The Trial of the Chicago 7

Director: Aaron Sorkin
Starring: Eddie Redmayne, Alex Sharp, Sacha Baron Cohen, Jeremy Strong, John Carroll Lynch, Noah Robbins, Daniel Flaherty, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Kelvin Harrison Jr., Mark Rylance, Ben Shenkman, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, J.C. MacKenzie, Frank Langella, Michael Keaton 
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

If it's become customary to refer to any controversial or contested trial that captivates the public's imagination as a "circus," 1969's trial of a group of seven anti-Vietnam protesters charged with conspiracy and crossing state lines with the intention of inciting a riot at the Democratic National Convention feels like the starting point. That Netflix's The Trial of the Chicago 7 is written and directed by Aaron Sorkin pretty much insures that we won't be subjected to a dry, biographical history lesson recounting the timeline of events surrounding this pivotal event. But there's this feeling that even if he did take that more conventional approach, the material would still be inescapably compelling and entertaining enough on its own merits. But this is Sorkin we're talking about so it's not like anyone is expecting the writer behind The Social Network and The West Wing to phone it in. And sure enough, he doesn't.

Better recognized for having other filmmakers adapt his sometimes polarizing perspectives, there was a question mark surrounding how Sorkin's decisions behind the camera would affect this material given that this is only the Oscar-winning screenwriter's second directorial feature. So while we'll never know how his script could have turned out in other hands, it's tough to care when the version we do get leaves this much of an impression. With an all-star cast at his disposal, he manages to give this multi-faceted, politically and ethically complicated true story the dramatic heft it deserves while expertly balancing many of its comedic, absurdist moments. And there's no doubt that this trial is absurd on every possible level, made that much more remarkable by the fact that much of what we see did actually happen, if you give or take some details and grant the usual degree of creative license.

It's August 1968 when Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) president Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) and community organizer Rennie Davis (Alex Sharp), Youth International Party (Yippie) founders Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen) and Jerry Rubin (Jeremy Strong), along with Vietnam mobilization leader (MOBE) David Dellinger (John Carroll Lynch) and anti-war activists Lee Weiner (Noah Robbins) and John Froines (Daniel Flaherty) protest at the Democratic Convention in Chicago, kicking off a chain of events that results in violent rioting. Five months later, all of them, in addition to an eighth defendant, Black Panther party co-founder Bobby Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), are charged and eventually put on trial, with the Attorney General appointing young, idealstic lawyer Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and veteran litigator Tom Foran (J.C. MacKenzie) as prosecutors for the case. 

With the extremely prejudiced Judge Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella) on the bench, defense attorneys William Kunstler (Mark Rylance) and Leonard Weinglass (Ben Shankman) attempt to represent their rather uncontrollable clients, most notably the disruptive Abbie Hoffman and self-professed non-client Seale, who forgoes legal counsel to instead receive advice from Illinois Black Panther chapter chairman Fred Hampton (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) in court. With the events of that summer coming into clearer view through key witness testimony, the proceedings soon careen out of control, with Judge Hoffman's controversial, biased rulings making it impossible for the defendants to receive a fair trial, exposing the flaws within the government, judicial system, and further opening the wounds of political and racial unrest throughout the country. 

As far as the nation's most ridiculous trials go, this one's right up there, as the film starts in an almost jarringly scattershot montage style, introducing us to the key principle players in court, while interspersing often uproariously comical legal scenes with the fateful events that took place in Chicago. Tonally, this isn't the easiest balancing act, but Sorkin masters it, establishing all of their out-sized personalities and motivations, with Cohen's Abbie Hoffman and Strong's Jerry Rubin being the most radicalized of the group, easily getting under the quick-tempered, frustratingly illogical judge's skin. An early highlight sees Judge Hoffman constantly interrupting Schultz's opening statement to reiterate that there's "no relation" between he and the defendant. If ever there was a mix-up no one would ever make, it's that. 

