Kon-Tiki

Kon-Tiki, the Inca god of Sun and storm, was the name of the balsa-wood raft used by Norwegian explorer and writer Thor Heyerdahl. The primitive vessel was instrumental in his 1947 expedition across the Pacific Ocean from South America to the Polynesian islands. The purpose was to show that the South American people could have settled Polynesia in the pre-Columbian era using only the simple materials and technologies available to them at the time. I kept thinking that just because they could doesn’t necessarily mean they did but that’s never addressed. Incidentally most anthropologists now believe they did not but that‘s another discussion entirely. There’s no denying that Heyerdahl was a brave and admirable trailblazer who basically just wanted to prove that you couldn’t rule the possibility out. Their mission was presented in a non fictional account in 1950 that actually won the Academy Awards for Best Documentary Feature the following year. Now it’s been made into a historical drama, which was subsequently nominated for Best Foreign Language Film (Amour received the award).

Kon-Tiki is a pleasant but very conventional movie. The plot is mostly made of the 4,300 nautical mile-journey from Peru to Polynesia aboard a flimsy raft. Heyerdahl is a tall blonde tanned Norwegian. His staff is also made up of the same, well four Norwegians and a Swede, but they all posses the same handsomely pale features, indistinguishable from each other. These characters are really generic. That even includes the intrepid star who should’ve been more exciting. Over three months, the team’s scientific voyage is met with a few small setbacks but it’s largely uneventful. Oh there’s storms, a shark gets on the boat, a whale almost topples the raft. Those developments are gripping so those moments engage. The cinematography is pretty too. But more often than not, the action focuses on the humans. Unfortunately their humdrum conversations are boring. The occasional infighting amongst the team does not a film make.

42

The life of Jackie Robinson gets the treatment you’d expect in Warner Brothers’ perfectly serviceable biography. The chronicle is a suitable document of the first African American to play Major League Baseball (MLB) in the modern era. Director Brian Helgeland (Payback, A Knight’s Tale) beatific depiction of Jackie Robinson is befitting of how Disney handles their sports pictures. It’s reverent, didactic and compelling. However given the magnitude of Robinson’s breakthrough, I was expecting a bit more grit. Perhaps in the hands of a more contentious director, the action would have seemed more controversial. There’s a brief moment of that in one particular scene involving actor Alan Tudyk as Ben Chapman, the manager of the Phillies who vociferously opposed Robbins’s presence in MLB on the basis of his race. The scenes in which he taunts Robinson with racial epithets was even more disturbing than the many uses of the N-word in the movie Django Unchained. Perhaps that’s because this is a true story but also because of Robinson’s pacifist approach to the abuse that was forced on him. It’s is one of the few instances where you genuinely get a feel for the weight of his struggle.

42 is a polished biography. It’s got beautiful music, bright cinematography and is populated by some nice performances. Chadwick Boseman notably underplays Jackie Robinson in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s grasping for the Academy Award. He’s quite effective. As is Nicole Beharie who plays “the wife” but with an effervescence that made me want to see more of her in future films. Harrison Ford reminds us that he doesn’t always just phone it in. As Branch Rickey, the General Manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers that signs Robinson to the team, he is truly engaging. 42 hits all the dramatic notes you’d except in a memoir such as this. It’s not particularly deep or insightful, but it is inspiring. Robinson becomes more a symbol through which other people unleash their racial hatred against. I would’ve appreciated a little more detail in the script about the man himself. More vignettes involving his personality as well as his athletic accomplishments in the world of baseball would‘ve been welcome. The lesson appears to be talent and money speak louder than hate. 42 is an admirable addition to baseball pictures that dutifully dramatize the subject in a way that is both pleasant and entertaining.

Hitchcock

I’ve never kept it a secret that Alfred Hitchcock is my favorite director. No other auteur has such a large number of great films. He has a knack for creating captivating situations and characters, then drawing you into a web of intrigue. I’ve seen roughly 28 of his works. Yet “The Master of Suspense” remains a bit of a mystery (no pun intended) to me. And so I approached Hitchcock with anticipation. The verdict? It’s well worth your time. However I don’t really know much more concerning the man himself than I did before.

