Written by: Adrian Hodges
Full credits at IMDb
This sort of reminded me of The King's Speech. There's a scene in which production-assistant protagonist Colin takes Miss Monroe on a sight-seeing tour of England's grandest grounds and institutions while narrating their histories—and then gets Derek Fucking Jacobi himself to meet them as a kind of ambassador! Since when did American movies get so sentimental for the English crown? If the Academy defines these kinds of monarchy-boosting as prestigious, and then we raise our daughters to idolize Disney princesses... this is how democracy dies. Anyway, do we really have to talk about this movie? I guess just for Miss Michelle Williams' embodiment of Miss Monroe, eh? She does a thorough job of impersonation, but that's easy because, like any icon, Marilyn was all signifiers: mole, white dress, platinum curls, a whispery coo and lipstick as red as a Coca Cola can. But Williams also captures her emotional life—the insecurity and private anguish. The gratitude pouring out of her eyes every time she's paid a compliment made me want to cry, until maybe the sixth or so time she does it. It's a good performance—Williams is always terrific—but I'll take Meek's Cutoff, thanks. (Even Dawson's Creek DVDs, honestly. Those crazy kids!) The role is straight-up Oscarbait: the tortured soul of the bombshell superstar, the private life of the public figure. Keep reading my conversation with Benjamin Sutton at The L Magazine
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