Author: Bitch Flicks

Women-Centric Films Opening Wednesday, June 13th and Friday, June 15th

Marina Abramovic: The Artist is Present

Seductive, fearless, and outrageous, Marina Abramovic has been redefining what art is for nearly forty years. Using her own body as a vehicle, pushing herself beyond her physical and mental limits–and at times risking her life in the process–she creates performances that challenge, shock, and move us. Through her and with her, boundaries are crossed, consciousness expanded, and art as we know it is reborn. She is, quite simply, one of the most compelling artists of our time. — (C) Music Box Films

Your Sister’s Sister

A year after his brother Tom’s death, Jack (Mark Duplass) is still struggling emotionally. When he makes a scene at a memorial party, Tom’s best friend Iris (Emily Blunt) offers up her family cabin on an island in the Pacific Northwest so Jack can seek catharsis in solitude. Once there, however, he runs into Iris’ sister Hannah (Rosemarie Dewitt) who is reeling from the abrupt end of a seven-year relationship and finds solace in Tom’s unexpected presence. A blurry evening of drinking concludes with an awkward sexual incident, made worse by Iris’ sudden presence at the cabin the next morning. A twisted tale of ever-complicated relationships is set in motion with raw, hilarious and emotional performances from the all-star cast. — (C) IFC
 

UFO in Her Eyes

Simple woman Kwok Yun leads a peasant’s life in the peaceful mountains around remote Three-Headed Bird Village. One day, after a countryside tryst with a married man, Kwok Yun sees a UFO – a giant glowing thing in the shape of a dumpling! The ambitious village leader Chief Chang uses Kwok Yun’s unexpected events for political gain. She stimulates tourism with UFO tours and gets the local economy roaring with progress. Busy aspiring to strengthen relations with the USA, she is blind to the dangers such radical change can bring, especially to the environment. She is promoted and groomed for a bright new future by pushy Chief Chang. But Kwok Yun’s heart is whispering that she’s destined for something more than the government’s power-hungry plans… — (C) Official Site

All film descriptions taken from Rotten Tomatoes.



Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie‘s Picks:

That’s My Boy — The Adam Sandler Film Switched at Birth by Stuart Heritage for The Guardian

Film Corner! [a commentary on Snow White and the Huntsman] by Melissa McEwan from Shakesville

Janet Jackson to Produce Transgender Documentary, ‘Truth’ from The Daily News

Motherhood in Film & Television: The Roundup

Here are the pieces for our series on Motherhood in Film and Television–all in one place! Thanks so much to all the writers who contributed reviews.

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Nine Months Forward, Three Centuries Back by Tyler Adams:

Nine Months, contrary to all expectations, is not about pregnancy. It’s about a man coping with a pregnancy. Yes. Here’s a film whose subject absolutely and biologically requires a woman – and it’s still about a man.

However, Nine Months does achieve sex equality of the most dubious sort – it’s insulting to men and women.

In the world of Nine Months, women have already accepted that their value lies primarily in their fecundity and that raising children is the only thing that matters. And now, it’s time for men to learn the same lesson.

Mothers of Anarchy: Power and Control in the Feminine Sphere by Leigh Kolb:

The Mothers of Anarchy, on the surface, have no control. In reality, they have all of the control.

The matriarch “old lady” (the endearing term club members give to their partners) of the California motorcycle club is Gemma (Katey Sagal). She is the Gertrude-inspired character who has married one of the original members of the club, after her husband was killed. Her first husband helped found the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club after Gemma became pregnant with their son and wanted to settle in Charming, where her parents were from. She may not ride, but her instincts and desires steered the club from its inception. The town’s police chief refers to Gemma as “leaving Charming when she was sixteen and showing up 10 years later with a baby and a biker gang.”

Carrie by Candice Frederick:

On the surface, it’s so easy to criticize Margaret. But there is something so inherently evil yet desperately loving about Laurie’s pitch-perfect performance of the religion-stricken single mother. You know she wants what she thinks is best for her child, like all great mothers do. But she’s too terrified—or terrifying?—to really consider what she’s saying. She wanted Carrie to be God-fearing, like herself. She wanted her to not suffer the tainted feeling of self-disgust with which she was burdened every day. In essence, she wanted her daughter’s life to be better than her own, by not making the same mistakes she did.
But when Mrs. White saw her daughter developing breasts and getting her period, and even receiving interest to attend the prom, her maternal preference overwhelmed her. She had to intervene before her Carrie ended up shameful, deflowered and ungodly like she had become. It was imperative.