Hitchcock is for people who love movies about making movies. John J. McLaughlin’s script is a lively (and uncomplicated) adaptation of Stephen Rebello’s acclaimed nonfiction book: Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho. The year is 1959 and he’s just coming off the unbridled success of North by Northwest. It’s a turning point in his career. Realizing his age and still wanting to remain innovative, he starts looking for his next project. He finds inspiration in Psycho – Robert Bloch’s fictionalized suspense novel based on the life of Ed Gein, the notorious serial killer. In fact Hitchcock has fantasy sequences woven throughtout the narrative, in which he has imaginary discussions with the murderer. The device is apparently designed to give insight into the filmmaker’s enigmatic psyche. Unfortunately that tool is woefully unsuccessful. It makes Hitchcock seem almost schizophrenic which I don’t believe was the intention. However the production more importantly addresses the director’s move from elegantly subtle suspense to more overt horror. That is a relevant discussion.

Hitchcock is bolstered by some marvelous performances. Let’s start with the supporting cast. Scarlett Johansson beautifully suggests old Hollywood glamour as Janet Leigh. James D’Arcy resemblance to
Anthony Perkins is uncanny. He displays a sort of nervous energy that is quite effective in a brief appearance. Toni Collette exudes sensible efficiency behind horn-rimmed glasses as Hitchcock’s personal assistant and Michael Stuhlbarg, so appropriately pathetic in A Serious Man, is surprisingly believable as Hitchcock’s pragmatic agent. Helen Mirren is engaging as Alma Reville, his wife, a talented screenwriter in her own right. Her importance in establishing her husband’s vision might be something of a surprise for some. There’s considerable marital tension between the two which occupies a significant portion of the plot. As Alma, Helen Mirren gets to let loose and really gives him a severe critique at one point. We’ve come to expect those scenes in every movie Mirren does now and she doesn’t disappoint.

Anthony Hopkins portrays the director as a genius undeterred. He also demonstrates the man’s behavioral eccentricities – he’s got a peephole in his office that looks into his leading lady’s dressing room. He’s constantly drinking wine and gorging on food. But these details feel like a lighthearted gloss on more troubling personality traits that aren’t fully addressed. Anthony Hopkins is adequate as titular character but I never truly felt as though I was watching anything more than a really good imitation. The makeup is peculiar. The foundation Hopkins wears has a mummifying effect on his face that leaves it somewhat expressionless. Hitchcock wasn’t known for smiling a lot anyways so I suppose the issue isn’t cataclysmic.

Hitchcock is a simple but satisfying watch. Its window inside creating one of the cinema’s greatest horror flicks, is well crafted. When the narrative focuses on moviemaking, it’s transcendent. As an observation of his creative process, its value is immeasurable. The scorn he received for choosing this subject, his decision to self-finance, fighting with the censors, and the marketing of a difficult film, are all fascinating scenes depicted. The relationship with his wife detailing the rough spots in their marriage, provides a fuller, though not deeper, portrait. As a biography of the man, it’s less successful. It never seems to delve deeply into what truly made this man tick. I could have done without the distracting facial prosthetics. The makeup is obvious. His features look fake.  Nevertheless, the assemblage of acting talents, including the superior supporting cast, is first rate. These actors make the material enjoyable. Parts of Hitchcock had me spellbound. I confess I had a nagging suspicion it would fall short as biography. However, as a movie about the making of Psycho, it’s notoriously entertaining beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Lincoln

Before I even begin, let me assert, Daniel Day-Lewis is more Lincoln than Lincoln. Beyond a mere performance, he is a complete embodiment of the man. Physically, it was never a question. The actor already suggests the man with his angular features. The makeup is invisible as if this is how the actor has always looked. But aside from his amazing physical transformation, which we expect to be authentic, is the astonishing emotional transformation. He portrays Lincoln as a humble and wise man with a couple well-placed examples of humor. Day-Lewis’ decision to pitch Lincoln’s voice high and thin is speculative at best. We do not have video records to tell us how he spoke and acted. Yet debating whether the performance truly reads Abraham Lincoln is pointless without definitive records in this area. What is relevant is that he unquestionably embodies his temperament. Day-Lewis perfectly conveys the attributes one would anticipate of a man who would lead a nation through one of the most turbulent periods of American history. There’s never a moment in which we the audience doubt his depiction. Most everyone’s work is exemplary, but inconspicuous. Two performances that do scream “notice me” are Tommy Lee Jones as Radical Republican Thaddeus Stevens, a fervent abolitionist, and Sally Field as Lincoln’s wife Mary Todd Lincoln. They’re hard to miss. Lee Pace is also worth mentioning as the charismatic, but comparatively more understated, Fernando Wood, a Congressman whose sympathies lie with Confederacy.

