British cinema has made habit of making episodic true-story films in the new millennium, and making them damn well. It started with The Deal and its sequels, the more popular The Queen and The Special Relationship. Then last year, The King’s Speech swept the awards roster. This year, they’re doing it again, taking a very short period of time, the film shooting of The Prince and the Showgirl, and introducing into the fray the last true universal sex symbol, Marilyn Monroe (Williams).

Narrated by Colin Clark (Redmayne), this adaptation of his memoirs chronicle the time he spent making his foray into the entertainment business, as a third assistant director on the production of Laurence Olivier’s (Branagh) collaboration with Monroe. It is in equal parts a love letter addressed to an unattainable fantasy and a diary note of a young man’s coming of age. Curtis tells the tale of a privileged man, who is obsessed with the movies, a career choice not respected by his family. He is the fabled underachiever, whose drive is fueled by his lack of appreciation, and is determined to make it on his own. His delight is elevated when the object of every man's affection at the time, Marilyn Monroe, is amongst the people it is his duty to serve. As he and Sir Laurence discover quickly, she is anything but the dream one sees on the silver screen, riddled with insecurities and obsessed with her method and acting coach, Paula Strasberg (wife to the legendary acting teacher behind the eponymous Lee Strasberg Institute). But whilst Larry finds her incorrigible, Clark is entranced by her apparent vulnerability. And after her then husband, playwright Arthur Miller (Scott) goes back to the States, following a particularly vicious fight, Clark is suddenly at the start of his week with Marilyn.

The film has numerous triumphs, amongst which the MOST significant is its phenomenal casting. Besides Williams, who I will come to later, every character is incredibly well suited to its portrayer. From Dame Judi Dench, playing the stateswoman actress Dame Sybill, to Julia Ormond in her brief but captivating imagining of the original Elsie Marina, Vivien Leigh (yes, Scarlett O’Hara). There is one particular scene for Ormond where she discusses her husband’s (Olivier) love for Monroe with the naïve Clark which is a perfect representation of the stiff British upper lip, and is just delightful to watch. A week with Marilyn cannot help but be rife with men though, and men completely besotted. Whether it was Redmayne with his cub to her cougar, or Branagh who is simultaneously frustrated and yet transfixed, Scott who is profoundly aware of his incompatibility with this nymphet or Jackson who was once in Redmayne’s place, and is working with Monroe purely out of devotion, even after having his heart broken. Each of these men is but one spoke of a life cycle of men who were charmed, right off their feet, by the magic that was Marilyn. The direction by Curtis is seemingly adequate, and the screenplay is delicate, but the film, a vast tableau of character studies, is theatre come to life, and rides entirely on its performances.

And speaking of performances, there is Michelle Williams. It is hard to believe that the same woman who was effortless in Wendy and Lucy could so entirely transform into this character. The threat that exists, that worried me before I went in to the screening, was the fact that Monroe is such a larger than life character, her appeal so entrenched in her affectations, that it would be almost impossible to play her with any measure of sympathy. And perhaps even more than that, Williams would be not just seducing the bevy of men lining up on the stage for her, but millions of people, most of whom have at some point had a cut-out of Monroe shaping their fantasies. Just the fact that she took on such an iconic role shows incredible chutzpah, and boy, does she deliver. She is in equal measure vulnerable and enticing, innocent and yet wily, and startlingly, she manages to embody that deep conflicting misery that consumed Monroe, without making any of it seem disingenuous. Her every laugh, twirl, smile, song, dance, everything brings back Monroe in a way that is absolutely breathtaking. There will be people who think this movie is less than other similar movies, but no one could deny that Williams’s turn is not astonishing, it is spell binding.

Meryl Streep has won two Academy Awards out of an incredible sixteen nominations. What is even more incredible is that whilst the last time she was nominated was just two years ago, her last win came almost 30 years ago. With her forthcoming biopic on Margaret Thatcher almost certain to net her nomination number seventeen, it would be heartbreaking to see her lose, but the American dream in the British film may just beat out the Iron Lady herself.

Now don’t get me wrong. I do not judge women by their appearance alone. And yet there is a part of me, like there is of most any man, which wants the package to be pretty. For years though, she was all that as an actress, she was ‘Julia’ and ‘Sophie’ and ‘Joanna Kramer’, and we all loved these women. For their strength, for their resolve, but did we really fancy the woman who played them? Maybe some of you did, but a stern looking serious Yale alum isn’t my idea of an ideal prom date. Meryl could be an Oscar staple, but pardon my saying this: she really wasn’t a tabloid-worthy knockout.

