Two very different blondes: Marilyn Monroe and Joanne Woodward

If your stance is, rightly, that Marilyn Monroe was a kind of genius, an actress for whom the status of sex symbol comes with an asterisk, because she was not helplessly beholden to her iconic image—not the fatuous, buxom blonde that many mistook her to be—but rather an extremely savvy engineer of her own persona, a whip-smart, and self-aware talent for whom the culture’s low expectations proved an opportunity for success; if it’s your belief that this is the truth of Marilyn Monroe’s appeal and the essence of her timelessness, then Andrew Dominik’s Blonde, will not be the movie for you. 

To start, this isn’t so much a movie about Marilyn Monroe. Andrew Dominik’s fictionalized biopic is a relentless pseudo-psychoanalysis that wallows in the screen icon's suffering and ignores her true genius. Blonde and its flaws are already being diagnosed with a handful of compatible but unflattering descriptors (pretentious, misogynistic, masochistic, and ludicrous). More than any of that, this movie is psychoanalytic in excess. From first to last, Blonde tries to draw linear pathways from its heroine’s behavior (and by association the mask-like, glamorous persona she creates) to her experiences, like some cursed psychological map. Monroe’s charisma as a screen presence remains mesmerizing, even for the people still discovering her today, because of its mystery, its contours that feel impossible to properly trace. Nothing about Marilyn Monroe in Blonde, by contrast, is mysterious or mesmerizing. Everything is contingent and predictable. Dominik’s script is more interested in the more incisive question of whether these men would know how to love Marilyn selflessly. It seems it's unknown for Dominik that selfishness is not automatically contrary to love; that’s what can make love so real and difficult. Admittedly, a honest filmmaker would probably find it wise to avoid Oates’ novel altogether, because the novel itself is so histerically reductive. The scandalous, the sensational, are Oates' tools since she can use our helpless fascination against us, by inspiring true repulsion, much like a trickster who’d warned us to be careful what we wish for. Blonde tries to deny who Marilyn Monroe really was, punishing her to punish all of us. The math does not check out, and it shows. Source: rollingstone.com 

“Blonde does not see Marilyn Monroe's joy, it does not see her humour, it does not see her artistry, it does not see her humanity. It uses her as a vessel to comment on consumerism and the darkness at the heart of the Hollywood machine. It claims to be feminist, yet is so so deeply steeped in misogyny. In watching Monroe’s films, you can see an intelligence, a bravery, and a spark that Andrew Dominik’s script and direction never allows Ana De Armas’s performance to even come close to approaching. Blonde wants you to believe that it’s bringing an internal depth to Monroe, as if her performances didn’t already have ten times as much complexity as whatever the hell this movie is trying to do. Marilyn Monroe was not just one of the greatest film comediennes, but also one of its greatest dramatic performers. Dominik seems to resent Monroe's capacity for comedy and interrupts some famous scenes from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and Some Like It Hot with her sudden meltdowns. It's quite safe to think Marilyn would respond to Dominik's revisionist nightmare with something like Boop-boop-a-doop.” Source: filmsflicker.com

Joanne Woodward in the film Rachel, Rachel (1969) where she gave a fascinating performance, expanding the cliché of the old maid to incorporate a wistful lyricism, intelligence and wit. She was Oscar-nominated but that year the Academy gave an unprecedented tie to Katharine Hepburn and Barbra Streisand. Woodward had already won the Best Actress Oscar for The Three Faces of Eve (1957), which was a triumph of Method technique, but with Rachel, Rachel she achieved real depth. Woodward's greatest strengths as a performer were her pragmatism and likability. Pauline Kael wrote that Woodward had a trouper quality: she was an actress with solidity, great audience rapport and a wide streak of humor about herself. Woodward’s expression of anger was nearly always funny, as in her comedies with Paul Newman—Rally ’Round the Flag, Boys! (1958) and A New Kind of Love (1963). 

Her attempts at sexpot roles, like The Stripper (1963), were more problematic since she was not the Marilyn Monroe type at all. Woodward’s training with the Neighborhood Playhouse and the Actors Studio had her perceived as a Method actress. In her book The Treatment of Women in the Movies (1987), Molly Haskell describes Woodward as one of the serious artist-actresses in film, comparing her to Geraldine Page, Anne Bancroft, Julie Harris, Kim Stanley and Shelley Winters. These actresses emerged in the Hollywood studio system, but were not movie stars in living Technicolor like Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner or Grace Kelly. 