Three Generations of Mothering on The Gilmore Girls by Megan Ryland:

For me, no television mother springs to mind faster than Lorelai Gilmore of the long running show The Gilmore Girls. In fact, what is arguably so special about the show is that it offers a popular mainstream venue to focus on mothering, and especially the challenges of mother/daughter relationships. Of course mothers are a constant feature in the media (how else would mothers know how to behave!?) but teenagers are rarely depicted as having a positive relationship with their mother. Rory and Lorelai have a tight bond that remains the central focus of the show despite relationship drama for both mother and daughter. They also bring in the dual roles of mother and daughter when Lorelai interacts with her own mother, Emily.

Rosemary’s Baby by Erin Fenner:

Rosemary’s Baby, the Roman Polanski 1968 adaptation of the novel with the same name, uses minimal effects. While it is a horror story about the mother of Satan’s child, we only briefly glimpse the arm and eyes of the feature’s supposed monster. And, while the plot against Rosemary is conceived by a coven of witches, we don’t see bubbling potions. That is because Rosemary’s Baby is not a horror story about Satan or witchcraft.
Rosemary’s Baby is a horror story about being a woman.
Rosemary, played by the waifish Mia Farrow, is a young woman excited for her role as wife and soon-to-be mother. But, even in her acceptance and celebration of traditional gender roles she is exploited, robbed of autonomy, discounted as hysterical and ultimately must give up all control of herself and her body.
Sound familiar? That’s because her terrors are real ones with just a dash of supernatural motivations.

The Evolution of Margaret White by Carrie Nelson:

I saw the 1976 version of Carrie for the first time nearly five years ago, and it wasn’t until recently that I realized what doesn’t work for me about Laurie’s performance – it’s entirely one-dimensional. It’s cartoonish, even. It’s hard to be frightened by Laurie’s Margaret when she seems so unlike any mother who could realistically exist. But that isn’t how the character has to be. I thought about this in March, when I saw the MCC Theater’s Off-Broadway revival of the Carrie musical. Now, I did not see the original version of the musical, which opened on Broadway in 1988 and closed after only five performances, making it one of the biggest Broadway flops of all time. I cannot speak to that version, but I can speak to the heavily revised revival, in which Marin Mazzie played an unnervingly sympathetic version of Margaret. Though the story is the same, and Margaret is still deeply disturbed and abusive, there is a greater emphasis on Margaret’s inner struggle and the reality that she truly wants to help her daughter. In the second act, Margaret sings, “When There’s No One,” a moving ballad that reveals her intention to murder her daughter and the despair she feels about that decision. Rather than solely seeing Margaret’s evil and rage, in this version we see her rationalization. We see a fully developed character, a person who truly believes she is making the right decision, which makes the decision even more horrifying. There is nothing cartoonish about Mazzie’s Margaret, which made her far more terrifying than Laurie’s Margaret ever could be.

Sherrybaby by Gabriella Apicella:

What is so extraordinary about “Sherrybaby” is the main character is so completely rounded and real that she bursts free from the predictable constraints imposed by stereotypes. The film follows Sherry Swanson, played by Maggie Gyllenhaal, as she tries to reconnect with her daughter after being released from prison. Yet although this provides the main motivation for virtually everything she does in the film, writer and director Laurie Collyer has brought to the screen a female character who is not just a passionate mother, not just a recovering addict, not just a victim of abuse, not just a sexually confident woman, not just a sweet primary school teacher, but ALL of these things. 

Spawning the World: Motherhood in Game of Thrones by Rachel Redfern:

Game of Thrones is the buzzword for this season’s TV community: the backbiting, the plotting, the violence, the sex (which everyone is discussing). What horrific plot twist will the Lannisters think of next, we wonder out loud?
So I won’t really talk about those things, because to my mind, those aspects of the show have been reviewed by dozens of worthy reviewers: The New Yorker, The New York Times, The Mary Sue and Bitch Flicks, just to name a few. (If you’re not really sure of the plot or premise of the movie, you should definitely Wikipedia it, as I’m not really going to talk about that here, considering that so many other reviewers and websites have already provided a synopsis for it.)
One of the aspects that struck me in the show though, is the portrayal of motherhood. Far from being absent or swept to the side, the film’s mothers are a driving force in the plot development and are some of the most multi-dimensional of the series (credit has to be given to the actresses who play them).
There are thee instances of motherhood being portrayed here: Cercei and Lady Arryn’s obsessive, spoiling, “my child is a god” kind of motherhood, Lady Stark’s “good mom” style, and lastly, the Dothraki queen Daenerys Targaryen’s pregnancy where she is worshipped by her people.

