Aliens – Bitch Flicks

Ladies of the 1980s Week: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts from our Ladies of the 1980s Week here.

‘Pretty in Pink’: A Desire for Autonomy by Siobhan Denton

Re-watching the film recently, it seems apparent that rather than Andie allowing herself to submit to Blane and all that he represents, her narrative arc is really a search for a sense of autonomy rather than a desire to transition into a world of privilege. … Andie is not happy, despite outward appearances, and it is clear that for her, Blane represents an opportunity to take control of her life, to become increasingly autonomous in her decisions.

‘A Different World’ Shook Up My World by Shara D. Taylor

A Different World will forever hold a special place in my life. Set at the fictional, historically Black school Hillman College, it became my North Star to an experience largely foreign to me — undergraduate life. It gave me insight into the strength gained from friendships with Black women. … Seeing images of young, gifted, and Black women pursuing higher education at a historically Black college or university (HBCU) shaped my vision for my life.

Historical vs. Modern Abortion Narratives in ‘Dirty Dancing’ and ‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’ by Tessa Racked

Given this climate, it is somewhat surprising that two mainstream Hollywood films, Dirty Dancing and Fast Times at Ridgemont High, would take progressive approaches to a topic like reproductive justice. While Dirty Dancing remembers the realities of abortion pre-Roe v. Wade and illustrates the role that class plays in access to abortion, Fast Times at Ridgemont High shows a main character who exercises her right to choose without trauma or punishment, while managing to keep a relatively light tone.

Feminism and Classism in ‘The Legend of Billie Jean’ by Horrorella

The Legend of Billie Jean addresses questions of gender and class that are as real today as they were in 1985 and sets its story within the struggles against the patriarchy and the ruling wealthy class by people who all too often fall victim to those oppressions. … As the story progresses, Billie Jean’s flight becomes more than just the desire to escape from a situation that sees her and her friends unfairly on the wrong side of the law. She wants wrongs to be set right. … She wants dignity, and respect – truly, what she is after is equality.

10 of the Best Feminist Comedies of the 1980s by Jessica Quiroli

9 to 5. If I may, this is the greatest women’s comedy of all-time. So perfect on every level, it’s hard to know where to begin; but how about with the three main characters? … Played by Jane Fonda, Dolly Parton, and Lilly Tomlin, this wild ride is a classic in any era, but a rare, feminist gem of the 80s.

“You Have No Power Over Me”: Female Agency and Empowerment in ‘Labyrinth’ by Kelcie Mattson

So what distinguishes Labyrinth from the Hero’s Journey tropes it so closely follows? Its protagonist. Sarah is the hero of the story. She doesn’t need to be saved because she’s the rescuer, and she carries the plot forward with her resourcefulness, tenacity, and self-actualization. … But Labyrinth’s dramatic tension is centered entirely in a young woman’s mind as she navigates a tricky tightrope between fantasy and reality, dreams and goals, past and future, and discovers the kind of woman she wants to be.

‘Working Girl’ and the Female Gaze by Allyson Johnson

We so often view films through the Male Gaze with camera shots that are more interested in capturing the way a woman’s body looks under the guise of “sex sells” that it’s become somewhat of the norm. While Working Girl is appreciative of the beauty between Sigourney Weaver and Melanie Griffith, it employs a “female gaze” so to speak with Harrison Ford. … Also a change of pace is the fact that by the end of the film, Katharine and Tess aren’t fighting over Jack. They’re fighting over their place in the working world and, to narrow it down to a single moment, they’re fighting over a great idea that Tess had, one Katharine wishes she could have come up with and resents Tess for.

‘Videodrome’ and the Pornographic Femme Fatale by Dr. Stefan Sereda

Blade Runner (1982) featured two fembots-turned-fatale (and another faux–fatale) whereas David Cronenberg’s sci-fi-horror-noir Videodrome updated the femme fatale as a response to media-saturated late twentieth-century culture. … Regardless, in Cronenberg’s prophetic film, the femme fatale is reborn and unleashed to warn of contemporary dangers, including how women’s media representation as sex objects is connected to capitalist propaganda, often with the intent of making a violent agenda seem pleasurable.

The Feminisms of ‘Born in Flames’ by Heather Brown

It’s no coincidence to me that three years later Lizzie Borden would direct Born in Flames, a film that depicts a collection of different feminist voices all aligned in a common goal of resisting what bell hooks terms the white-supremacist-capitalist-patriarchy. … Instead of acting out carceral feminism, which relies on law enforcement and state violence to combat violence against women, the feminisms of Born in Flames create justice rather than restore “order.”

Did Gender Alter the Tone of the ‘Alien’ Franchise? Implications of Narrative Femininity by Kayleigh Watson

It is science fiction fact however, that Ellen Ripley should not have been “Ellen Ripley” at all. Dan O’Bannon’s original script for Alien stated: “The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men and women.” …In Aliens – the 1986 sequel directed by James Cameron – both Ripley and the alien are further solidified as female. Cameron pushed the series into being specifically feminist, having Weaver reprise the role in more extreme circumstances. She gained a surrogate daughter – Newt – to protect, more men to fight, and an Alien Queen – one who breeds – to defeat. … Through the course of the film, we come to an implied understanding that is wholly complicit in their both being mothers, adding a subliminal layer that would not have been present had either Ripley or the alien been male.

‘She’s Gotta Have It’: The Audacity of Sex and the Black Women Who Have It by Reginée Ceaser

Looking back on the film today, I appreciate this film now because it centers on a Black woman who unabashedly is exploring and thoroughly enjoying her sexuality. By doing this, Spike Lee took long held beliefs and perceptions of Black women and pushed back on the constrictions and perceptions of society.

‘Jem and the Holograms’: Diversity and Female Empowerment by Horrorella

What I didn’t remember, and was pleasantly surprised by, was all of the diversity present in the show and the incredibly positive female role models that it presented to its young viewers. … It offered a positive statement on cultural acceptance and feminine strength at a time when children’s programming was lacking in both areas (and often still is today). The Holograms celebrated an ethnically and culturally diverse group of characters who came from a variety of different backgrounds.

Reagan’s America: Waiting to Die in ‘Testament’s Radiation Zone by Angela Beauchamp

[Atomic Bomb Cinema author] Jerome Shapiro disregards Testament because it is primarily about women’s suffering, yet this very acknowledgement of women’s powerlessness in a world that patriarchal governments have just blown up is feminist at its core. … This 1983 film created by women gave the audience such a grim picture of the near future, without the excitement of special effects or the hope brought by overcoming obstacles, that it was a call to action, a message to avoid this outcome at all costs.

‘Crossing Delancey’: Isabelle Needs a New Perspective on Life and Love by Susan Cosby Ronnenberg

This romantic comedy has always been more of a cult classic. But it was unusual in its female writer and director, along with its distinctly Jewish cultural setting, its generational custom-clash regarding matchmaking, and its conflicted independent protagonist, Isabelle, who could be read as a late 1980s precursor to ‘Sex and the City’s protagonist Carrie Bradshaw. An independent, straight single woman with a successful career, Isabelle has professional and romantic options, ambitions, and flawed preconceptions about the incompatibility of those options and ambitions as she tries to decide between an internationally acclaimed poet or a neighborhood.

Women Muscians in the 80s Used Music Videos to Expand Notions of Womanhood by Gwen Hofmann

…Women in music broadened visual representations of gender as their cacophony of voices inoculated the population to women of all ages, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds. Most intriguing about this “kaleidoscopic” decade is the way women in 80s music videos displayed these distinct portraits of womanhood. … The ladies of 80s music video brought forth new visual representations of women including: experiences in the workforce, issues of class, messages of power, and unique expressions of love and sex.

‘The Golden Girls’: The Legacy of a Lifetime of Wisdom and Laughter by Adina Bernstein

In 1985, television audiences were reminded that women of a certain age are just as vibrant, sexual, and as full of life as women half their age. They may also share a few life lessons along the way. The TV series ‘The Golden Girls’ — which aired for seven seasons — reminded audiences of all ages that life does not end at fifty for women.

‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’: The Wisdom and Confidence of Linda Barrett by Angela Morrison

Phoebe Cates brings life to the energetic, worldly, confident-yet-vulnerable Linda. Her character is the heart and soul of the movie, as she gives Stacy (Jennifer Jason Leigh) advice on sex, relationships, and navigating her way through high school. … Linda’s attitude toward sex – which she passes on to Stacy – is that it needn’t be a big deal, but rather, should be seen as a fun and pleasurable activity for young women such as themselves. … She urges Stacy to make her own decisions, letting her know that she has the power to decide who she wants to have sex with, and when. The film never takes a judgmental attitude towards these young women, their sexual activities, and their frank discussions of sex.

The Vietnam War Through a Teen Girl’s Eyes in ‘In Country’ by Caroline Madden

Sam is an underrated, if not widely unknown 1980s heroine. She serves as a symbol for America’s 1980s attempt to reconcile with its most controversial war. The 1980s experienced a boom in Vietnam War films, as the temporal distance from the war allowed filmmakers to fully deconstruct the experience. Rarely is the locus of these films a woman. Sam’s character manages to break through the barriers of a primarily masculine film genre. In Country uniquely explores both the female and child experience of the Vietnam War and its aftermath. This is a departure from the wide variety of films depicting the male veteran’s assimilation into post-Vietnam life, such as Born on the Fourth of July (1989) or First Blood (1982).

