A sea of platinum curls and crimson lips flooded Trafalgar Square today as Marilyn Monroe lookalikes from across the globe gathered to celebrate what would have been the star's 100th birthday. The event, organised by the British Film Institute in partnership with the US Embassy, served as both a joyous homage and a solemn reminder of Hollywood's enduring grip on the cultural imagination.
The centenary comes at a precarious moment for digital heritage. Monroe's image, once confined to celluloid reels, now circulates in limitless replicas: deepfakes trained on her performances, AI-generated 'new' scenes, and avatars licensed for virtual appearances. This proliferation raises urgent questions about digital sovereignty and the ethics of posthumous exploitation. Whose face is it anyway? The woman herself? The estate? The algorithm?
Today's celebration, however, was refreshingly analogue. A hundred women, each channelling Monroe's signature style, gathered for a group photograph to be archived in the BFI's National Film and Television Archive. Among them was Amelia Greaves, a 34-year-old teacher from Leeds who has attended Monroe events for over a decade. 'She represents something timeless,' Greaves told me, adjusting her white halter dress. 'But also something fragile. We're here to remember the human being, not the meme.'
The BFI has launched a companion exhibition at the Southbank Centre titled 'The Girl in the Pink Dress: Marilyn Beyond the Screen', which focuses on the star's lesser-known work: her efforts to control her own image, her battles with the studio system, and her early interest in method acting. The curators have been meticulous about provenance, using only verified photographs and letters from Monroe's personal archive.
Yet the shadow of synthetic media loomed. A fringe group of technologists from King's College London set up a stall in Leicester Square offering 'interactive Monroe memories' via generative AI. Users could upload a photo to 'have Monroe pose with you'. The BFI distanced itself from the project, calling it 'well-meaning but ethically ambiguous'.
This tension between veneration and innovation is the defining challenge of our age. We can recreate anything digitally, but should we? Monroe's estate has been notoriously litigious, suing anyone who profits from her likeness without permission. Yet the law lags behind the technology. Current UK regulations on deepfakes focus on political maliciousness, not the gentler exploitation of nostalgia.
For the lookalikes, these debates felt distant. They came to celebrate a woman who defied the system, even if the system now owns her brand. As the photographer shouted for one last smile, the hundred Marilyns tilted their heads in unison. For a second, it was easy to believe in magic. But then the tripods came down, the wigs were adjusted, and the women dispersed into the London rain. The human Marilyn would have turned 100 today. The digital one will never age.