Haskell seemed to have a point about Woodward, since in the black-and-white The Three Faces of Eve she didn’t give a typical movie-star performance. Her Method origins were also evident in her actor mannerisms, though she used them in real life when interviewed as well. Fox had reportedly had trouble with the film version of The Three Faces of Eve, which was first called The Woman with Three Lives. One problem was casting, since it was hard to find an actress capable of playing the title character who suffered from Multiple Personality Disorder. In 1956, writer-director Nunnally Johnson offered the part to Lana Turner, Olivia de Havilland, Doris Day, Jean Simmons and Carroll Baker, who all declined. Johnson suggested Marilyn Monroe, whom he knew after he had produced and written the screenplay for Fox’s romantic comedy How to Marry a Millionaire (1953).

Marilyn was making Bus Stop at the time, and when Johnson asked her about the part, the actress told him that she didn’t feel capable of assuming three personalities at once. June Allyson said that she was offered it but her husband, Dick Powell, talked her out of it, thinking her miscast for the role. The June 29, 1956, New York Times reported that Susan Hayward was negotiating with Johnson for the role, though another source claims that he went to Hayward after Judy Garland. Johnson had talked to Garland and had decided she would be perfect after she had proven her dramatic skills in the Warner Bros. musical romance A Star Is Born (1954). He sent Garland the script in Las Vegas where she was then performing at the New Frontier Hotel. Garland didn’t quite understand the script, feeling it came across more as a domestic comedy than a dramatic piece. Another source had Paul Newman visiting Judy Garland in her Hollywood home, where he was introduced to Johnson as he was leaving. There Garland showed Newman the script because she wanted him to play her husband. 

Newman borrowed the script to show it to Woodward, who was then attached to The Wayward Bus. Rather he wanted Gore Vidal to read it, partly to have the husband part beefed up, so that Newman could take these revisions to the director if he was offered it. Vidal believed the part could be a good star vehicle for Woodward. She was shown the script, though she believed Fox would want Susan Hayward. Garland changed her mind about the film and got cold feet. Woodward supposedly told Newman she feared she had all of Eve’s characteristics but playing her could tip her over the deep edge. The role terrified her because she identified so strongly with Eve. Newman thought that the way was clear for Woodward but Johnson sent the script to Jennifer Jones. Fortunately, she declined the part. Johnson had apparently seen Woodward in a Dick Powell television drama and had been impressed. He said when he finished the screenplay for the film, Johnson had her in the back of his mind. But despite Johnson and Buddy Adler being interested, apparently the people in Fox’s New York office still believed that they needed a star. Woodward said she only got the part because Fox couldn’t get any of the actresses they really wanted. 

The Long, Hot Summer had a screenplay by Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank, Jr., and it was based on three Faulkner works: the 1931 novella Spotted Horses, the 1939 short story “Barn Burning” and the 1940 novel The Hamlet. The director was Martin Ritt. Filming took place on the Fox studio backlot and it was completed on November 21 with a final sequence shot on December 6. The story centered on alleged barn burner and farmer Ben Quick (Paul Newman), who arrives in the town of Frenchmen’s Bend, Mississippi, and ingratiates himself with the Varners family. Second billed after Newman, Joanne Woodward played 23-year-old Clara Varner, the schoolteacher daughter of farmer Will Varner (Orson Welles). Her shoulder-length blonde hair was made by Helen Turpin and mostly worn tied back with bangs. Her clothes by Adele Palmer favor pastel colors with matching hair ribbons. Woodward’s scenes with Newman are brimming with sexual tension all through. Bosley Crowther in The New York Times wrote that Woodward was excellent as Clara Varner. 

While Newman commented that in their scenes together they were fighting each other, Woodward reported that they had a close relationship and got along and that’s what emerged in the film. During production she became pregnant with his child. One observer noted that everybody knew better than to knock on the door of whichever trailer the couple was. Newman supposedly once grabbed the collar of the assistant director and told him 'if the trailer’s rockin, don’t bother knockin’! Another version of this story is that Newman told Ritt, “If my dressing room is rock ’n’ rolling, take the advice of that Marilyn Monroe film, Don’t Bother to Knock.” Ritt had originally wanted to cast Marlon Brando and Eva Marie Saint in the film, so that they would be reuniting after On the Waterfront. But Brando declined and Newman became Ritt’s third choice after Robert Mitchum also turned down the role of Ben Quick. Saint withdrew when she became pregnant and Woodward was cast though there was some resistance from the studio. 

Angela Lansbury, who played Minnie Littlejohn, commented that Newman and Woodward together were a wonderful duo and that’s what made their chemistry so exciting and realistic. They seemed to have such a total understanding of each other that they were able to work in scenes where they were at each other’s throats or falling under each other’s spell. Lansbury also recalled that the couple spent most of their off-camera time alone and away from the other cast members. 

