
A day before this article came out, I was walking down Oxford Street when I locked eyes with Marilyn Monroe, or at least a cardboard cut-out of her. Her image was plastered all around an adult shop advertising their most recent erotic toy in the window. “A Marilyn Monroe Special Edition”, the big letters announced. It got me thinking about her image and all the ways it has been used. Even though I hated Blonde, Andrew Dominik’s unconventional and often cruel Marilyn Monroe biopic, I must admit that I was taken aback by some scenes. At once, I was mesmerised and disgusted by the image of Monroe naked on her bed, with a phone receiver in one hand, lifeless and still. At best, Blonde is a hypnotising collage of images that never quite form a cohesive whole. At worst, it’s a dehumanising, sexist, disgusting piece of trash. Recreating some famous shots of Marilyn in the film, Dominik is reducing the film star and notorious sex symbol to just an image, something familiar but ultimately lifeless and distant.

Credit: Netflix

Credit: Netflix
Is Blonde based on true events?
Blonde is based on Joyce Carol Oates’ novel of the same name, and Oates has always been clear that her book is a work of fiction. Netflix’s little blurb on Blonde also has the word ‘fictionalised’. Some events are wholly made up, while some have roots in reality. For example, there is no objective evidence that Monroe had any abortions, especially studio-mandated ones. Dominik places a camera inside Monroe’s vagina as a doctor places a speculum inside her and also has a CGI fetus begging for Monroe not to hurt it. Planned Parenthood has hit back against these scenes and has called the film “anti-abortion propaganda”. It’s hard to disagree, but there are so many things in Blonde that enrage. One would simply run out of energy less than halfway through the film.
Credit: Baron/Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Sharon Tate and Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood
You may remember one of the most awkward press conferences from Cannes 2019 as Quentin Tarantino premiered his new film, Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood. Margot Robbie memorably played Tate in Tarantino’s film and illuminated the screen with her star power. A press member asked about Tarantino’s choice not to give Tate much dialogue in the movie. Tarantino heatedly hit back at the notion that his film might be seen as misogynistic in some way, saying, “I reject your hypothesis!”
Margot Robbie as Sharon Tate in Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood. Credit: Sony Pictures Releasing



Hilary Duff in The Haunting of Sharon Tate. Credit: Saban Films
Who Owns Marilyn Monroe’s Estate?
The question of how Blonde could be made, and by extension anything about Sharon Tate, is a question of legality. Marilyn was unmarried and didn’t have children at the time of her passing, and in her will, Marilyn left 75 per cent of her estate to her acting coach, Lee Strasberg and his wife. After Strasberg’s wife died, he married Anna Mizrahi, but when Strasberg himself died in 1982, Mizrahi inherited the estate and was able to monetise it. She eventually hired CMG Worldwide to handle Marilyn’s image and its licensing. But here’s the thing. You don’t always need an estate’s permission to produce art about people. It’s trickier when your subject is alive and kicking, but the Right To Privacy, a legal right to have a reasonable degree of privacy, expires when you die.
Credit: Netflix
Why Is Blonde Such a Big Deal?
With a flashy premiere at the Venice Film Festival, Andrew Dominik’s film was destined for greatness until the scathing reviews came in. It’s a film that insists on stripping Marilyn from any real agency and power. Did you know that she co-founded a production company? You would never know from Dominik’s film, which ultimately leaves out anything that doesn’t go with his chosen image of a victim he has assigned for Marilyn. For Dominik, Marilyn is both a victim and the reason for her downfall. She’s angelic and innocent but calls her lovers ‘Daddy’ with pouty lips, engages in steamy threesomes, and fellates the President of the United States on command. It’s a conflicting, deeply misogynistic image of Marilyn, who was much more complex in real life. There is no honest attempt to understand or humanise her, only to victimise and sexualise. She remains an object for Dominik and audiences around the world.
Andrew Dominik’s Blonde has proven to be controversial. Credit: Netflix