Tim Covell – Bitch Flicks

Amy Heckerling: A Retrospective on Her Filmmaking Career and Her Perspectives on Women in Hollywood

It’s easy to accept that Heckerling’s lack of recognition is typical of the treatment of female directors, and her challenges have included obstacles unknown to many male directors, such as taking time off for children and caring for elderly parents. However, her work in less prestigious mid-budget comedies and teen films, and therefore with new and lesser known actors, has often been by choice. Her great accomplishments as a feminist director come not from breaking into the prestigious and male-dominated genres, but in how she has presented female characters and female sexuality in her films.

This guest post written by Tim Covell appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors, Part 2.

Amy Heckerling is the director of the hit films Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982), Look Who’s Talking (1989), and Clueless (1995). One of the most financially successful women directors, her films have made more money than the films of acclaimed male directors like Spike Lee and John Hughes, [1] but despite financial and critical acclaim, she has received minimal recognition. Her more recent efforts, such as Vamps (2012), have been independent films. It’s easy to accept that Heckerling’s lack of recognition is typical of the treatment of women directors, and her challenges have included obstacles unknown to many male directors, such as taking time off for children and caring for elderly parents. However, her work in less prestigious mid-budget comedies and teen films, and therefore with new and lesser known actors, has often been by choice. Her great accomplishments as a feminist director come not from breaking into the prestigious and male-dominated genres, but in how she has presented female characters and female sexuality in her films.

A native New Yorker, Heckerling loved old movies as a child, especially gangster films, musicals, and comedies. She watched them on TV, and by the age of fourteen, she watched classic movies on weekends at the Museum of Modern Art (Jarecki). When a classmate declared his career goal to become a director, Heckerling realized that could be a career goal for her too, and that she was better suited to the job than he was (Jarecki).

She pursued her dream by attending New York University Film School, where she was the only student in her class making musicals (Jarecki 144). She attempted to combine 1930s comedy with mid-1970s politics, resulting in films that she describes as weird, but good enough to get her into the American Film Institute (AFI), in Los Angeles. For a New Yorker, who did not know how to drive a car, the move meant significant culture shock, but AFI treated filmmaking as a business to a much greater extent than film school, and made breaking into the industry easier. According to Heckerling, the goal of the AFI program was to produce a serious short film that would prove ability to direct serious, mature content. She rejected that approach in favor of fun films for a younger audience, and made Getting It Over With, a comic short about a woman wanting to lose her virginity before midnight on her twentieth birthday.

Heckerling graduated and ran out of money before finishing the film, and worked as an assistant editor to make enough in order to complete it (Jarecki 145-6). Next, she needed an agent, but none attended her otherwise successful screening (Jarecki 145-6). Of this and other career events, Heckerling expresses mixed feelings about Hollywood. On the one hand, she has praised the marketing ability and power of the studios: “You know, I liked that machine. It worked.” On the other hand, she called the lack of agents at her screening “Hollywood Bullshit” (Jarecki 146). In these pre-video days, she could only afford one print of the film to show potential agents, so finding an agent was a slow process. One night, while driving home from a Mean Streets / Clockwork Orange double feature, she was hit by a drunk driver and seriously injured. She lost her assistant editing job. In a scene fit for a Hollywood movie, she was worrying in her apartment, broke and carless, when the president of Universal Pictures called and asked her to make a feature film for the studio (Jarecki 147).

Heckerling wanted to write and make a film she called a female version of Carnal Knowledge (1971), which traces the hetero relationships of two male friends, from the late 1940s through 1970. A studio executive rejected the idea of a film centered on a pair of female characters, noting that women would not be friends the way the men were (Jarecki 148-9). Heckerling reviewed scripts on hand at Universal, and eventually read a script for Fast Times at Ridgemont High. She loved it, but after reading the original book, she wanted to add some of the depth of the book to the movie adaptation (Jarecki 149). By taking active roles in writing, editing, and scoring, Heckerling established herself as an auteur director with her first film. As observed by lecturer Lesley Speed, “the most memorable” moments in Fast Times at Ridgemont High (and Clueless) are those that were not present in the source material, but added by Heckerling. Speed, Kerri VanderHoff, and other scholars have compared Fast Times at Ridgemont High to similar films, analyzed scenes such as Stacy’s first sexual experiences and Brad’s masturbation fantasy on a shot-by-shot basis, and concluded that Heckerling made great strides incorporating female perspectives into a genre dominated by male perspectives.