Revisiting ‘Desert Hearts’ and Its Lesbian Romance by Angela Beauchamp

For heterosexual women, movies and television series show them every day what a loving relationship is and what the expectations are to grow up, fall in love, and find a handsome prince (however flawed that may be). For lesbians prior to Donna Deitch’s Desert Hearts, nothing of the kind existed on-screen. … It is a conventional romance, which is one of the reasons that it is so successful.

‘Pretty in Pink’: The Only Team to Be on Is Team Andie by Isabella Garcia

I fixated on the Team Duckie vs. Team Blane aspect of the film so much that I entirely missed the point. I was so Team Duckie that I blamed Andie for not choosing him. … It wasn’t until I grew up some more, graduated high school, and went through several re-watches that I realized I had fallen into a trap that society has conditioned us to fall into: the dreaded sexist “friend zone.” … It was wild to me that Andie didn’t like Duckie back, but after recently re-watching the film I don’t know why I ever blamed her. She stuck true to what she wanted.

How ‘Big Business’ Made Big Business with Two Women Big in the Business by Kyle Sanders

Yet what sets this 80s flick apart from most films of that era is the fact that the four protagonists are all women AND completely independent. … Ultimately, it is Midler and Tomlin who save the film from being just another forgotten comedy of the 1980s. The two stars bring a certain gravitas to the screen — a perfect combination of comedic timing and contagious chemistry in scenes that might otherwise fall flat in the hands of other capable actresses.

‘The Stepfather,’ Toppling Patriarchy, and Love of 80s Horror Ladies by Eva Phillips

Stephanie emerges as a poised, perspicacious, and resilient female lead. She is a wonderfully surprising alternative from most of the panoply of horror heroines who are tortured, fight, and scream their way through the terrifying films of the 80s. … Stephanie embodies what each of the archetypally male characters in the film fails to, and in doing so transcends the clutches of gender expectations in the film and in a genre that is so often besotted by explicit or implicit gendered presumptions.

Sheila E.’s Agency as an Artist in ‘Krush Groove’ and Beyond by Tara Betts

But Sheila E. represents a woman’s creative musical power in an early hip hop film dominated by male artists. … As we consider hip hop’s presence in U.S. films and documentaries spanning the globe, it is also reasonable to consider that Sheila E. has one of the biggest roles for a woman that was written in the spate of films that began portraying hip hop culture.

Ripley, Sexism, and Classism in ‘Aliens’ by Adam Sherman

One of the most enduring female action heroes in the 80s is Ellen Ripley. In the 1979 movie Alien, we were introduced to her as a competent, no-nonsense space trucker who survived where the rest of her crew did not. However, it was not until 1986 that her status as a female badass was truly confirmed in the follow-up, Aliens. Yet, in-universe, it took Ripley much of the movie to gain any respect. The mix of classism and sexism Ripley faced is something that I think made many women identify with her even more.

‘The Fog’: 5 Women, an Environmental Crisis, and No Forecast for Friendship by ThoughtPusher

Before watching the movie with a more critical lens, I reminisced that these strong female characters drove the community response to crisis as they began to interact and even came to depend on each other. … But upon further examination, these characters only come together in a geographic sense rather than develop significant strength through the social bonds of supporting each other. … It seems like The Fog exposes the idea that strong women can’t have any meaningful relationships that might endure and even help them survive and understand themselves better through tough times.

Rethinking ‘Say Anything’ and the Film’s Actual Protagonist Diane Court by Charlotte Orzel

The problem isn’t that audiences misremember Lloyd Dobler; it’s that they forget about Diane Court. Even though the two characters share the screen more or less equally, Diane (Ione Skye) is often treated more as a love interest than a romantic lead. … Not only is Diane an equal player in the action; she’s the film’s protagonist. While we spend a great deal of time with Lloyd, the movie’s story is structured around Diane’s life. … While Diane has a clear narrative of growth, Lloyd is a static character.

Black Women in 1980s Horror Films: Tokenism and Regression by Ashlee Blackwell

However, I do thoroughly enjoy and sometimes defend 80s horror and the Black (female) characters I can find, but it’s crucial to examine the narrow confines of their characterization. … The 80s opened up a dialogue about where Black women’s place was not only in society, but in horror. Katrina demonstrates a stark fear of “the Other” who dwells beyond the parameters of the safe, White institutions, Sheila is a marker of assimilation and the rise of the Black middle class with a Huxtable like allure, while also being a Black girl nerd we like, and Epiphany is rooted in a past that Reagan’s message to America desired; a return to the good ‘ole days when miscegenation was taboo if not illegal.

Ripley, Sexism, and Classism in ‘Aliens’

However, it was not until 1986 that her status as a female badass was truly confirmed in the follow-up, ‘Aliens.’ Yet, in-universe, it took Ripley much of the movie to gain any respect. The mix of classism and sexism Ripley faced is something that I think made many women identify with her even more.

This guest post written by Adam Sherman appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s.

One of the most enduring female action heroes in the eighties is Ellen Ripley. In the 1979 movie Alien, we were introduced to her as a competent, no-nonsense space trucker who survived where the rest of her crew did not. However, it was not until 1986 that her status as a female badass was truly confirmed in the follow-up, Aliens. Yet, in-universe, it took Ripley much of the movie to gain any respect. The mix of classism and sexism Ripley faced is something that I think made many women identify with her even more.

Ripley’s struggle to be taken seriously began almost as soon as she wakes up from cryosleep. As soon as she recovers from her physical injuries, she’s sent in front of the Weyland-Yutani board to account for the loss of her ship. If the titular Alien’s reproductive cycle is a metaphor for rape, then that scene is possibly a metaphor for the often hostile legal process survivors of rape go through. Ripley is thrown into a room with overtly hostile men (and one hostile woman), where they pick apart every detail in her story.

Her one (not very vocal) defender in that room is Carter Burke, a low-level board member. The first time I watched Aliens (I think I was in high school,) I thought he was a decent guy… until he stabbed everyone in the back, of course. Now, rewatching the movie for this article, I realize that he wasn’t. From his introduction, he reeks of corporate pandering. His way of speaking seems to be straight-talk, but upon closer inspection, it seems like just a bunch of buzzwords thrown together to make Ripley do what he wants. Speaking of buzz words and manipulation, compare his recruitment of Ripley to how for-profit-schools recruit students. Throwing the shame of working at the docks in her face and reminding her she used to be a lieutenant on a starship is some pretty good use of pain points.

Speaking of “the shame of working at the docks,” the way Burke treats Ripley parallels how our society treats blue-collar workers. It makes sense. After all, her previous job was basically being a trucker… IN SPACE! While not glamorous, Ripley seemed to think that job was fine, just like dockwork was fine. And if Burke was going to look down on her for that… well, she would just tell him what to do with his classism and Scrooge McDuck piles of money. The only reason she returned to LV-246 was that people were in danger.

That brings us to the marines. Despite a surprising number of female marines in the team, they are obviously fueled by hyper-masculinity and testosterone and, in Sergeant Apone’s case, nicotine. Of course, some of that aggressive bravado might just be for show. After all, it is hinted that nothing they do is completely safe. On the ride down, it is subtly suggested that their drop ship could blow up randomly.

The marines are also quite dismissive of outsiders. They complain that the colonists they are supposed to rescue are “morons” who probably broke the transmitter by accident; either that or the emergency is actually that “their daughters need to be rescued from their own virginity.” Ripley, at the start, is treated dismissively, as if she’s merely rambling about aliens. During her briefing, it is readily apparent that the marines think she is wasting their time. They start to warm up to Ripley when she shows that she’s ready to roll up her sleeves and get dirty alongside them by piloting a power loader to arm the dropship. (By the way, this is a nice bit of foreshadowing to the final battle. But I probably don’t need to tell you that.)

The marines are also particularly disdainful of their fearful leader, Lieutenant Gorman. During the drop (which was established as dangerous) he annoys his subordinates by showing fear and his lack of experience. But his worst crime before setting down was refusing to eat with the marines, as if he’s better than them. Instead, he sat with the two civilians, conveying his elitism.

On the other end of this spectrum is Vasquez. Vasquez is one of the three female marines, yet she appears to be attempting to be the most stereotypically masculine. While most of the other marines groggily awake from cryosleep and put their clothes on, Vasquez is already doing chin-ups, using the ship’s structure as a gym. She also adopts her comrades’ prejudices to a greater degree. Before Ripley is accepted, Vasquez is one of her harshest critics. She also goes so far as to attempt to beat an unconscious Gorman, only restrained by her fellow survivors.

Yet underneath much of the marines’ seemingly emotional outbursts is a cold logic. Cowardice is despised because when one person panics, others will quickly follow. And if the person panicking is high enough in rank, like Gorman, lives are more likely to be lost. Both points were proved effectively in the masterfully shot first battle between the xenomorphs and the marines. They are quick to call for the incompetent Gorman and the treacherous Burke to be executed because both men proved to be a liability. They distrust civilians because, well, civilians don’t know anything about military operations. The marines eventually listen to Ripley not only because of her prior experience, but also because of her quick thinking and decisiveness; she fits the mold they believe makes a good leader.

Ripley eventually earns the marines’ respect. The first sign, as stated before, was Ripley’s willingness to step up and get on the power loader when the least-liked Marine, Hudson, refused. What really earns their respect, however, is Ripley taking control of the APC to save the marines, despite Gorman’s orders to wait. If Ripley hadn’t acted, all eight of the marines who went down into the xenomorph nest would have died. Losing almost sixty-three percent of the combat-ready troops may seem unsustainable (which it was). But you have to remember: it was better than what Gorman could have done. Ripley is even able to keep the momentum of her victory going by coming up with a plan to survive after the destruction of the dropship. In doing that, the only person who could legitimately challenge her leadership would be Hicks. Between the two of them, they manage to mount an effective defense against a highly intelligent foe that both outnumbered and outmaneuvered them.

