Thriller. So he tries, sometimes desperately, to sell it. “Blonde”, let’s call it a biopic about her Marilyn Monroe hand Andrew Dominik which you have certainly achieved by noticing on your home page netflix, but also in not entirely enthusiastic review titles.

What the film does not escape from, however, is its exaggeration. melodrama. Picking up the thread from her childhood (so far) Norma Jean and her troubled mother to a bright light and dark ending, the three-hour film returns fire as a menace of hell sent to burn Norma Jean for Marilyn Monroe, alternating between dramatic black-and-white footage and profusely flowing tears. .

But, as you know, hell is other people, and the film “burns out” even before it catches fire. Based on her book of the same name Joyce Carol Oates, “Blonde” can be considered a biography in the way that, say, “The Last Days” by Gus Van Sant was about Kurt Cobain. That is, there is a common realistic base, including, in this case, rapes by Hollywood bigwigs, which do not even exist (as if the film should still terrify with the #MeToo sign), various lovers responding to poetic license. in a relationship – trio with Monroe (oh Charles Chaplin Jr. as well as Edward J. Robinson, Jr.), dumps and baseball shots in a hurry with “Mr. the president” John F. Kennedy.

The problem is not necessarily fictional (thick) strokes, but that they act as turning points that give impetus to the story. So “Blonde” from a movie that wants to show the real Marilyn Monroe/Norma Jean becomes a movie that makes her a little more plastic, pushes her a little further into the realm of myth.

Throughout this almost Lynchian three-hour nightmare h Ana de Armas dominates as the only hope in all respects. Captivating in every frame, like the star she set out to make, the Cuban actress becomes Marilyn Monroe with every muscle of her face, every movement of her body. Scene after scene, you rub your eyes to see if you’re seeing Monroe or de Armas, and thankfully never once felt the result border on facial expressions.

Also this (only) strong film paper, loses places. De Armas is the best Marilyn Monroe we’ve ever seen on the big screen, but she’s struggling to find Norma Jean.

In this sense, the main character is in complete harmony with the rest of the characters in the film. It seems like Ana de Armas only starts playing one version of Marilyn, and as the movie goes on (and she manages to sort of, but not completely, get you into her orbit) together with her, he learns to “break” into individual Marilyns.

Also “Blonde” can’t get rid of the fake glitter – even if he wants to emphasize the “real” Marilyn so much that in the credits De Armas is credited with the role of Norma Jean. Monroe (and De Armas) are sex bombs that we see more and more topless, even if there’s no scripted reason for it.

And then, that starts as Oedipus, when Monroe searches for the father she never knew wasted on a horribly clumsy use of the diminutive “dad” which she uses as candy for her partners, thereby making us cheap voyeurs against our will.

“Blonde” during end credits seems like a missed opportunity. A highly aesthetic production with an excellent protagonist who loses his meaning and direction before he even finds them. A story that, instead of winning, sticks out your emotions and gets lost in the void between fantasy and no center of gravity. Thriller.