This is not a biography of Abraham Lincoln. The adaptation is based on Doris Kearns Goodwin’s book, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. However where that novel dealt with his entire presidency, including his first term, Spielberg and screenwriter Tony Kushner have decided to simply focus on the final months of his life in 1865. Lincoln has just been re-elected. The Emancipation Proclamation had been issued a year and a half ago. As an executive order of the president, its controversial nature is brought up. It made ending slavery a war goal, although the measure itself did not outlaw slavery. This then is the account of Abraham Lincoln’s struggle to pass the 13th Amendment and subsequently hasten the end of the Civil War. The amendment has already passed in the Senate, but failed ratification in the House of Representatives. He has now brought it back to a vote. Of the 150 minutes, the events largely deal with Lincoln’s reaching out to the House of Representatives to find the support he needs to pass the Amendment. His many exchanges with his cabinet shed light on his beliefs. Lincoln’s attempts to reconcile conflicting personalities within various legislative factions are what constitute the action.

Lincoln is Daniel Day-Lewis. He is extraordinary in the part and the actor’s contributions cannot be underestimated. He is virtually flawless in re-creating a President that we admittedly have never seen nor heard. Every choice he makes with his portrayal is impeccable. Volume, inflection and gestures are utilized to maximum effect. In Lincoln’s efforts to galvanize Congress in support of the 13th amendment, Day-Lewis make discussions interesting. He is utterly believable in his abilities to persuade and he makes a rather dry subject come alive. You have to commend Spielberg’s chutzpah. The plot isn’t set on the battlefields of the Civil War, but rather the political chambers of Washington. Lincoln unfolds much like a play with copious words spilling out of the mouths of old white men from the floor of the House.  Occasionally you can see the perspective of a modern mind behind Tony Kushner’s dialogue. For example, since it has been established that the Gettysburg address was “the speech that nobody knew” for years after it was uttered, Are we really to believe that four soldiers would be able to recite it back to him verbatim like fanboys? It is a most uncommercial movie in that it wrings drama simply over the deliberation of an idea. Lincoln’s desire to obtain 20 Democratic votes (or abstentions) for the 13th amendment IS the action as it were. Whether you find such a topic fascinating will determine your enjoyment. Personally, I think it’s an easy film to admire, but a difficult one to love. It is very much a history lesson with a message lovingly crafted and made clear by Mr. Spielberg. Still what the director endeavors, most assuredly sets it apart from any other dramatization about the 16th President.

Searching for Sugar Man

Note: Because I don’t want to lessen this documentary’s impact, this is spoiler free. As a result, my analysis isn’t as specific as I would like it to be. However what my review lacks in detail you will gain in enjoyment when you watch the film. And I beseech you, please watch this film. It should be noted these surprises can easily be discovered by casual research regarding the subject. Therefore avoid all articles (except this one of course).

Two aficionados endeavor to discover what became of their favorite recording artist. Rodriguez was an American singer-songwriter from Detroit who released two albums: “Cold Fact” in 1970 and “Coming from Reality” in 1971. Both flopped in the U.S. Maybe it was the songs’ highly politicized message, the pervasive drug references, a failure of marketing or perhaps something else altogether. Why Rodriguez never connected with the American public is a question one may ask any entertainer of undeniable ability. His fate is not unlike the thousands of other talents who never make it. Except this tale is notably different. “Cold Fact” found its way into Cape Town, South Africa where it was warmly accepted by progressive Afrikaners rebelling against the government. Bootleg copies were made and spread rapidly amongst white South Africans who embraced his music as a soundtrack for the anti-apartheid movement. Yet these fans knew little about their idol’s life. One rumor claimed that he’d ended it by committing suicide on stage by setting himself ablaze.

The film’s narrative focuses more on the quest of two South African fans to make sense of what happened to this musical icon rather than in shedding light on the man himself. The search was spearheaded by an indie record store owner named Stephen Segerman and an investigative journalist Craig Bartholomew-Strydom back in the late 90s. Along the way we‘re treated to a generous helping of Rodriguez’ work. It becomes a saga of how a performer’s legacy can touch the lives of their listeners in ways they may never know. Rodriguez’ blend of folk and funk with a side of country seemed to fit perfectly within the psychedelic landscape of the early 70s. Bob Dylan is an obvious influence. If you enjoy his style of music, this soundtrack is a must.

