On so many levels. Not just because of the character Marilyn Monroe played . . . but also because of the course she afterwards chose to take, as a performer.
In life, MM was never the dumb-blonde clown she so often portrayed on film. Yet she chose to follow that path of "marketability" from her earliest days -- perhaps because of advice -- "The only thing I had on was the radio," she famously said regarding her early calendar shoot (though that quote was delivered to her by her public relations handler).
Yet, in "Don't Bother to Knock," we have evidence of a talent far deeper and more affecting than anything she ever did, before or since.
Though then, and still, a B-movie, DBTK remains a highly disturbing piece of work from a remarkable natural actress who subsequently decided to pursue -- who knows, whether from instinct, advice or "the line of least resistance" -- a career based on superficial appearance rather than emotive depth.
Finally, of course, she morphed into the silly, slithering, sewn-into-her-Jean-Louis-gown "songstress" at President Kennedy's birthday party in Madison Square Garden in 1962, all drug-addled spray-netted helmet-haired breathiness and off-key baby-voiced "vocalizing." In DBTK, however, is ample evidence of the powerfully effective actress she could have been, had she taken a different road.
This is not to criticize the choices she made as a performer.
Doubtless, she would not be the legend she remains today, had she lived into her 60s or 70s.
But DBTK remains an archive of a complex and affecting screen acting talent, caught at the fork in her career's road, who chose surface over substance.
No matter how beguiling MM will always remain as a screen icon, there is this one and only proof of a talent even more devastating -- had she the guts or the advice to honor and follow it.
Sad, and disturbing, indeed.
In life, MM was never the dumb-blonde clown she so often portrayed on film. Yet she chose to follow that path of "marketability" from her earliest days -- perhaps because of advice -- "The only thing I had on was the radio," she famously said regarding her early calendar shoot (though that quote was delivered to her by her public relations handler).
Yet, in "Don't Bother to Knock," we have evidence of a talent far deeper and more affecting than anything she ever did, before or since.
Though then, and still, a B-movie, DBTK remains a highly disturbing piece of work from a remarkable natural actress who subsequently decided to pursue -- who knows, whether from instinct, advice or "the line of least resistance" -- a career based on superficial appearance rather than emotive depth.
Finally, of course, she morphed into the silly, slithering, sewn-into-her-Jean-Louis-gown "songstress" at President Kennedy's birthday party in Madison Square Garden in 1962, all drug-addled spray-netted helmet-haired breathiness and off-key baby-voiced "vocalizing." In DBTK, however, is ample evidence of the powerfully effective actress she could have been, had she taken a different road.
This is not to criticize the choices she made as a performer.
Doubtless, she would not be the legend she remains today, had she lived into her 60s or 70s.
But DBTK remains an archive of a complex and affecting screen acting talent, caught at the fork in her career's road, who chose surface over substance.
No matter how beguiling MM will always remain as a screen icon, there is this one and only proof of a talent even more devastating -- had she the guts or the advice to honor and follow it.
Sad, and disturbing, indeed.