From its premiere at the last Venice Film Festival to Ana de Armas’ statements about the sex scenes she stars in Blonde, the film inspired by the life of Marilyn Monroe does not stop arousing controversy. Sometimes with certain argumentation and other times, the most, due to idle gossip that has nothing to do with the cinematographic fact.
As is well known, Blonde is not strictly a biopic or biographical film, but is inspired by the famous novel by the American writer (eternal candidate for the Nobel Prize in Literature) Joyce Carol Oates, who in turn makes a fiction of some events in the life of Norma Jeane, known by her stage name Marilyn Monroe.
These are some of the most lurid scenes from the novel Blonde
Carol Oates’ voluminous novel has 933 pages and a groundbreaking style that borders on the experimental, and that will throw you out of reading it if you expect a traditional narrative. The voices of different characters overlap and the events take place in reality and in the head of the protagonist, Norma Jeane, as also happens in Blonde , the film directed by Andrew Dominik that is already one of the most Views on Netflix.
About the controversy created by the film based on her novel and its stark treatment of sexuality, Carol Oates opined in a recent interview: “Obviously it is not for everyone. It is surprising that in the post -MeToo era the harsh exposure Preventing sexual predation in Hollywood from being viewed as exploitation .”
Below, you can read a selection of some fragments of the novel Blonde in which the film has been inspired.
“Do you fancy a warm hug on the cold winter night?…
And in a Van Nuys Institute language arts class, Sidney Haring confiscated the March 1945 issue of Pageant magazine from a group of rioters, laid it nonchalantly on the desk, and later examined it. in private, turning the pages until reaching the one the hooligans had pointed to, no doubt with obscene intent; then he raised his glasses on the bridge of his nose to see better, astonished, at…
He recognized her instantly despite the thick layer of makeup and provocative posture, head cocked, mouth painted a dark shade of crimson open in a dreamy, drunken smile, eyes narrowed in a ridiculous expression of ecstasy. She was wearing high heels and a rumpled semi-sheer nightgown that hung to mid-thigh, and under her curiously pointed breasts she held something that looked like a stuffed panda with a goofy smile plastered on its face: Fancy a warm hug on the cold winter night? Haring began to breathe through his mouth. Tears clouded her vision.
“He pushed me on a white fur rug saying lie down, little blonde…”
Mr. Z smiled and said Enough with the AVIARY, I see that it bores you and I was surprised because I wasn’t bored, I didn’t behave as if I did I wondered if Mr. Z will always interpret to a different role than the one that the script seemed to indicate a film producer would like to catch the others by surprise because he is the only one who has the script Which one of them are you, blonde? But don’t tell me your name, what is your specialty? Now he was looking at me with disgust as if I smelled bad I felt so hurt and stunned I would have wanted to protest because naturally I had showered in the morning (…)
Mr. Z pushed me on a white fur rug saying “Keep down, blonde” and only then did I understand Mr. Z is my father, isn’t he? (…)
The only thing I would remember about Mr. Z later would be his small, moist eyes, his garlicky breath, and the sheen of sweat on his bald pate visible through his stiff hair and pain from the hard rubber thing, I think, greased and knobby at the tip first in the cleft of my buttocks and then deep inside me lashing out like a beak Inside, inside as deep as possible I won’t remember how long did it take Mr. Z to collapse like a exhausted swimmer on the beach moaning and gaspingI was horrified by the possibility that the old man would have a heart attack or a stroke and they would blame me, one is tired of hearing those funny and cruel stories, they are funny when you hear them but not when you are the victim. My salary was $100 a week and soon they would raise it to $110 unless they terminated it from acting like other girls in the acting class had then had to move out of the La Productora club because they would no longer have any chance (…)
“He knew that in this way to please his lover…”
Then Cass, the beautiful young man, came out naked and with tousled hair to the tiny balcony where she was and stretched out a hand with two white pills.
-What is that? asked Norma Jeane suspiciously.
-A potion that will help you sleep, my dear Norma. That it will help us both sleep,” Cass answered, kissing the wet nape of the young woman.
-Una pocin mgica? pregunt Norma Jeane.
-Magic potions don’t exist. But this one is.
Norma Jeane turned her back in disapproval. It wasn’t the first time Cass had offered him sedatives. Barbiturates, as they were called. Or whiskey, gin, rum. And she would have liked to give in. She knew that in this way she would please her lover, who rarely slept without first taking pills, alcohol, or both. Cass bragged that mere exhaustion couldn’t take him. With his warm breath in Norma Jeane’s ear, encircling an arm around her breasts, he said:
-A great Greek philosopher said that, of all the states of the human being, there is none as sweet as not being born. Although I believe that the sweetest state is sleep. You are dead, but alive. There is no other sensation so pleasant.
“Then he realized that there were two people in the bed, two young men…”
-Cass? It’s me, Norm.
Inside the house it smelled of whiskey. There was a lamp on in the kitchen, but the narrow hallway was dark. The young woman saw no light under the bedroom door, which was ajar. I called again in a low voice:
-Cass? Are you asleep? I am sleepy!
Suddenly she felt like a cuddly kitten. I pushed the door. There was the bed, a luxurious double bed, too big for the room, and on it Cass, naked and covered to the waist with a sheet. Norma Jeane had the disconcerting impression that the shock of dark, matted hair covering his chest had never been there before and that his shoulders and torso were more muscular than she remembered. .
-Cass? she murmured again.
Then he realized that there were two people in the bed, two young men. The nearest, the stranger, lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, his hairy pubis barely covered by the sheet, while the other, Cass, perched on his elbow. and smiled. They were both drenched in sweat. Two young, beautiful and shiny bodies. In a heartbeat, before Norma Jeane could escape, Cass was leaping from the bed naked, lithe as a dancer, grabbing her wrist with one hand while the other tugged at Norma Jeane’s thigh. his companion.
-Norma, darling! Do not go. I want to introduce you to Eddy C. He is also my twin (…).
“When they did it that way that she didn’t like, that hurt and continued to hurt long after…”
Her power resided in the fact that she was the Woman. They were the Men and she, the Woman. “A magical and indissoluble triumvirate,” as Cass pompously put it. Ah, they adored her! They loved her. She was sure. When they flashed with her in public, they beamed with pride and possession. Marilyn Monroe, the invention of The Production Company, was on the brink of fame, and wily Hollywood natives Cass and Eddy G. knew what that could mean, even if the girl didn’t. (Come on! Don’t be silly, that won’t happen. Like Jean Harlow? Or Joan Crawford? I’m not that important. I know who I am, how hard I have to work, how scared I am. I’ve got.The fact that sometimes she looks different is just a trick of the camera.) Even when Cass and Eddy G. laughed at her, Norma Jeane knew they loved her. Because they did it like someone laughing at a younger and inexperienced sister.
Still, well… sometimes their laughs were cruel. Norma Jeane tried to remember those moments when the boys seemed to gang up on her. When they hurt her when making love. When they did it that way that she didn’t like, that hurt and kept on hurting long after, so much so that she could barely sit up, that she had to sleep on her stomach and take painkillers or Cass’s magic pills. I didn’t understand why they liked to do it that way.
-It’s not natural, is it? I mean…it can’t be normal.
Laughter and more laughter as little Norma blinked back the tears that welled up in her bright sky blue eyes (…).
