Kayleigh Watson – Bitch Flicks

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.

Why Black Widow Is the “Realest” Superheroine of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (Yes, Even After All Those Tropes)

It is this factor alone why Black Widow is so important. She is the longest standing female protagonist within the Marvel film franchise, having starred in ‘Iron Man 2,’ ‘The Avengers,’ ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier,’ ‘Avengers: Age of Ultron’ and most recently, ‘Captain America: Civil War.’ She was the only female Avenger in both Avengers films (until Scarlet Witch switched sides at the end of ‘Age of Ultron’), and as such was subject to being the onscreen vessel of female representation in a superhero super-team otherwise occupied by straight white men.

This guest post written by Kayleigh Watson appears as part of our theme week on Superheroines.

Black Widow: the original female Avenger. Actually, up until recently, she was the only female Avenger. Scarlett Johansson had her work cut out in carrying the unspoken burden of representing women everywhere in one of the highest profile, highest-grossing franchises to ever exist onscreen.

To date, her character has only ever been written by and directed by men. It is apparent that the linchpins of the Marvel Cinematic Universe are very male skewed, with the only woman currently having contributed to screenplays being Guardians of the Galaxy’s Nicole Perlman, who is returning for Captain Marvel alongside recent recruit Meg LeFauve. Perlman herself stated that writing Captain Marvel has been a far more stressful project than Guardians of the Galaxy ever was, and that she and LeFauve will catch themselves saying:

“‘Wait a minute, what are we saying [here] about women in power?’ Then we have to say, ‘Why are we getting so hung up on that? We should just tell the best story and build the best character.'”

As nice – and preferable – as that would be, it simply is not possible currently. Every woman onscreen in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) is a minority compared to the sheer amount of male characters and therefore automatically complicit in representing every woman, everywhere, all at once.

If there were more women, then this would be less of an issue, but with one female lead protagonist per area or sub-franchise within the MCU, it is simply not the case.

Let’s break it down; first, the love interests: Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow, Iron Man franchise), Betty Ross (the never-to-be-seen-again Liv Tyler, The Incredible Hulk), Jane Foster (Natalie Portman, Thor franchise), Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell, Captain America franchise); the “super-heroines”/allies: Gamora (Zoe Saldana, Guardians of the Galaxy), Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen, Avengers: Age of Ultron/ Captain America: Civil War), Hope van Dyne (Evangeline Lilly, Ant-Man), Maria Hill (Colbie Smulders, as part of S.H.I.E.L.D).

And the antagonists: um, Nebula (Karen Gillan, Guardians of the Galaxy).

Of course, there is some crossover in the above – Scarlet Witch was once an active antagonist, whilst Peggy Carter morphed from Captain America’s (Chris Evans) sidekick to valued, rounded lead protagonist in the TV series Agent Carter (now regrettably cancelled after its second series) – but when it comes to the film series itself, female character progression is largely limited, unlike that of the male characters.

It is this factor alone why Black Widow is so important. She is the longest standing female protagonist within the Marvel film franchise, having starred in Iron Man 2, The Avengers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron and most recently, Captain America: Civil War. She was the only female Avenger in both films (until Scarlet Witch switched sides at the end of Age of Ultron), and as such was subject to being the onscreen vessel of female representation in a superhero super-team otherwise occupied by straight white men.

A lot of pressure rested on her shoulders and, for the most part, Joss Whedon — director and screenwriter of The Avengers, of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame, and a writer renowned for strong female representation in his work – got it right. Black Widow was proactive and strong; professionally, she was not treated any differently onscreen by any male character (outside of an aside near the start of the film where a Russian captor declares her “nothing but a pretty face”). She embodied a typically male approach to the role – a spy, a fighter, trusted with liaising and retrieving individuals. She was not referred to in a sexual manner. She was valued for what she brought to the table as an active participant in the narrative, which is, quite often, a rarity in itself.

Yet when we step back from the film itself and regard Black Widow, her relations, backstory, and aesthetics in regards to the wider narrative of the character, it is clear that not everything is as perfect as it initially seems.

Yes, she is the only woman serving in the Avengers in an Avengers film to date – though no doubt that is set to change with Scarlet Witch joining the fray in Captain America: Civil War. That’s tokenism, and let’s not even get started with the lack of racial representation within the two Avengers films. Next door to that, we find voyeurism, for as wonderfully as Scarlett Johansson manages to pull off that skin-tight cat-suit, do varying camera angles of her rear really benefit, well, anything (the same goes for the bare male torso, to a degree)? She is a visual Fighting Fuck Toy for the Male Gaze in a manner that Johansson has been for a large portion of her acting career, her attractiveness having her very often typecast as various femme fatales in films including The Spirit, Under The Skin, Her (yes, even her voice is that sexy).

