He accurately displays the legendary actor's sophistication and scurrility, and is bound to receive a supporting Oscar nod. I loved the film's playfulness, for instance when Clark takes Monroe on a tour of Eton, followed by skinny-dipping in a cold river.
The filmmakers do well to capture the craziness of Marilyn's world and the feeling of what it was like to be the most famous woman in the world. There are some lovely little touches — like the scene where Clark asks Monroe why she has a picture of Abe Lincoln by her bedside. Her reply, 'I don't know who my real father was, so why not him? Perhaps it's because he looks so much the underdog. He sort of represents every young man who would have killed to be in his shoes.
Clark has his eyes set on Monroe but resigns himself to the fact that Emma Watson's character, a costume assistant, is more his match. A weakness in the story, although I'm unclear of the veracity, is how underused Watson is and how readily she forgives his liaison with Monroe. Didn't girls have higher standards in those days? Simon Curtis is yet another Englishman who has moved seamlessly from TV to cinema. His film astutely plays down the fact that Colin was brother to the even more famous Alan Clark, a former Conservative MP.
Rightly so, I think. This film isn't about the minister or his also-famous diaries. I'm glad the filmmakers didn't sacrifice the film's integrity by moulding it to be rated 12A British certificate to increase ticket sales.
The two or three flashes of flesh are not only welcome, they are vital Monroe said that 'the body is meant to be seen'. Curtis teases us like Marilyn was famous for doing. But he knows not to go too far by showing us any more than is necessary. In summary, this is a brilliant biopic, as well as a story of what happened when a young man got close to the star he adored.
It is bittersweet and evocative of a golden age of Hollywood. I was made to care for Monroe. I felt bad for her when she was exploited. Along with Elton John's beautiful song, this film has made me understand Norma Jeane Mortenson a little better.
Now I see her as more than a sex symbol. She may have been blonde but she wasn't dumb. Dumb blondes don't read James Joyce or marry Arthur Miller, or come out with some of the wittiest lines a person can utter. She was like all of us, really: a human being. FAQ 1. What happened to Colin Clark after the events of this movie? Details Edit. He was as passionate about friendship as work. He was an artist at both. He lived in the now, letting moments take him wherever they would.
He must have had an apartment or room somewhere, but in all our years as close friends, I never saw it. His energy was unending. He would spend hours talking excitedly, gesturing, scrawling his version of Thurber dogs on napkins, getting up to pace around, crouched like Groucho in a serpentine glide.
Life with him was never at a standstill. Before going out, she put on a performance with the stopper from a bottle of Chanel No. But between moments of being seen, there was another Marilyn, suddenly drained of energy, like the air being let out of a balloon. She sat in a darkening hotel room with drink in hand and went out on the terrace to stare unseeing at the Manhattan skyline. He never asked her to pose. She hardly knew he was there.
Marilyn had never been in a subway. Nobody recognized her. No heads turned. Monroe in the NYC subway. Back up on the street, Marilyn looked around with a teasing smile. In an instant she was engulfed, and it took several shoving, scary minutes to rewrap her and push clear of the growing crowd. The two Marilyns kept fading in and out. At the costume fitting she arrived as the Star, commanding a swarm of tailors, seamstresses, and hangers-on until the Other abruptly emerged and burst into tears of frustration over some detail of the garment.
He framed the scene in the fragmented hall-of-mirrors unreality Orson Welles had created around Rita Hayworth for the finale of The Lady From Shanghai. A stern look over his teacup at the back table was more effective than the rules committee of any private club.
On the facing wall were huge drawings on beaverboard by James Thurber, so valued by Tim that he had had them inked over, varnished, and, when he was forced to move his establishment next door, carefully removed and remounted.
The panels were brown with age and tobacco smoke. Such self-mocking masculinity suited the place. Tim did not abide noisy, pugnacious drunks. Marilyn was wearing a black sleeveless blouse and striped slacks. She sat next to the Thurber drawings at a table across from the bar.
Tim, usually wary of strangers, was clearly intrigued by the blaze of blonde hair at our table and, in a rare gesture, came over to take the orders himself. Tim kept looking at her. Tim gave the order to his brother Joe at the bar and went back to reading his paper.
Eddie smiled again and Tim went back to his paper. In the hour there no one else gave Marilyn more than a quick look. As she was leaving, a photographer at the bar tapped Eddie on the arm. The pictures in Redbook , with my text and captions, showed an unfamiliar, vulnerable Marilyn in soft shades of black and gray.
The opening spread contrasted her solitary sadness with a long shot of photographers almost trampling the elephant she was riding at the circus. Monroe rides a pink elephant at a charity premiere of the circus. In their days together, despite the disparity in looks, I could see Eddie and Marilyn were much alike. They both were somehow more directly connected to life than the rest of us, and more vulnerable.
Like Marilyn, Eddie was given to self-parody to mask the pain of being defenseless against daily living and, like her, desperate to make full use of the gifts such an open nature provides. Just as Marilyn dreaded looking less than perfect in front of the cameras and was always late, so Eddie obsessed over what he did behind the camera and would let no one else develop or print his pictures. In fact if anything it made her all the more determined. I had a wonderful childhood with a very loving family, but when I left school and went into a full-time office job, I found myself stifled by the atmosphere around me.
I wanted to live my dreams and to create a career for myself that embraced what I actually wanted to do. I never did, and after a long time I was able to leave that office and never look back. Thirty years after first becoming a Marilyn fan, my life has changed dramatically and I am now nine years older than she was when she passed away. Yes this actress, who died eight years before I was born, still inspires and informs my life. So why does Marilyn appeal to me now?
Just like when I was a teenager, her beauty and talent are a definite factor, but it goes much deeper than that. She fought not only for her own rights, but the rights of others too. Her tragic end at the age of only thirty-six has ensured that her place in the history books is written as a victim, and yet her bravery, courage and individuality are things many of us aspire to.
Why do people still love Marilyn Monroe? American actress and model Marilyn Monroe died in , and yet people around the world are still fascinated with her life and work.
Here biographer Michelle Morgan explains why Monroe, born Norma Jeane Mortenson in , continues to have such an enchanting appeal… Over the past thirty years I have given dozens of different answers to the question of why Marilyn Monroe continues to appeal to us, because she appeals to people for many different reasons. Sign up for our newsletter Enter your email address below to get the latest news and exclusive content from The History Press delivered straight to your inbox.
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