This entire film really belongs to an award-worthy Langella, who just nails the staggering incompetence of a man who makes Judge Lance Ito look like RBG. Senile, racist and mind-blowingly ignorant, his actions are hilariously inept until it's obvious the stakes have gotten too high and, we're left to process the immense consequences of this eventual verdict, along with all the potential ramifications surrounding that. It's funny until it isn't, and that line's very visible once it's crossed. Much of the turmoil concerns the eighth defendent, Bobby Seals, who besides probably not even deserving of being there, is shut down in escalatingly humiliating ways by the judge, reaching a fever pitch toward the trial's end. You almost lose track of how many charges of contempt are laid down, especially on Mark Rylance's defense attorney, who eventually has enough. 

Everyone's had enough, with some faring better than others at hiding it. The two bedrocks who seem incapable of breaking are Redmayne's logically level-headed Tom Hayden and JGL's Schultz, the latter of whom isn't ignorant to the shenanigans unfolding while still retaining his loyalty to the law. A park encounter midway through with him and Hoffman and Rubin truly reveals what type of a person he is, conistent with his character in court and a reminder that boths sides are being professionally and personally victimized by this sham of a trial, regardless of how much weight the charges carry. There's also a brief, but great performance from Michael Keaton as former Attorney General Ramsey Clark, who may or may not turn out to be the star witness the defense is banking on.

The flashbacks to the actual riots are powerfully filmed by Sorkin, especially revealing in terms of what it says about Hayden, who is intentionally portrayed as kind of a milquetoast character up to that point. This changes in a major way toward the end, leading into an over-the-top, but still immensely satisfying resolution that seems completely called for whether or not that's how things exactly unfolded in reality. It works for this film, which is really all that matters. 

The elephant in the room is that the timing couldn't be appropriate or strangely uncomfortable, reminding us just how little has actually changed in the decades since. It's no longer a question of whether something like this could happen again, or even worse. It has and is. That thought never really leaves you as these events unfold, holding up a mirror to a very specific time and place in our culture and political climate that still very much resonates. It's an unpredictably wild trip, and even if you know how it all pans out, it's difficult to still not become enraptured in the proceedings and eventual fallout for these characters. Of course, so much of that impact stems from the fact that it's wrestling with issues still haven't been fully resolved over half a century later.

The Theory of Everything

Director: James Marsh
Starring: Eddie Redmayne, Felicity Jones, Charlie Cox, Emily Watson, Simon McBurney, David Thewlis, Maxine Peake
Running Time: 123 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

"What about the brain?" That's the first question Stephen Hawking (Eddie Redmayne) asks the doctor who diagnoses him with ALS in James Marsh's biographical romance, The Theory of Everything. And as long as you know that Hawking's scientific breakthroughs and theories will be nudged aside in favor exploring his marriage and battle with this crippling disease, it's easy to respect what the film has to offer. Namely, two Oscar-worthy performances and an often uncomfortable, if necessarily detailed depiction of his physical deterioration. And that's the way this had to be since any detailed explanation of his work on film would have come across as dry or incomprehensible to even the most engaged viewers.

This isn't an adaptation of  his bestselling "A Brief History of Time," nor should it be, as anyone interested in digging further into his theories should probably just read that book or hunt down the many the documentaries covering it. The source is instead his ex-wife's memoir, "Travelling To Infinity: My Life With Stephen," so it's unfair to criticize it for what it isn't, especially considering there will be some legitimate gripes with what it already is. And yet, it's still an effective, handsomely made film a lot of people will love for very valid reasons. Consider it a disease procedural about perseverance, with a love story as its backdrop.

We're first introduced to Hawking in 1963 as a 22-year-old doctorate student at Cambridge who's well-liked and intelligent, continually impressing his professor, Dennis Sciama (David Thewlis). It's here where the initially uncertain young man immerses himself in his studies of physics and cosmology, challenging many previously held theories about time, the origins of the universe and black holes. The script digs about as deep as that broad description, instead shifting the focus to his courtship of an intelligent, pretty liberal arts major named Jane Wilde (Felicity Jones), whose religious beliefs often clash with Hawking's scientific ones. But they hit it off, each intellectually impressed with the other in spite of their differences.

While studying at Cambridge, what initially seems to be Stephen's natural awkwardness soon leads to the frightening diagnosis of ALS (or Lou Gehrig's Disease), a degenerative motor neuron disease that will rob him of his muscle control, speech, and then, eventually, everything else. Given only two years to live, he and Jane marry and have children, with Hawking continuing to defy the odds, while his books and theories cement his status as one of the most brilliant and respected scientific minds of the past century.

