This is a Man's World
But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl
The TGIF lineup differs from our sincerely piqued interest in frivolous diversions during these politically wild and tumultuous times— only without celebrity worship. This week we dive into life online and Blonde (2001)— and Blonde (2022). Get into it below.
This week was spent in hibernation, reflecting on the past year of living more vulnerable and allowing softness in my life— what a difference a year can do is astonishing, but even more so is watching the demise of Twitter in real-time. It’s been fascinating to watch someone who could’ve spent billions toward helping humanity with ending world hunger purchase a website instead. The crystal glass delicateness that is his ego is causing that ship to go dead ahead for the avoidable iceberg. A huge week loss for crypto, Elon Musk, and their minion fanboys as a crumbling buyout of one of the globally largest cryptocurrency exchanges is occurring.
I also wanted to take time away from being online, which later dwindled to being completely exasperated with wanting to be seen. What is it with the intrusive entitlement from strangers men online thinking you owe them anything or even friendship? My social media is my anarchic feed, where I post or delete what I want— it’s not for men to think I’m their self-assumed dreamgirl. I post my silly little pictures and musings online for me and even for others who somehow connect, not for the approval or certainly not the attention of men online. So I took time away to escape with films and finally caught up with Blonde (2001) and Blonde (2022).
Both films are based on the 2000 bestselling biographical fiction novel of the same name and caught my eye since my fascination with Marilyn Monroe— this dates back to a report I did on the actress when I was an impressionable and precocious ten-year-old. Huge thanks to my dad for buying into the internet ‘fad’ very early on— a small luxury my parents always splurged on— but I still remember researching and being captivated by Marilyn with the more research I did. The irony of my strict and overbearing religious parents giving my sisters and me such independence with the internet very early on helped us each differently. My sisters were so shamed by religion and, therefore, too scared to do anything too wild, which is a twisted blessing in my adult perspective— but I digress. Hilariously, my original assignment was on Joe DiMaggio, which turned into an essay on his second wife, Marilyn.
The spellbinding appeal of her Old Hollywood glamour and statuesque beauty is undeniable. Her film performances had a complex profoundness that always stuck with me, and I always felt like there was more to her than her physical allure— although she knew her angles and utilized them.
My younger self remembers the popularity of the NYT best-selling Joyce Carol Oates book; it was unavoidable as the cover etched in my memory. While I remember the dark cover fondly, I never read it. Mainly because something internally always stopped me from delving in and absorbing the words provided by JCO. Something about a fictional retelling of a woman known for being commodified by the men all around her being further commodified for a fictional retelling never sat right with me. I watched Blonde (2001), probably around age thirteen, because of my enamor with the American icon.
Revisiting the 2001 version was a trip because I remembered the scenes so well that I remembered I watched it on my abuelos bulky but quintessential box television. Even remembering a line from Aunt Elise has stuck with me all these years because it’s the most real I’ve ever heard a woman acknowledge the patriarchy, “it’s a man’s world— and to survive, a woman must betray her own kind.” So having watched the 2001 film prepared me for some of the film’s axis of misogyny and brutality that Dominik’s film continues. The neverending focus on Marilyn’s suffering and trauma by the patriarchy versus the side we don’t see much of— like her working-class radicalism in politics or artwork. Or even her fight for a production company after embattling an institution like 20th Century Fox for her contract.
Nevertheless, Dominik’s hazy veneer is elegiac and drew me immediately in with a Latinx portraying the American icon. De Armas’ performance is devotedly gripping and echoes Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’ haunting score. Dominik fully embraces the chauvinist lens for its narrative trope that splits the personalities of Norma Jeane and Marilyn Monroe. The film is stunning but visceral; the response is apparent polarizing— you either love it or hate it. I love the gloss of it; the almost saccharine lens draws you in as it unveils an onyx level of darkness to its patriarchal lens. The treatment of disrespect and utter disposal of its subject matter both on-and-off screen is rampant as Dominik’s continual dismissal is offputting. Considering Marilyn Monroe is his chosen leading lady, I wouldn’t say I adore the film. Yet I couldn’t look away— that is, until moments of on-purpose discomfort with its shaming anti-abortion message. Dominik’s film doesn’t offer more than the 2001 film other than in-your-face moments of abrasive distress. There’s no denying in the chauvinistic sexism fervently rampant in Ms. Monroe’s day currently still exists. Ergo, focusing solely on her misery, still removes compassion toward a soul that can’t rest in the hands of men and women who side with their ratty and disproportionate patriarchy.