Black Widow manages to be sultry in a subtle way, yet one of which her male counterparts never feel the need to be, for even when they are removing their shirts (hello Thor and Captain America), their partial nudity is never really as overtly sexual as the implied, fully-clothed, alluring physicality of Black Widow. Male nakedness, even when recognized by other characters – such as Portman’s reaction as Dr. Jane Foster in the first Thor film – is presented in some practical purpose, even if it’s merely a change of shirt. Black Widow’s sexual allure is ever-present, to the point of it making her a femme fatale, which is itself apt, given her implied dalliances with, at some point, every member of the original Avengers team bar Thor.

First appearing as Natalie Rushman, the sexy secretary alias (yes, really) of Natasha Romanoff in Iron Man 2 of whom Tony Stark takes an interest (Pepper Potts declares Rushman as a “very expensive sexual harassment lawsuit” waiting to happen), then as Black Widow in The Avengers, she flits from thereon in between that femme fatale mode to mothering figure. Following Hawkeye’s (Jeremy Renner) possession by Loki (Tom Hiddleston), Black Widow makes it her personal (she owes him a debt) mission to wake him from his reverie, hinting at a less-than-professional past, whilst in Captain America: The Winter Soldier she and Cap share a tense bout of therapy whilst on mission.

Age of Ultron sees Johansson’s character haphazardly paired as the “beauty” in a “Beauty and the Beast” romance with green-eyed angry-guy the Hulk (Mark Ruffalo); she is the only one capable of calming him — thanks to her womanly ways — and the two bond over perceiving themselves as a “monster,” she due to her forced sterilization as part of the Black Widow program and subsequent inability to bear children (thanks Joss Whedon, for this clumsy handling of backstory vs. sideplot) and he for more, er, obvious reasons.

So yes, we are left as of yet with a monstrous, mothering femme fatale. We appear to be ticking off tropes here, so it almost appears laughable that a single character has somehow managed to embody every perceivable onscreen female threat towards men. In Black Widow being such a threat to masculinity – via the presumptuous attempts to consume with her monstrously suffocating, simultaneously mothering and seductive ways – it is only natural that the camera attempts to regain control of her via its voyeuristic lens, right?

Wrong. For in their attempt to expand on Black Widow’s backstory – something that intrigued many fans due to her persistent lack of a solo venture – all Whedon and company have resulted in is a fetishization of her emotional trauma. As stated by Johansson, Black Widow “never made an active choice. [She’s] a product of other people’s imposition.” The fact that her backstory contains emotional trauma and systematic abuse is not a surprise. But for it to be so trivially handled in a high-octane superhero menagerie instead of a solo film presumes that the perceived (aka Male 60%: Female 40%) target audience merely has no time for women matters, but in reality perhaps that is just the writers. Even had it been handled as part of a Captain America or Iron Man sequel, odds are that it would have fared better, given there being less clamor per character for screen time, and for it to have been handled instead during one scene of an Avengers film is simply lazy.

So yes, in trying to regain control of the female Avenger, the lens has to make her a sexual object whilst the narrative fetishizes her as emotionally damaged and such, less than. Black Widow’s past is her weakness, and she always tries to make up for her dark days as an assassin; as both she and Loki allude to in The Avengers, she has red on her ledger. In working for espionage agency S.H.I.E.L.D, she gets to make up for some of her murky past. She also serves the patriarchy, with it being an international, militarized organisation: this is a reconcile-or-die situation, and as such the character of Black Widow has effectively been tamed.

All of this sounds very ominous and, in reading this, you are probably wondering exactly why and how Black Widow can be perceived as the “realest” heroine within the MCU. The unfortunate truth is, despite her being the embodiment of so many tropes, she is the original female Avenger and equal (minus her and Hawkeye’s lack of supernatural ability – or expensive suits) to that of her male Avenger peers. She is not typically made a Damsel in Distress as love interests often are; she saves the other Avengers, albeit, occasionally in a mothering fashion. Throughout films she has been rounded out in a manner that many other token women of other MCU sub-franchises simply do not have the privilege of, and in that way, is it better that her character be fleshed-out in a contrived and melodramatic manner or not at all?

It is a tough call, but in Marvel films (not the television series) she is the only female character who surpasses one-dimensionality, and as sad as it is to say, in the MCU this is the best that we get.