Phoebe in Wonderland by Stephanie Rogers:

The caretaker role falls exclusively to Hillary. She’s a stay-at-home mom trying to write a book while also attempting to care for two young daughters. While her struggle to play The Good Mom definitely lends sympathy to her character—I mean, honestly, what the hell is a good mom?—I couldn’t help but despise her selfishness and blatant disregard for Phoebe’s needs. Even though both parents decide to (finally) get Phoebe into therapy, it’s Hillary who refuses to accept the doctor’s diagnosis, even going so far as to remove Phoebe from therapy, deliberately hiding the diagnosis from her husband.

The problem here, and where the movie most succeeds, is that Hillary feels alone as a parent. She believes that her children’s struggles will ultimately reflect poorly on her as The Good Mom, and she even says at one point that she doesn’t want her daughter to be “less than.” Obviously, we live in a society that mandates the over-the-top importance of living up to an unattainable standard of proper mothering (see: any celebrity mother and the scrutiny she faces, with barely a mention of celebrity fathers), and Hillary definitely effectively represents that unattainable standard.

The Great Lie by Erin Blackwell:

There are two scenes in The Great Lie that made an indelible impression on my teenage psyche. One involves crossdressing, the other involves food, and both express the anxiety attached to giving birth and the difficulties modern women have integrating this biological imperative into an otherwise blithely artificial lifestyle. But mostly, these two scenes depict powerful moments of emotional intimacy between women in which conventional gender roles go out the window. 

Laurie Petrie of The Dick Van Dyke Show by Caitlin Moran:

Laura and Rob Petrie had one child together, a son named Richie. Because Richie is in elementary school for the whole of the show, Laura’s role as a mother focuses on the challenges of raising a small child. She worries that he might be sick when he refuses a cupcake, and helps Rob explain why Richie’s middle name is Rosebud. (It’s an acronym for the names that their parents and grandparents suggested for the baby. Unsurprisingly, that was Rob’s idea.) In the episode “Girls Will Be Boys,” Richie comes home from school three days in a row with bruises on his face, and admits that a girl has been beating him up. After Rob’s visit to the suspected lady bully’s father turns up empty, Laura goes to the child’s house to get to the bottom of the strange beatings. After the girl’s mother insults and dismisses her, Laura refuses to leave until she’s said her piece. “You may not be the rudest person I’ve ever met,” she declares with her trademark quiver, “but you are certainly in the top two.” Door slam, and our girl storms off with the moral high ground and not a hair out of place in her perfect coif.

Absent Mothers in Urban Fantasy by Paul and Renee: 

Just because Urban Fantasy is largely produced by women and consumed by women does not mean that it is free of sexism and misogyny. When it comes to motherhood, a role that most women will one day assume, it is hardly surprising that within the genre most examples are highly problematic —  when they appear at all. 
The lack of representation of motherhood is so extreme that the viewer is forced to ask is, “where are the mothers?”. It seems like such an odd question, because you’d expect most characters, like most people, to have a mother lurking around somewhere; especially since most of the heroines in these stories are young women or even teenagers. Search as we might, the mothers are conspicuous by their absence.

Being a Good Mother in Gilmore Girls by Friederike Wunschik:

Lorelai Gilmore is certainly depicted as a non-conventional mother. She has been described as a “disgraced Connecticut Brahmin teen heiress who flees prep school to keep and raise her now teen-aged daughter while estranged from her own parents” (Jennifer Crusie, Coffee at Luke’s, p. 174). But she is not the only mother in the series. Gilmore Girls spends a surprisingly large amount of time focusing on mother-characters, some of which are shown more often and more in-depth than others.