After filming was completed, Woodward and Newman made a trip to Mexico. One source claims this was to allow Newman to arrange a fast divorce, though another says this did not happen until January when he went to Mexico before joining Woodward in Las Vegas. Newman's ex-wife Jackie Witte was given a generous, lifelong financial settlement and agreed the children should live with her. Newman said he felt guilty as hell about leaving his first marriage and family, but without Woodward he would not be happy. They had their wedding at the El Rancho Hotel on January 29, 1958. The tackiness of the locale was said to have fit the couple’s sense of humor. Newman said that after all the anxiety and secrecy surrounding their romance and his divorce, the ability to walk around freely as a man with his wife was intoxicating. 

Back at Chesham Place, Woodward complained of stomach pains so Gore Vidal summoned a doctor, who said that she was having a miscarriage. Taken to St. George’s Hospital, the actress lost their child and remained there to recover from her ordeal. Paul Newman was said to be devastated by the news, and Claire Bloom visited Woodward bringing her flowers. The miscarriage occurred in early March 1958. It was a dark period for the Newmans, since their fights seemed to be more intense during those dark days. Some recriminations, according to close sources, were centered around Woodward's brief fling with Playhouse 90's writer Timmy Everett and Newman's liaison with co-star Lita Milan, both relationships previous to their wedding. 

The Newmans attended the Academy Awards ceremony with their friend Joan Collins on March 26, 1958, at the RKO Hollywood Pantages Theater in Hollywood. The television broadcast directed by Alan Handley was on NBC. On the red carpet, Joanne Woodward predicted that Deborah Kerr would win the Best Actress Oscar, and announced that the dress she wore was homemade. The attention the award gave the actress also evinced comment on her marriage, with a comically jealous Joan Crawford saying Newman could have dated some of the biggest names in Hollywood but preferred “this Georgian redneck and her feedsack dress.” It was rumored that Crawford had sent a letter to Newman, inviting him to a dinner date he'd refused. 

In The Fugitive Kind (1960), Woodward hated working with Marlon Brando, resenting his pauses and vagueness, feeling she had nothing to reach out to, and she complained to Sidney Lumet that Brando was a complete blank “regardless of how much money he was hauling in for this turkey.” Woodward stated the only way she would work with Brando again was if he was “in rear projection.” A source claims that the actor somehow mistreated her to get back at Newman who was now considered a greater exponent of the Actors Studio Method than him. To torment both Newmans, Brando spread the rumor that he was shacking up with Woodward during the making of the film. Though it was untrue, Newman knew that Brando had dated Woodward briefly in 1953 and he suspected that Brando had seduced the actress. During production, director Otto Preminger noted that Newman was an oddity in the business because he really loved his wife. Newman was a sex symbol who was off limits to that special breed of Hollywood starlet who circled young men like sharks ready for the kill; apparently, Newman could not be seduced and was devoted to Woodward. 

Woodward was confirmed to be in the United Artists musical romance Paris Blues (1961) and the director was again Martin Ritt. It was shot on location in Paris and at the Studios de Boulogne from October 10 to late December. The screenplay was by Jack Sher, Irene Kamp and Walter Bernstein, adapted by Lulla Adler from the novel by Harold Flender. Trombonist Ram Bowen (Newman) and saxophonist Eddie Cook (Poitier), American ex-pat jazz musicians living in Paris, perform at the Club Prive. They meet and fall in love with two American tourist girls on vacation. Woodward played Lillian “Lilly” Corning, a divorced mother of two. Her hair by Carita is blonde, worn in a short sculptured style with bangs. Her wardrobe includes a black shimmery short-sleeve knee-length dress with a wide coat, and in one scene she wears only a bodice outfit. The film was released on September 27, 1961; although it was not a box office success but its music score was Oscar-nominated.

Marilyn Monroe was also considered for the part of Lilly but declined. During filming, Woodward became pregnant again. She reported that they rented a place in Montmartre. One source claims it was a two-story house, another that it was an apartment that Picasso had once lived in. Sources do agree there was a backyard garden. In her time off, the actress visited museums and looked after Nell. She was also visited by her mother for three weeks. The Newmans grew tired of the French food that Desiree, the studio maid, prepared, so Newman set up a barbecue in their garden. The couple also frequented an American Southern–style restaurant they found just below Place Pigalle. To the Parisians they did not look like movie stars, with Woodward described as looking more like a Kansas housewife. The Newmans toyed with the idea of buying an apartment in Paris and relocating but lost interest. They sailed back to the United States and reportedly lent their support to John F. Kennedy, the Democrat presidential hopeful. The couple also campaigned for Gore Vidal in his unsuccessful run for a Congressional seat in the New York State. 

