This year marks the 50th anniversary of The Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, one of the most influential pop albums ever made. The cover – a collage by artist Peter Blake – features the Fab Four lining up alongside more than sixty of the last century’s most iconic figures. Marilyn is there, as photographed by Ben Ross in 1953. BBC Music have compiled a mini-documentary for each one: Marilyn’s includes newsreel footage from her arrival in England to shoot The Prince and the Showgirl in 1956. You can watch the clip here.
After a recent mini-movie starring Kate Upton, UK fashion magazine LOVE has unveiled another Marilyn-inspired clip, featuring the model and young Kardashian sister, Kendall Jenner. Shot by photographer Rankin and apparently inspired by Marilyn’s late collaboration with Bert Stern, the effect is more Lolita than Let’s Make Love; but Kendall exudes a playful innocence here, keeping her hair brunette a la Norma Jeane, and (perhaps wisely) miming to Marilyn’s voice rather than attempting a full impersonation.
She’s not the first in the Kardashian clan to be linked with MM – eldest sister Kim was compared to Marilyn by husband Kanye West (of course, he’s biased), while Khloe received some iconic Monroe prints from the family matriarch, Kris Jenner, last Christmas. ‘What would Marilyn Monroe have made of it?‘ asks WWD‘s Samantha Conti – and that, of course, is anyone’s guess.
Multimedia artist Philippe Parreno’s 2012 video installation, Marilyn – based on her own writings as collected in the 2010 book, Fragments, and originally exhibited in Switzerland – is featured in a new retrospective of his work in film, Philippe Parreno: Thenabouts, on display at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image (ACMI) in Melbourne until March 13, as Christopher Allen reports for The Australian.
“The most successful and memorable work in the exhibition was devoted to Marilyn Monroe, a figure who for half a century has been a kind of cultural palimpsest: the original actress, talented, intelligent, tragic, is overlaid with Warhol’s adoption of her as emblematic of the way that the modern mass media turns celebrities into two-dimensional patterns akin to brands or logos.
Parreno has recreated the hotel room at the Waldorf Astoria that Monroe occupied in New York in 1955. The camera pans around the room while the actress’s voice describes its design and furnishings: wall coverings, sofas, desks, coffee-table, ornaments. And then the camera switches to a close shot of a fountain pen writing on hotel stationery: we seem to be watching Monroe’s own pen forming her own words in her own handwriting.
But the voice is disembodied and we do not see the hand holding the pen, for all is done through computerised robotic movements. The speech is synthesised from recordings of the star’s voice, and the handwriting robot has been programmed to reproduce samples of her script. As both voice and handwriting routines are repeated, we realise that something mechanical is going on, and this is confirmed as gradually the camera takes a longer view, progressively revealing parts of the illusion.
First we see bits of scaffolding, then gradually we are shown the mechanism holding and moving the pen. And then the camera pans out to reveal that the whole room had really been a set built in a studio. Marilyn Monroe, as it turned out, had not only been reduced to a brand in her own day, but could now be synthetically reproduced, mechanically cloned as it were; a reflection, perhaps, on the further reduction of the actor, in the mass media world, to a consumer product.
The ending was interesting from another point of view too, because it was almost cliched in its use of the trope of illusion revealed. But it was also significant in being one of the few clear endings in a body of films mostly with little sense of starting or finishing.
Watching Parreno’s lengthy and not always gripping body of work, I couldn’t help reflecting that Aristotle was on to something with his conception of plot as the basic structuring device for stories.
At least the Marilyn Monroe film conformed perfectly to his definition of an ending: an action that implies something before it but nothing after it.”
Amateur footage from the set of The Seven Year Itch has resurfaced, as Helene Stapinski reports for the New York Times. Shot by Jules Schulback, a furrier and home movie enthusiast, in September 1954, the missing reel – in pristine condition, and lasting for three minutes and seventeen seconds in total – was found by his granddaughter Bonnie Siegler and her husband Jeff Scher almost sixty years later.
“The film starts with a spliced-in intertitle that reads ‘World Premiere,’ Mr. Schulback’s little inside joke.
And then there is Marilyn Monroe, in a white terry robe, coming down the stoop of a white-shuttered building at 164 East 61st Street, between Lexington and Third Avenues. It was the earlier scene — before the subway grate footage — that Mr. Schulback had shot. Cameramen and press photographers are gathered outside as the actress smiles and waves.
