Before she was Marilyn, she was Norma Jean just a girl from a small town with a big smile and big dreams. I wonder what Marilyn would have thought her life, her short life, that even before her untimely and tragic death would be so fully lived. That we would talk about her for decades to come and have her be a reference point, in beauty, in style, in talent, in many other facets of life.
She’s the ultimate blonde bombshell they don’t make them like her anymore and I doubt we’ll ever seen the likes of her again. I’m endlessly fascinated by her. Endlessly intrigued by one of the most famous women on the planet alive or dead, who, at one point, was the most photographed. Her life was full; happy and sad. A life lived in front of cameras that adored her. There isn’t a woman who photographs like Marilyn Monroe did. The camera loved her and the photographer was captivated by her; their lens captured every emotion because when Norma Jean was in front of a camera she gave it her all even before the first flash. She couldn’t help but be open. In interview excerpts that accompany the exhibition’s audio, when she spoke of her life, she couldn’t believe it was hers because she was just a girl who was sometimes reminded she was not the star but, in her words, “I am the blonde and the film is titled gentlemen prefer blondes.” Which would lead her to getting her own dressing room on the set of that movie.
I wonder what she would make if the fascination with her life. The subject of many fantasies and dreams. The picture-perfect blonde pin up. She sought a simple life and in this exhibition some of her best photographs are the ones where she is not turning it on but completely at ease with herself. Often times at home in her backyard or carefree in her living room. Expressive. Pensive. Full of joy. And a dream. Marilyn could not help but be who she was and wore her heart on her sleeves. In that way she wanted to be loved. She loved being loved.
Her most vulnerable and daring moment would be that performance of Happy Birthday Mr President to which her ex-father-in-law was her companion because despite her divorce from Arthur Miller she maintained a close relationship with Isidore Miller. I didn’t much care for her marriage to Miller because it looked, through the photographs of course, contrived. As if she was forced to put on a persona that wasn’t all together hers. But in her words, she said she was happy and content with marital bliss when she was at home with him. To the observer Miller looked at her as if observing some specimen, both wondering how he could contour her to his bidding. It was unsettling. Even cold. And at the same time, as if he couldn’t believe his luck that a woman as divine as Marilyn Monroe would choose to settle with him. The more I have read about Miller postmortem, the less appealing he increasingly was; he abandoned his son Daniel, who was born with down syndrome and wrote him out of his life completely, had him institutionalise one week after his birth and never visited, so the story goes. He was horrid on the set of The Prince and the Showgirl because his career was in a rut, a thing he would later admit. The Misfits would see to the end of her marriage when her reliance on pills would be part of her undoing. The men who pretended to love Marilyn are likely in hell or some version of it right now because it felt none of them did right by her or could be bothered to take care of her when she needed to be tended. Her connection, alleged, to the Kennedy brothers will always be wanting because who knows what passed between them when it came to Marilyn; someday the truth will out. She felt like a pun between powerful men who often wanted something from her and even in the industry she was always being underestimated, “put in her place” always being reminded of who she was not even if she was often the draw and the reason for anyone watching a picture.
This exhibition is as bombastic as the woman herself. Full of aplomb, telling the story of a life well lived. Cut short before her time. Forever frozen in time. She deserved to see out her life before life saw to her end. More than anything, this exhibition is all about Marilyn, outside of the scandals outside of the glamour, outside of the happy birthday Mr. President of it all.
Within the bombast of the exhibtion is the most important picture, most revealing and most moving; it is at the very beginning of the exhibition, a tiny picture taken in a phonebooth, face full of smile and a spark in those eyes, and as you traverse the exhibition the picture often comes back to mind because she never lost that spark, even in her last days, her hard days, it stayed resolutely with her, as if reminding us of the girl she was, the girl that remained within the woman the world came to know. The dear Norma Jean.
Marilyn Monroe at The Portrait Gallery until 6th of September.