Film - Philip Kerr is entertained by some blonde froth
If gentlemen prefer blondes, does that mean brunettes have better sex? And what is the reason for Hollywood's enduring fascination with the colour of the hair on a woman's head? Of course, not every woman with fair hair is a blonde, as Nigella herself gamely demonstrated. Any man will tell you, there is a little more to being a blonde than George Lazenby's flippant observation that - as Sharon Stone nobly demonstrated - the collar and cuffs should at least match. Being a blonde rests not just on voluptuous, Apollonian locks, and a correspondingly fair complexion, but also on the shimmying walk, the irresistibly lipsticked moue, and a bra size slightly larger than the IQ.
Legally Blonde is merely the latest in a long line of movies that deal with this iconic blonde. And, before I deal with the film in detail, I am prompted to ask a few of those style questions that litter the Sunday supplements. What is the reason behind Hollywood's almost Nietzschean fascination with the blonde? Is the Aryan blondeness of Jean Harlow, Marlene Dietrich, Marilyn Monroe, Brigitte Bardot, the knickerless Stone and blubbing Gwyneth Paltrow merely, as Camille Paglia suggests, a prism through which light is intensified and projected? Do the blondes of Spenser, Botticelli and Billy Wilder exude more glamour? Or is it, as I suspect, that the Aphrodite-like gold that grows on the heads of true blondes creates the strong sense of illusion, in the minds of simple-minded men at least, that there is an Olympian paradise to be found in another region of their bodies?
I am unable to report if Reese Witherspoon is, like Sharon Stone, a natural blonde. But within the context of this light but none the less amusing movie, I can confirm that she brings to the commedia della blonde tradition the requisite level of ditzy good nature, pouts, shimmying walks and wide-eyed surprise. Indeed, despite Witherspoon's prominent, brainy-looking forehead, she manages to look even dumber than the dumbest blonde whose eyes you ever made twinkle by shining a torch in her ear. That the same loathsome little bitch from Election could be quite so endearing in Legally Blonde is a testament to Witherspoon's acting abilities and intelligence. Clearly, she is not as dumb as she looks. And if this film can be said to have a message, this is it: people, even blondes, are usually a lot smarter than we think they are. Marilyn was.
Witherspoon plays Elle Woods, fashion merchandising honours student and LA Valley Girl. When her boyfriend, Warner Huntington III, asks her to dinner at their special place, Elle thinks he's going to ask her to marry him. Instead, Warner dumps her, explaining that, after Harvard Law School, he plans a political career, for which he will require not a blonde, but a more obviously East Coast type of girl. "I need to marry a Jackie, not a Marilyn," he tells her.
"I grew up across the street from Aaron Spelling," Elle declares feistily. "I think that's a lot better than some sticky Vanderbilt." And so do I. Which may be one of the reasons I liked this film.
Plucky little Elle (Witherspoon is only 5ft 2in tall) decides to show wooden Warner what blondes are made of and, eschewing Stone's more literal interpretation of what this might mean, Elle swots to take the admissions test for Harvard Law School. And, naturally, this being a Hollywood movie, she passes. Which only goes to show what Hollywood has always suspected about intelligence and education: that anyone could do it, if only they had the time.
Pretty in pink Prada, Elle finds it hard to win acceptance by these Ivy League types, in their Brooks Brothers blue blazers and twinsets, and to that extent, the film is the usual fish-out-of-water scenario, only a couple of stops short of Crocodile Dundee at Oxford, or Pretty Woman in Kandahar.
You know our relentlessly optimistic, bespectacled little heroine - why was I reminded of Hillary Clinton? - will win through, and when a Harvard professor has to pick four students to help him mount a defence in a sensational murder trial, Elle manages to make the cut. This sounds like it ought to be the part of the film where the whole story collapses under the weight of its own absurdities; but in fact, this part works well, because the case is one that comes straight out of Elle's rich Beverly Hills world of personal trainers and beauty salons. And Elle soon puts her well-manicured finger on the evidentiary weakness of the prosecution case.
As an antidote to anthrax, terrorists, floods, Jo Moore, cow brains, Islam and Fergal Keane, this film cannot be recommended too highly. Total bosh. Pure escapism.
Legally Blonde (12) is on nationwide release
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