“Does anyone care, really? People who make films tend to think they’re incredibly important. But it’s just a movie about Marilyn Monroe. And there are going to be a lot more movies about Marilyn Monroe. Not that anyone, in his opinion, is really watching any of those movies that were made by Monroe. She’s somebody who’s become this huge cultural thing in a whole load of movies that nobody watches, right? Does anyone watch Marilyn Monroe movies?,” the director told Sight and Sound writer Christine Newland in an outtake she posted to Twitter.
I think Ms. Monroe deserves the respect he nonchalantly glazes over but features in his film, which took 10 years to create yet already existed. As one of my favorite writers, Angelica Jade Bastién, writes for for her fantastic and spot on review for Vulture, “The trouble with being a woman and making your art look so natural is that the world believes you unaware of your own magic; you’re less skilled artist than unaware naif merely happening upon great talent.”
I refuse to spoil her words, but Bastién succinctly nails what Dominik’s film lacks. Her piece is a much-deserved read, and her words below needed a moment.
“Why are women so often called to represent things rather than be things in film? Woman is a myth, is a representation of Hollywood’s depravity, of the totalizing nature of white women’s victimhood, of the nature of womanhood itself (which is to suffer, of course).”
Again, I recommend her work as Bastién delves into the split personality trope. Her newsletter goes a bit further on her Blonde piece in Madwomen & Muses.
Comparable to Dominik, author JCO dismisses Ms. Monroe aside— something she’s always fought against— insinuating she had a hand in her destiny by basically victim-blaming. Bastién mentions this in her bonus newsletter piece, along with more distasteful bits from Blonde director Dominik. This irritative reason to ignore empathy from both JCO and Dominik is clearer with each interview— yet they’re twenty years apart as they mirror each other as half of the fictional throuple they mention as Gemini. Their misogyny is as scintillatingly clear as Monroe’s affinity for diamonds as Lorelei in the 1953 film Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
Thinking that women are not beyond our pain is reductive. The societal expectation that women are less than men and, therefore, devoid of humanity is appalling. Still, the imbalance of dynamics is painstakingly obvious as women currently struggle with human rights globally. The lack of existing peacefully without assumed gender roles or desirability projections is somehow a fantasy— which also reminds us that overlooked communities that identify as women struggle intersectionally.
Respect and self-worth pair well, embracing softness; we also must have some bearing of healthy boundaries that should have nothing to do with gender roles. Humanness goes a long way, and having to adopt or even assure a stronger demeanor isn’t rude or bitchy as women are stamped. Boundaries are boundaries; we’re just socially conditioned into thinking we always have to be friendly, positive, or even receptively warm. Having women at the feet of the patriarchy or, to put it perversely, stroking the fragility of men’s egos over our well-being is absurd. Regardless, I refuse to let unwanted attention or expectations slip by me without calling out such unsavory behavior— not after the year I’ve had. Certainly, it’s not what Youthquake is about, as its entire essence is dedicated to Edie Sedgwick.
Like Ms. Monroe, the patriarchy exploited and commodified Edie Sedgwick’s glamour and suffering. A capitalist tale as old as time. So with such legendary women before me, inspiring me creatively while reminding me of the seedy underbelly that decays in this man’s world. It’s something I don’t take lightly, as we’re all beyond our mental health struggles or addictions and appearances, even if we dip into our vanities. None of this deters us from who we are as people that crave respect. No one— and undoubtedly not any centuries-old institution— should have a say in the validity of our humanness or quest for such.
Pop culture moments are inevitable whether we engage; celebrity speculation is a full-fledged spectator sport to us, regular folks, with mindless pop culture nonsense— escapism is well-deserved. Here’s the pop culture round-up we can’t get away from— or enough of, seemingly.
Lindsay Lohan is back, and while I’ll never see her new holiday Hallmark film, it’s good to see her thriving again. Recently, she’s been making promo appearances while being styled by Law Roach— who made history by winning the first Stylist Award at the 2022 CFDA Fashion Awards. A fantastic full-circle moment for the duo when the stylist took a page from Mariah Carey’s etiquette handbook for handling unwanting attention in 2019 with, I don’t know her.
Instagram: @lindsaylohan Rainn Wilson has changed his name to Rainnfall Heat Wave Extreme Winter Wilson to protest climate change ahead of this week’s COP27 climate summit in Egypt. Despite countless private jets arriving for this supposed climate summit— but sure, alright. I appreciate the attention, but it’s about as helpful as purchased climate protestors throwing soup at famous paintings— the spotlight should be on when an activist lit himself on fire outside the U.S. Supreme Court.
