Totally singular and happy to wallow in that fact, Andrew Dominik’s new opus Blonde, adapted for Netflix from the 2000 Joyce Carol Oates novel of the same name, treats the life, mind, and persona of Marilyn Monroe as something to puzzle over exhaustively, as a monument intended to resonate beyond itself. With its depiction hinging on the notion of performing as an ego-disrupting, dissociative act, and with Ana de Armas’s performance making the veneer of stardom (and contentment) seem excruciatingly thin, Blonde becomes a long parade mostly of abjection inflicted by cruel and absent partners, patriarchs, and perhaps also something within the woman born Norma Jeane Mortenson herself.