The Stripper (1963) was a drama shot at 20th Century-Fox. The screenplay was written by Meade Roberts and the director was Franklin Schaffner. Lila Green (Woodward) is a failed Hollywood actress and showgirl in The Great Ronaldo & Madame Olga Magic show, which comes to a small town in Kansas. Her hair by George Masters appears peroxide-blonde and is worn in a straight short bubble style with bangs. Travilla gives Lila an all-white wardrobe, which includes a midriff-baring pants and top outfit, and a jaguar fur jacket. The role sees Woodward participate in a magic act and she does a stripping act singing “Something’s Gotta Give.” Director Schaffner and Travilla protect her from being physically exposed in the stripping scene, as she wears a fishnet and tassel under-costume and balloons strategically placed over her. Pauline Kael wrote that everything Woodward did in The Stripper was worth watching, and gave the Marilyn Monroe–ish role a nervousness that cut through its pathos. In fact, the role of Lila had been originally intended for Monroe. Kim Novak had been announced to replace her before Woodward was cast. 

Her hairstyle recalled the same that Monroe donned for the unfinished Fox comedy Something’s Got to Give, and Woodward also sang the title song of Monroe's last film. Marilyn Monroe’s death on August 3, 1962, oddly contributed to the idea of her ghost hovering over the part played by Woodward. There had been a specific reference to Marilyn that was cut in the film, when Lila was seen walking down the street. Originally an observer asked who Lila was, adding that she looked like Marilyn Monroe, and a bus driver said that it was not her. But the name was changed to Jayne Mansfield and Woodward said it just wasn’t right. Woodward also commented that she had a visual image of Lila as Marilyn but she wasn’t imitating her. Woodward described the film as a mess and was sorry that it was botched. Screenwriter Meade Roberts invented a wonderful prop for her: the teddy bear she held onto. 

There was a vulnerability and resilience in the character that the actress tried to capture in her walk, a combination of a jiggle and a voluptuous swagger. She felt Travilla had designed the wardrobe as an homage to Marilyn Monroe (who was still alive during pre-production). They had a wonderful time rehearsing and the script was charming but the death of Jerry Wald saw Darryl Zanuck, now back as Fox studio head, take over. Zanuck saw a rough cut and threw Schaffner off the film. Zanuck said that Woodward couldn’t sing or dance so he cut almost all of her dancing, which had been choreographed by Alex Romero, though Lila not being able to sing or dance was the point. 

The only place where Woodward was a sex symbol was at home, she said, and she was very lucky that Newman thought her so sexy and alluring. Woodward also said she didn’t worry about other women coming on strong with him because she knew what Newman thought of them. Long-time friend Stewart Stern described the Newmans as the most hand-holding couple he'd ever seen and it was Newman who reached for his wife’s hand more often than her. When Marilyn Monroe was found dead, the Newmans attended a private homage at the Actors Studio held by Lee Strasberg. There was despair in the air, Strasberg recalled. Woodward was glad she "wasn’t grabbed at and mauled" the way she had seen Marilyn Monroe at an Actors Studio premiere for East of Eden (1955). Also there were in its day rumors about Marilyn flirting with Paul Newman during the acting classes at the Studio.

In WUSA (1970), Joanne Woodward played Geraldine Crosby, a former prostitute from West Virginia. A jaded widow, she starts a relationship with Rheinhardt (Paul Newman) who gets a job at the WUSA station. Woodward's hair by Sydney Guilaroff is a soft blonde shade, worn in a straight casual style, and her wardrobe is by Travilla. Woodward also wears a scar on her right cheek, courtesy of makeup by Lynn Reynolds. The role has her use a Southern accent, and she adds to her mannerisms by playing with her hair, though it has context since Geraldine sometimes does so to hide her facial scar. Woodward’s best scene is when Geraldine is imprisoned and the actress has a silent reaction of fear, stopping herself from screaming in hysterics, and pondering how she can kill herself. Satisfied by her enacting of such a difficult role, Woodward also regarded her husband’s performance in WUSA as one of the best of his career. Newman was angry with Paramount and denounced the studio for its interferences in the production of the film. For his part, director Stuart Rosenberg found the Newmans to be virtuosos and observed their different approaches they took to reach an accomplished performance level. —Joanne Woodward: Her Life and Career (2019) by Peter Shelley