Cut to Ms. Monroe in a second-floor window wearing a slip and blow-drying her hair. Mr. Ewell walks down the street and into the building. The film cuts inexplicably to 30 seconds of what must be a Shriners parade in Manhattan, then jumps to another intertitle, which reads ‘Our Baby.’
And suddenly, there is Ms. Monroe again, this time on the subway grate in that famously fluttering white dress, holding a matching white clutch in her right hand and a red-and-white-striped scarf in her left.
Mr. Schulback was incredibly close, filming right behind Mr. Wilder’s shoulder, stopping to wind his hand-held camera every 25 seconds. Now and then, a silhouette of the director’s arm intrudes into Mr. Schulback’s crystal-clear shot. At one point Mr. Wilder, in a fedora, passes across the frame. Ms. Monroe gets into position and yawns, while the cinematographer sets up the camera. Through a gap in the film crew, Mr. Schulback captures just her face, looking off to the left, serious and unsmiling.
Then Mr. Ewell is there, chatting with Ms. Monroe, who pushes him into position. The dress flutters again, Ms. Monroe holds it down, bending slightly, smiling and talking to Mr. Ewell, but it flutters up some more and she laughs, her head thrown back. It blows up again, but she doesn’t push it down this time, and it flies up over her head, clearly revealing two pairs of underwear that, because of the bright lights, do not protect Ms. Monroe’s modesty quite as much as she might have liked.
Then, as suddenly as she appeared, Marilyn is gone, and the film reverts to home-movie mode: Edith Schulback walking on the grass at a family outing in the country. It’s like being shaken from some crazy dream, back to reality.”
Elsewhere in the Times, Alexandra S. Levine retraced Marilyn’s steps in today’s New York.
“We started outside 164 East 61st Street, the townhouse shown in the film.
The house is still standing, and this week, it appeared to be the only one on the block still adorned with Christmas decorations.
(It’s also now directly across from Trump Plaza, which was certainly not part of the movie’s quaint side-street landscape.)
We then walked to Lexington to visit Gino, a restaurant where Ms. Monroe would often eat with her second husband, Joe DiMaggio, and later with her third, Arthur Miller.
We regret to inform you that the eatery is long gone. It’s now Sprinkles, a cupcake shop, and the outside of the building has an A.T.M. that dispenses cupcakes. (How far we’ve come in 63 years!)
We headed south, to 52nd Street, the site of the celebrated subway grate.
There was no Marilyn Monroe plaque or street sign to be seen; the block is designated Lew Rudin Way. And the Trans-Lux Theater, which stood behind Ms. Monroe as she filmed the scene, is no longer there.
So we stopped above what we imagined was the same grate, now in front of the bistro Le Relais de Venise l’Entrecôte, to see if it might elicit an out-of-body experience.
The long, narrow subway grate was sandwiched on one end by a garbage can, and on the other by a large, thirsty-looking potted plant.
When we stood over the grate, we didn’t feel the swoosh of the subway swiftly blowing at our heels. When we looked down, all we could see was our own reflection in some murky water. And we certainly didn’t look like we were having an exceptional hair day.
What we’d suggest, to better recreate that unforgettable New York (but made in Hollywood) moment, is to ask a friend to come along with a giant fan and an iPhone. Ask that kind soul to turn on the fan, encourage passers-by to cheer your name, and let the photo shoot begin.”
In the final instalment of Love Magazine‘s Advent series, supermodel Kate Upton – whose blonde hair and voluptuous curves have been compared to Marilyn’s – sips champagne and frolics in lingerie to the soundtrack of ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend’. However, the short video, directed by Doug Inglish, owes more to the cheeky aesthetic of The Benny Hill Show than the glamour of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Judge for yourself here.
The 2016 memorial service for Marilyn will be streamed live from Westwood Memorial Park in Los Angeles tomorrow, August 5, at 11 am (Pacific Time Zone.) You can watch online via Marilyn Remembered on Facebook – more details here.
Actress Annalynne McCord (Nip/Tuck, 90210) heads a cast of Marilyn lookalikes in the video for Canadian band White Lung’s new single, ‘Below’, reports Spin. Singer Mish Barber-Way explained the concept behind the song.
“This is my Stevie-Nicks-meets-Celine Dion ballad. I needed to try to do a ballad about glamorous women. It’s based on a quote by Camille Paglia from an interview she did a few years ago in Toronto. ‘Beauty fades. Beauty is transient. That is why we value it,’ she said. ‘Feminism’s failure to acknowledge that beauty is a value in itself, that even if a woman manages to achieve it for a particular moment, she has contributed something to the culture.’ It’s a song about the preservation of glamour and beauty.”