What makes Hawking such a fascinating subject, despite the relatively straightforward approach to telling his story, is just how little we actually know about him. Aside from those familiar with his life's work, I'm willing to bet few had any idea he was married twice and had three kids. That he's probably known by most casual moviegoers as that guy in a wheelchair who speaks through a computer makes the need for a biopic long overdue. What the uninitiated won't walk away with is any clue as to why he's so revered or what he specifically accomplished. The few scenes touching on it are necessarily explained in layman's terms and some may even find themselves perplexed by those.

The movie goes out of its way not to turn into a physics lecture, as Anthony McCarten's script finds the right balance and tone in presenting the work in the context of his personal life, with Benoît Delhomme's cinematography aiding in creating a vivid, dreamy atmosphere. Had Marsh decided to go further with the science, he would have not only lost the audience, but probably damaged the flow of the film, which is deliberately paced as it is.

The focus is primarily on the ALS battle and it's an eye-opening look at a disease that's recently gotten a lot of attention without much knowledge or education. This at least provides that and Hawking's fight delivers the conflict, despite the heavy, but clumsily handled implication that both Stephen and Jane carried on extra-marital affairs. She with church organist and Stephen's eventual caretaker Jonathan Jones (Charlie Cox) and he with nurse Elaine Mason (Maxine Peake). But the film goes to such great lengths to deny either cheated during their marriage that it's almost comical. It's as if the producers knew they wouldn't get Hawking's full endorsement unless they tip-toed over it, resulting in extreme vagueness.

Jane's pseudo-affair plays better, as she has to fight her emerging feelings for a kind man taking care of her husband and teaching their child, but the script's treatment of Stephen's relationship with that nurse (a late development) is flat-out strange. Perhaps unwilling to compromise Hawking's virtuous reputation, the affair is begrudgingly included, to the smallest extent possible. There's no risk of anyone confusing his personal or moral failings with Steve Jobs' anytime soon, but if the filmmakers weren't going all in and felt that uncomfortable, it probably should have been excised altogether.

While it may be a long-running joke that the quickest way to an Oscar is playing a real-life figure or someone with a debilitating disease, there's a real reason for it. It's extremely difficult. Redmayne does both, and is equally brilliant at it. Besides the subtle physical performance he has to pull off when Hawking first shows ALS symptoms, the most impressive work comes later, when confined to a wheelchair and unable to speak on his own, Redmayne maintains the spark and intelligence of that Cambridge student who first fell in love with physics and Jane. Besides the uncanny resemblance to the real man, there's very much a personality in there that's still shining through, even during Hawking's lowest health moments.

As the rock of the story, Felicity Jones embodies Jane with a strength that's startling, but not completely unexpected knowing how long she cared for her now ex-husband. But it's another thing to see it and witness how Jones presents it. Almost out of pure stubbornness and steely resolve she refuses to give up, answering a firm, certain "No" when frequently confronted with the possibility that she should. She just keeps chipping away to maintain his quality of life and add days, with Jones completely dialed in to this aspect of the character. Everyone will justifiably rave about Redmayne but the movie is as much Jones', with implication being that Hawking is alive today because of Jane. And based on what's presented here, it's difficult to argue that point.

Supposedly, Hawking has already seen and loved the film, but his most revealing comment was on its accuracy. "Broadly true," he called it. With those two words the real-life subject may have offered up a better review of the The Theory of Everything than anyone else possibly could. The whole thing does feel broadly accurate in the sense that Marsh gently brushes over the important moments of his life, touching on key events without stirring up too much controversy, and in two instances, actively avoiding it. It wouldn't be completely inaccurate to label it a "paint-by-numbers" biopic even if I detest the term, but thankfully the subject and acting highly elevate the material.

It's practically impossible not to get caught up in this, just as it's impossible for Hawking himself not to love it given his saintly depiction. That it manages to do this without coming off too saccharine or syrupy, at least until the final scenes, is more than commendable. That he miraculously exceeded doctors' projections by a good forty plus years is the ultimate irony considering his belief in science over faith. While both undoubtedly played a big role, much of it had to do with his wife's refusal to throw in the towel. That and the performances make for a lasting experience, despite the nagging feeling there's a little more to the man than what we got.
      