This journey from marginalized victim to survivor to respected leader is I think one of the more subtle reasons why people love Ripley. People will talk about her killing xenomorphs, or her motherly instincts towards Newt, or that awesome gun she jerry-rigged together when fighting the queen. Yet people don’t always discuss how Ripley earned the respect of people who previously dismissed her. Many of us believe that if we can be smart enough, strong enough, funny enough, creative enough, talented enough, or some other simile for good enough, everyone who ever doubted us will be forced to accept us. Ripley isn’t just an action hero in Aliens, she’s the embodiment of that belief. And so many of us love her for that.

Adam “T4nky” Sherman is the writer of Nowhere Island University and also doessemi-related blog stuff. You can also follow him on Twitter @NowhereIslandU.

Did Gender Alter the Tone of the ‘Alien’ Series? Narrative Implications of Femininity

It is science fiction fact however, that Ellen Ripley should not have been “Ellen Ripley” at all. Dan O’Bannon’s original script for ‘Alien’ stated: “The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men and women.” … In ‘Aliens,’ both Ripley and the alien are further solidified as female. …We come to an implied understanding that is wholly complicit in their both being mothers, adding a subliminal layer that would not have been present had either Ripley or the alien been male.

This guest post written by Kayleigh Watson appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s. | Spoilers ahead.

When Ridley Scott cast Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in Alien, he created The First: The First Action Heroine; The First Female in a Science Fiction Film That Did Not Have To Be Rescued or Was Not Brunch for a Swamp Monster. Such titles may as well be monikers attached to her name. Ripley was important, and still is, her legacy living on in many an action heroine that followed: Buffy (the Vampire Slayer), The Bride (Kill Bill), G.I Jane, Trinity (The Matrix), Furiosa (Mad Max: Fury Road) and Sarah Connor’s transformation in Terminator 2.

It is science fiction fact however, that Ellen Ripley should not have been “Ellen Ripley” at all. Dan O’Bannon’s original script for Alien stated: “T he crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men and women.” In the climate of the time, it is wholly plausible that Ripley was intended to be a male, as despite the script’s stated gender ambiguity, the original name for the character was still “Martin Roby.” So far so standard for horror and sci-fi, for the genres had always been male-dominated whether it be characters on-screen or in literature or those who create them. After all, it was not until the New Wave of sci-fi that women began to truly stake their claim on the genre, birthing feminist science fiction and writers such as Margaret Atwood, Joanna Russ, Marge Piercy, Ursula K. LeGuin and the singular entity that is Octavia Butler — C.L. Moore and Leigh Brackett being exceptions in the “Golden Age,” and Brackett went on to contribute to the screenplay of The Empire Strikes Back.

O’Bannon once stated that:

“I don’t see it as that revolutionary to cast a female as the lead in an action picture,” said O’Bannon. “It didn’t boggle me then, and it doesn’t boggle me now. My conception from scratch was that this would be a co-ed crew. I thought there was no reason you had to adhere to the convention of the all-male crew anymore.

After all, Star Trek had already had a mixed gender crew for years, and Ridley Scott had a similar reaction when the prospect of making the character female was pitched to him (“I just said, ‘That’s a good idea.”’). Scott later said in an interview:

“My film has strong women simply because I like strong women… It’s a personal choice. I’m no male chauvinist, nor do I understand female chauvinism – I just believe in the equality of men and women. It’s as simple as that.”

In Alien itself, Ripley – portrayed by the then largely unknown actress Sigourney Weaver – blended into the background of the team of the Nostromo crew; she was straightforward in conduct, voicing her opinion, making decisions, contributing to physical work and not waiting for someone else to save her. It can be intrinsically interpreted that these factors are entwined with the fact that Ripley’s character was intended to be male and, should “Martin Roby” have existed in her place he would have led the way as a main protagonist, one that is ultimately smarter than crewmembers with more authority.

Except nobody expected that of Ripley, solely because she was female. She was the ultimate unexpected protagonist, with the audience wholly expecting her to be snuffed out somewhere between the second and third act – because they had been conditioned their entire lives to do so. Her gender made her disposable – one only has to recall the aforementioned damsel vs. swamp monster scenario to consider how this should have played out. Yes, Ripley was female, but she was not feminine. That is the distinctive line here; she was not overtly sexualized (until she strips to her underwear near the culmination of the film: you can’t have it all, it seems), she fought back, she did not need to be rescued by a male, she wielded weapons: she defeated the “bad guy.” Due to the duality of the writing, Ripley became an androgynous entity in a fictional universe so symbolically enveloped in gender.

The Alien universe is primarily constructed around the perception of the “monstrous feminine” and plays into a lot of male-centric fears to do with gender alienation, with an aesthetic to follow suit. Renowned artist H.R Giger was in charge of designing the alien and set, and his explicit and sexually symbolic imagery can be viewed throughout, with phallic monsters hiding in a womb-shaped interior ready to pounce on unsuspecting victims. The Nostromo is the monstrous womb that births death, the gestation of that alien creature involving male rape – orally, impregnation and birth via the destruction of the male body; who can forget that iconic scene mid-film where the baby alien bursts through John Hurt’s chest, takes a look around at the crew’s horrified faces, before scurrying off into the unknown?

This narrative decision turns gender roles on its head and plays into male fears of human reproduction and that which they will never experience. It also draws from 1970s fears of “no longer being in control of our bodies,” as film studies professor Mark Jancovich asserted, thanks to “pollution, pesticides, food additives, man-made cancers” causing mutation. Extrapolating and combining the two sure makes for one horrific film. This monstrous amalgamation is culminated in a predatory creature that was designed by Giger to be both vaginal and phallic with a mysterious omnipresence onscreen. No character is sure what it is that they are facing.

Yet gender implications are reinforced in the making of the antagonist – the alien itself – female. Had Ripley’s character been “Roby” and the alien been male, the conflict would have been conventional. Had there been a binary gender-based conflict, e.g. Roby fought a female alien or had Ripley been a woman and the alien been male, it would have played into the perception of the “monstrous feminine” on alternate sides; the alien being primarily grotesque and man eating, with Ripley being similarly so for possessing male attributes of character. However, both Ripley and the alien are female, which makes for an interesting dilemma: both are considered to be “monstrous” and “feminine” despite neither possessing attributes of human femininity. Both are also capable of deploying death, to which men are either a spectator or a victim, which sparks Freudian psychology, simultaneously castration anxiety in males and possession of the phallus in females. So even though Ripley is female, are viewers actually still watching a protagonist that is essentially male?

This crisis of gender is complicated further as the Alien series progresses, as in Aliens – the 1986 sequel directed by James Cameron – both Ripley and the alien are further solidified as female. Cameron pushed the series into being specifically feminist, having Weaver reprise the role in more extreme circumstances. She gained a surrogate daughter – Newt – to protect, more men to fight and an Alien Queen – one who breeds – to defeat. Both the protagonist and antagonist (not the same alien) have graduated from being maidens to mothers. Both have dependents to protect. We first saw this side of Ripley when she went to find Jones – the Nostromo’s cat – in Alien, however it is important to point out aspect was part of the original script and not dependent on Ripley being female. Through the course of the film, we come to an implied understanding that is wholly complicit in their both being mothers, adding a subliminal layer that would not have been present had either Ripley or the alien been male.

By the time Alien 3 rolls around, it is quite clear where we stand, for whilst Alien subverted the genre and Aliens showed itself to be intrinsically feminist, Alien 3 fulfills the cycle of female purpose by casting Ripley as the “crone” of the “maiden-mother-crone” of the Triple Goddess interpretation of the female life cycle. She chooses to perish after discovering she is hosting an alien queen inside of her body, and as such, despite the franchise being perceived as a feminist one, the female protagonist has still been dragged back into a trope. It is an end that feels almost inevitable for the character – one that could have still been plausible had Ripley been “Roby” instead – yet is far more telling: the genre has to regain control of this strong female protagonist. Perhaps, in that manner, the real winner in this is the alien itself, for despite its specified gender, both it and its children continue to persist as a threat to humankind. Perhaps, the alien queen is the true exemption of this 1980s franchise.

See also at Bitch Flicks: Ellen Ripley, a Feminist Film Icon, Battles Horrifying Aliens… and Patriarchy

Kayleigh Watson is a writer and occasional illustrator from the UK. After realizing that her childhood ambition of being a vet would mean she would actually have to cut up pets (ew), she decided life would be better spent absorbing art and telling others about it. Her years spent studying for her BA (Hons) English and Creative Writing also involved music blogging, reading SF, and watching lots of Buffy. She currently writes about music for female-centric site The Girls Are as well as talking film and TV (or trying to) at her new blog Post-Modern Sleaze. A collection of her work can be found at what kayleigh said, and she tweets about all of the above under @kaylwattson. Her GIF game is strong.

Call for Writers: Ladies of the 1980s

There is a deep nostalgia for the 1980s, especially the pop culture of the decade. … Stories with iconic women at their heart flourished in the 80s (‘Working Girl,’ ‘Sixteen Candles,’ ‘The Legend of Billie Jean’). The emerging breed of action heroine born in the 70s came into her own in the 80s (Sarah Connor from ‘The Terminator,’ Ellen Ripley from ‘Aliens,’ Leia Organa of ‘Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back’).

