Marilyn Monroe
I suppose that the death of Marilyn Monroe can be included under the heading of 'Holly- wood tragedies,' but it gave me and, I should imagine, many others a feeling of shock and sadness which is not so common. Having seen and laughed at her in The Seven Year Itch and Some Like It Hot, having been grateful for the high spirits and attractiveness of her perfor- mances, it seemed intolerably cruel that she should end like this. I thought, too, that the BBC's obituary, read over the six o'clock news, did her less than justice. True, she was not a great actress, but, at least in the two films I have named, her gaiety was infectious enough and her power of projecting her personality sufficiently strong to sweep aside reservations. Her death will lead to a resuscitation of the cliches about 'Hollywood the heartless' and 'Sun- set Boulevard,' but I doubt if there is much point in assessing the responsibility of a merry-go- round which can bring money and fame to those who clamber aboard at the risk of being thrown off if they lose their hold. Marilyn Monroe was certainly somebody or other's victim—perhaps her own—but I prefer to think of her as she was in her films: sexy, gay and alive.
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