing would have helped with the storytelling, which does benefit from the gifted performers who find their rhythm and deliver crisp dialogue in the earnest manner one expects in these idiosyncratic tableaus.

Owen Wilson, who has been in eight Anderson movies, second only to Murray, is good-natured staff writer Herbsaint Sazerac, who takes us on an amusing tour of the city. Anjelica Huston, aka Mrs. Tenenbaum, capably handles narration duty this time –a lovely addition.

One of the pleasures of this film is to see such a star-studded array of repertory players, and more – among them, Saoirse Ronan, Tony Revolori, Christoph Waltz, Willem Dafoe, Edward Norton, Steve Park, Lois Wilson, Fisher Stevens, and Griffin Dunne.

The pandemic delayed this film’s release by a year, which heightened expectations and allowed a clever literary marketing campaign to enchant with graphics and snippets, modeled after venerable periodicals from days gone by. The film premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in July, where it received a nine-minute standing ovation.

Having spent nearly a half-century working at publications, the editorial office setting was the most intriguing yet the least focus — an aperitif instead of an entrée. With every bon mot that Murray tossed off as the veteran editor corralled correspondents, I wanted more of that colorful staff.

The sight of Murray taking a pencil to hard copy, as ink-stained editors once did in non-cubical newsrooms, should make journalists yearn for a grizzled authority figure to cut their long-winded prose and hand the typed papers back with gruff remarks and certain expectations. Writers may weep at the sight of a proofreader and a layout guy trying to fit linotype into a grid, for it’s part of a cherished past.

As a film, tightening those long-winded vignettes would have made a difference.

Nevertheless, the production elements are exceptional, especially from frequent Anderson cinematographer Robert D. Yeoman, flipping between black-and-white and color, and other collaborators Oscar-winning production designer Adam Stockhausen (for “Grand Budapest Hotel”) and costume designer Milena Canonero, four-time Oscar winner including “Grand Budapest Hotel,” and composer Alexander Desplat’s score.

Still, a Wes Anderson movie is like hanging out with erudite English Literature majors, some of whom are raconteurs and iconoclasts, who motivate you to add books and adventures to your to-do lists.

The French Dispatch” is a 2021 comedy-drama directed by Wes Anderson and starring Bill Murray, Benicio del Toro, Lea Seydoux, Timothee Chalamet, Frances McDormand, Tilda Swinton, Adrien Brody, Jeffrey Wright, Owen Wilson and Elisabeth Moss. It’s run time is 1 hour, 48 minutes and is rated R for graphic nudity, some sexual references and language. In theaters Oct. 29. Lynn’s Grade: B.
Portions of this review were published in the Webster-Kirkwood Times and discussed on KTRS Radio.