Da-da-daddy’s always out of reach — why ‘Blonde’s a bad story
I’ve been trying to pinpoint what bugged me about ‘Blonde’ so much for a while now. It wasn’t that the movie was trite and cliche-ic. If there hadn’t been such hype, I think the stellar acting all round might’ve balanced out the plot, but as it was, it seems to have flailed pathetically across screens big and small.
In truth, there were many poorly constructed moments, from the cringy to the downright depressingly bad cinema. But the one part that just got under my skin was Norma Jean’s obsessive, exaggerated use of the word “daddy”.
The first time you hear it, in regards to Mr. Shinn, Marilyn’s Weinstein-like benefactor, it hits the spot. It suits the relationship, down to the creepy connotations. But by the time she’s calling Arthur Miller “daddy” for the 10th time (and not in a sexy way), it’s just poor writing.
What bothered me so much about ‘Blonde’ was that it took the “Marilyn Monroe myth” (because it is, at this point, a larger-than-life pop culture myth) and fitted it into this narrow, cliche-ridden box. It seemed almost vengeful in portraying Marilyn Monroe as a victim. Of several crimes, throughout the film, yet none looming larger than her father’s abandonment.
As someone who grew up without a father, I found the portrayal insulting. Because it boxed her (and presumably all children in single-parent families) into a perpetual victim. We never see Marilyn grow up, and learn to live with a reality that is common for so many. Instead, we see her degraded and continuously making poor life choices, allowing lecherous men to use and debase her, all because she didn’t have a dad.
Defining yourself (or someone else) as a victim of something forever ties you to the event, often to something horrible someone else did to you, thus casting you as the forever passive supporting cast in your own drama.
Growing up without either parent is difficult. It creates mental health issues, and makes you doubt your own self-worth. It predisposes you to putting yourself in risky situations.
I think most children who grew up in “broken homes” wondered at one point whether there was something wrong with them. Is it me? It’s gotta be. Maybe I don’t deserve a “normal” family.
And it’s movies like ‘Blonde’ that tell you no, you actually don’t, which seems so infuriating to me. By never allowing Norma Jean to move past her desperate “daddy” searching phase, the film reduces her to this unhappy circumstance of her life, that she was abandoned by her dad.
We are not the rape victim, or the abuse victim, or the abandonment victim. We are these wonderfully rich and complex human beings, a soul that can’t be defined by atrocity, or good fortune alike. Not the wave that crashes against the oar, but rather the skilled (or less so) sailor, navigating treacherous tides.
That’s how it pissed me off personally. However, it didn’t hold a candle to the writer in me who recognized it for what it was — sloppy writing.
If I tried to sell you a book about this little girl who gets abandoned, and that’s all, she sorta stays the abandoned girl forever, and that’s it, well it would be a tough sell, wouldn’t it? I adore stories that explore psychological trauma and development. And there is such potential in what abandonment, coupled with a predisposition to mental instability can do to you. This, however, feels like a slap-up writing session 15 minutes before shooting. There is no depth to a character who doesn’t advance past the first 20 minutes of a film.
As the audience, what reason do I have not to turn off the film after those initial 20 minutes? We watch movies, see plays, listen to songs and read books because they tell a story. It’s an important aspect of why religion has such a strong hold on people — it tells one hell of a compelling story. It is in our nature to want to see characters evolve, and be changed. Even Peter Pan eventually discovers that staying a child forever is delusional. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t like his character very much, because it would be one-dimensional.
From the artist’s point of view, it’s just a bad story. ‘Blonde’ wastes almost three hours without telling you anything. If this were a faithful biopic, it wouldn’t need to, since it would just be a recounting of major events in Marilyn’s life. But it’s a largely fictional account with little relevance to actual fact. Now, I’ll refrain from commenting on the book it’s based on, as I haven’t read it. Though having read other works by Joyce Carol Oates, it’s not at all surprising that the movie follows the same pattern: builds in the beginning, then flounders.
Much like ‘Elvis’, ‘Blonde’ goes to considerable trouble to emphasize the helplessness of its heroine. It’s all “look at all the bad things that were done to her”, essentially stripping away any personal accountability. And that’s not a message that resonates with me, and I hope it doesn’t, with other — particularly young — audiences, either.
You may not control what others do to you, but you always have a choice how you respond to atrocity, and how you let evil affect you. What makes a strong character isn’t the absence of adversity, cruelty, or horror. It’s the resilience and inner strength that allows them not to break down when any of those strike.
Because they will strike.
As the title hints, this is an opinion piece. If you enjoyed ‘Blonde’, that’s your prerogative. This isn’t a ‘my opinion is better than yours’ post. It’s a ‘this is my opinion, period’ post.