Searching for Sugar Man presents an inspiring tale of one Sixto Diaz Rodriguez. He remains an enigmatic mystery even by the end of the feature. His face constantly shrouded by large sunglasses and a mane of black hair. It spoils nothing to say the two fans featured do ultimately uncover the truth. As promised, the unexpected developments will not be revealed here. The documentary can be seen as a meditation on the unpredictable tastes of the masses. Why musicians can sell millions of records in one country and be virtually ignored in another. Rodriguez story is a fascinating one. This is a movie for anyone who has ever toiled in obscurity doing something they loved without recognition or success. An uplifting docudrama that celebrates the joy of a human life.

The Imposter

In 1994 a 13 year old boy vanishes from his rural San Antonio town. Over 3 years later, his family receives a call from a Spanish children’s shelter claiming Nicholas Barclay has been found alive in Linares, Spain. But not so fast, this is called The Imposter. That tells you not everything should be taken at face value. Spellbinding documentary delves into the bizarre 1997 case whereby a French con artist claims to be a family’s long lost son.

Of all the evidence this account presents, it is the one-on-one interviews that captures the viewer’s attention most. Chief among the relevant participants is Frédéric Bourdin, the 23-year-old Frenchman and criminal who passed himself off as their lost child. In actuality, he’s 7 years older, has brown eyes and dark hair in contrast to their son’s blue eyes and blonde hair and speaks with an accent. We learn in detail how he was able to accomplish this seemingly impossible task. Or at least he explains what he did.  We’re also introduced to Carey Gibson – the older sister of Nicholas Barclay, Beverly Dollarhide – their mother and Bryan Gibson – Carey‘s husband and Nicholas’ uncle. Representing law enforcement we meet Nancy Fisher, the former FBI Special Agent assigned to the case and Charlie Parker, a Private Investigator, who felt something was wrong.

Director Bart Layton has clearly studied the Errol Morris rule book of documentary filmmaking. That’s good. Key events, that were never filmed, are re-enacted using actors. Layton wisely doesn’t reveal anything before it’s absolutely positively necessary. As details evolve, the focus fluctuates between Frédéric Bourdin to the relatives of the victim. Who is this stranger and why would he claim to be their missing child? Why does the family welcome him as their son? You’ll have many more questions as the drama unfolds. By the end there are still those that go unanswered.  As a investigative report it may raise issues it doesn’t, or rather cannot answer, but as a thriller it’s incredibly fascinating.

This is a study in human psychology as much as it is a missing persons case. Just when you think you have it all figured out, the audience is thrown another curve ball. The twisted story becomes even more perplexing as it plays out. There is a clear feeling of anxiety with the whole situation. The incidents resemble something sinister at times. The general uneasiness gives the viewer a dread that they stepped into a true life horror film. But horror from creepiness, not from actual gore. This reviewer hates relying on clichéd phrases like “truth is stranger than fiction” but please grant me the crutch of that hackneyed phrase because its so apropos. If this had been a work of fiction I would’ve faulted the saga for its implausibility. It’s too far-fetched. Yet these events actually happened.  That’s the hardest thing to accept.

J. Edgar

Sometimes the free promotional Blu-rays that Warner Brother’s sends, gives me the opportunity to view a picture I have never seen. J Edgar is one such flick. I guess I was more interested in seeing Immortals the weekend this was released. Apparently so were a lot of other people. This only grossed $37 million in the U.S. In the weeks leading up to the January announcement of the 2012 Academy Award nominations, many sources predicted Leonardo DiCaprio for Best Actor. Although the film failed to get a single nod of any kind, this still remained a picture I wanted to see. Now, 7 months after debuting in theaters, I’m happy to finally cross this off my list.

J Edgar is a meandering biographical overview on the life of the 1st Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It’s told in flashback as Hoover is dictating his memoirs to various FBI agents chosen as writers.  Let’s face it.   J Edgar is boring.  No two ways about it, the story is laborious. It’s difficult to understand who the target audience was for this hodgepodge. It fails to entertain both history buffs and movie lovers alike. I mean it makes The Aviator seem simple and straightforward by comparison.

Director Clint Eastwood has a lack of passion for his subject. It’s as if he was handed a school assignment regarding a figure he couldn’t care less about. As a result we’re left with a man we have no interest in as well. Eastwood’s condemnatory take is of a man out to destroy people’s reputations while simultaneously trying to hide his own true sexuality. Hoover was a polarizing figure. Great biographies have been made concerning individuals far less likeable or interesting than Hoover, but they had a focus that engaged the mind. The narrative here is disjointed. Clint Eastwood’s bloated opus lacks a defining moment as it trudges on for a seemingly unending 2 hours and 17 minutes. He superficially touches on assorted controversial aspects without ever delving deeper as to why we should be fascinated by this man. Random samples of Hoover’s existence are presented one after the other without any unifying thread other than the man at the center of it all.