Heckerling’s music preferences brought her info conflict with the studio, and with this and other films, she also faced challenges with what she considered unfair treatment by censors. The editing of Fast Times at Ridgemont High was complicated by fights with her first husband; she removed the phone from the editing room, which led to him dropping by to yell at her (Jarecki).

The studio was unsure how to market the film and initially gave it a limited release. A wider release followed but with no significant marketing. Film critic Pauline Kael gave it a positive review, noting, for example, “the friendship of the two girls . . . has a lovely matter-of-factness” (Kael). Critic Roger Ebert, however, completely missed the film’s light approach to frank realism, calling it sexist and wondering “whatever happened to upbeat sex?” (Ebert). Heckerling enjoyed a brief period of what she called being a “flavor-of-the-month” director (Jarecki 153), but was pigeon-holed as a director of films about girls losing their virginity. Fast Times at Ridgemont High was briefly made into a TV series, with Heckerling writing, producing, and directing.

Her next film was Johnny Dangerously (1984), a comic spoof of gangster films. Heckerling told Slant Magazine that she chose the project because she “wanted to do something not female” and “one of the genres I’ve always loved was gangster movies.” It did not perform well in test screenings (or on release), and she jumped into the mainstream with National Lampoon’s European Vacation (1985) to stave off career failure. She didn’t enjoy the work, but it was a solid commercial hit. In an interview with A.V. Club, Heckerling said, “And then I had a kid, and that was a priority.”

A few years later, Heckerling wrote and directed Look Who’s Talking (1989), and at the time claimed her new role as a mother was the inspiration. She was involved to varying degrees with the two sequels and TV series that followed, although the sequel was requested by the studio in exchange for defending Heckerling in a plagiarism lawsuit. For Look Who’s Talking, she worked with an established actor, John Travolta, but his career was then in a slump. Just as Heckerling’s teen films were a springboard for many young actors, the high-grossing Look Who’s Talking and its sequels in 1990 and 1993 revived Travolta’s career, though later his comeback was credited to his appearance in Pulp Fiction (1994). [2]

Heckerling returned to teen comedies with Clueless (1995), based on Jane Austen’s novel Emma. It was completed under budget (a modest $12-$13 million) and just six days behind its 47-day schedule (Chaney 70). The film was a financial and critical success, and again, Heckerling received praise for her honest portrayals of female friendships and teen sexuality.

Again, the film advanced careers, particularly for actress Alicia Silverstone. A three-season TV series followed, with Heckerling doing most of the writing, and directing some episodes. A Broadway musical is currently in development. In addition to its cult following, Clueless‘ broader cultural impact included a revival of teen comedies, particularly updates of classic texts, and influences on fashion and slang.

Clueless is the only film that has led to awards for Heckerling. Her screenplay won the National Society of Film Critics Award, and placed second for the New York Film Critics Circle Awards. She was nominated for Best Screenplay for the Writers Guild of America awards. Nominations like these are typically followed by Academy Award nominations, but the Academy decided her screenplay was an adaptation, not an original work, which put it up against “serious” literary films. She also received the Franklin J. Schaffner award from AFI in 1998, and the Crystal Award from Women in Film in 1999.

Heckerling has noted that having success in Hollywood doesn’t mean making the next film is any easier. Another teen comedy, her film Loser (2000) was not a critical or financial success, and that hurt her career. In an interview, she told The Ringer, “‘A guy gets chances,” she says. But a female director? ‘It’s like, you fuck up [once] and that’s it, goodbye.'”

I Could Never Be Your Woman (2007) is a comic take on Heckerling’s experiences in the film industry, particularly making the TV series Clueless. The film features a divorced mother producing a fading teen comedy TV series, while dealing with her daughter and their mutual attraction to the show’s youthful new star. Heckerling had difficulty getting funding, in part because of the older female lead character, played by Michelle Pfeiffer. Financial problems caused many production delays and distribution rights were sold without Heckerling’s knowledge, resulting in a straight to DVD release and obscurity. At the time, she was preoccupied looking after her parents, as her father was ill and her mother had cancer.

