HOW TO MARRY A MILLIONAIRE (1953) ** After a rough ride through the dream that would haunt America throughout the second half of the 20th century (penthouse apartment in New York, marry a rich partner, pay attention to stocks, bonds and oil at the expense of interesting things per se) Marilyn Monroe ends up passed out on the floor of a hamburger joint with three men toasting over her. Lauren Bacall and Betty Grable too. Light hearted...um, not romp...cantor through the dreams and aspirations of a generation with nothing much to do, and not yet determined to do it with style. The film is, in many ways, an indictment of the '50s. Not in a McCarthyesque vein, but in collateral terms of authentic values. Oh sure, the three pin-ups all end up on the floor after drinking beer with husbands they love, but it's still cold cash that knocks 'em out. If all they really need is beer and burgers and fries and a shack in Maine, then why is it cold cash that still knocks 'em out? The girls aren't great actresses, Marilyn will always be absolutely compelling in real life interviews (and Presidential serenades) in ways that she never came near to matching onscreen.