Les Misérables

Director: Tom Hooper
Starring: Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway, Amanda Seyfried, Eddie Redmayne, Samantha Barks, Aaron Tveit, Isabelle Allen, Helena Bonham Carter, Sacha Baron Cohen
Running Time: 158 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

As someone who's usually not a fan of musicals and was completely unfamiliar with Victor Hugo's Les Misérables on stage or screen, here presents that rare opportunity for me to go into a movie cold. Knowing so little about it, preconceived notions tend to disappear, or at least fade as far into the background as possible. But it still turned out to be a more fulfilling and entertaining experience than my few expectations had prepared me for. It's also a bizarre one, as certain creative and technical decisions are made by Academy Award winning director Tom Hooper that will likely raise the eyebrows of even those who care little about these sorts of things. Arguments could go on all day as to whether they enhance or detract from the material, but at the end it may not even matter. Since all fans will remember is whether it remains true to the source, Hooper's preaching to the choir here. Everyone else will likely be more divided, but it's pretty cut and dry what works and what doesn't, as one section of the story clearly surpasses the other. At the top of the list of successes is the inspired casting, followed closely by a sensational opening hour that sets in motion a chain events that spans nearly twenty years and claims more than a few victims. As the running time wears on and the characters start dropping like flies, it's almost too easy to revert to the joke that this should have been titled Les MISERABLE. Few will debate the film starts losing steam after the opening sixty minutes, but there's still a lot to recommend in a story so expansive that there's genuine doubt all the characters could die of old age before the final credits roll.

Opening in 1815, Les Misérables really tells two tales that eventually converge as one giant, sweeping one. The first involves convict Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman), who's released on parole by prison guard Javert (Russell Crowe), but manages to escape and start a new life for himself, eight years later becoming a factory owner and mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer in France. When one of his workers, Fantine (Anne Hathaway), is fired and forced to sell her hair and turn to prostitution to support her illegitimate daughter, Cosette (Isabelle Allen) Valjean steps in to become the girl's guardian. Now, years later and set against the backdrop of the French Revolution, Valjean is still being trailed by police inspector Javert while an adult Cosette (Amanda Seyfried) becomes the object of Marius Pontmercy's (Eddie Redmayne) affections, much to the dismay of his good friend, Éponine (Samantha Barks), who harbors a secret crush on him. As Javert draws closer to apprehending Valjean, the political turmoil escalates, putting all their lives in danger as a country's future hangs in the balance.          

The first hour of this film is so strong on every level possible that it was almost inevitable that the remainder of it wouldn't be able to keep pace. And Anne Hathaway's Oscar winning supporting performance as the dying Fantine is the major reason why. She has only maybe a little more than 10 minutes of screen time, but makes the most of each grueling moment, effectively selling her character's rapid descent into hopelessness.  Losing her hair and over twenty pounds, her gut-wrenching rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" is without question the defining scene of the movie and it's a magic that isn't quite recaptured once Hathaway makes her exit. Was the role predestined, if not calculated, to win her the Oscar? Maybe, but who cares when she's this good.

It's also the best work Jackman's done in a while as a man on the run, shamed by his secret past as a criminal and racked by his own guilt. The decade plus cat-and-mouse game that unfolds between him and Javert is the film's greatest narrative asset, even when being overshadowed by other goings on in the third act. Russell Crowe himself would probably readily admit his singing isn't exactly the most polished in the cast, at times coming across as a strange hybrid of William Shatner's spoken word albums from the '60's and Pierce Brosnan in Mamma Mia! Crowe's not a singer, but because he's such a formidable actor he's able to pull off absolute lunacy with confidence and conviction. Whether it was for the right reasons or not, I looked forward to every appearance he made. As the swindling, manipulative Thénardiers, Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter feel as if they've just stepped off Tim Burton's set, embodying comedic goth creepiness as the innkeepers mistreating young Cosette and extorting her mother. Cohen is fantastic in the role, making "Master of the House," in which he sings about cheating the inn's patrons, the most raucous and purely enjoyable number in the film. If nothing else, the characters deserve credit for their surprising staying power, as few would guess these seemingly one-dimensional villains figure into the action as much and as long as they do.

