My Week With Marilyn: I do hope it was an accurate film.

Because it was nice.  Basically about a woman who would be the most arrestingly beautiful train wreck you ever saw.


It was a good use of one and a half hours of my time.

The movie was a testament to how the crazy girls really get the boys.

She was, at once, vulnerable and manipulative, crazy and beautiful.  Any girl who wants to be a flirt should just take notes from her life.  She was like a world-weary Lolita.

They don’t make women like that these days.

These are the women more intense than the “quirky” girls of the new millenium – more tainted and unhinged than any Ally Mcbeal or Alanis Morissette, and way way more serious than the Zooey Deschanel’s or Emma Stone’s of current Hollywood.  She was self-conscious — the winks, the feigned innocence – and dramatic in a mysterious way.

I wish it were true, their depiction of her.  I can see how Michelle Williams could win an award for that performance.  And, like all my favorite films, it was “quiet”.  Considering it talked about one of the most legendary sirens.  There was no part where you wanted to cry your eyes out; no tense parts of emotional anger.  Just a story of a life touched and overturned by a brush with something so alluring and out-of-reach.

It was cool – how Marilyn was in the film.  She wasn’t “hauntingly” beautiful.  Just…broken.

I guess that’s what gets men in the end, women who are bundles of ironies.

Other parts of the movie I loved.  Emma Watson, continuing to be distractingly hot.  Dame Judi Dench as a very lovable woman.  And beautiful scoring.



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