The movie is unsuccessful in other important, albeit less significant, ways. For one thing, it’s unnecessarily dark. Not in mood, but in physical brightness. Many scenes are dimly lit and it’s impossible to see everything that’s going on. Furthermore, Hoover and his protégé Clyde Tolson look positively ridiculous in their old age makeup. The prosthetics are ungainly and unnatural looking. Actor Armie Hammer’s face is covered in liver spots. The makeup is at the very least, distracting. I think a little restraint would’ve been preferable. DiCaprio doesn’t remotely resemble the actual man he’s playing so simply casting an older, more rotund actor for later sequences would’ve been a smarter choice. This is not to take away from his achievement. If there is a high point, it’s in Leonardo DiCaprio’s bravura performance as the title character. He’s definitely engaging. It’s not enough to save the film, but it makes tolerating this prolonged chore a little less painful.

The Iron Lady

If you approach The Iron Lady as a biography of Margaret Thatcher, the British politician, you will be disappointed. It plays out more like the aimless remembrances of a kindly old lady. Our production opens with a woman in the twilight of her existence. Fragile but capable, she has endeavored to buy a pint of milk in a nearby convenience store in what appears to be a rather seedy part of town. When she returns, we become aware that she has actually “escaped” from her residence much to the chagrin of her handlers. This is the former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom who held the office from 1979 to 1990. Through a series of flashbacks we are given glimpses of her life. Meryl Streep is Margaret Thatcher. She’s got her mannerisms, her look, everything is in order. Never once did I think this was an actress playing a part. She inhabits the role so thoroughly, at times I felt as though I were watching the actual politician in a documentary.

Where The Iron Lady flounders is in the editing. What could have been brilliant as the study of a complicated woman, is a failure as an incisive biography. We get snapshots of a life. Brief peeks in the chronology of her political timeline: election to Parliament, role as Education Secretary, accession to leader of the Conservative party. Her transformation from a working class woman to eventual role as Prime Minister is fascinating. The difficult road she traveled to assume that office is touched upon. Virtually all of the scenes depicting her civic side are endlessly entertaining. But the script addresses these political events without any real depth. Her dealings with the nation’s crippling recession, angry trade unions and The Falklands War, are all mentioned in a cursory manner. Many details are forgotten altogether, Blink and you’ll miss that she even knew close friend Ronald Reagan, the U.S. President during her tenure. It’s History Lite. Whenever the drama begins to develop steam we flash forward to a doddering old woman.

Her political career should have been the driving focus of the film. Unfortunately much of the narrative unwisely centers on Margaret Thatcher in the present day as a woman suffering from dementia. The modern day blends with the past and it’s meant to imply her own inability to tell the difference. But the framework is jarring to an audience and not conducive to a well told tale. In the here and now, she frequently has conversations with her dead husband Denis Thatcher played by Jim Broadbent. These dialogues are quaint, but they belong in a different movie. They listen to “Shall We Dance?“ from The King and I several times and the vignettes feel as though someone hijacked the memoir to tell the tale of a cute elderly lady. Give me a break!  This was the first woman to not only head a major political party in the United Kingdom, but to also run the whole country. The presentation of her professional life is so much more credible.

The Iron Lady is flawed. There’s a very good film contained within, but I suspect some of it is on the cutting room floor. Margaret Thatcher’s political pursuits are where this shines. Some judicious editing could have taken this to the next level. I’m reminded of another Meryl Streep vehicle. Julie & Julia was a good movie – whenever the chronicle focused on Julia Child, that is. So too is The Iron Lady a superior production whenever Margaret Thatcher is the tenacious leader of Great Britain. The agreeable matriarch of the present simply diminishes dramatic tension whenever things start to get exciting. Perhaps that’s the contradictory perspective director Phyllida Lloyd wanted to relate, but Thatcher’s energizing display as an obstinate firebrand of the past is so much more engaging. Meryl Streep deserves a lot of recognition for her singular performance, the story – not so much.

A Dangerous Method

The early days of psychoanalysis are presented in this restrained drama. The year is 1904 and Swiss psychiatrist Dr. Carl Jung treats Sabina Spielrein for psychosexual dysfunction in Zurich. She is admitted to the Burghölzli mental hospital there. Although she is initially a patient of Jung, she later becomes his student in the study of psychology. Their attraction as well as Jung’s tense friendship with Sigmund Freud – the founder of psychoanalysis – is highlighted. As his protégé, Jung utilizes Freud’s methods. Even their differing views in the world of psychiatry are explored.