Her next film, Vamps (2012), opened on just one screen before going to DVD, but judging by media coverage and online reviews, it is better known than I Could Never Be Your Woman. Although Bitch Flicks‘ review of Vamps, written by Stephanie Rogers, has a pull-quote on the DVD release. This film finally allowed her to work with a friendship between adult women, as she wanted to do for her first feature. In recent years, Heckerling has directed episodes of several TV series, including Red Oaks, a streaming series for Amazon. Red Oaks is familiar territory for Heckerling: a coming-of-age comedy set in the 1980s.

Heckerling is often asked about the challenges of being a woman director, and her responses show resignation. “You can get bitter and then you can get angry. And anger isn’t good for your work” (Chaney 262). When asked if she thinks of herself as a top female director, she notes in an interview with Charlie Rose that it’s just a job, and you find yourself wondering, ”How am I going to get up so early and live through this?” She also rejects the notion of herself as an artist, claiming it’s not applicable to her work, despite her creative output as a writer, director, editor, and producer, and the cult-like appreciation of Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Clueless. When advising newcomers to filmmaking, she largely ignores gender issues, and instead emphasizes the importance of getting your material out there, standing out, and networking in the industry.

When asked about the toxicity of “the beauty industry in Hollywood,” she reminds prospective directors that “Hollywood is the dream factory,” (and, for better or worse, you need to supply those dreams) but she doesn’t agree with how those dreams treat women, noting that “no one dreams about older women.” When asked about her thoughts on the lack of women-directed films in an interview with Women and Hollywood, Heckerling said:

“It’s a disgusting industry. I don’t know what else to say. Especially now. I can’t stomach most of the movies about women. I just saw a movie last night. I don’t want to say the name — but again with the fucking wedding and the only time women say anything is about men.”

But she’s also pragmatic. “I’m the world’s biggest Mean Streets fan, but because I did Look Who’s Talking I have this house and my daughters go to a good school” (Jarecki 155). And when asked in 2008, by a male interviewer, if she wished she had made more movies, her response has the sharp wittiness and realism so often seen in her films:

“There were missed opportunities, and there are things I wish I’d never gotten up to do. I can’t think about it, because I’m stuck inside of me. Nobody can tell the future, or how things would’ve happened. There’s no point to that. As far as, like, wishing I did a shitload more — I mean, do you wish you fucked more beautiful women? What are you gonna do?”

See also at Bitch Flicks:

Fast Times at Ridgemont High: The Confidence and Wisdom of Linda Barrett

Historical vs. Modern Abortion Narratives in Dirty Dancing and Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Clueless: Way Existential

How Vamps Showcases the Importance of Women Friendships

Sources / Recommended Reading:

Chaney, Jen. As If! The Oral History of Clueless, As told by Amy Heckerling, The Cast, and the Crew. New York: Touchstone, 2015.

Ebert, Roger. “Clueless.” Roger Ebert’s Video Companion. Kansas City, Missouri: Andrews and McMeel: 1995.

Jarecki, Nicholas. Breaking In: How 20 Film Directors Got Their Start. New York: Broadway Books, 2001.

Kael, Pauline. “Clueless.” 5001 Nights At The Movies. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1991.

Murray, Noel. “Amy Heckerling.” A. V. Club. March 20, 2008.

Nakhnikian, Elise. “Interview: Amy Heckerling on Career and Gender Politics.” Slant Magazine. May 14, 2016.

Nastasi, Alison. ““I Never Felt Embarrassed”: Amy Heckerling on Making Movies About Teens and the Future of ‘Clueless’.’’ Flavorwire. October 19, 2015.

Rose, Charlie. Amy Heckerling (video and interview transcript). November 13, 1996.

Silverstein, Melissa. “Interview with Vamps Director Amy Heckerling.” Indiewire. April 9, 2012.

