Exploding Star

I just saw Blonde, the film adaption of Joyce Carol Oates’ epic novel, a fictionalized version of Marilyn Monroe’s life. My God: like watching a beautiful but totally hapless woman being chased by dogs that tear off her clothes before a jeering crowd which sexually assaults her and then kicks her in the rear with humiliating sound effects before dumping her down a sewer. A dispiriting, actually sadistic spectacle especially considering that it’s based on a beyond-words extraordinary, uniquely gifted, tough and graceful artist who’s hard-won success and glamor is rightly celebrated and revered 60 years after her death—glory which doesn’t show up for a minute in this movie.