If nothing else, A Dangerous Method is notable for Keira Knightley’s memorable portrayal. Sabine is a beautiful but unbalanced woman suffering from unorthodox sexual desire. It’s an incredibly mannered achievement full of facial tics and uncontrolled fits. Contorting her face with a severe underbite that looks positively unsettling, she chews the scenery but not in a displeasing way. I found her hypnotic. It raises the story to something beyond mundane biography. Without her manic representation, the whole pursuit would have been rather boring.

The rest unfolds in a rather pedestrian manner. Michael Fassbender continues his streak of remarkable roles in a single year. Carl Jung and Sabina’s relationship as doctor and patient develops in the predictable story arc of a soap opera. Yet his scenes with Knightly are compelling because of her. Their connection forms the most integral affiliation of the film. The professional relationship between Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud is examined as well but none of that is especially exciting. Viggo Mortensen is adequate as Freud in a studious performance. Yet I wonder if original choice, Christoph Waltz , might have been better. I found Mortensen’s interpretation underwhelming as he failed to capture my attention with an already underwritten character.

Despite the underlying topic of sexuality, the undertaking is surprisingly retrained for a film by David Cronenberg. Low key account is straightforward and quiet. That’s surprising in a drama where unconventional sexual impulses and sadomasochistic tendencies essentially form the basis of the story. I struggled to maintain interest at times. It’s a movie where the very discussion of ideas is supposed to be more shocking rather than the actual depiction of anything scandalous. Talky cerebral approach is admirable for its sophistication. I give the film credit for subtlety and precision, but it’s also kind of routine. See it for Keira Knightly. If not for her presence, the whole affair would have been rather forgettable.

My Week With Marilyn

Production assistant Colin Clark’s reminiscence of legendary actress Marilyn Monroe while working on The Prince and the Showgirl in 1956. Colin has just graduated from college and is eager to work in the movie industry. Having met Sir Laurence Olivier once, Colin relies on a promise Olivier made to give him employment after graduation. After showing up every day to wait at the studio, Olivier finally arrives and honors his pledge. Colin’s first job is to find a suitable place for Marilyn Monroe and her new husband Arthur Miller to stay at while they are in England. Miller leaves the country soon after which then gives Colin the opportunity to spend a lot more time with Marilyn. The pair eventually become quite close.

The tale is a fairly even handed representation. At times the portrait is mildly critical and at others it’s tenderly fawning. It nicely documents Marilyn’s erratic unreliability but it also depicts the way her handlers enabled her behavior. I was fascinated with how other people reacted to her persona. We meet her entourage when she initially arrives: her husband, Arthur Miller, business partner Milton Greene and her acting coach Paula Strasberg. Her interaction with Vivien Leigh, Dame Sybil Thorndike, and of course Colin Clark, provide fascinating drama as well. However I found Laurence Olivier’s interaction with her to be the most engaging. Kenneth Branagh is memorable as the revered English actor. I found the contrast between Olivier and Monroe’s personalities to be an inventive technique to dissect her character. You have one of filmdom’s most accomplished thespians, next to a superstar of the Hollywood cinema.  It’s not surprising that these two would have difficulties seeing eye to eye with one another. He clearly desired her level of celebrity and she desperately craved his legitimacy. The comparison is fascinating.

Monroe’s beauty and charisma are presented to stunning effect by Michelle Williams. She perfectly embodies her nervous anxiety, lack of self confidence, constant need for approval, and ability to charm. She’s suitably captivating playing someone everybody thinks they already know. Yet perhaps the platinum goddess is too iconic to accurately interpret. For all of William’s talents, never did I once forget that this was an actress playing the part of Marilyn Monroe.

My Week with Marilyn is essentially a minor picture about the making of a minor film. It’s successfully done nonetheless. An accurate profile of the definitive sex symbol of the 20th century is a daunting task. The chronicle is brilliant in not attempting a full fledged biography, but merely a brief vignette of her existence. There’s a brilliance in setting the story far away from the frenzy of glamorous Hollywood, amid the quiet English countryside. We get a more intimate version of the woman. This tale is actually based on two memoirs Colin Clark wrote documenting his relationship with her: The Prince, The Showgirl and Me and My Week with Marilyn.  From a narrow perspective – seven days of her short life – it ultimately provides a lovely glimpse into the world of the immortal silver screen star.