{"id":3921,"date":"2005-11-20T09:28:26","date_gmt":"2005-11-20T14:28:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=3921"},"modified":"2022-10-09T20:55:37","modified_gmt":"2022-10-10T00:55:37","slug":"marilyn-monroe-appreciation-moment-7","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=3921","title":{"rendered":"Marilyn Monroe: “The Last Love Goddess”"},"content":{"rendered":"

From Who the Hell’s in It: Conversations with Hollywood’s Legendary Actors<\/a>\"\"<\/i>, by Peter Bogdanovich:<\/p>\n

The fact is that Marilyn was in bad trouble from the day she was born as Norma Jean Mortenson on June 1, 1926, in the city of angels and movies, a poor bastard angel child who rose to be queen of a town and a way of life that nevertheless held her in contempt. That she died a martyr to pictures at the same time as the original studio star system — through which she had risen — finally collapsed and went also to its death seems too obviously symbolic not to note. Indeed, the coincidence of the two passing together is why I chose to end this long book about movie stars with Marilyn Monroe.<\/p>\n

What I saw so briefly in my glimpse of Marilyn at the very peak of her stardom (and the start of my career) — that fervent, still remarkably naive look of all-consuming passion for learning about her craft and art — haunts me still. She is the most touching, strangely innocent — despite all the emphasis on sex — sacrifice to the twentieth-century art of cinematic mythology, with real people as gods and goddesses. While Lillian Gish had been film’s first hearth goddess, Marilyn was the last love goddess of the screen, the final Venus or Aphrodite. The minute she was gone, we started to miss her and that sense of loss has grown, never to be replaced. In death, of course, she triumphed at last, her spirit being imperishable, and keenly to be felt in the images she left behind to mark her brief visit among us.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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