Unfortunately, everything comes to a grinding halt once we get to the love triangle, which never seems to take off despite spirited efforts from all involved. Because the time jump is so sudden and jarring, it's difficult to immediately adjust to Amanda Seyfried and Samantha Barks as older versions of the child characters we got to know earlier. But they do well nonetheless. Seyfried, besides being a dead ringer to child counterpart Isabelle Allen in looks, is definitely the best singer in the cast, while Barks, who actually played Éponine on stage, sings and acts her heart out in a role that might not be quite as large as you expected. That her part almost went to Taylor Swift would be shocking if not for the fact that the content of this romantic sub-plot isn't entirely dissimilar to that of her hit songs. As for Redmayne, this marks the second time after My Week with Marilyn that he appears to be a spectator in his own movie as the young lovesick revolutionary. In some ways, Aaron Tveit, who plays his friend and charismatic leader of the movement, Enjolras, makes more of an impression. What saves this section is the music and the fact Hooper gets his act together in time for a strong, emotional finale focusing on the characters we want to see, even if most of them are dead by that point.

This isn't one of those movie musicals that directs itself or is in any way shot like a stage play directly transposed to the screen. Hooper's style is umistakenly "in your face" with weird dutch angles and extreme close-ups that could feel like an invasion of personal space for certain viewers. This is especially true of the Hathaway sequence, where the camera doesn't leave her face the entire time. At times it is too much and it's easy to see why many may not be on board with the approach or feel it's just a filmmaker showing off at the expense of the material. But for me, any bells and whistles were necessary since this was just never going to in my wheelhouse no matter what. The best that could be hoped for was to be sufficiently entertained and Les Mis did deliver that in spades It's never boring or uninteresting. Strangely, it sometimes suffers from the opposite problem, moving a mile a minute with hardly a moment to breathe and take it all in. But as far as problems go, that's a pretty good one to have.          

My Week With Marilyn

Director: Simon Curtis
Starring: Michelle Williams, Kenneth Branagh, Eddie Redmayne, Emma Watson, Judi Dench, Dominic Cooper, Julia Ormond, Toby Jones, Dougray Scott 
Running Time: 99 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The role of Marilyn Monroe has to be one of the most intimidating and challenging parts an actress can be asked to play, though not for the reasons you'd assume. As far as legendary pop culture icons and celebrities go, there was always a tendency to believe there had to be more to her than what we saw. She really wasn't a good actress. She wasn't incredibly talented. Yet here she is today as this tragic figure and sometimes it's kind of tricky to determine how. That's why casting her is thankless. Do you you cast a movie star who isn't much of an actress for a sensationalized look at "Marilyn?" Or find a great actress who may not necessarily come off as a big movie star for a deeper look at "Norma Jean?" Simon Curtis' pseudo-biopic My Week With Marilyn answers that question by laying claim to the most intriguing casting choice in years and Michelle Williams' Oscar nominated performance delivers on it, even in moments when the rest of the film has trouble keeping up with her.

Foregoing the more traditional biopic route, writer Adrian Hodges (adapting Colin Clark's memoirs) instead takes the Frost/Nixon approach, capturing a brief, but pivotal moment-in-time snapshot in the life of an iconic figure. The story's told through the eyes of Oxford grad and aspiring filmmaker Colin (Eddie Redmayne) who spent a week with Marilyn Monroe (Williams) as third assistant director on Laurence Olivier's (Kenneth Branagh) 1957 film The Prince and the Showgirl (then titled The Sleeping Prince). Olivier, the respected thespian and stage actor, sees casting Marilyn opposite him as a chance for to regain his youth and vitality, finally becoming a full-fledged movie star. For Marilyn-- already the biggest star on the planet-- it's the rare chance to be taken seriously as an actress by holding her own onscreen with one of the best. Of course, the result of this promising collaboration ended up laying somewhere in between a complete disaster and a curious footnote in cinematic history. Over-medicated, showing up late and flubbing lines, the Marilyn who shows up on set with acting coach Paula Strasburg (Zoe Wanamaker) glued to her arm more closely resembles a frightened child in need of constant babysitting than her sexy public persona. After Marilyn's husband, playwright Arthur Miller (Dougray Scott) skips town in the midst of her meltdowns, it becomes Clark's job to look after the star and a semi-romantic friendship develops, awkwardly placing him in the middle of her feud with Olivier. An infatuated Colin falls fast and hard, ignoring warnings from Olivier and her agent Milton Greene (Dominic Cooper) not to buy into the "little girl lost" act they think she's selling.