Speed, Lesley. “A World Ruled by Hilarity: Gender and Low Comedy in the Films of Amy Heckerling.” Senses of Cinema. October 2002.

VanderHoff, Kerri. “Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Porky’s: Gender Perspective in the Teen Comedy.” McNair Scholars Journal 9, no. 1 (2005).

Zoladz, Lindsay. “True Confessions of a Female Director.” The Ringer. February 16, 2017.

Notes and References:

[1] According to Box Office Mojo’s List of Directors by Gross Earnings (not adjusted for inflation), in April of 2017 Heckerling ranked 179, out of 866, behind Penny Marshall and Mel Brooks, but ahead of Spike Lee and John Hughes. Among top-grossing female directors, she is in the top ten.

[2] For example, compare these comments on Travolta. From a NY Times review of Look Who’s Talking: “Mr. Travolta . . . is especially winning in a role that barely exists. He’s still an accomplished comic actor.” From a later NY Times article: “[Travolta] established himself as a genuine movie star with Saturday Night Fever in 1977, but soon went into a long artistic tailspin that took him through all those talking-baby movies (the Look Who’s Talking series), only to return with Pulp Fiction, a stunning reminder that he could act.”

Tim Covell has degrees in English Literature, Film Studies, and Canadian Studies. He studies film censorship and classification systems, which are largely about managing representations of sexuality. More at www.covell.ca.

‘Dragonslayer’: A Disappointing Attempt to Update the Princess and the Dragon

‘Dragonslayer’ attempts to modernize the tale by diminishing the hero and splitting the princess into two women who are both brave at first glance, but it ultimately reinforces traditional roles. … Valerian’s fall from village leader (in disguise as a man) to hero helper, and finally damsel in distress that can only be rescued by the losing of her virginity (itself a patriarchal construct, often “used to control women’s sexuality”), is a particularly depressing character arc.

This guest post is written by Tim Covell. | Spoilers ahead.

Dragonslayer (1981) is a dark ages fantasy, written by Hollywood veterans Matthew Robbins and Hal Barwood, and directed by Robbins. Marketed in some areas as a Disney film, it is unusually mature for Disney, and was a co-production with Paramount, in the days before Disney formed Touchstone to handle more mature films. Dragonslayer draws on the long history of dragons in western folk literature, eventually linked with Christians in the legend of St. George and the Dragon.

In the purest form of this story, identified as ATU-300 in a folktale classification system, the hero rescues the princess from the dragon, kills the dragon, and marries the princess. These are traditional gender roles with a vengeance. Dragonslayer attempts to modernize the tale by diminishing the hero and splitting the princess into two women who are both brave at first glance, but it ultimately reinforces traditional roles.

Twice a year, the King of Urland conducts a lottery, selecting a virgin girl to sacrifice to a fire-breathing dragon. In exchange, the dragon leaves the kingdom alone. A group of villagers, unhappy with this arrangement, find and hire an older sorcerer (Ralph Richardson) to kill the dragon. The king’s men, following the villagers and determined to maintain the status quo, demand a test before they will allow someone to come and “stir things up.” The test results in the death of the sorcerer. His young apprentice, Galen (Peter MacNicol, making his film debut) takes on the role of dragon slayer/hero, and joins the dubious villagers.

Galen soon learns that the boy leading the villagers, Valerian, is in fact a young woman (Caitlin Clarke). The revealing swimming-hole scene, with brief and non-exploitative shots of male and female nudity, is sometimes cut from television showings. Valerian justifies her deception by noting that the lottery is rigged, and only chooses girls from poor families. This injection of class conflict and official corruption is an attempt to make the story more character driven, but it remains largely faithful to the mythic form.

On arrival in Urland, Galen enters the dragon’s lair, a cave accessed by a damp vertical cleft. We later learn that the dragon is a mother, and deeper in the cave is a lake. A teenage boy exploring a dark and dangerous cave is clear symbolism for male coming-of-age, and suggests the dragon represents female sexuality (and in a negative light). The association of the dragon with virgin girls supports this interpretation. However, the film refuses to let viewers ponder this symbolism too much. Some characters suggest the dragon is the negative aspect of magic in the world, while others argue that it is a manifestation of Christian evil, and still others claim that it is simply a flesh and blood monster. The dragon is individualized by its name and its age-related moodiness. While its death appears to be brought about through magic, cross-cut editing shows the villagers being baptized during the final battle, and there are fleshy and bloody remains. It is entertaining for the nature of the dragon to be in dispute, but the lack of resolution weakens the story.

