Westminster may be obsessed with power, but today the corridors of culture are humming with a different kind of icon. Marilyn Monroe would have turned 100. And in a fittingly surreal tribute, dozens of her lookalikes gathered outside the British Film Institute on the South Bank.
Platinum wigs. Beauty spots. Pout.
Check. The BFI rolled out its vaults for a special screening of 'Some Like It Hot.' A sunny day.
A legacy intact. But beneath the gloss, there's a quiet struggle. Who gets to define Monroe's ghost?
The feminist reclamation? The tragic victim narrative? Or the simple, untouchable star power?
The lookalikes themselves were a mix. Some earnest. Some kitsch.
One told me she'd spent years perfecting the walk. 'It's not about imitation. It's about channeling.
' The BFI's archive curator, a sharp woman with horn-rimmed glasses, admitted the real battle is over the films themselves. 'We have the original prints. But streaming wants them.
Netflix wants a documentary. Everyone wants a piece.' Meanwhile, the PM's official spokesperson offered a terse 'No comment' when asked if Downing Street had any Monroe plans.
(They didn't. Too busy with the Rwanda bill.) But the cultural dividends are real.
A small exhibition in Leicester Square is drawing crowds. Merchandise. A perfume bottle shaped like her dress.
The machine grinds on. The real question, as always in this town: Who profits? The estate?
The studios? Or the women in the wigs, selling their time for £50 an hour? The answer is as elusive as the smile itself.