Hey, Let’s Do Some Mommy Issues! (Babies Not Required) by Glosswitch:

The thing is, I wouldn’t mind if characters like Rachel and Catherine were just like all the other characters – ridiculously gorgeous and ace at their jobs, yet somehow flawed and kooky at the same time – while also being mommies, albeit ones whose lives aren’t that much impinged on by having a child. I wouldn’t mind that. It’s just that Rachel and Catherine seem to have MOMMY tattooed in big letters across their botoxed foreheads. You can almost hear the sound of scriptwriters patting themselves on the back. “Hey guys, relax! We’ve done the “mommy issues” bit! Now let’s send everyone off to Central Perk.” This creates an environment in which it no longer seems legitimate to assert that motherhood still doesn’t really exist as a theme in our TV programmes. But by and large it doesn’t. You wouldn’t have to do much. You don’t literally have to show shitty diapers or a woman crying her eyes out at 3am with engorged breasts and a howling newborn. It’s just the little things. Perhaps you have women who aren’t able to go to the bar with colleagues at the drop of a hat. Women who don’t always have childcare issues magically resolved by a grumpy ex who’s half new man, half self-pitying passive aggressive bully. Women who work part-time. Women who are, most of the time, in the company of children, not for one “doing the issues” childcare episode, but all the time. You can still have humor and drama in that. Let’s face it, children can be total lunatics; there’s loads of humor and drama in that.

Julia Roberts in Steel Magnolias, Step Mom, and Erin Brockovich by Allison Heard:

Steel Magnolias shows the undying love of mothers and daughters through disagreements, tragedy and happiness. Shelby exemplifies the young woman desiring to become a mother despite unruly and unpredictable circumstances. Her choice to bear children despite her physical limitations shows that all she wanted was motherhood, despite the cost. M’Lynn exemplifies the experienced mother who only wants to protect her daughter from harm. Both Shelby and M’Lynn make the ultimate sacrifice for motherhood, that being a kidney and a life.

Mother by Tatiana Christian:

This quote ultimately summarizes my experience with MOTHER – a film about a mother willing to do whatever it takes to save her child. In many American films, mothers are often portrayed as deranged (such as the biopic Mommy Dearest) or some kind of superhero (based entirely on tropes) mom who does everything for everyone else but nothing for herself (such as I Don’t Know How She Does It, starring Sarah Jessica Parker).

Is Terminator‘s Sarah Connor an Allegory for Single Mothers? by Megan Kearns:

As kickass as she is, Sarah possesses no other identity beyond motherhood. She exists solely to protect her John from assassination or humanity will be wiped out. Every decision, every choice she makes, is to protect her son. In Sarah Connor Chronicles, Cameron tells Sarah that “Without John, your life has no purpose.” Sarah tells her ex-fiancé that she’s not trying to change her fate but change John’s. Even before she becomes a mother in Terminator, her identity is tied to her uterus and her capacity for motherhood.

Now, I realize she’s saving the world, trying to keep her son alive and stop a cyborg onslaught. But the underlying theme — motherhood must consume women — is troublesome. Mothers don’t have to squelch their desires and sacrifice their identity and entire lives in order to be a “good” mother.

The Authentic Portrayal of Mother-Daughter Relationships in Future Weather by Stephanie Rogers:

I recently saw the film Future Weather at the Tribeca Film Festival and was blown away by the honest portrayal of motherhood onscreen. The film captures the ups and downs characteristic of mother-daughter relationships and does so without simplifying the women or relegating them to either/or binaries; there is no exclusively Good Mom or Bad Mom in this film. Not only is it nearly unheard of in films today to watch women interact with one another in ways that don’t involve men, but in typical feature films showcasing mother-daughter relationships, audiences are often subjected to a litany of unrealistic absolutes: Good Moms always love and nurture their daughters, sacrificing their entire adult existences and maintaining some virgin-esque purity while doing so; yet Bad Moms ruin their daughters’ lives through manipulation, neglect, or—conversely—smothering and over-protection, to the point that the audience labels these mothers nothing more than villains—usually mentally unstable villains—with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

But Future Weather avoids these clichés. The women in this film lead hard, complex lives. We know these women. We live with these women. Their interactions remind of us our own multifaceted mother-daughter relationships. And, fortunately—while they’re sometimes messy and often difficult to watch—the women in Future Weather aren’t treated as tropes to merely move a plot forward (no dead ladies/moms for dudes to avenge the deaths of!), and the filmmakers spare the audience from two hours of that cringe-worthy, all-too-familiar “lone woman among a group of complex, likeably awful men” thing. 

Guest Writer Wednesday: Tarantino’s Women

Uma Thurman (The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo) in Kill Bill Vol. 1

Guest post written by Jamie McHale.

