Even if you haven’t seen the film, you’ll recognise the scene: Marilyn Monroe in a hot pink dress, bow at the back, two-tone pink gloves, singing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend”. The red background makes her more luminous. She’s surrounded by men in tuxedos who vie for her attention but she rejects them all with a simple “no”, said in the breathy voice she used to mask the stutter that plagued her childhood.
The scene from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) is famous for a reason: Monroe is unfathomably beautiful, sure, but it’s more than that. Perhaps it’s what we know about her now that makes watching her then so captivating. One thing’s for sure, she shines brighter than the diamonds she sings about, the diamonds that drip from her wrists, neck and ears.
This is the inspiration for the opening display of ACMI’s new exhibition, Goddess: Power, Glamour, Rebellion. It’s striking – the whole room is painted the shocking pink of Marilyn’s dress. There’s a four-panel screen showing snippets of the original and other filmic moments inspired by it: Madonna’s Material Girl (1985), a scene from Gossip Girl (2012) featuring a miming Blake Lively, and influencer Kylie Jenner “transforming herself into Marilyn” by virtue of a wig and dress.
In front of the screen we see three outfits worn by three different women that pay tribute to Monroe: one worn by Pitjantjatjara and Yankunytjatjara actor Elaine Crombie in the ABC comedy Kiki and Kitty (2017), another by Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn in a hallucination scene in Birds of Prey (2020) and the third from a viral video featuring model and vitiligo advocate Winnie Harlow. The choice is interesting: these costumes show us how modern ideals of beauty are changing, how the meaning of a “bombshell” is evolving. It’s an opening with impact but it’s hard not to wish Monroe’s dresses were on show instead.
The curator did get her hands on one of Monroe’s outfits. It’s displayed around the corner: back facing us, a small heart embroidered onto the rear, mirrors reflecting its front. It’s the gold number she wore in Some Like It Hot (1959), which illustrates the strengthening of Monroe’s career after she went on strike in 1954. Refusing to work for less than her male co-star, she courted the media by honeymooning with her second husband, Joe DiMaggio, and entertaining troops in Korea. It made her front-page news, giving her power in negotiations with the studio as well as future control over her image. One of the only visible results is this dress: a boundary-pushing costume created by Australian designer Orry-Kelly.
Costumes play a big part in Goddess. Three from Sally Potter’s Orlando (1993), the queer adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s 1928 novel, sit in the middle of the room. Their story is less compelling than that of Bollywood star Meena Kumari, told along an adjacent wall through magazine covers, an old movie ticket, film stills and a screen playing her most famous film, Pakeezah (1972). We are told that Kumari’s popularity united two countries after years of conflict, with crowds gathering to watch Pakeezah broadcast from India into Pakistan.
Equally compelling is the story of Josephine Baker, which is told largely through text on the label next to another dress. There’s a screen displaying Baker’s performance: her singing and dancing made her famous but what she did with her fame is truly remarkable. As we follow her life, from World War II spy to civil rights activist, it’s hard not to wish Baker’s story was given as much weight as Monroe’s. A cover of Vogue Italia features singer and actor Zendaya, who, as the label explains, channels Baker’s fashion and attitude. It’s smart to explain the modern relevance of these bygone stars but the link feels tenuous and Baker’s incredible life is diluted by the magazine’s inclusion.
Nearby we learn about Marlene Dietrich and are shown a photo of queer blues performer Gladys Bentley. There’s a dress Halle Berry wore in Introducing Dorothy Dandridge (1999), a film about the life of Dandridge, who was purported to be the first African–American movie star. On one of the small round projector screens that adorn many of the displays – an innovative and thoughtful way to display the moving image – we see footage of Dandridge in action.
The interactive element to the exhibition includes screens that reflect your face adorned by jewels, but it just seems to take up space that could have been better used to tell more of the narratives hinted at earlier: more Dietrich, more Bentley, more Dandridge.
Further on we learn about women as warriors, the glitter and glamour replaced with costumes from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) on tall red plinths. A curved screen plays footage from films such as Kill Bill (2003), in which women are portrayed as heroes. Opposite, we learn about Australian-born Bollywood superstar, Mary Ann Evans. From her breakout role in 1935, she cracked whips, fought men and tamed lions. She took on the role of an Indian princess which, we’re told, could only be played by a white woman, as Muslim and Hindi women were banned from action roles at the time.
We see costumes from Thelma & Louise (1991) and Promising Young Woman (2020). Magazine covers show Emerald Fennell and Carey Mulligan posing together, with exhibition ambassador Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon on Time magazine three decades earlier. Among the many posters from Pam Grier’s career is a stunning portrait of Laverne Cox “channelling” Grier. We learn that Anna May Wong, an Asian–American movie star and fashion icon who lost Chinese roles to white actors in the 1930s, broke down barriers. Without her, films such as Crazy Rich Asians (2018) could never have been made.
Legacy is considered throughout the exhibition, though the links we’re asked to make between the memorabilia on display and the stories being told are at times slight. For instance: we’re told about Mae West’s revolutionary, sexually empowered attitude but we’re shown two pairs of shoes and footprints that reveal how small her feet were.
With its careful attention to visual and sound design, this is an impressive collection of memorabilia and costumes that’s both interesting and powerful. Although it feels overly didactic at times, relying heavily on the display items’ labels to explain the life of each goddess and their link to the archival material on display, that’s a consequence of there being so many stories that still need to be told. The paradox of Goddess: Power, Glamour, Rebellion is that its weaknesses are just further proof of its necessity.
Goddess: Power, Glamour, Rebellion is at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image (ACMI) in Melbourne until October 1.
This article was first published in the print edition of The Saturday Paper on
May 13, 2023 as “Conjuring the goddess”.
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