The lyrics to ‘Below’ also evoke beauty, sadness – and Marilyn…
“You know this means nothing if you go die alone
They’ll bury your beauty
Transient living stone
A broken crystal carcass reflects in all the light
I see it fading now but it’s so bright, so bright…”
It has been a puzzle to Marilyn fans for many years: the brief video clip where a swimsuit-clad MM, reclining on a poolside lounger, purrs, ‘I hate a careless man.’ It was shot at the home of Harold Lloyd, the silent movie comedian turned cheesecake photographer, in 1953. But little more was known about it. Now Immortal Marilyn‘s April VeVea has found the source of the mystery footage…
“Recently I was going through Marilyn Monroe’s IMDB page under the ‘Archive Footage’ tab. I was surprised to see her listed under a 1995 documentary, narrated by William Shatner, called Trinity and Beyond – The Atomic Bomb Movie. In it, a short 1953 PSA [Public Service Announcement], that was only shown to members of the United States Air Force, called Security is Common Sense is shown at the 47:35 mark. The PSA talks about using common sense measures when dealing with government secrets such as ‘avoiding loose talk, safeguarding top secret information, reporting security violations at once, and avoiding writing about top secret information when writing home.’ At 48:39 who pops up but Marilyn herself to end the PSA!”
The New York-based singer and model, Louise Chantal, has released a video for her latest track, ‘CalNeva’, inspired by the mythology of Marilyn, John F. Kennedy and Frank Sinatra’s Cal-Neva Lodge, reports Galore magazine. ‘CalNeva’ exudes a laidback R&B groove, though its factual basis is rather dubious (Marilyn and JFK never visited the casino together), perpetuating the unfortunate stereotype of MM as lovelorn victim.
“CalNeva was inspired by Marilyn Monroe and the alleged affair between Monroe and John F. Kennedy. From around 1960 to 1963, Frank Sinatra owned Cal Neva Resort & Casino. Before writing this song, I read about how Sinatra loved to entertain his friends; both of which were Monroe and The Kennedy Family. I was fascinated by that dynamic so I just kept reading more stories about their relationship. Somehow in the midst of reading I created a fantasy in my head and connected that to the emotion that I really wanted to convey through this song. CalNeva is a love letter written by a broken hearted woman, and anyone that has experienced betrayal and disappointment can relate to this story.”
In Los Angeles, artists are exploring the death of John F. Kennedy and the women in his life, reports VICE. Perhaps inevitably, Marilyn is a featured subject, although in truth her connection to JFK may be more mythical than real – and after all, she died more than a year before him.
“Painter Rosson Crow’s first foray into filmmaking, for example, is Madame Psychosis Holds a Séance, now on view at LA’s Honor Fraser Gallery through December 19 … Starring Kelly Lynch as a slightly worse-for-the-wear 60s-era singer whose fragile, careworn platinum blonde, red-lipsticked beauty deliberately evokes latter-day Marilyn Monroe, the film shows the existential meltdown of Madame Psychosis upon hearing the news of the death through TV and newspaper. She moves with an awkward, dream-logic elegance through the stages of grief, chain-smoking at Ouija boards, the phonecalls to prove he loved her in real life not only her imagination, the gorgeous, taunting mountain of roses delivered to his widow rather than her own lonely bungalow, that bury her in a nightmare, the creeping in of self-doubt, the descent into madness.”
Meanwhile, cult performance artist Karen Finley has referenced Marilyn in her new show, Love Field (named after the Dallas airport where Kennedy touched down on the day of his murder.) Finley was inspired by Bert Stern’s 1962 photos of Marilyn in a black wig. The images have since been interpreted as a cheeky impersonation of the first lady, Jackie Kennedy – however, there is no evidence that Marilyn intended it as such.
“Visual, performance, and literary icon of punk-wave feminism Karen Finley was also in LA around the anniversary of the assassination, for both the opening of her painting and drawing show Love Field at Coagula Curatorial, as well as the coinciding inauguration of the Broad Museum’s performance art programs with her seminal work, The Jackie Look … In the Love Field show, Finley brings together paintings and drawings from diverse but interrelated series examining the public rituals Jackie was forced to endure during what ought to have been a time of private grieving … and always, somewhere, the equally haunting phantom of Marilyn Monroe.”