Chris_Docker

Marilyn Monroe has the enduring persona that makes everyone want to know something about her. The film "Blonde" has enough glitz, once one has started to watch, to make one keep watching hoping for something pleasant, inspiring, entertaining or informative to come out if it. It doesn't.

The director claims (or defends himself by claiming) that it is "all fiction". Indeed, it was based on a work of fiction, a novel by Joyce Carol Oates of the same name. Yet it names Marilyn Monroe as its central character, the screen name used by Norma Jean and who, under whatever name, was not a work of fiction. It uses the most horrific events (or supposed events) from that person's existence more or less to suggest "this was the sum total of Marilyn Monroe's life".

There is no let up. Apart from a few brief moments of beauty in Arthur Miller's garden, it is a concatenation of misery. There is enough factual detail to make it 'authentic' - in the most tabloid-declamatory way, casually seasoned with large helpings of unerotic gratuitous nudity and constant close-ups - normally used in made-for-TV films - so that one doesn't miss expressions to which long shots would have given contextual clarity on a bigger screen - unsurprisingly as it is destined for the Netflix market.

There is one problem here. Marilyn Monroe was a superstar like no other. One of the most famous actresses of showbiz mythology. An icon that has never been replicated. The film shows only the sleaze. Even the famous and artistically beautiful shot of the white dress blowing up from Some Like it Hot, one of the most enduring images of the 20th century, is quickly reviled as it cuts to Joe DiMaggio beating her up for her 'lack of propriety'.

Most of the trauma in the personal life of Marilyn Monroe is on record. Any that isn't or not very well documented is gleefully extrapolated by director Andrew Dominik as if competing for the audience of the lowest, sleaziest tabloid. "Blonde" is akin to almost three hours of character assassination, as if it were all this great star stood for: the shameful atrocities inflicted upon her. Fortunately Marilyn Monroe is and was greater than that, and will endure longer than Andrew Dominik's shameful, 'fictional' biopic.

The audience doesn't know if Cary Grant's character is really a good guy or an evil schemer until the very last moment. A great tribute to Hitchcock's power as a director. Clear, concise storytelling, not s frame wasted, and superb performances as the two leads carry off their parts to perfection. The basic dynamic has had many copyists since, none as good.

Interesting also from a female perspective is, how male polite charm slid so easily into ordering a woman about and, what was almost as bad, how women in those days put up with it.

Baz Luhrmann's Elvis sets out to give a rough biography of the star and his relationship with a controlling manager. In uncovering some less generally known material it succeeds and, however many shortcuts it takes with historical accuracy, is to be lauded for its efforts. The same goes for the powerhouse performances by Tom Hanks (who plays the manager) and Austin Butler (who plays Elvis). Any shortcomings are clearly in the lap of Mr Luhrmann, and there his brilliance of technique which served him so well in Romeo + Juliet and Strictly Ballroom are here part of the downfall.

In The Great Gatsby, he gave us a 'biopic' based on a fictional character that drew us into the story, much as it does in F. Scott Fitzgerald book upon which it was based. In Elvis however, there is a vast amount of actual data he feels compelled to include, along with multiple visual effects such as split screens and blends. But the real problem is a complete excess of cuts, such that there is barely a shot that lasts more than ten seconds. Although the drama picks up a bit in the last half hour, the dizzying effect of tconstant cuts is that the audience doesn't have time to relax into any one scene and fully identify with the characters.

The second problem is that this was never going to be a happy ending. Hanks' character is overpoweringly manipulative - which is appropriate for the plot - although it does mean the film is more about the manager than the singer. There is no retribution. It becomes reads more like a densely written TV documentary than cinema.

The saving quality is the singing, both in vocal quality and the sentimental value of famous songs. As tension builds up towards the finale we do actually wonder how Elvis could have been pushed around for so long and Hanks provides a very convincing answer. But at over two and a half hours long I could have done with a briefer synopsis and more singing. It was a good plot, but could have been much more enjoyable. To be honest, I couldn't wait for it to end: but given the absence of a modern film about a great singer, many less critical viewers will still be delighted.