Hello, Norma Jeane

In a theater auditorium of approximately 170 seats, I was one of four audience members at a 6:40 p.m. showing of My Week with Marilyn. This has less to do with the quality of the film than with its artistry and the miniscule amount of ad time it received on television and in cinemas.

Let it be known, however, that with this film director Simon Curtis delivers the best work of his career—primarily composed of TV movies and mini-series—and blends just the right amount of humor and heart. The film is based on a piece of nonfiction of the same name, and the entire production emanates a sense of class.

The year is 1956, and Marilyn Monroe is at the peak of her career. Twenty-three-year-old Brit Colin Clark (Eddie Redmayne) has recently been hired as a third assistant—a “gofer” as he calls it—on the set of Sir Laurence Olivier’s latest production, The Prince and the Showgirl, which stars none other than Monroe herself (Michelle Williams).

As a self-proclaimed fan of Marilyn, Colin is utterly captivated by her whenever she is on set and seems to have the mindset of a horny 15-year-old boy. Through a series of lucky, unlikely events, Colin becomes Marilyn’s confidant, chum and lover for a total of seven days, until the friendship is mutually dissolved and they never see each other again.

What the viewer does not know, however, is that our British protagonist published not one but two novels on the fling and has since profited greatly on Monroe’s memory. His novels generate almost the entirety of the film’s dialogue—which is painfully slow in movie form—and act as a guide for Monroe’s actions and character as portrayed by the lovely Williams.

Williams absolutely shines, literally and figuratively, as the tortured actress, and she brings her own personality to the role as well. Certain mannerisms are overlooked, such as the famed “Marilyn whisper,” but the overall performance is illuminating and, at times, heart-wrenching.

Relative newcomer Eddie Redmayne is convincing as the doe-eyed, enamored Colin, but he’s been given the “Zuckerberg treatment.” His character comes off as arrogant about his new relationship, and he seems much too easily manipulated by Monroe. Redmayne has excellent chemistry with everyone in the cast but is often upstaged by costars Kenneth Branagh and Judi Dench—Laurence Olivier and actress Dame Sybil Thorndike, respectively—both of whom are brilliantly regal in their supporting roles.

Among the fantastically accurate costumes, beautiful sets and emotional performances, there are a few downfalls. Certain characters, including another fling of Colin’s played by Emma Watson (that’s “Hermione” to you Muggles out there), are rather useless to the advancement of the plot. Likewise, many minor characters come off as oddly fake, even compared to the infamously fake Monroe.

Despite the sluggish dialogue, cinematographer Ben Smithard pays amazingly close attention to Williams’ glamorous perfection. He uses still shots and camera flashes to emphasize Monroe’s chaotic life in the spotlight. Intercut shots from The Prince and the Showgirl are stunning—and strikingly similar to the real-life Oliver film—and Williams once again shows off her superbly original Monroe impression.

I originally felt guilty for supporting a film I believed to be an exploitation of the star, but changed my tune after 15 minutes. My Week with Marilyn offers up the story of a poignant movie idol, delivering it with laughs and style.

After exiting the theater, I overheard an elderly man say he thought Michelle Williams to be “the best Marilyn since Marilyn herself.”