Blonde

After peeling back the layers of what we think we know about the titular outlaw in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, writer/director Andrew Dominik investigates another American myth — Marilyn Monroe — to fascinating ends in Blonde.

Based on the novel by Joyce Carol Oates, the film doesn’t purport to be the most accurate take on the iconic actor, or even a true biopic. But in its exploration of Norma Jeane’s life and its numerous highs and lows, it may very well be the most honest.

That’s a remarkable accomplishment, considering the depth of intentional artifice on display. From the stunning recreations of numerous recognizable photos and film scenes, to electric star Ana de Armas’ native Cuban accent occasionally shining through, everything in Blonde feels purposeful and a means of getting at what made this particular celebrity tick.

Through Chayse Irvin’s gorgeous cinematography — which thrillingly hops from color to B&W with no clear guiding rules — a haunting score by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, and active storytelling that makes the near three hour runtime feel like half that much, Dominik crafts a hypnotic atmosphere in which our protagonist’s tragic quest for happiness can unfold.

The series of traumas that Norma Jeane experiences and her attempts to heal the pain with various relationships and stimulants, all the while sustaining her public persona, blend to form an intoxicating, cyclical mix of conflicts and resolutions. Into this troubled environment step quick-fix beaus Joe DiMaggio (Bobby Cannavale) and Arthur Miller (Adrien Brody), both so recognizable in their own regards that they go unnamed, leading to multiple pregnancies that Dominik briefly depicts in utero to insightfully accent her pain at being denied motherhood, which she sees as her only true escape from the trappings of stardom.

In addition to revisiting the memorable imagery that composed Marilyn’s fame, Blonde works in modern elements of celebrity culture to more fully link the generations, namely lighting that echoes the raccoon-eyed night-vision of a homemade sex tape in the film’s terrifying climactic sequence.

Here and throughout this phenomenal work, it’s often difficult to stomach the pain that Norma Jeane endures. But thanks to Dominik’s technical mastery, soulful writing, and a true ensemble willing to embark on this experiment with him all working in near complete harmony, it’s clear that the journey has a point — and the plentiful takeaways make it all very much worthwhile.

Grade: A-minus. Rated NC-17. Available to stream via Netflix

(Photo: Netflix)