Marilyn Monroe - The Last Interview.

In the spring of 1962, Marilyn Monroe moved into the first and only home she would ever own. Tucked away in Brentwood, a quiet enclave on the west side of Los Angeles was a place of intention. Not a grand estate, but a private space she chose for herself. At 36, Marilyn was experienced, self-aware, and fully conscious of how she had been seen and misunderstood by the world. In this critical moment, Marilyn chose to speak. She invited Life Magazine, the most trusted and widely read publication in America, into her home, agreeing to be photographed by Alan Grant and interviewed by Richard Merriman with one essential condition, that her words be presented exactly as she spoke them. Over four hours of conversation were recorded and more than 400 photographs taken. Marilyn reflected on her life, her work, her fame, and the contradictions of being both adored and scrutinized. Most of what was created was never seen or heard. The material remained preserved and effectively lost for more than 60 years. The article appeared on August 3rd, 1962. Two days later, Marilyn Monroe was tragically dead. This would become the last interview of her life. For the first time, these photographs and recordings have been fully restored and made available in their entirety. This is Marilyn Monroe, not as image or myth, but in her own words. I'd like to state here and now, fame is fickle. It stirs up envy, saying, well, who the, you know, who is she? Who does she think she is, Marilyn Monroe? And you have that in your daily life and you run into that. Fame and happiness, to me, is certainly temporary and a partial happiness, but it's not really for a daily diet. I mean, it doesn't fulfill you, one. If you're famous, you know, you kind of run into things kind of in a raw kind of way. You know, people come up, they show you themselves one way or another. That's how it is, you know. Zoom, zoom, you know. And they all sort of wonder if you are real, and I think they should be aware that you are real and that you're human. I would like enough to sustain myself on, and those around me who need a little help, but to be a millionaire isn't really an ambition of mine. It was never one of my American dreams. I always figured if I had a lot of money, I'd give it all to orphans and I'd find a bunch of deserving orphans and set them up for life. Let them become whatever they wanted to become. I loved to play. I didn't like the world around me too much, because it was kind of grim, but I loved playing. I loved playing with the children in the neighborhood, you know, running out and playing. We could imagine anything and pretend anything, because then I heard somebody, you know, a kid that's acting, and I'd say, that's what I want to be! You know, you could play, but then, you know, you grow up and you find out playing, they make playing very difficult for you. And there is a need for aloneness, which I do think that most people realize, for a creative person or an actress, there is a need, a goûter, I think, I know what it means, but I know I don't have the words correct, that something that a career is born, you know, in the public, but talent in privacy, you know, a certain seeming aloofness is not an arrogance on my part, but a real need for privacy. If it's almost having certain kind of secrets for yourself that you'll let the whole world in on in a moment where you're acting, but you can't, this won't grow. People are like, the public scares you, like mobs scare me, but people, they react to you, you react to them, that's something you can trust. Like workers, like children, they accept you as you are. You know, you can read about yourself with somebody else's ideas about you. What's important is how you feel about you. We are all born sexual creatures, thank God. It's a pity so many people despise and crush this natural gift. That's about the only thing I want to really spot off on. I mean, you know, because art comes from that real art, everything. I would like to learn my craft more so that it would be simpler for me to do my job, and when the director says, one tear, right now, that one tear would pop out. Well, I first had a feeling that somehow I'm fooling them, and maybe everybody, maybe myself. This was a real feeling that I had, but yet, I knew I was serious about my work. But then, have you ever read what Max Reinhardt says about an actor? Very interesting. Actors on acting. Well, I used to kind of wonder about some of my feelings, and then I read that, I thought, gee, when he talks about a child playing, he's saying that is how an actor, what an actor should retain. So maybe there's hope. Marilyn Monroe was an extraordinarily intelligent woman. She was thoughtful, articulate, and serious, far more serious than the image the world preferred to see. She understood exactly how she was perceived. What interested her was not the image, but the difference between the image and the person. The Marilyn I photographed that day was not the public Marilyn. She was quieter, more reflective, and entirely present. She listened carefully. She chose her words. Nothing about her was careless. She spoke with uncommon honesty. There was no performance. She was speaking as herself.