My Week with Marilyn Reviews
Shimmying stiffly in too-tight dresses, exaggerated belly padding protruding awkwardly off her modern waif frame, Williams's voice and movements reflect study but not feeling.
It's an expertly made, intentionally minor movie, though when Monroe, doping herself with everything available, lies in bed, confused and hapless, there are depressing intimations of the end to come.
What matters is the performance by Michelle Williams. She evokes so many Marilyns, public and private, real and make-believe. We didn't know Monroe, but we believe she must have been something like this.
Michelle Williams shoulders the daunting task of portraying the screen legend, and though she requires a body double with the appropriate curves, she gives a sweet and nicely vulnerable performance.
In "My Week With Marilyn," Michelle Williams disappears so effortlessly into Monroe's translucent skin that the camera lens seems to fog up with desire. She's that good.
If "My Week with Marilyn" ultimately seems like a slight film, a barely disguised awards vehicle for Williams, that's probably because it is. But her performance is so engaging and complete, it's worth all the other shortcomings.
Something moved me deeply watching Ms. Williams as the tragic Marilyn, illuminating the girlish joy, erotic glamour and self-destructive suffering of a public icon who was privately a bottomless pit of need.
To the extent that Michelle Williams' multilayered interpretation of Marilyn Monroe serves as its raison d'etre, My Week With Marilyn succeeds stunningly. Otherwise, the film flits uneasily between arch drawing-room comedy and foreshadowed tragedy.