Our theme week for June 2016 will be Ladies of the 1980s.

There is a deep nostalgia for the 1980s, especially the pop culture of the decade. The teen narrative reigned supreme. Tales of disaffected youth and romantic comedies were changed forever once John Hughes put his personal stamp on them in the 80s. The fashion of the era is still famous/infamous, known for hefty shoulder pads and big, stiff bangs. Stories with iconic women at their heart flourished in the 80s (Working Girl, Sixteen Candles, The Legend of Billie Jean). The emerging breed of action heroine born in the 70s came into her own in the 80s (Sarah Connor from The Terminator, Ellen Ripley from Aliens, Leia Organa of Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back).

The ladies of the 80s inspired self-identification in female audience members, from the oft-bespectacled Andie of Pretty in Pink who must make her own prom dress because she can’t afford to buy one to the androgynous car-fixing, drum-playing tomboy, Watts, who is overlooked by her best friend and love interest in Some Kind of Wonderful. Women in the 80s were allowed to be quirky, awkward, nerdy, and unsexualized, while still maintaining the lead role and/or the love interest role.

Television series Golden Girls, Murder, She Wrote, and Designing Women featured all-women casts and older women characters, as well as focused on women’s careers and female friendships. TV series The Cosby Show (now with a “tainted legacy” due to the rape/sexual assault survivors who have come forward accusing Bill Cosby) and A Different World featured a range of Black women characters.

What makes the ladies of the 1980s so iconic, so beloved, so well-remembered? Who are your favorite ladies of the 80s? Looking back with our 2016 lens, were things really so great for women in the 80s? Women in the 80s were usually love interests and even love objects (literally in Mannequin). While white women were frequently leads, women of color didn’t fare so well in the 80s, as they were often completely unrepresented or tokenized. Classic 80s films like Revenge of the Nerds and Sixteen Candles are now being critiqued for their racism and participation in rape culture.

We’d like to avoid as much overlap as possible for this theme, so please get your proposals in early if you know which topic you would like to write about. We accept both original pieces and cross-posts, and we respond to queries within a week.

Most of our pieces are between 1,000 and 2,000 words, and include links and images. Please send your piece as a Microsoft Word document to btchflcks[at]gmail[dot]com, including links to all images, and include a 2- to 3-sentence bio.

If you have written for us before, please indicate that in your proposal, and if not, send a writing sample if possible.

Please be familiar with our publication and look over recent and popular posts to get an idea of Bitch Flicks’ style and purpose. We encourage writers to use our search function to see if your topic has been written about before, and link when appropriate (hyperlinks to sources are welcome, as well).

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, June 24, 2016 by midnight Eastern Time.

Here are some possible topic ideas:

The Terminator

Jumpin’ Jack Flash

Full House

Aliens

The Cosby Show

Sixteen Candles

Mannequin

She-Ra: Princess of Power

The Secret of the Sword

A Different Image

The Breakfast Club

Punky Brewster

Drylongso

Heathers

The Legend of Billie Jean

Working Girl

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

The Women of Brewster Place

Teen Witch

Stakeout

Gleaming the Cube

Call For Writers: Violent Women

In the month of Halloween, we’ll be examining tropes of women and violence. There are many permutations of violent women throughout history and throughout genres. What is the connection between femaleness and violence? Why do we sometimes accept some types of violent women but not others? What do these value judgments say about our society?

Our theme week for October 2015 will be Violent Women.

In the month of Halloween, we’ll aptly be examining tropes of women and violence. There are many permutations of violent women throughout history and throughout genres. In many cases, the viewer experiences the violence of female characters as empowering. Revenge and self-defense are frequent motivations for violence, which are often coded as justified, and audiences can bathe in the cathartic violence of Kill Bill‘s Beatrix Kiddo (aka The Bride) taking vengeance on her rapist and those who betrayed her and left her for dead. We can cheer on Ripley in Aliens or Laurie Strode in Halloween because they are acting from the basic animal instinct of self-preservation.

Many women glory in the model presented by the physically capable, self-assured women of sci-fi and action genres like pre-apocalypse soldier and mother Sarah Connor in Terminator 2: Judgment Day and secret agent extraordinaire Mallory Kane in Haywire. Films like these give women the opportunity to revel in strong female bodies and in women who take charge.

Sometimes, though, violent women are coded as frightening and unknowable. They violate cultural mores. They cannot be contained within society and must, therefore, be destroyed. The eponymous heroine of Carrie is a young, timid woman who comes of age and finds enormous power inside herself, but such a power cannot be controlled or understood; it has no other choice but to obliterate itself. The film Monster, represents Aileen Wuornos, a real-life woman who had every hard luck in life, as a woman who takes revenge too far until she’s an out-of-control serial killer who must be executed. On the other hand, through the desperate and violent shenanigans of its heroines, Thelma & Louise accuses the world itself of being an ill-equipped place for women who refuse to play by rules that only subjugate them.

What is the connection between femaleness and violence? Why do we sometimes accept some types of violent women but not others? What do these value judgments say about our society?

Feel free to use the examples below to inspire your writing on this subject, or choose your own source material.

We’d like to avoid as much overlap as possible for this theme, so get your proposals in early if you know which film you’d like to write about. We accept both original pieces and cross-posts, and we respond to queries within a week.

If you have written for us before, please indicate that in your proposal, and if not, send a writing sample if possible.

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, Oct. 23, by midnight.

Carrie

Under the Skin

Foxfire

The Matrix

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

Ginger Snaps

Basic Instinct

Foxy Brown

Battlestar Galactica

I Spit on Your Grave

The Exorcist

Underworld

American Horror Story

Game of Thrones

Hard Candy

Duke of Burgundy

Haywire

The 100

Jennifer’s Body

Single White Female

Misery

Mad Max: Fury Road

Terminator 2: Judgment Day

Halloween

Alien

Sin City

Batman Returns

La Femme Nakita

Planet Terror

Aliens

Gone Girl

Friday the 13th

Kill Bill

Monster

Mommy Dearest

Thelma & Louise

Audition

When Skies Fall, Bodies Fail: Gender and Performativity on a Dystopian Earth

In rejecting Lexi, Anne perpetuates the false solidarity and universal acceptance Butler points out in the above passage. Anne sees Lexi as failing to perform the necessary gender of her body. Lexi is the very symbol of a failed body, the failed universal woman Anne has expected of her daughter.

This guest post by Sean Weaver appears as part of our theme week on Dystopias.

I’ve often stood under the night sky, barefoot in the dew-soaked grass, contemplating the vast expanse of the universe, the sky. The stars, like little blips of life, unfold and become more prominent the further away from the cityscapes that fill suburban horizons. I’ve felt the uncanny feeling that exists when contemplating that space. I’ve also felt the familiar feeling, knowing that I am not the first to experience such phenomena. Like countless others before, I’ve stared at that unknown, that unreachable space, in which only a few have ever touched. On the other hand, I’ve experienced the gravity that tethers all objects and bodies to the ground. The weight of the sky, pressing feet firmly to the ground, reminds me of the forces that define my life and the gravity we hold so much faith in. What were to happen if we suddenly lost that faith, the sky falling, crashing down, with the full weight of gravity behind it? What if the gravity holding your body in stasis failed?

Many science fiction narratives seek to answer this question, to go beyond the familiar into the uncanny where every aspect of our existence is called into question, especially when alien beings have come to colonize the Earth and its inhabitants. It’s a dystopian narrative told over and over. Aliens discover a valuable resource on Earth. Aliens pillage and destroy. Humans sometimes prevail. Given the Earth’s colonial history, we can understand the fascination behind such narratives. Enter Falling Skies. Falling Skies takes place after Earth is imperialized by alien overlords called the Esphendi. The show focuses on a group of Americans, led by Tom Mason (Noah Wyle), his family, and Captain Weaver (Will Patton), who have pulled together to fight the alien hostiles, even naming their ragtag group of misfits the 2^nd Mass. This is, more or less, all anyone needs to know in terms of narrative/summary; to go into further detail would give away to many spoilers.

While many critics and viewers have pointed out the flaws in Steven Spielberg and Robert Rodat’s Falling Skies—such as its romanticism of white European settler propaganda and disregard for indigenous tactics of colonial resistance, to its blatant portrayal of male dominance /heteronormativity, and its American patriotic ethnocentrism—the show has drastically changed since its first airing in 2011. Although I agree with what many have said of the show, even having my own love/hate relationship with it, the show evolves in season four, and that’s where I’d like to focus in this critique.

The show shifts gears, moving away from the male dominant narratives, to finally developing its female protagonists, and in doing so reveals the gravity gender and performativity have over certain bodies, and its certain tendency to perpetuate the oppression of said bodies. Judith Butler writes, in her book of critical feminist/queer essays Bodies That Matter, on the discursive limits of sex, the body, and performativity, stating:

Hence, the reading of “performativity” as willful and arbitrary choice misses the point that the historicity of discourse and, in particular the historicity of norms (the “chains” of reiteration invoked and dissimulated in the imperative utterance) constitute the power of discourse to enact what it names. To think of “sex” as an imperative in this way means that a subject is addressed and produced by such a norm, and that this norm—and the regulatory power of which it is a token—materializes bodies as an effect of that injunction. And, yet, this “materialization,” while far from artificial, is not fully stable…And further, this imperative, this injunction, requires and institutes a “constitutive outside”—the unspeakable, the unviable, the nonnarrativizable that secures and, hence fails to secure the very borders of materiality. The normative force of performativity—its power to establish what qualifies as “being”—works not only through reiteration, but through exclusion as well. And in the case of bodies those exclusions haunt signification as it abject borders or as that which is strictly foreclosed: the unlivable, the nonnarrativizable, the traumatic…To the extent that we understand identity-claims as rallying points for political mobilization, they appear to hold out the promise of unity, solidarity, universality.

