Blonde review, Culture Whisper
At the risk of universalising the unique experience of the most famous actress and sex symbol of the 20th century: Blonde is relatable, if only slightly. Andrew Dominik’s controversial account of Norma Jeane Baker (Ana de Armas) – based on the 740-page tome by Joyce Carol Oates – shows that human schism between who you are inside and what the outer world wants you to be.
Norma Jeane is constantly torn between herself and The Studio creation of Marilyn Monroe. One is her true self, to which only a few have access; the other is like patriarchal property, burdened with male presumptions that fit her brainless stereotype. When she discusses Chekhov and Dostoyevsky, men scoff in disbelief. They presume and want the dumb blonde bombshell.
Through this near-three-hour film, Norma Jeane’s sense of identity fractures into fragile, reflective shards. Dominik arranges these pieces into an order, yet with a disorientating flow: mixing colour and black and white together, expanding and collapsing the frame with different aspect ratios.