Something happened though, somewhere along the way. From being the long suffering wife, the mother with a choice and the victim of unrequited love, Streep began treading the steps of comedy and irony and sardonicism, without leaving the comforts of her inherent ability to morph into another character and make it her own. Some say it was the time her career had its “slump”, but really, Streep was doing something no actress had done before, she was redefining the limitations of an actress of progressing age.

When most of her colleagues, including such names as Jessica Lange, Glenn Close and Diane Keaton were waiting for movie scripts to find a way to them, Streep was trying roles that no other could do. She could be a Suzanne Vale in Mike Nichols ‘Postcard from the Edge’ with the same consummate ease that she had in being Lee in ‘Marvin’s Room’. Never one to shy away from playing significant parts with smaller screen time, she blew the room away with such films as ‘Adaptation’ and ‘The Hours’.

In the midst of all this, when everyone else her age was busy getting botox shots and facelifts, Streep had God to thank for her being busy, because as a result, she forgot to get the “makeover”, that almost always leaves a woman more ghastly than she could ever have been. Perhaps it was her pride in being able to emote, and her reluctance to part with her real expressive face, or perhaps her strong family life, and stable living situation. Whatever it was, Meryl Streep was doing what no actress had done before, and no actress seems to be willing to do again; she was aging gracefully.

Then there came ‘The Devil Wears Prada’. The actress best known to bedeck her mantelpiece with reminders of holocaust tragedy and broken homes chose to be Miranda Preistly. She wore the couture dresses and called Anne Hathaway fat. She infused into her character an authenticity that one wonders if even the legendary she-devil Anne Wintour could muster. Soft spoken as they come, she laced her every word with such quiet ferocity that you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck on edge every time she walked on to the screen. And an amazing thing happened then: she STILL got an Oscar nomination. And even more amazing than that was: suddenly, Meryl Streep, an almost sexagenarian, became inexplicably hot.

She was Meryl Streep yet, and she followed up the comedic punch of ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ with some fantastic dramatic performances in films like ‘Rendition’ and ‘Lions for Lambs’. Yet she knew she wasn’t done. She had given spark to the candle of unassuming sex appeal that only a powerful woman can exude, and she knew she had to let it burn. Once having quipped that she would “rip out (Madonna’s) throat” for getting the role of Eva Peron in ‘Evita’ over her, Meryl made ‘Mamma Mia!’ her first musical. Shot in the lovely islands of Greece, and receiving lukewarm critical response, Streep still demonstrated that she had found the nerve of her audience. At the ripe old age of 59, she got the biggest box office success of her life, and the highest grossing British film of all time, with over $650 million globally.

After years of speculation of succession, the heir to Betty Davis’ throne had made it plenty clear that she was not ready to give it up to a pretty young thing yet. She went back to her theatre roots with John Patrick Shanley’s adaptation of his own play ‘Doubt’, and with a formidable cast (almost all nominated for acting awards for the film), Meryl Streep came back to her winning ways, notching up records for nominations in both the Academy Awards and the Golden Globes.

Her cutest moment was yet to come. And then it finally did. Not in ‘Julie and Julia’ for which she will no doubt land an Oscar nomination, and potentially even scrape up her third win, but in Nancy Meyer’s ‘It’s Complicated’. A tradition of Meyer’s casting Keaton in her films was broken when she chose Streep for this material. And boy, did she play her cards right. Whether it was running out of a plastic surgeon’s offices or proclaiming in the most adorable manner, “I’m a bit of a slut, aren’t I?” Streep did it all. She even braved some rather risqué jokes for a lady of her age and stature. And therein lays the true beauty of this landmark movie star: she knows her way around the block. Not once did she seem vulgar or inappropriate, not once did she cross the line into Anne Bancroft land. She looked and acted better than she ever had before, and showed unarguably why she has the longevity she has had.

And today, though I wouldn’t have said it before, I’m unashamed in saying that even though I know it is inappropriate, given our age differences, I have the biggest crush on Meryl Streep. Sure she’s Sister Aloysius Beauvier and Karen Silkwood, but she’s also Jane Adler and Donna Sheridian, and boy, are they cute? Accepting her award for ‘Julie and Julia’ she said, “I’ve played so many extraordinary women over the years, that sometimes I get mistaken for one.” I can’t help but think she’s crossed over, and like the finest Shiraz, she just keeps getting better.