In this passage, Butler reveals that it is not enough to read bodies and performativity as necessary, or forced. This type of reading reproduces hegemonic norms, and regulates power structures that oppress bodies, specifically the bodies of women. Furthermore, Butler reveals that this type of treatment of bodies and performativity creates a “constitutive outside,” which leads to false promises of unity and solidarity.

It is this “constitutive outside” that I would like to explore in regard to season four of Falling Skies, and how the main female protagonist Anne Mason (Moon Bloodgood) reproduces the artificial illusion of unity and solidarity while forcing her hybrid daughter into the traumatic space this outside represents. Throughout the show, Anne has pushed the boundaries of gender and tradition in her survival in the dystopian landscape created by the arrival of the Esphendi overlords. She is at the head of her field, a field dominated by men, and as a doctor she is the best there is—even developing a technique to remove the harnesses that change the children into the Skitter slaves that do the work of their alien oppressors. In this sense, Anne pushes past the restraints of performativity that men would expect of her.

However, in the beginning of season four, Anne has stepped out of her role as the healer. She is no longer the doctor who has kept the bodies of her people stitched together. After experiencing a traumatic capture at the hands of the Esphendi, resulting in Anne giving birth to a hybrid daughter, Alexi (Scarlett Byrne), Anne begins to lose control. For the Esphendi are master colonizers, and realize that to control the men they must first control the women. This experience changes Anne, and she no longer takes up the role of doctor. Instead, she steps into the role of leader and a warrior woman out for revenge. But she no longer pushes past performativity; instead, she lets performativity control her. She forgoes all feelings, and in doing so reveals the true nature of dominance over other bodies. Anne becomes so raveled up in performing the role of warrior, that she begins to instill fear in others in regards to the nature and being of her daughter Lexi.

Lexi is a hybrid in every sense of the word; she is both human and Esphendi. Due to her hybridity, Lexi can control the matter and elements of the Earth. She also has the ability to mature quickly. However, as a hybrid Lexi is rejected by the people of the 2nd Mass, including her own mother. In fact, at one point Anne exclaims that the Esphendi had killed her daughter, leaving Lexi perplexed at the idea of family. She even questions her mother stating, “But, I am your daughter; we are family. Why am I different simply because I am Esphendi and human?” Eventually, through Anne’s rejection, Lexi sacrifices herself in a mission to the moon to destroy the power source of the Esphendi Empire because she realizes that her existence is artificial, insubstantial. She finds herself in the space of the “constitutive outside.” Unknowingly, Anne perpetuates the fear of otherness. She doesn’t recognize her daughter as a woman, because she is foreign, alien, hybrid. In rejecting Lexi, Anne perpetuates the false solidarity and universal acceptance Butler points out in the above passage. Anne sees Lexi as failing to perform the necessary gender of her body. Lexi is the very symbol of a failed body, the failed universal woman Anne has expected of her daughter.

This is only the second evolution of Anne’s character arc. But, it reveals the nature of performativity and how it may be experienced in a dystopian world. Falling Skies is finally beginning to evolve and question the very ideology that seems to define our existence. I wonder, however, what more will be revealed when it comes to the nature of bodies. While season five is the final season, I wonder how Anne will handle the conflicts to come. What will become the outcome when Anne and her family begin to rebuild the world once the Esphendi have been defeated, if they are defeated? Will they repeat the past? Will Anne push pass the performativity that has come to control her actions and beliefs or will she succumb to the gravitational pull that forces certain bodies to fail when skies come falling down?

Sean Weaver has a MA in English/Literature from Kutztown University. He is currently News Editor at Vada, an online magazine from the UK with a new queer perspective. When he isn’t reading or writing, he is hard at work looking for new ways to understand what it means to be queer.

Twitter: @levirush8

Blog: http://post-colonial-scholar.blogspot.com

Becoming Not She, But Her: Motivation, Cinematography, and the Alien-in-Girl’s Clothing in Glazer’s ‘Under the Skin’

If you hear that people hate this movie, this re-inscription of feminine expendability and excoriation is probably, I’m guessing, why. Or there’s not enough explicitly in the surface of the movie: everything’s implied, ergo too many loose ends. They probably hate what happens to the baby: I think that’s when women walk out of the movie. The fact that men regularly walk out of screenings (because of the erect penises on the victimized men–that is a whole other essay for a whole different internet venue and I want to read that essay a.s.a.p.)

Under the Skin poster — *Under the Skin* poster

This is a guest post by Cynthia Arrieu-King.

SPOILER ALERT

Scarlett Johansson herself says the movie Under the Skin is about an “it” becoming a “her”. Not a she: subjective, but a her: objective. This is the key dynamic character shift in the film, so that you’d think this film would embody a cultural critique of how women are treated, or at least, the idea of human predation. Because the “it” is a predatory drone and becomes a “her”, it first discovers slowly and sadly the immense vulnerability and mundanity of being a human person and then of being a human woman. The attractiveness of the Johansson human body (the thing for which she was singled out) ends up completely working against the alien. Its alien culture didn’t fully understand the position it was putting “it” in by putting “it” in a female body, and the amount of thinking we can see on the alien’s face as it is preying on people amounts to what we get from watching a spider on a web. Sometimes it’s the glass of water that does in an alien (Signs); sometimes it’s Johansson’s face and body.

In the first minutes, I didn’t think of a femme fatale; I thought Johansson was acting out some revenge fantasy–the abducted woman with the very deadpan comic twist: men don’t have to be abducted by force or tripped up by a woman’s doubt of her own instinct for being in danger; you can just promise them a one-night-stand with a lost English woman who looks like Johansson, and they’ll conveniently take their clothes off. That seems like the wink from the director, past the affectless alien, to us. Except the movie has a hard time offering up meaning from the gross amount of predation foisted on men—though it sure keeps showing their demises to us, over and over again.

What do you do with the insinuation that feminine wiles are basically manipulation? Or that men are so overwhelmed they can’t pick up on the fact that her questions are faintly pushy and one-track? Honestly, if I saw a gorgeous man on a beach, and he kept asking, “What are you doing here/are you alone/what country are you from?” I’d be taking ten steps back, turning, and walking away quickly. Which to his credit, is kind of what the surfer on the beach does when Johansson’s alien accosts him. The camera hangs on his face, taking in and registering the alien’s intrusiveness: she/it asks point blank what country he’s from. Viewers may worry, thinking: Are you gonna buy this, man? Are you really not noticing this is weird? He seems to feel baited, and the whole exchange is pushed aside for his altruism in wanting to help the drowning woman and dog. This is clearly a movie by a man: because if it were a movie by a woman. But we’re seeing a vulnerability in men we don’t often see on film. Considering the way the social criticism stays on a silent, not-very-deep level in this movie, backed up mostly by silence and blackness to fill in the gaps not covered in the story-writing meetings, I’ll take this one chance to see the tables get turned and go horribly wrong.

It’s hard to say what exactly is the trigger for the alien that makes her understand humans as something other than a meat parade. Is it mundane night life, malls, and people walking on the street? The alien’s modus operandi is a blend of “hunter” as well as tedious, dutiful, and atonal. I did not think she developed feelings or pity for humans. Her project is tedious to her. Is she really having a revelation about people? Or is this actually about sentience? Is she discovering the little bugs (humans) she’s picking off are values-driven?

Under the Skin seems more focused on the dreadfulness of being in another body, constantly amongst people who will want to kill her if they discover what she is. This isn’t, however, to say the movie is about Otherness in the way speculative fiction critiques and instructs on Otherness. It’s more about the weariness of being. Of being any being. Her work is so repetitive that I almost got enraged that it was still happening narratively, much less to these poor dudes. There’s no clue of how or when it could end. This can be read as rigor of repetition or, perhaps, as art for art’s sake.

Then comes the turning point, but it’s so crazily silent that it takes the length of this very long shot to understand what’s happened. The overpowering substance of the shot is that she looks out a window or into a glass tank and we see her face move from darkness into half-light. The beauty of this is its eyes go from an examination of the human as Other to self-regard pretty seamlessly. When the eyes dip into the light, the shot really communicates reticence and an inability to accept this gaze, this human face, these eyes. Does it look gruesome to itself? Maybe it loves this face? Is it creeped out? We don’t know whether or not sympathy is in the emotional currency on the alien’s planet, but we see something blows the alien’s mind. As a result, she releases the guy with neurofibromatosis (Adam Pearson) that we rolled our eyes to see going into her trap.

Why compassion for him and not the baby? She has remorse. Because she relates to alienation? Because of job burnout?

It’s worth saying a few words here about the cinematography and the setting of Scotland. In an overwhelming number of shots, the lighting is so dim you almost don’t know what you’re looking at, and there’s neon and noise and gold and graphics. This is a nod toward Jordan Chenoweth (cinematographer for Blade Runner) from DP Daniel Landin. The alien repeatedly echoes Rachel from Blade Runner in the use of eyelights—an almost totally dark face except for eyelights and the lighting of the lower third of her face. Why are we echoing Rachel here? Because Rachel’s humanity was tested through her eyes. She’d thought she was human but actually wasn’t. Here, Johansson’s alien ascertains something through an examination of her own eyes, thinks she’s not human, but, as the symmetry of this subtext goes, is about to find out she feels just like one.