Galen uses a magic spell to create a landslide, sealing the dragon in its lair. With the threat apparently removed, Valerian comes out as a woman. Her father remarks that “she was twice the man of anyone else in the village, and now she’s twice the woman.” As a man, she led villagers on a long and challenging journey to find a hire a sorcerer, and demanded his assistance after initially being turned away. As a woman, she emerges quietly and shyly from her home in a delicate dress. Galen grabs her arm, drags her into the shocked crowd, and calls for music, legitimizing her existence.

Galen is arrested and imprisoned, while the king waits to see if the dragon is truly dead. The princess comes to see him, and defend her kingdom’s approach to the dragon. She is surprised by Galen’s claim that she is excluded from the lottery. He escapes in the chaos of the dragon’s rampage.

The king declares a special lottery to restore order, but Princess Elspeth rigs it so that she is selected. She publicly defies her outraged father, and tells the kingdom that her sacrifice is necessary to certify the lottery. The king steps into his traditional role, and asks Galen to save his daughter.

Valerian’s father is a blacksmith, and supplies Galen with a spear. On his way to rescue the princess and battle the dragon, Galen meets Valerian. She presents him with a concave shield made from dragon scales, to protect him from the fire. The presentation of the symbolically female magical protective object, often a sheath, is a traditional female folktale role. To give credit where credit is due, many tales of sword and sorcery ignore the role and symbol, excluding women completely. King Arthur’s sword Excalibur is widely known, but its unnamed sheath, which protects the wearer from injury, is rarely mentioned.

Valerian demonstrated bravery in obtaining scales for the shield. But in conversation with Galen, she becomes an insecure girlfriend, assuming Galen plans to rescue the princess out of love inspired from her bravery in sacrificing herself. Valerian also laments her virginal status, which leaves her vulnerable in future lotteries. A kiss, a cut, and a passage of time suggest that “problem” is resolved.

Removing yourself from the lottery by losing your virginity as quickly as possible is an obvious solution, noted by critics from Roger Ebert to Mad Magazine. In Wayland Drew’s novelization, he added backstory, and among other things clarified that lack of virginity does not remove you from the lottery. Valerian’s mother is one of many missing mothers in the film, but in Drew’s version she was sacrificed to the dragon. While the sacrificial victims are female, the dragon has also killed men who provoked it, including the king’s brother and an ambitious priest.

One of the king’s soldiers is at the lair, to ensure the sacrifice of the princess proceeds without interruption. Galen kills him, but is unable to prevent Princess Elspeth from walking to the cave. She is promptly killed and partly eaten by baby dragons. The princess is brave and independent, but it remains hard to celebrate her defiance of her father and the hero, and her dedication to her kingdom, when this results in her death. It is too reminiscent of the movie cliché of killing or otherwise punishing the rebellious/independent woman. Nor did the princess need to die to establish the evil nature of the dragon; the structuralist death of innocents has already been shown. However, Princess Elspeth’s death does draw attention to the impotence of the hero.

Galen kills the baby dragons, yet he is unable to defeat their mother (more impotence). Galen and Valerian resolve to run away together (he still gets the girl). Then Galen realizes the sorcerer prepared himself to be reincarnated, at the lair, to battle the dragon. When the two return to the lair, Galen warns Valerian of the scary environment, and she defiantly claims that she is not afraid. “After all, I was a man once, remember?” The words are no sooner said than she is frightened by the sight of the dismembered and bloody princess, and retreats in fear.

The sorcerer uses magic to destroy himself and the dragon together, with Galen and Valerian providing minor assistance. The villagers arrive to thank God for their deliverance, the king arrives to claim victory for defeating the dragon, and Galen and Valerian ride off into the sunset on a magically procured horse.

