Monroe's Method and Her Sexpot Shadow

Revisiting the films of Marilyn Monroe, I find it extraordinary how far some of them go as reflexive commentaries on her acting method, which by the time of "Let's Make Love," was the Method of Lee Strasberg's Actors Studio, and on her star persona, as sexpot. I'm also only more convinced now that she's one of the greatest actresses we've ever had, but many have always been blinded to this because of the highly gendered and sexualized nature of her iconic status, if not also because she was physically an extremely attractive woman. There was no escaping that status as sex symbol. No way at the time would a studio finance Monroe in some sort of Charlize Theron in "Monster" (2003) or Nicole Kidman in "Destroyer" (2018) sort of de-glamourization or anything near it. She had to walk out on her contract with Fox and leverage the power of her box-office draw to renegotiate it just to get roles such as the one here, which itself was an extraordinary act at the time, standing up to a major Hollywood studio.

So, the best that could be done was to separate the character from the uber-sexed guise in some bifurcated way--usually by playing a character who was also a performer of the dumb blonde type. "Let's Make Love" goes about as far in that direction as I suspect possible (OK, except for maybe in her next and last film) without teetering entirely into parody or some world of Charlie Kaufman that the Beatnik theatre in this film and audiences in 1960 surely weren't ready for yet, if they even are today. (Monroe impersonator Michelle Williams, on the other hand, starred in "Synecdoche, New York" (2008).) Monroe plays a variation of herself, or perhaps even the image of herself as a Method actress, on the Beatnik stage performing a parody verging on satire of the sexpot. The instigating event of the narrative even revolves around the play-within-the-play being a parody, of Yves Montand's billionaire playboy, who winds up playing his own imitation.

Watch that opening number, "My Heart Belongs to Daddy;" it's staged as a burlesque, with strip club lighting, Monroe sliding down and swinging on polls, legs parted; she even strips by removing her sweater, and the song infantilizes her excessively, singing "My name is Lolita" and about "her daddy" as a lover. If this isn't a shot at the pigeonhole of her typecasting by making the sexpot vulgar, nothing is. A later number, the titular "Let's Make Love," is even more to the point of the voyeuristic fantasy, of her in bed to copulate. Montand mirrors the presumed "male gaze" of the spectator in dreaming himself in the role occupied by Frankie Vaughan performing with her in the scene. Meanwhile, Monroe's actress and Montand's mistaken actor play a more explicit variation of the role Monroe previously played with Laurence Olivier in "The Prince and the Showgirl" (1957), of the American sexpot, attending night school, trying to avoid being the humiliated butt of the joke, teaching the Method to the stuffy aristocrat of European theatricality, instructing him in the exact exercises of the Actors Studio, from relaxation techniques to character identification and following directorial instruction. The jokes over his attempts to reveal his true identity being mistaken for the Method gone too far are especially amusing. Even if the drama eventually becomes over the dissolution of the bifurcation, that too is rather parodic--the girl whose best friend isn't diamonds, "How to Marry a Millionaire" (1953) exaggerated to "How to Marry a Billionaire," or rather a How to for a Billionaire in getting hitched.

There's also an element of the Judy Garland version of "A Star Is Born" (1954) here, a film also directed by George Cukor, in that the men surrounding Monroe compliment and further reflect her star persona. As with James Mason's character as Garland's shadow, there's a depressed alcoholic who can't escape being an actor as her lover in Vaughan's character. Montand's role, too, while primarily apparently based on purveyor-of-inherited-wealth John Hay Whitney, reflects Monroe somewhat, of fame and wealth and the publicity surrounding their love lives. Note here that Monroe's husband at the time, playwright Arthur Miller, touched up the script, for which one may also guess explains what there manages to be here of a critique of wealth inequality, and that Monroe and Montand had a much-publicized extramarital affair during the production.

Perhaps, Cukor as a homosexual in an era of rampant homophobia also had a hand here in reflecting his own concerns with publicity and one's private life. It's even a bit ambiguous as to whether Vaughan plays Monroe's lover or whether his character may be considered coded as gay--perhaps one of the reasons off-Broadway men don't give a second look at an underdressed Monroe. While not of the calibre of Garland and her "friends of Dorothy" in that respect, Monroe has also been something of a gay icon, with the knowing performativity of her parts, if albeit an appeal marginalized by the enormous coincident sex appeal to heterosexual men and sympathetic camaraderie expressed with female fans. Of course, much too has been written about Monroe's reputed bisexual affairs.

And, while on the matter of Monroe's popularity, it's a shame she never received even an Oscar nomination. Odd how such a specifically American, 1950s icon received more such accolades from abroad, although the fan magazine "Photoplay" did honor her as both the most popular female star of 1953 and the Best Actress. From overseas, though, she was nominated for BAFTAs (UK) and won a Golden Globe (foreign press), a David di Donatello Award (Italy), and a César (France).

Admittedly, including by Monroe and Miller, "Let's Make Love" isn't her finest picture. It was part of her obligation to complete that renegotiated Fox deal, which the studio insisted upon after the success of "Some Like It Hot" (1959) for United Artists and before Monroe and Miller could continue with their originally planned follow-up of "The Misfits" (1961). Indeed, Monroe's character lacks dimension and may be too nakedly a skeleton reflection of herself as actress and blonde bombshell, with little in the way of greater depth in character and story of the similar "The Prince and the Showgirl" or "Bus Stop" (1956). The biggest problem, however, is simply that Monroe's part isn't big enough; she's basically playing a supporting role here to Montand's protagonist. He's fine, too, for his part, but he's no Monroe, nor Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in drag. His economical "Odd Couple" routine with Tony Randall is hardly a compelling counter subplot, let alone that with father figure Wilfrid Hyde-White. And, the cameos from Milton Berle as the greatest comic, Bing Crosby as the greatest singer, and Gene Kelly as the greatest dancer do go to the suggestion of Monroe as the greatest actress, but they're also another distraction from her being what should be the central focus here. Were this the only film to feature self-referential commentary on Monroe as actress and sex symbol, I'd probably be more disappointed, but much of her career was an elaboration of this. Yet, "Let's Make Love," does offer a somewhat different and intriguing variation thereof, and the last musical one, and if not always wise, has its moments otherwise.