Once out of the comfortable workplace of her van, Johansson’s alien is trying to stop with the predation. Except her kind didn’t study women enough to understand that just by walking alone on a road, she’s vulnerable. Here comes symbolic and literal fog on the road. She cannot see where she’s going now that she’s acquiring a conscience. She walks through the fog until she’s just passed it. This whiteness counters the blackness attached to everything the aliens do as day-to-day business. She rides a bus, now alone, and looks utterly freaked out like a woman who is trying to get out of a traumatic domestic situation. Except, it’s the situation she was sent here to embody that she’s trying to leave. She would prefer something more domestic, it seems, as she keeps going into houses—first a man’s and then a shelter in some woods.

There’s so much to say about the most retold, re-cast tale about predation in Western culture (Little Red Riding Hood) regrouping itself into some horrifyingly corrupted archetypes here in the last fourth of the movie. The book on which this horror movie is based is a piece of Michel Faber’s Dutch/Scottish horror. Little Red Riding Hood originated from a group of sexual assault warnings that filtered through the French countryside in the 17^th century. Don’t let yourself be tracked. Don’t accept people on appearances (shey could be a wolf with your grandmother in its stomach). A wolf in grandmother’s clothes. And here after an interlude of almost-happiness in which Johansson’s alien-woman checks out her body in a mirror and ventures to have consensual sex, realizes what’s between her legs, she runs out into a forest where she shouldn’t be, where she has little idea how dangerous it is, and she’s warned to follow a trail by a woodsman, who ends up being the wolf.

The woodsman hits on her just the way she hit on men for the first half of the movie. What happens next is even harder to process, because in the end, isn’t she the wolf trapped in a woman’s body?

She pays for the underestimation, but the woodsman also pays for his underestimation with a terrible surprise for his rape-impulse. But wait a minute. After all the totally lamb-like men she’s picked up and stowed in her death lake, she’s out in a forest and the ONE MAN in the WHOLE FOREST that she runs into not only hits on her while trying to give her directions, but goes to find her so he can molest her, which then turns into him chasing her in the woods to straight up rape her.

Why is this piece of crap woodsman the last human she encounters on earth? Oh that’s right, we’re re-inscribing the message we apparently don’t get enough of: lone women who aren’t protected will be raped and killed. If you’re a wolf in woman’s clothing, good luck preserving your wily alien-wolf self because this near criminally insane woodsman will immolate you for being the uncanny. What did she do to become a predator magnet instead of the predator? She started feeling stuff. She gave up her predatory sex-kitten game. She tried to back up and see how she could possibly fit in and try to consider the essence of what she was doing. And so she ends up in a fate reserved for the more spectacular pieces of murdered women porn regularly paraded between 8-11 pm every night of the year on network television in both magazine and crime shows. Back to an object save the second moment of self-regard she has when she looks on her own Johansson face as a mask in her lap. It’s the one moment that makes this ending uncanny, and I would say, ultimately about being a human.

If you hear that people hate this movie, this re-inscription of feminine expendability and excoriation is probably why. There are too many too many loose ends and surface-like implications. People probably hate what happens to the baby: I think that’s when women walked out of the movie. The fact that men regularly walked out of screenings (because of the erect penises on the victimized men) is a whole other essay for a whole different internet venue and I want to read that essay a.s.a.p.

When Johansson’s corpse is burning up into the sky, the black smoke mingles with snow that flakes down to obliterate the literal camera lens. The fog comes back. And that male body-snatching alien looks off a cliff with his back to us, seeing or not seeing this black smoke, trying to find a sign in the confounding mist. He is not unlike a Romantic hero mystified who constantly feels alienated from Nature–a more tableaux version of what Johansson’s alien, in her last look upon her human face, must have felt.

See also at Bitch Flicks: Under the Skin of the Femme Fatale by Ren Jender

Cynthia Arrieu-King teaches literature and creative writing at Stockton College in New Jersey and has two published volumes of poetry. She has taught about 17 sections of freshman composition in which plagiarism was covered thoroughly, so beware internet magazines with sticky fingers. cynthiaarrieuking.blogspot.com.

Horror Week 2012: 7 Great Heroines from Scary Movies

Guest post written by Candice Frederick. Originally published at Reel Talk. Cross-posted with permission.

Continuing our festive Halloween coverage, we bring you a list of our favorite female heroes from scary movies. Whether they’re your favorite characters are not, you have to give them props for not dying (right away, at least). Check it out:

Ali Larter as Clear Rivers in Final Destination

CLEAR RIVERS (Final Destination): Clear Rivers (Ali Larter) started out as a throwaway character, just one of the many victims who would be annihilated by her own fate in the freak accident-prone Final Destination. But once she used her noggin and started outwitting the big, bad fate, audiences realized that she could not only protect herself, but also protect new victims. When she checked herself into a mental facility in the second movie, to steer clear of flying daggers, speeding buses and any other unfastened and uninhibited objects, you just knew this chick was badass. She was a true hero and surely the most memorable character in the franchise.

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley in Aliens

ELLEN RIPLEY (Aliens): This is perhaps the only scary movie where the villain (a 7-foot alien) was actually slightly intimidated by the intended victim, in this case a female lieutenant trapped on board an alien-infested ship. If she was ever frightened by the aliens, Ripley rarely showed it. As one of the only women on the ship, Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) often swooped down to save her fellow male shipmates from becoming dinner for the aliens without hardly breaking a sweat. This is why we love her.

Milla Jovovich as Alice in Resident Evil

ALICE (Resident Evil): Well, what do you know? Four movies later and our favorite military officer is still drop-kicking flesh-eating scientists and taking names. As countless others fell prey to these monsters, Alice (Milla Jovovich) is the only character to outlive even the smartest of them. She’s sexy, she’s wise and even manages to have a few clever one-liners hidden in her vest. What’s not to love?

Jamie Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode in Halloween

LAURIE STRODE (Halloween): Arguably one of the most iconic heroines in cinema, babysitter Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) wasn’t actually much of a hero, at first. She was tormented by her lunatic older brother Michael Myers in the first two movies. But in later installments, the character became less of a frightened victim and more of a pissed off nemesis for the villain. She was pure entertainment.

Heather Langenkamp as Nancy Thompson in Nightmare on Elm Street

NANCY THOMPSON (Nightmare On Elm Street): There’s something about Nancy (Heather Langenkamp) that was ever so enticing for Mr. Knives-For-Fingers himself, Freddy Krueger. He loved tormenting her. It really just seemed like great fun for him. But Freddy treated her as someone who was hard to kill, like he was almost frustrated because she knew how to deal with him–she knew his weaknesses and that made her as prey interesting. Her awesomeness made the rest of us brilliant insomniacs.

Neve Campbell as Sidney Prescott in Scream

SIDNEY PRESCOTT (Scream): Neve Campbell, who plays the eternal victim from the Scream movies, never really was much of an actress. But she found her niche as Sidney, the high school student whose mother’s death made her prime victim for a series of murders plaguing a small town. Like many other heroines before her, the murderers (different in every movie) would often get outsmarted or outrun by Sidney. She carried that perfect balance of sheepish victim and maniacal prey that we viewers love.

Kate Beckinsale as Selene in Underworld

SELENE (Underworld): Never since Buffy, the Vampire Slayer has an inter-breed romance been so juicy on the big screen. And that’s partly due to Kate Beckinsale’s Selene, a vampire caught between her love for a werewolf right in the middle of the famous vampire/werewolf civil war. Selene is beautiful, seductive, and can terrorize a vampire just as quick as she can destroy a threatening werewolf. She’s so much fun to watch.

Rose McGowan as Cherry Darling in Grindhouse: Planet Terror

CHERRY DARLING (Grindhouse: Planet Terror): Only Cherry Darling (Rose McGowan) could help destroy a town of melting zombies with one leg. After losing her leg in an unfortunate zombie match, wannabe comedienne Cherry props up her missing leg with a random stick (courtesy of ex-boyfriend, Wray). Stumbling at first with her new limb, Cherry later kicked countless zombie butt with her stick leg-turned-machine gun leg, whipping around fences and driving getaway trucks. Not to mention she had killer comedic wit. She became the best handicapped heroine of scary movies.

———-

Candice Frederick is an NABJ award-winning journalist and film blogger for Reel Talk. She’s also written for Essence Magazine and The Urban Daily. Follow her on twitter.

Comedic Feminism in ‘3rd Rock from the Sun’

3rd Rock from the Sun, a show where, hopefully, many may still remember the comedic genius of John Lithgow, the long-haired black locks of a young Joseph Gordon-Levitt and of course, the loose physical comedy of French Stewart. While these three men were lovably distinct, the cast of female characters represented a surprisingly wide range of female stereotypes and personalities, offering in my view, a fair (and hilarious) portrait of the American woman.

In case you’re unfamiliar with this 90’s show (despite it’s old age, it deserves to be revisited) the series follows the misadventures of four aliens sent to Earth as a human family. Their mission? Learn and discover the ways of humanity and report it all back to the Big Giant Head, the leader of their home world (played by William Shatner). The show was rife with social criticism, as these “aliens” were able to point out hypocrisies that only an outsider could see.

First, Sally: tall, blond, and a soldier. Sally (Kristin Johnston) comes in with contradictions, my favorite kind of character. She’s the security officer and is the toughest, strongest and most militarily inclined of them all. However, her deep and abiding love for shoes is a running joke of the show, although, in spite of her long legs and blond hair (which would make a Barbie weep), her clothing is mainly old pants, army boots and a t-shirt.