Outside of Williams' performance and the fascinating on-set clash with Olivier, there isn't a lot here, but there doesn't need to be because those two elements are more than enough. While played well by Redmayne, Colin is kind of a flat character, functioning only as the eyes through which we can observe Marilyn as he attempts to grasp the magnitude of what's happening to him. Whether she's actually interested in him romantically seems almost beside the point. Instead, he represents for her the opportunity to have a real date, act a little crazy and enjoy the normal romantic pleasures that have proved impossible because of her fame. There's a sense all she wants to do is get rid of Marilyn and is unintentionally using Colin to do it, which can only lead to heartache for him. Then again, there are many moments where we sense she doesn't want to get rid of her at all, or simply can't. Her use of the Marilyn "persona" as a security blanket for coping with her own insecurity comes to the forefront when faced with the daunting task of going one-one with the legendary Olivier on set. She can't rely on that persona this time and without so much as a shred of confidence in her own acting abilities, begins to break. Olivier understandably loses his patience and temper, even as his reasoning behind hiring her reveals just as much about his own lack of confidence.

This is some performance from Michelle Williams, justifiably earning every bit of praise it's gotten. She just nails it. The facial expressions. The walk. The voice. Especially the voice. Everything. There's this moment when she's with Colin and they're suddenly mobbed by fans and photographers. She turns to him and asks, "Should I be her?" before slipping into character and becoming Marilyn. Williams seems to turn it on and off at the flip of a switch, alternating between the superstar we thought we knew and a frazzled train wreck of emotional dependency. The question wasn't whether she could play the latter but how well she could capture the former, which is ironic considering her career start as teen sexpot Jen Lindley on Dawson's Creek. It's a testament to how hard she worked since then to move away from that image that seeing her play this now seems like a huge stretch. There's at least a passable physical resemblance to the icon, but what Williams really brings is the depth, making Marilyn the unlikeliest addition to her growing gallery of emotionally tortured heroines.

In his Oscar nominated supporting performance Branagh subtly avoids turning Olivier into an all-out villain, instead showing a gifted actor past his prime who's grasping at straws to turn Marilyn into something she can't possibly be. Her only supporter is actress and co-star Sybil Thorndike (Judi Dench), who realizes her fragile psyche responds better to encouragement than harsh criticism. The rest of the supporting players aren't as well-developed. Dougray Scott is hilariously miscast (then altogether forgotten about) as Arthur Miller, reimagined here as some kind of enigmatic stud. But the film's most thankless role belongs to Emma Watson as a wardrobe girl Lucy, who Colin strings along while he's off frolicking with Marilyn all week. It's one thing to waste a name actress for a useless, underwritten part, but quite another to insultingly pretend in the last act that the part meant anything. While her purpose is clear, it's just isn't followed through enough to have any kind of impact. There's also a scene early on with Oliver's then-wife Vivien Leigh (Julia Ormond) that comes of nowhere, seemingly thrown in only to give Ormond a juicy scene and hammer us too hard with the theme of insecurity.

When Michelle Williams was announced to play Marilyn, Monroe fanatics were predictably up in arms, but the most interesting complaint I heard was that she didn't "deserve" it. She's too short. She's not pretty enough. Not enough charisma. But the real question should have been whether Marilyn "deserves" to be played by Williams. By the end of the film I believed that she did and the choice seems especially inspired when you consider all Marilyn wanted was to be taken seriously as actress. It's likely she would have appreciated the irony. The great thing about biographical dramas is how they bring two figures together from different eras with seemingly nothing in common who must co-exist in a single performance. Using that criteria, it's difficult coming up with a more intriguing pairing than Marilyn Monroe and Michelle Williams. What Norma Jean really wanted was a career like Williams. She got Marilyn Monroe's instead. And it destroyed her. Now with a legitimately great actress playing her, she finally ends up attaining the respectability she never could on her own.