Metacritic reviews

It's an expertly made, intentionally minor movie, though when Monroe, doping herself with everything available, lies in bed, confused and hapless, there are depressing intimations of the end to come.

Her (Williams) performance is so engaging and complete, it's worth all the other shortcomings.

One of the chief pleasures of My Week with Marilyn - which should not be approached as anything other than fluffy entertainment - is watching Williams bring to life Monroe's inner demons and her movie-star allure with equal aplomb. By the time the film's book-ending closing musical number comes around (That Old Black Magic), the illusion is astounding and complete.

The luminous Michelle Williams goes bone-deep here. Monroe's beauty was one of a kind. No one, not even Williams, can act it. What Williams does, with fierce artistry and feeling, is illuminate Monroe's insights and insecurities about herself at the height of her fame.

The unpretentious, easy-to-digest style and short running length (a shade over 90 minutes), when coupled with strong acting (especially on Williams' part), make My Week with Marilyn a pleasant end-of-the-year diversion.

Branagh and Williams are worth the price of admission, the former "wunderkind" of British stage and screen having a go at the pretentious, plummy Olivier.

Williams gets us on intimate terms with one of Hollywood's most enduring and tragic icons. If much of what surrounds her in Simon Curtis' biographical drama is less nuanced, her work alone keeps the movie entertaining.

To the extent that Michelle Williams' multilayered interpretation of Marilyn Monroe serves as its raison d'etre, My Week With Marilyn succeeds stunningly.

The results are perfunctory, lugubrious and historically questionable.

Only the star performances in My Week with Marilyn, cartoonish as they are, make seeing the film worth the effort.