Her character serves as the perfect point at which to make some valid criticisms of women in America. For example, her automatic assumption of all housewifely duties, her hatred of them and inability to fulfill them satisfactorily, is one of her constant frustrations. In fact, Tommy (Joseph Gordon Levitt) is the better cook (and florist) and the family is ashamed when they discover this fact. That gender roles must be kept intact is what these aliens have surmised from society and they feel it a rule that must be adhered to absolutely.

In fact, in the very first episode, Sally whines to the leader of their little family, “why do I have to be the female?” To which Lithgow, or Dick, replies, “We drew straws and you lost” the implication of course being, that everywhere in the universe, the females get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.

Sally’s adventures into the mysterious world of women showcases the varied and constant stereotypical ideas about womanhood. For example, Sally’s virginity is a great cause of confusion for her and she’s unsure of the way that she’s supposed to feel about it (she laments once that she is both ashamed and proud of it, but doesn’t understand why). In the episode given above, entitled “Big Angry Virgin,” Sally, in her experimental relationship, feels pressured to change to please the man she’s dating; this man asks her to allow him to be more in control, and when she completely concedes to his every opinion, he get’s frustrated, still feeling thwarted in his desires. Obviously, the moral in the end is that Sally must realize that she’s fine the way that she is, nor does she need to use pressured sex to repair their relationship (stick around after the credits of the episode to listen to her final thoughts on the matter).

Second Mary Albright: brilliant, saucy, sarcastic, sexy. I love this character, the older academic with her famous drunkenness and pettiness. Mary (Jane Curtin) portrays humanity’s goodness and our weaknesses and I loved that a woman plays this role. She’s there to educate the Solomon’s on everything that humans are, showing them the good and the bad and doing it all with no sense of long-suffering. She bitches about everything and makes her feelings known—no Angel on the Hearth here.

In the episode above, she’s shown in the first few weeks of her relationship with Dick (Lithgow) in uncharacteristic silliness, a trait that fades as their relationship progresses (stick around for characteristic Mary goodness in the clips below).

Third, Mrs. Dubcheck: a surprisingly virile and frisky older lady of dubious ethics; she’s the Solomon’s landlady and often regales them with tales of her glorious youth and exploits.

Fourth, Vicky Dubcheck: her younger, perky, white trash daughter (complete with colored bra and cleavage).

There are various other women in the show, including Tommy’s (Gordon Leavitt) girlfriends (one a hippy feminist, the other a prom queen), substantially different girls, although both are filled with angsty puppy-love.

While the show certainly isn’t a perfect example of feminism in Hollywood, the show does have an incredibly ability to understand and expose so many of the imperfections in our gender roles and relations in modern America.

Women in Science Fiction Week: Ellen Ripley, a Feminist Film Icon, Battles Horrifying Aliens … and Patriarchy

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley in Aliens

This post written by staff writer Megan Kearns originally appeared at Bitch Flicks on October 28, 2011.

When I was 10 years old, the scariest movie I ever saw was Aliens. I remember the first time I saw it like it was yesterday. Late one night, plagued with insomnia (perhaps a product of my tumultuous childhood), I heard the TV on in my mother’s bedroom. Sitting down next to her, I began watching too. My mom was watching Aliens. It was the scene where Ellen Ripley goes down the elevator, guns strapped to her, to rescue Newt. Entranced, I watched as encased in a forklift, she clashed with the Alien Queen.

But it wasn’t the gore or even the alien that mesmerized me. It was Ripley. Seeing a strong badass women on-screen left in an indelible impression on me.

With its tense, gritty, noir atmosphere, Alien broke ground spawning numerous imitations in the horror and sci-fi genres. Set in the year 2122, crew of the freighter spaceship Nostromo answer a beacon on the planet LV-426 and encounter a terrifying and insidious creature that attempts to wipe out the crew. Eschewing some of its horror roots in favor of an action-packed bonanza, the sequel Aliens features Lt. Ellen Ripley (the superb Sigourney Weaver), the Nostromo’s sole survivor (along with Jones the cat), warning and advising a group of Marines going to LV-426 to investigate after Earth lost contact with the planet’s colonists.

For me, I can’t separate Alien and Aliens (although I pretend the 3rd and 4th don’t exist…ugh). Both amazing films possess pulse-pounding intensity, a struggle for survival, and most importantly for me, a feminist protagonist. Radiating confidence and strength, Ripley remains my favorite female film character. A resourceful survivor wielding weapons and ingenuity, she embodies empowerment. Bearing no mystical superpowers, she’s a regular woman taking charge in a crisis. Weaver, who imbued her character with intelligence and a steely drive, was inspired to “play Ripley like Henry V and women warriors of classic Chinese literature.”

Sigourney Weaver’s role as Ripley catapulted her to stardom, making her one of the first female action heroes. Preceded by Pam Grier in Coffy and Dianna Rigg as Emma Peel in The Avengers, she helped pave the way for Linda Hamilton’s badassery in T2, Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, Carrie-Anne Moss in The Matrix, Lucy Lawless as Xena, Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy, and Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider and Salt. But Ripley, a female film icon, wasn’t even initially conceived as a woman.

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Guest Writer Wednesday: ‘Prometheus’ and the ‘Alien’ Movies: Feminism and Anti-Feminism

Guest post written by Rhea Daniel. Cross-posted from her blog Short Stories with permission.

Warning: Some images NSFW and links below lead to some NSFW images.

Long after I had seen and re-seen the Alien movie series, I was shocked to learn that they possess intense anti-feminist themes, articulated in the brilliant essay by Michael Davis and in the psychoanalytical study of horror movie tropes by Barbara Creed. The underlying themes in the Alien series reflect humanity’s intense fear of penetration and childbirth, with alien spawn tearing its way out of the womb (chest cavity, call it what you will) well in rhythm with Giger’sown biomecha art and his surreal visual concoctions of birth, death and human sexuality.

Victory V (Satan), HR Giger, 1983

Both Giger and the movies reflect our ancient patriarchal religious fears of the monstrous feminine¹combined with our modern germophobic clinical distaste for the disease-spreading organic and the abject: secretions, menstrual blood, placenta, amniotic fluid, seriously drippy mucosa, include semen if you will. For Giger the womb is not a place where a child is nurtured and childbirth something that has to be embraced, forget that tired old eco-feminist claptrap, it is a claustrophobic deathtrap that has to be survived, even if it results in the death of the parent²

Biomechanoid, HR Giger,1976

However my reading of what the critics had to say did not diminish my enthusiasm to see Prometheus. I remember clearly the days sitting together, thoroughly enjoying any movie with my family while ripping it to bits at the same time. The job of the critic is to analyze what they see, and the fact that the Alien movies have more to them than I first thought only makes them more interesting.

***(Be wary for there are several references to human whatnots about to follow)***

Prometheus pushes this notion of the ‘death of the parent’ when David lightheartedly addresses Dr. Elizabeth Shaw after her frightful operation, but that’s not all Prometheusis riding on. If anyone noticed, all the Engineers seem to be dudes, and in addition to the myth of Prometheus, this brings up the story of the Goddess Athena emerging perfectly formed from Zeus’s head ³, and I allude to this because the scientifically advanced Engineers seemed to have created, cleanly, without the need for the crude, organic, stifling enclosure of the womb, an entire race in ‘Their’ likeness*,read identical DNA, eliminating the need for the female, which is what the existence of an all-male race proposes. The design of the clone-like marble sculpted super-bodies of the Engineers further substantiates the Greek mythological reference.

Hermes, Engineer

Prometheus simplifies what Alien proposed, it interchanges between penile and vaginal imagery: creature with knob-like head that flowers into a vagina, gigantic vagina dentata scene, penis-probe emerges, both male and female genitalia are likely villains. In the proud tradition of a design that’s been rumoured to be inspired by human body bits, skeletons and BMW car parts, it’s all perfectly justifiable.

The eco-feminist opinion of the medicalization of childbirth is that it alienates the child from the mother and vice versa, the mother has to be delivered from her baby, the child has to be saved from its mother’s stifling uterine constrictions, and now I refer quite obviously to Elizabeth’s self-inflicted caesarean. Okay, fine, she didn’t do to herself literally, she got the reluctant machine to do it for her, to get that twisting, bulging, rapidly expanding alien body out of herself. I got an intense feeling of déjà vu during that scene: seriously, get the damned thing out quickly. More painkillers please. The scene has been hailed as a pro-choice metaphor, an assertion of reproductive rights, a claim to ownership of the female body by the female herself, the machine being calibrated for the male body hindering Elizabeth’s attempt to save herself a reference to the ongoing battle for reproductive freedom in the United States, but it is also a modern feminist embrace of medical technology. I agree with the movie’s usage of the term ‘caesarean’; ‘abortion’ would imply a vaginal expulsion of the thing, after killing it within the womb, considerably more invasive and terrifying. Eco-feminism not only gets the boot in that scene with the embrace of mechanistic, but also because Elizabeth, as opposed to cloned Ripley in Alien Resurrection⁴, isn’t keen to claim any part of the alien growing inside herself as her own.

Prometheus is gorgeous but sports little of the multi-layered psychological profundity of its predecessor (I can barely think of Prometheus as a prequel to Alien, so let’s just say it tried to ride on its predecessor’s glory and it partly succeeded. It has its niggling flaws, like I don’t know why a biologist would approach an entirely new alien species in a ‘here kittykittykitty’ manner, or why with all that fantastic technology the geologist and biologist got lost in the first place. It’s okay, they’re expendable. Elizabeth Shaw however is important and impressive, she’s softer and smaller than the androgynous, tough warrior that is Ripley, however no less formidable as a heroine.