Katy Perry looked past Jesus tattooed on her wrist in favor of a candidate vehemently against the unhoused— which is what pious Christian Chris Pratt was, yet also voted for Rick Caruso. None of these and other celebrities voting republican is surprising, so the uproar and pushback are always funny. Hollywood is an old institution and money machine, so the idea of celebrities preserving their wealth and overlords is obvious. Katy Perry being that girl I always knew she was isn’t shocking either— shocking would be if her live vocals matched her studio vocals.
The new season of Netflix’s The Crown is out now. Elizabeth Debicki’s portrayal of another white mother of mine, Princess Diana, is inescapable but raises a question about this trend of captivating but automated realism of performances of actors mimicking the real live person instead of embodying their essence. Austin Butler and Taron Egerton are great examples of not particularly looking like their counterpart but understanding and executing their assignment. Shot-for-shot verisimilitude isn’t as riveting; it’s without that wistfulness and melancholy that enclosed Princess Diana’s continual disrespect— it’s why so many generations of women connect to her in some way, her pain while remaining so poised is all too familiar.
Chris Evans joins the likes of 40-year-old guys that are dating 20-somethings. While the world wants us to revere eternal bachelors like he, Jon Hamm, and Leonardo DiCaprio, there’s something questionable about them not settling down— or then settling down with women half their age. It’s fascinatingly oh-so predictable; this brings us to 40-something John Mayer and yet another young lady. Currently, he’s rumored to be dating 20-something Kiernan Shipka— how’s it constantly accepted, especially when historically he’s an absolute sleaze towards women? Not sure about the appeal of “white blues legend” John Mayer since he’ll always be that corny guy with cheesy lines and serenades, thinking that’s all it takes. The fact that he and Jared Leto types still creep around young ladies, even though I remember reading blind items of both of them and their ways back in the 2000s when I was in high school— creeps usually stay creepy.
Yet it’s comical that single women are labeled spinsters and are supposedly sad or lonely; in reality, the choices are ours now more than ever. Ironically with many restrictive laws affecting healthcare access, more women are choosing not to get married or have kids as the dread of existence is a major reason in our social, political, and environmental climate. Not to mention, the bar is on the ground with dating and knowing what is deserved emotionally— not just physically but with so many fragile male egos and incels; it’s no wonder why single women stay single. Yet, the perpetuating of men’s pointed choices toward normality is always obvious; society is somehow expected to accept their choices, but women are vilified and dragged through the mud for punishment— labeled emotionally abusive expletives like whore, slut, and gold-diggers if we dare to do the same as men. For example, 70-something music producer David Foster and his third wife, 30-something-year-old Katherine McPhee— vs. Cher and her new boyfriend, 30-something-year-old Alexander ‘AE’ Edwards.The Foster/McPhee age-gap couple welcomed a child just last year, which is wonderful for them. However, women get more scrutiny and backlash for doing the same damn thing, like Cher dating a much younger man. Why is companionship looked down upon, yet older men need or start families with much younger women for security considered mundane? Foster and McPhee’s love story is romantic and fairy tale-ish, while Cher and ‘AE’ get a fervent backfire. Conversely, like Cher, I believe in life after love— maybe not with someone who cheated on their previous love (Amber Rose) with twelve women. Still, if there’s anyone who won’t tolerate a man’s nonsense, it’s my forever Diosa Cher.
Decidedly, it’s a short week trying to be offline and wintering away due to creepy men, yet trying to remain affiliated so I don’t miss anyone whom I’ve sincerely connected with on Twitter has been wild. I’m still going down with that mess of a ship like Dido because how could I possibly miss the inevitable downfall of Elon Musk’s dumbest decision? Despite my love/loathe relationship with Instagram, I don’t think I can make that full-time commitment— and I refuse to learn Mastodon, whatever that even is.
Lately, I haven’t felt myself these days as I’m emotionally or physically spent while trying not to have sociopolitical anxieties cement us down like anchors we don’t need nor deserve. Reading the room and social (online) cues are crucially important, while knowing consent is everything— if someone hasn’t expressed sole interest or acknowledged beyond cordialness, then there is no interest. Being friendly isn’t flirting, and it’s exhausting to make it known because there’s a difference— I’d show you flirting if I could, but this is strictly and respectfully platonic. Again, it’s exhausting that I have to mention this, but I’m exhausted. I’ll part with the words of Marilyn Monroe.
You’re always running into people’s unconscious.— from Last Talk With a Lonely Girl: Marilyn Monroe by Richard Meryman. Life magazine, August 17, 1962.
You can find an archived edited version from 2007 via The Guardian.
Thankful for the underdogs of the internet, archived pieces that are accessible— I digress. Escapism is freshly welcomed— so our feature, Virtual Insanity, returns soon. Complete with a new Youthquake feature called Love Lists.
Con Amor,
Naomi x