Through a Feminist Lens: a feminist review of Blonde (2022)
Cinematic Beauty and Artistic Flourish
“Blonde,” directed by Andrew Dominik, is drenched in a sumptuous aesthetic, capturing the golden haze of Old Hollywood glamour as it flickers through costumes, sets, and the luminous cinematography by Chayse Irvin. Film lovers will find much to admire in its revelry of iconic style. Dominik ambitiously takes on the monumental task of bringing Joyce Carol Oates’ fictionalized account of Marilyn Monroe’s life to the screen, dazzling audiences with a visual style that can only be described as a painterly homage to a bygone era. Each frame seems to glow with a kind of melancholic nostalgia that quietly celebrates the larger-than-life image of Monroe. However, beneath this visual glitz, the film’s narrative choices require a deeper examination through a feminist lens.
Examining Marilyn: The Weight of Beauty and Tragedy
At its core, “Blonde” appears to position itself as a psychological exploration rather than a linear biopic, threading viewer consciousness through the supposed emotional turmoil of Monroe, portrayed with haunting fragility by Ana de Armas. While the film’s commitment to immersing its audience in Monroe’s internal struggles is poignant, it inadvertently veers into an all-too-familiar narrative trap: the fetishization of female suffering. The camera’s lingering gaze often seems uncomfortably invasive, turning Monroe’s anguish into a spectacle. In adopting Monroe as a symbol of Hollywood’s exploitative machine, “Blonde” risks perpetuating the very trope it seeks to critique – the mythologization of a woman defined by her vulnerability and pain. This portrayal of Monroe reduces her to a tragic figure entirely subsumed by her beauty and victimhood, stifling the possibility for greater agency or autonomy within her story.
Women and Their Voices in “Blonde”
In “Blonde,” dialogues between women are sparse, and when they occur, they are often undercut by the looming shadow of male presence or expectation. Dominik’s narrative constructs a world where Monroe’s interactions are predominantly mediated through the men who court her, manage her, or betray her. The film offers scant instances where women’s conversations propel the plot forward or serve as more than mere exposition of Monroe’s tragic life. Her few meaningful exchanges with other female characters rarely transcend discussions of men or fame, suggesting a world where women’s roles are defined by their orbit around male actors. As a feminist examining “Blonde,” one must question whether Monroe’s story is truly hers, or another’s appropriation of her myth. The absence of dynamic female voices throughout the narrative highlights a missed opportunity to explore themes of solidarity or resistance among women in a deeply patriarchal Hollywood.
Gender Roles and Narrative Agency
Despite its nuanced artistic craftsmanship, “Blonde” occasionally reinforces traditional gender norms under the guise of exploring Monroe’s inner world. The narrative often frames her ambition and sensuality in ways that suggest they are at odds with her pursuit of genuine intimacy and familial happiness. This portrayal subtly reasserts outdated dichotomies – the impossible balance between career and personal fulfillment, particularly for women – reinforcing the societal expectation that true happiness is forever linked to domestic stability or masculine validation. While the film’s intent may be to critique these notions, its focus on despair over empowerment can inadvertently fortify them, leaving viewers pondering the potential lost to reframe Monroe as a figure of resilient complexity.
The Symbolism of “Blonde”
Ultimately, “Blonde” stands as a complex tapestry interweaving art and narrative with mixed results. Its aesthetic achievements are stunning, yet the ideological fabric woven around Monroe’s character presents a less successful portrait. As a symbol, Monroe remains trapped within a cycle of objectification and tragedy in Dominik’s retelling, and the film could inspire discussion on the legacy of this representation: Does it liberate Monroe’s narrative by revealing the systemic constraints on her agency, or does it comply with an antiquated, limiting vision of womanhood where sheer beauty is equated to inevitable downfall? This is the question demanded of advocates for storytelling that not only adorns its subjects with cinematic grace but also imbues them with unyielding dignity. Despite its flaws, “Blonde” is an important cultural artifact for the conversations it provokes about gender, fame, and the portraiture of women in cinema.