I’m all geared up for a sequel now and want to know how the Engineers are going to react when a female version of themselves lands up at the door with an android’s head in a duffle bag, questioning them about an experiment gone awry.

Notes:

1 Barbara Creed “The Monstrous-Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis”, Routledge, 1993

2 Stanislav Grof “HR Giger and the Soul of the Twentieth Century”, HR Giger, Taschen 2002

3 Jane Caputi, “Goddesses and Monsters: Women, Myth, Power, and Popular Culture”

4 “I’m the monster’s mother”, Ripley, Alien Resurrection (1997)

*Edit 27/6–This is what I assumed the DNA scene from the movie was suggesting. I’m not sciencey enough to know what kind of life forms exist out there or how they come about. When and where the female human is supposed to have come into the picture I can only guess. It was a pretty scene though.

**Edit 4/7–It just occurred to me that this whole thing might be orchestrated by a Queen. Is Ridley going to spring a surprise on us??

Rhea Daniel got to see a lot of movies as a kid because her family members were obsessive movie-watchers. She frequently finds herself in a bind between her love for art and her feminist conscience. Meanwhile she is trying to be a better writer and artist and you can find her at http://rheadaniel.blogspot.com/.

Ellen Ripley, a Feminist Film Icon, Battles Horrifying Aliens … and Patriarchy

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley

Written by Megan Kearns.

But it wasn’t the gore or even the alien that mesmerized me. It was Ripley. Seeing a strong badass woman on-screen left in an indelible impression on me.

Dan O’Bannon and Ronald Shusett, Alien’s screenwriters, wrote into the original script that all of the characters, while written as men (including “Ripley” who was originally written as “Roby”), were in fact unisex and could be cast as either women or men. While they never actually pictured Roby/Ripley as a woman, when producers Walter Hill and David Giler rewrote the final draft of the script, Ripley was indeed a woman…huzzah!

While the original and final scripts differ, particularly in that android Ash isn’t in the original, Roby and Ripley are surprisingly similar, sharing similar dialogue and eventually asserting their authority through decisive actions. Neither character wants to let the injured crewmember (Standard the Captain in the original script / Kane the Ex. O in the final draft) onto the ship as they might be infected. Although interestingly, Ripley stands her ground and doesn’t let him in while Roby caves. Also, both remain the sole survivors of the crew.

While both Alien and Aliens straddle the sci-fi/horror divide, one of the horror elements apparent in Alien is Carol Clover’s notion of the “final girl.” In numerous horror films (Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, The Descent), the resourceful woman remains the sole survivor, the audience intended to identify and sympathize with her. Oftentimes sexual overtones exist with the promiscuous victims and the virginal survivor. While Alien and Aliens display sexual themes (we’ll get to those in a moment), Ripley isn’t sexualized but remains the sole survivor in the first film. She’s also never masculinized as Clover suggests happens to final girls in order to survive.

So remember those sexual themes I just mentioned…well just because Ripley isn’t sexualized, doesn’t mean sexuality doesn’t play a pivotal role in Alien. Swiss artist H.R. Giger designed the alien as well as some sets for the first film with pervasive phallic and vaginal imagery (don’t believe me…take a look; you won’t be able to not see it). Alien took the horror of rape comingled with the “male fear of female reproduction” and put it in space. Rather than maniacal villains attacking women and glorifying femicide, as many horror films do, Alien showed a creature attacking men (and eventually women too). While dangerous sexual elements abound, women weren’t punished for their sexuality.

Ripley never becomes an object merely for the male gaze. In Alien, she strips down to a tank top and underwear before she enters the cryogenic chamber. But rather than objectifying, to me it seemed to symbolize her vulnerability. The alien stows away in her escape pod yet she doesn’t hesitate, immediately slipping into a spacesuit to battle the alien. The script initially intended for Ripley to sleep with Dallas the Captain. Thank god that was never filmed! We need more movies where a woman is not reduced to a sex object. Ultimately, Ripley is not defined by her relationship with a man; she defines herself.

Films rarely feature multiple women; even rarer is it to see various depictions of women. In Alien, Ripley is juxtaposed with Lambert (Veronica Cartwright). While Ripley remains calm and collected, Lambert is an emotional hot mess, unhinged by fear. Time after time, the media pits women against one another. But after initial reluctance, Ripley and Lambert in Alien and Ripley and Vasquez (fiercely played by Jeanette Goldstein) in Aliens, work cooperatively together.

Motherhood exists as a reoccurring theme in Alien and Aliens. A pivotal scene cut from Aliens reveals that Ripley had a daughter. When she returns to Earth, after being stranded in space for 57 years on the Nostromo’s escape pod, Ripley discovers her daughter recently died at the age of 66. She survives to ultimately lose her daughter. Her grief catalyses her connection with the young girl Newt (Carrie Henn). Ripley risks her life to save and protect this little girl, perhaps in an attempt to reconcile her feelings of loss. At the end of the film, Newt hugs Ripley, calling her “Mommy;” she becomes a mother again. Even in Alien, Ripley smashes the computer called “Mother” onboard the Nostromo. Interestingly in Aliens, Ripley isn’t fighting a male villain; she combats a female: the Alien Queen. While the Alien Queen doesn’t equal a human woman, it’s hard to ignore that the film portrays one mother warring against another, both protecting their children.

Of the few truly empowered female film characters, most are lioness mothers: Ripley protecting Newt, Sarah Connor fiercely protecting her son and all of humanity in Terminator and T2, The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo a vengeful mother in Kill Bill. Despite the frequent comparisons made between the two badass women warriors, there’s a crucial difference between Ellen Ripley and Sarah Connor. Connor exists solely to protect her male son from assassination or humanity will be wiped out; she possesses no other identity. While Ripley becomes a surrogate mother to Newt, her identity still remains her own, not solely contingent on another.

A feminist commentary regarding female voice confronted by sexism in society emerges in both Alien and Aliens. In Alien, Ash undermines Ripley’s authority as Warrant Officer as he lets Kane onboard, disobeying Ripley’s decision to follow protocol and quarantine him. Dallas the Captain disregards Ripley’s concerns about not trusting Ash. After Ripley uncovers Ash’s treacherous plot, he stuffs a porn magazine in her mouth, “the film’s most explicit equation of male violence with the desire to annihilate the female voice.”

In Aliens, Ripley tries to warn the Weyland-Yutani Corporation about the danger of the alien and the LV-426 colonists’ impending doom. When she travels with the Marines, they initially discount her testimony. Only when the shit seriously hits the fan do they listen, looking to her as a tactical leader to survive. A futuristic Cassandra, prophesying destruction yet no one heeds Ripley’s warning. Is it because she’s a woman? That seems to be the message. Society continually devalues women, silencing their voices.

The media inundates us with images of male protagonists so it’s refreshing to see women lead…and of course kicking ass! Living in a world dominated by patriarchy, women receive societal cues telling them explicitly and implicitly how to behave, look and speak. Social norms dictate that women should be gentle, nurturing, and caring. Subtly implied lies the assertion that women should support the men in their life, that they should not be too outspoken or too unruly.

In theory, women action heroes break that mold. But in reality, most female film characters don’t shatter gender stereotypes. They rarely lead as heroes, usually serving as props to the male protagonists, and serving as love interests. Rather than showcasing empowerment, researcher Katy Gilpatric found that women in action films ultimately succumb to stereotypical gender roles.

Under the guise of empowerment, most female film characters still play out gender norms where women serve men and stay out of the limelight. That’s what makes Ripley so unique. She subverts traditional gender roles while retaining her female identity.

In an interview in Time Magazine, Weaver talked about Ripley and film roles for women:

“Usually women in films have had to carry the burden of sympathy, only coming to life when a man enters. Doesn’t everyone know that women are incredibly strong?”

Growing up, Ellen Ripley was my role model, a fierce feminist. Alien and Aliens taught me an invaluable lesson. They showed me a woman doesn’t need a man to solve a problem or fight their battles. After recently watching the documentary Miss Representation, which exposes the ways the media objectifies and attempts to strip women and girls of their power, I realize the gravity of seeing strong, confident women on-screen who aren’t valued merely for their appearance. And therein lies the power of Ripley.

While sexist studio execs might not want a 60-year-old Sigourney Weaver to reprise her iconic role, we need more Ripleys on-screen. Weaver said that all women possess “a secret action heroine” inside them. Women don’t always know their own strength. We don’t need to be rescued or saved; we can do that on our own.

We may not live in a world with chest-bursting aliens bleeding acid for blood. But anyone can aspire to be Ellen Ripley.

…

Megan Kearns is a blogger, freelance writer and activist. She blogs at The Opinioness of the World, a feminist vegan site. Her work has also appeared at Arts & Opinion, Fem2pt0, Italianieuropei, Open Letters Monthly, and A Safe World for Women. She earned her B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology and a Graduate Certificate in Women and Politics and Public Policy. Megan lives in Boston with more books than she will probably ever read in her lifetime.

Megan contributed reviews of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, Something Borrowed, !Women Art Revolution, The Kids Are All Right (for 2011 Best Picture Nominee Review Series), The Reader (for 2009 Best Picture Nominee Review Series), Game of Thrones and The Killing (for Emmy Week 2011), and Women, War and Peace’s I Came to Testify. She was the first writer featured as a Monthly Guest Contributor.