![]() We don’t get to see her performance or regard the skill that ends up moving Miller to tears himself. Monroe’s mouth pops open, but she’s stopped from speaking by freeze frame. “Not my Magda,” Miller says definitively, referring to his first and unconsummated love, on whom a character in his play is based. Tears dangle from her lash line like diamonds in suspended animation. Her gaze darts between the script pages shaking in her hands and the reactions glinting across Miller’s face. His physicality has all the respect of an eye roll. ![]() The camera tracks closer and closer to their faces with each cut. The scene cuts between Miller at the back of the audience, presumably at the studio to cast his next play, and Monroe in the center of that stage, there to train. “Oh, he’s in love with her,” he says, nodding to the director and studio founder Elia Kazan, seen only from behind cradling a cigarette between his fingers. She’s in a black dress, legs crossed and a coat slung over her shoulders, her face fixed in a terrified expression. ![]() ![]() Marilyn Monroe sits on a shadowy stage in front of him, about to perform, flanked on each side by other actors in a half-circle. Arthur Miller enters the Actors Studio, drawing its crowd into a reverent silence.
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