An icon in the flesh is a thing to behold. Especially if said icon happens to have a pair of Double Ds and a head of tousled blonde curls. My Week With Marilyn attempts to represent the real Marilyn Monroe; the troubling, complex creature hidden behind an erotic-infused exterior.

My Week With Marilyn is based off a memoir written by documentary filmmaker Colin Clark. Both the movie and the book detail Clark’s interactions with Monroe during her time in England on the set of The Sleeping Prince (later changed to The Prince and the Showgirl). The year is 1956 and Colin (Eddie Redmayne) is a young man desperate to leave his privileged life to become a director. He convinces family friend Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) to allow him to be a part of The Sleeping Prince’s production crew.

Quite unexpectedly, Clark’s menial responsibilities morph into keeping tabs on the increasingly erratic Monroe (Michelle Williams). Clark’s proximity to the starlet gives him a first-hand glimpse of a reality hidden from the public. Monroe is depressed, on the verge of a separation from her new husband Arthur Miller and desperate to prove herself as a worthwhile actress beyond the standard shimmy ‘n sigh.

The insider slant of My Week With Marilyn causes the viewer to believe that the Monroe displayed will somehow blow the top off popular belief. Director Simon Curtis tries to present us with a meta-themed Monroe. Self-aware Monroe takes assumptions related to her character and uses them to her advantage. Her intentions are slightly conniving yet always leave her in control. She projects a sexpot damsel in distress when appropriate and is the exact opposite in private.

Unfortunately, Curtis never adequately convinces us that Monroe really knows what she is doing. In one scene, Clark and Monroe take a day trip together. While strolling through the halls of a countryside castle, Monroe is bombarded by a slew of fans. She turns to Clark and whispers, “Shall I be her?” and then proceeds to preen for the cameras.

Though the line would suggest otherwise, Monroe behaves the exact same way with Clark, her so-called close friend. Monroe never stops keeping up appearances and therefore is perpetually seductive. At her darkest moment, she is naked in a bed made with pink satin sheets, a cocktail of pills slightly slurring her speech.

Even Clark’s love for Monroe seems misplaced, a feeling rooted in a naive understanding of lust. Monroe doesn’t want him to be close enough to love her. Yet, love her we do. In an interview with the press prior to the launch of The Sleeping Prince, Monroe is asked to elaborate on her new ‘serious’ role:

“You said you wanted to grow. Do you think you have grown?”

“How do I answer something like that when they misinterpret it to mean inches?”

“Speaking of measurements, are you still the same as when you left? Have you gained weight? Lost weight?”

“I think I am about the same.”

“Well, no one is complaining.”

Monroe thought she had to change to keep us interested but that was never the case. We were just as happy then as we are now with the glamour and subsequent shallowness she inspired. I only wish that she had realized it sooner.