Netflix’s Blonde- An American Horror Story And Why We Still Can’t Leave Marilyn Monroe Alone

A lot of words come to mind when watching Blonde, the newest bit of celluloid, to capitalize on pop icon Marilyn Monroe. The film based on the book by Joyce Carol Oates is savage. It skewers the system for creating Marilyn and the many men who exploited her. It also takes punches at all of us for watching. Uncomfortable, shocking, painful, and grotesque are all words that readily spring to mind. The word I heard most often, though, was complicit. After sixty years, we are all still obsessed with Marilyn and cashing in on her misery. If Handmaid’s Tale is misery porn, Blonde is nihilism porn.

Oates’s book is not a biography. Rather it is a fictional imagining of what it must have felt like to be Norma Jean and Marilyn Monroe. Through her turbulent childhood, which is relatively close to the fictional account Oates wrote clear to her death(or murder, depending on how much of a conspiracy theorist you are), her life was unhappy. The start of her career and the multitude of marriages and affairs are all captured in black and white drudgery or swirling hypnotic brightness. Everyone wanted a piece of Marilyn until there was nothing left. Most of Blonde is rooted in what we know, but some of the genuinely shocking moments are Oates’ renderings.

Blonde is unnerving viewing. Make no mistake; this is a horror movie. It isn’t a slasher. There are no demons, although there is plenty of evil and no ghosts. It is a horror film because she still haunts us. She deserves to. It’s horrible and sad and so tragic. It’s easy to forget when you see some of her classic movies like Gentleman Prefer Blondes and The Seven Year Itch that she was a real person, not just a sexpot persona. She resonates with us. In a time in America when women finally felt like we had a voice with the Weinsteins and the Epsteins of the world getting their comeuppance, it only took one court decision to rip that false confidence away.

Blonde feels timely. It feels like her pain is ours. She isn’t just a symbol to be ogled by men. She is a cautionary tale for women. Marilyn was also an example of a bright, confident woman destroyed by time and exploitation. She was pimped out, primped, and drugged up. She then was pointed in the direction they wanted her to perform, and like the monkey from Nope, she was decimated by it.

Blonde depicts many pregnancies of Marilyn, most of which end in abortion in the film. Those scenes, more than any other, will stick with me. There is no proof that she had abortions or that they were forced on her, like in the film, but it feels real and plausible in a way that leaves me feeling dirty. We know that Marilyn had several devastating miscarriages during her marriage with Arthur Miller, who is depicted as the kindest of all the men if still problematically paternalistic. Whether she had abortions or miscarriages is hardly relevant; the result is the same. The woman who seemed to desperately want someone to love was always denied.

I think the reason Marilyn Monroe is so ever-lasting is her star power was tempered by so much agony. She is a symbol of womanhood and what we have to endure at different times in our lives. The fear of walking alone, navigating a predatory workplace, or losing a child are all her stories we share. We relate to her regardless of her glamorous looks and impossible voice and figure. Depending on the kind of man you are, you either want to consume her or save her. She continues to be that affecting a character.

Blonde is a tough but necessary watch. It won’t be for everyone. There will be those repulsed by many of the scenes. But, from the beatings at the hands of Joe DiMaggio to the graphic abortions complete with internal speculum shots and wet, slick sounds, and the several rapes, Marilyn kept going. Mostly that was because the machine kept her plied with enough drugs to tranquilize an elephant, but she plastered on the smile and kept going. That should be her legacy, not the scandals or sexualized image. Her strength.

Her divorce from DiMaggio, which should have been his shame after the common knowledge that he was an abuser, was hers. Perhaps the most painful and shocking scene to watch is a coerced bit of presidential oral sex culminating in her violent rape. It is rough and very, very graphic. Although no genitalia is shown, her mouth and hands are in close-up sadness. It is chilling in the same way that Requiem For A Dream is.

I felt bad watching Blonde. As if I was a voyeuristic vulture taking pleasure from her pain, and there was so much pain. It is a portrait of a world dominated by cruelty, ambition, and misogyny. It’s not something we should be proud of. We created Marilyn as much as she herself did. We wanted the childlike but sensual enchantress, the Madonna, the victim. It’s not pretty, but lies seldom are. Poor Marilyn never really had a chance. We won’t ever know what she was thinking all those horrendous years, and we may never know how she died. Perhaps that’s why we can’t let go of our candle in the wind.

Nobody defines pop iconery like Marilyn Monroe. She is a touchstone for stardom and what was and sometimes continues to be wrong with Hollywood and America in general. Maybe we can’t let Marilyn finally rest in peace because she is all of us. She is the beauty, the American dream, and the nightmare all rolled into one. What happened to her was all of our faults, and we are still culpable. Maybe it’s time to stop glorifying the tragedy and focus on her art. It is the only thing left of hers that wasn’t taken by the many men who wanted her and the power players that broke her.

Blonde is currently streaming on Netflix.