Dragonslayer is visually impressive. Many scenes were shot in Scotland and Wales, and the design and fully practical realization of the dragon (including 16 puppets) holds up well in this CGI era. Author George R.R. Martin (A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones) claims Dragonslayer has “the best dragon ever put on film.” Unfortunately, the attempts to add moral complexity and character motives to myth, without addressing the underlying assumptions about gender roles, only succeed in making the story uncertain. Valerian’s fall from village leader (in disguise as a man) to hero helper, and finally damsel in distress that can only be rescued by the losing of her virginity (itself a patriarchal construct, often “used to control women’s sexuality“), is a particularly depressing character arc. The arc of the hero is not much better: his path to maturity is killing one bad guy and having sex with a woman.

The film did poorly at the box office and in hindsight, perhaps the film makers should have been braver with their characters. For example, Valerian could have stayed brave, and been the hero instead. That approach worked for Robert Munsch, who published The Paper Bag Princess in 1980. A related option would have been to extend a backstory plotline Drew introduced in the novelization, where Valerian, in her disguise as a young man, had a close relationship with another girl. As it stands, Dragonslayer merely hints at the possibilities for updating myths, before retreating to traditional sexist approaches.

‘Sorceress’: A Flawed Telling of Women and Worship in the Middle Ages

One might expect ‘Sorceress’ to be a powerfully feminist film and a faithful portrayal of the Middle Ages. It disappoints on both counts. … For all its faults, ‘Sorceress’ remains much more attentive to women’s experiences than many films, and provides insights into village life during the Middle Ages.

This is a guest post written by Tim Covell.

[Trigger warning: rape and sexual assault]

Sorceress, also known as Le moine et la sorcière, is a 1987 French film featuring Tchéky Karyo, Christine Boisson, and Jean Carmet. It had a limited theatrical release, playing at film festivals and independent theatres, and is available in subtitled and partly dubbed English versions. The story was written by Paméla Berger, Suzanne Schiffman directed, and they co-wrote the screenplay. Berger is a founder of the Boston Women’s Health Book Collective, the folks who gave us the seminal Our Bodies, Ourselves, and a professor of Medieval Art. With her background, one might expect Sorceress to be a powerfully feminist film and a faithful portrayal of the Middle Ages. It disappoints on both counts.

The film begins with a note stating that it is based on the writings of Étienne de Bourbon, a 13th century Dominican monk. A prologue shows his telling of the martyrdom of St. Guinefort. St. Guinefort was a dog, killed for apparently harming a baby. After his death, it is learned that he had protected the baby from a snake. The legend of the faithful animal killed in error is known in many cultures, but it was new to Étienne. In the rural area of France where he learned of it, the villagers not only considered the dog a saint, helpful to sick children, but maintained a grove and conducted healing rituals there, with the help of an old woman from another town. Étienne wrote that he preached against the practice, disinterred the dog, and burned the dog’s bones and the trees.

The film shows Étienne arriving at the village, on an inquisition and eager to see the local priest’s list of suspected heretics. He is told there are none. He soon learns of a woman who lives alone in the forest, and heals people with plants. Étienne suspects that “her practices might be irregular,” but considers her merely superstitious. Then he witnesses the ritual of healing a sick baby at Guinefort’s grove, concludes she is a witch, and arranges for her to be burned at the stake.

Berger takes numerous liberties with the source anecdote, though as a character notes, when Étienne writes of these events, he will change things so no one will know what really happened. The implication is that the film shows the true events. However, the changes introduce anachronistic and unrealistic notes, and simplify the characters. Étienne recorded the ritual as occasionally being fatal to infants. His description is consistent with similar rituals in other cultures, but the film shows that the children are never in danger. In the film, Étienne announces that he is looking for heretics, who “let women preach,” and could “destroy the church.” The comment may amuse modern audiences, who may not realize that he was likely seeking Waldensians, members of an organized movement throughout Europe, which tried to create an alternate church. Once Etienne hears of “suspicious acts of healing,” the film has him morph into a witch hunter. Extensive prosecution of witches came hundreds of years after the time of Étienne, and at his time witchcraft was not heresy.

