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A search for love finds dementia and death
by Joey Cody
Admit it, Ladies. You've been on a date before where the guy was being a dick, saying dick-y things, and thinking only about his dick. And you wanted to shoot him in the face. Or the dick.
I believe every woman—gay or straight—has felt that tremendous snap of rage at a man, and was later relieved (or regretful) that they didn't have a gun in the heat of the moment. The fact that your particular dick wasn't a violent john and you weren't turning tricks at a truck stop . . . well, that's beside the point.
Monster (2003, R) opens up with a rode-hard woman sitting under a rainy Florida overpass, contemplating suicide. The woman is Aileen "Lee" Wuornos, a real-life highway hooker who recovered from her suicidal malaise long enough to murder seven men and who was executed, after 10 years in prison, in October 2002.
Charlize Theron plays the fictionalized Lee, and the switcheroo—that she's a prostitute killing her clients instead of the other way around—is a guiltily satisfying twist. But Monster, as you can tell by the title, isn't a completely sympathetic depiction of a mentally ill murderer. It isn't necessarily promoting feminist vigilantism or even defending the bisexual Wuornos' crimes. But it is a powerful portrait of a wretch of a woman, abandoned by her mother, abused on countless occasions by men, and fruitlessly grasping for love her entire life.
The doomed love story begins when Lee decides to get a beer instead of killing herself and meets Selby (a character based on the real-life Tyria Moore). Selby, a nascent young lesbian, is intrigued and clumsily tries to hit on Lee. After many beers and a spin on the roller rink, Selby becomes infatuated with Lee, and Lee falls hard for Selby, who gives her the kind of na�ve yet ardent affection she's never had.
Unfortunately, falling in love sends Lee on a downward spiral—she harbors an extreme fear of abandonment, and in order to hold on to Selby she needs money. Back in her risky profession, Lee begins a killing spree, fueled by her desperate need for Selby, perceived (or invented) threats of rape, and too many ghosts to count.
Because it's based on a true story, you know how this tragic tale will end. What will surprise you is Theron's performance: raw, heartrending, and real. One of the most powerful scenes is one in which you can hear the blood rushing in Lee's ears before she snaps. You feel her fear and fury, and although you know your life is completely different, it makes you afraid of what monsters might lurk inside you.
For her portrayal of Wuornos, Theron has already won several industry awards—and an Academy nod is sure to follow. Frankly, Nicole Kidman plastering on a Wolfe-ish nose and polishing up her best British accent can't hold a candle to the transformation that Theron undertook to portray Wuornos. The changes go much deeper than the coats of makeup and extra weight.
Theron, who co-produced, packed on 25 pounds and employed the makeup magician Toni G. to give her dirty blonde hair; a greasy, sun-damaged complexion; cramped teeth in a hard mouth; and flat, unreadable eyes.
I'm wary of Raging Bull-esque makeovers—they're often an "easy" bid for an Oscar: beef up the acting classes, pack on some pounds, hire a makeup artist and a dialect coach, and you're pretty much a shoo-in. But the gorgeous, creamy Theron, whose thespian skills, I admit, have never before impressed me, underwent such a complete overhaul that I'm convinced that her outward alterations better enabled her to inhabit Wuornos' skin. Theron appears truly to have channeled a spirit of such bitter sadness that's it hard to believe there's a glamorous model/prima ballerina beneath the guarded layers of grief.
Every once in a while, a quirk of the starlet pokes through Lee's rhino skin and you're distracted. But, for the most part, Theron expertly achieves the physicality of a hard life: Her fleshy movements are punctuated by head-shy tics as she flinches like an abused stray. She plods and struts, occasionally tossing back her feathered hair with a cocky flip.
First-time writer/director Patty Jenkins debuts admirably with Monster, but it's not without faults. One key mistake is the narration, which is unnecessary since Lee wears her miserable history so clearly on her body. It also sounds as though Theron wasn't wearing her prosthetic teeth during the narrative, so we're listening to a voice with no grit during some very gritty scenes. (Jenkins filmed in many of the actual locations where Wuornos committed her crimes.) And Christina Ricci (Selby) doesn't do her best work, but the damage is minimal, since she's mostly here to function as a blank slate onto which the hope of an ill-fated love is written.
But Jenkins handles the story without making Wuornos an icon of righteous vengeance. She avoids psychobabble and rationalization for the killings, yet still deftly depicts and mourns for the victimization of the girl Aileen Wuornos was—before becoming a monster.
January 22, 2003 * Vol. 14, No. 4
© 2000 Metro Pulse
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