In 1955, Peter Mangone was 14 years old, a skinny boy from the Bronx with a Marilyn Monroe fixation, like so many teenagers of his generation. What distinguished Mangone was that he got to meet his idol. One morning, Mangone borrowed an eight-millimeter Kodak camera, headed down to the Gladstone Hotel and met Monroe as she was on her way out shopping. Mangone’s dream came true: she waved, winked and invited him along. Over the course of the afternoon, he filmed her intermittently, without sound. The great charm of Mangone’s images lies at the opposite end of familiar portraits by Cecil Beaton, Elliott Erwitt and co.: in his 14-year-old hands, through the grainy Kodak film, with its erratic lighting, Marilyn remains every inch the icon.