De Bourbon had been a Dominican, travelling in rural areas for at least a dozen years before he became an inquisitor. However, the film introduces him as a dogmatic bumbler, and eventually reveals him to be a rapist. Clearly, he’s the bad guy. We learn through a flashback that as a teenager, he fled from the sight of a deer being gutted. It is hard to imagine that a rural youth in the 13th century would find this shocking, but the film distracts us from this oddity by trying to shock the viewer, briefly showing the gutting, and in a much closer view than the character’s perspective.

The older woman from the neighboring town is, in the film, a young attractive healer living in the forest. She may have been younger, and she may well have been a healer — women’s healing work was often unrecorded in history. However, it is less likely she lived in the forest, and her modern sensibilities with regard to plants, the natural world, and her appreciation of literacy are out of place. Early on, the film shows her pulling a thorn from a wolf’s paw. She’s the good guy. She became an outsider after her lord exercised “his first night’s rights” (she was raped), and her husband killed the lord. First night’s rights were often claimed to have existed during the middle ages by later writers, but there is no contemporary evidence for them. As with the story of the wrongly killed protective animal, first night’s rights have been written about in many cultures, going back to Gilgamesh.

The presentation of legends as fact, the anachronisms, and the one-dimensional characters weaken the story and the representation of life in the Middle Ages. Some of these aspects may have been intended to emphasize the overlooked participation and subordination of women, but they are not always effective. The reference to first night’s rights could have been a symbol for the position of women in society, but the timing and method of the presentation reduce it to a backstory footnote. Étienne’s writings about the ritual make only brief mention of an older woman who assists the ritual, but in the film this woman is young, attractive, and a source of sexual tension. It’s easy to accept that this may have been the reality, and Étienne downplayed this when he wrote about the incident, as a way of erasing her from history. However, it is also possible that the filmmakers thought, in typical Hollywood fashion, that the female lead should be conventionally young and attractive.

The film makes other efforts to celebrate women and the feminine. The first image in the film is a baby at the breast. A strong female character exists in a subplot, and the home of the forest women is lush green woods, while Étienne’s place is the dark and sterile church. Guinefort’s grove is a place to heal babies, and therefore a place for the women of the village. Unfortunately, the efforts to celebrate the feminine are undercut because, despite the title, the film is a story about a man’s growth and redemption.

The plot is structured around Étienne’s visit to the village. The forest woman intrigues him. But it is a man who shows him the error of his ways, another man who tells him how he can learn from this, and the climax is a pissing contest between Étienne and a local lord. Visuals also emphasize that this is Étienne’s story. This is most obvious is when we share his gaze of a revealed ankle. Significantly, we are shown traumatic events in his past, from his perspective, while the past traumas of the forest woman are merely narrated, making her a less sympathetic character. Finally, in a film which claims to reveal much of what may have been silenced, an important female character is mute, with a man to speak for her.

Sorceress shows that Étienne eventually agreed to allow the worship of St. Guinefort to continue, and in a closing note states: “The last woman healer to protect babies at the grove died in 1930.” This statement is both misleading and less interesting than the historical evidence. No information exists about a continuous line of healers, but the legend of St. Guinefort persisted. In the early 1930s, a woman in the area would go on substitute pilgrimages to Guinefort’s grove and other places, on behalf of sick children’s parents, if they paid her a small fee. She would also light candles and go to church for others, cast spells (but not against anyone who gave her meat), offer flowers, weed graves, and beg at a regular circuit of houses. She had been widowed in 1910, had one stillborn child, and lived alone until her death in 1936 at age eighty-eight. This is presumably the woman whose sad but interesting life was both acknowledged and downplayed as “the last woman healer.”

When I first saw the film, decades ago, I was impressed by the foregrounding of women’s experiences. With subsequent viewings, a greater knowledge of film, and a greater knowledge of history, I’ve become more aware of the film’s relatively superficial approach. However, it is entirely possible that in the 1980s the film could not have been financed had truly focused on the forest women, past and present. Even today, that might prove difficult. For all its faults, Sorceress remains much more attentive to women’s experiences than many films, and provides insights into village life during the Middle Ages.

Recommended Reading: The New York Times Review/Film; ‘Sorceress,’ A Medieval Parable