Its not difficult to see how perhaps Colin Clark lionized one of the most noteworthy passages of his entire life. In two of his memoirs, he claimed to have an affair with Marilyn Monroe while working as an assistant on her film, The Prince and the Showgirl. A glamourous movie star cozying up to a low-level assistant is the kind of fantasy only a rabid romantic could conceive of, or perhaps even a Hollywood screenwriter (which can be the same thing sometimes). Watching My Week with Marilyn, the film adaptation of Clark’s memoirs, one realizes that it doesn’t really matter how true his story is or not. For he arrives at the very same conclusions about Monroe that most modern cinephiles have: she was a breathtaking bombshell who concealed a quiet dignity, a crushing vulnerability, and an enigmatic inner-life.
The film follows the events that took place during the 1956 summer filming of The Prince and the Showgirl, a Studio concotion produced, directed, and starring Sir Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh). Colin Clark (Eddie Redmayne), a privileged young chap with a love for the movies, finds his way onto the film’s set as a glorified errand boy, thrilled to be working on a major studio picture. Through his eyes, we see how him and everyone else on the set was entranced by the film’s dazzling star, Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams). With her sex-kitten mystique and bouncy charms, its not hard to see how anyone on that set could resist falling in love with her. Yet tensions arrive as Olivier grows frustrated with Marilyn’s notorious flakiness with lines and tardiness. While she undoubtedly held an electrifying screen presence, Monroe wasn’t the most secure with herself as a serious actress and felt intimidated in the presence of an acting legend such as Olivier.
In the midst of Monroe’s increasing vulnerability, Clark finds himself striking up a curious friendship with the movie star. Marilyn frequently begins requesting his presence whenever she’s feeling down, and pretty soon she's whisking him away to her countryside cottage for a getaway. After heavy flirtation and a bout of skinny dipping, Clark starts to convince himself that he just might be the guy Marilyn’s been looking for, in spite of her famous husband, Arthur Miller (Dougray Scott). But pretty soon, the rest of the cast and crew catches on and warns Clark relentlessly that such a movie star will only break his heart. Clark himself also sees the crushing anguish and severe depression that lurks beneath Monroe’s beauty, not helped much by her constant pill-popping. How far can their “courtship” realistically go? Does Clark have what it takes to reach Marilyn as a person?
In telling the story of how a classical Monroe picture was made, My Week with Marilyn slightly takes on a classical Hollywood tone itself. Although showbiz stories can have a certain stuffiness about them, Director Simon Curtis pours a wide-eyed innocence into the tone, completely turning the camera’s gaze into Clark’s giddy own. This heart-bursting romanticism may come as a jolt to an era that knows nearly all of Hollywood’s inside dope, but it sure keeps the plot breezy and snappy. We quickly realize that a more sobering tone could make this seemingly tall-tale more insufferable and take the air right out of Clark’s claims. His sunny optimism absorbs the film’s membrane so much that even if you don’t believe he romanced Monroe, you believe that his situation was spellbinding enough to inspire two memoirs.
Its easy to see how Clark’s gaga naivety could grow corny on a modern audience that knows well enough not to trust a movie star at first sight, so its rather impressive that Eddie Redmayne sells us so much on the character. With a strapping joy that avoids being pathetic, Redmayne brings as much sensibility to Clark’s wild desires as possible, gaining a surprising sympathy as he tries to convince Marilyn, and himself really, that they can run off and be happy together. Another welcome surprise is Branagh’s performance as Olivier, one that superbly showcases the humility and inadequacies within the thespian-god image we remember him for.
Playing Marilyn Monroe seems like such an impossible task because she was such a one-of-a-kind creature (in spite of Tony Curtis’ claims). To dismiss Monroe as a simple blonde is to admit that you’ve been worked over by a magician without noticing any slight-of-hand tricks. She had the curvaceous come-on of a sex object yet possessed an unmistakable feminine independence. She had a bubbly comic persona paired with a self-contained intelligence. Very few actresses with a pin-up body had such precise calculation and exuberant command of the screen. So its some kind of miracle that Michelle Williams embodies Marilyn so flawlessly. Not only does she bear an erie resemblance to the icon, but she nails every single mannerism we remember from her screen image, all while masterfully hinting at the undercurrents of depression that plagued her heart. The beauty here is that you quit that biopic habit of grading the performance with a red pen and just fully accept that you’re staring at Marilyn. Even the most die-hard of Monroe obsessives have to admit that Williams delivers all the goods you could possibly hope for.
Whats ironical here is that watching men fall head-over-heels for Marilyn hints at why most men never really understand most women in the first place. With Monroe, men projected onto her their hopes, desires, and fantasies without really stopping to regard the true human being underneath it all. When you project idealism onto a person, its more a reflection of your needs for the person instead of what that individual actually wants for themselves. Even Clark, who passionately believes he loves Marilyn, maybe more concerned with the idea of being her romantic hero than digging into the depths of her troubled soul. The biggest insight the film delivers is how men so desperately wanted to see Marilyn as a movie star, a sex fantasy, a business product, and a romantic ideal instead of the lost, helpless woman she truly was.
If you consider yourself something of a dedicated Marilyn Monroe scholar, you’ll probably know more about her than the film reveals here. But you can’t help but notice how phenomenal Williams’ performance is and how tactfully the script handles Monroe’s legacy. For average moviegoers, the jolly behind-the-scenes peak at classical studio filmmaking will be damn near irresistible to them. Especially considering how limiting and tiresome a showbiz-weary cynical version of the same story would be. There are virtually no bad reasons to simply regard Marilyn Monroe, a fact Michelle Williams all too wonderfully reminds us of.
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