I’m going to start this blog post with a bold statement; few directors make films with such strong female characters as Quentin Tarantino. Surprised? Known for stylized ultra-violence and shot to fame with macho flick Reservoir Dogs, you’d be forgiven for thinking Tarantino’s films are more targeted towards guys but let me explain why I think you’re wrong by running down some of his characters and why actually, Tarantino should be celebrated by female cinéphiles.
Shosanna Dreyfus 

Melanie Laurent (Shosanna Dreyfus) in Inglorious Basterds
Putting the fact she runs a Parisian cinema under Nazi occupation in Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds aside, Shosanna Dreyfus (Melanie Laurent) should be celebrated as a powerful female character. After escaping persecution, she hatches a plan to kill the upper echelons of the Nazi regime, beautifully described in this quote from her dialogue:
“I am going to burn down the cinema on Nazi night. And if I’m going to burn down the cinema, which I am, we both know you’re not going to let me do it by myself. Because you love me. And I love you.”
Beatrix Kiddo

Uma Thurman (The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo) in Kill Bill Vol. 2
B, The Bride, Black Mamba, Beatrix Kiddo or whatever else you want to call her, Uma Thurman’s portrayal of the blood-thirsty protagonist of Kill Bill is undoubtedly one of cinema’s strongest women. Systematically slaying those who crossed her in a self proclaimed “rip-roaring rampage of revenge,” Uma Thurman secures her place as Tarantino’s muse. Dealing strictly in black and white morality and taking no prisoners (well, apart from Sophie) Beatrix Kiddo secures her places as the femme, the most, fatale. In fact, the Kill Bill trilogy (to-be) showcases a plethora of strong women including orphan to Japanese mafia boss O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu) and Elle (Daryl Hannah) who makes up for what she lacks in eyeballs with a mean tiger’s crane.
Elle: “I killed your master, and now I’m going to kill you, with your own sword no less. Which in the very immediate future will become my sword.”
Kiddo: “Bitch…You don’t have a future.”
Jackie Brown
Pam Grier (Jackie Brown) in Jackie Brown
Pam Grier rose to fame in the 70s through a string of Blaxplotation films and was immortalized in pop culture by Tarantino’s 1997 film Jackie Brown. It follows the story of a struggling flight attendant who ends up smuggling money from Mexico into the US only to be arrested by the police. After agreeing to act as an informant to the police she proceeds to play the situation to her advantage in a dangerous double-crossing game. Exuding power, control and cool, the limitlessly cool Jackie Brown is the ultimate screen siren.
Jackie Brown: Now sooner or later, they’re gonna get around to offering me a plea deal, and you know that. That’s why you came here to kill me.
Ordell Robbie: I ain’t come here to kill you…
Jackie Brown: No, no, it’s OK, it’s OK, now. I forgive you.
Few women on screen are so complex, so powerful, so dangerous as Tarantino’s, granted they may be also be violent and often sadistic but they always take centre stage. Almost all of Tarantino’s women deserve a place in the pantheon of great female leads alongside Clarice, Ripley & Thelma. And let’s just forget about Death Proof, please?
Jamie McHale (Twitter: @jamie_mchale) runs pop culture blog TQS which covers film, TV and music as well as anything else that takes his fancy.

Guest Writer Wednesday: Big Screen BFF’s — Cinema’s Greatest Female Friendships

Susan Sarandon (Louise) and Geena Davis (Thelma) in Thelma and Louise

 Guest post written by Sophie Standing. 

Stock up on tissues and chocolate ice-cream, call your best bud, and reserve a day just for the two of you. For the ultimate feel-good friendship vibes, rent the following from your local store and have a BFF girly movie marathon.

Spoilers ahead.

Beaches
In terms of girly weepies, it doesn’t get much more harrowing than Beaches.
Starring Bette Midler (C.C Bloom) and Barbara Hershey (Hilary), this 1988 classic is all about the endurance of friendship, no matter what else life throws at you.
And life certainly throws a lot at those ladies! In the opening scenes, a cheeky red-head makes friends with a prim brunette at the seaside. They go through life in their own directions, but at the centre of everything is their friendship. 
Along the way, there are fall-outs about men and luck comes and goes, but in the end they are together, and there is a rather emotional rendition of “Wind Beneath My Wings” (weep!) after the tragic death of Hilary.

Barbara Hershey and Bette Midler in Beaches
Boys on the Side

This classic movie follows three very different ladies (a lounge singer, a pregnant young woman and a sensible real-estate agent) as they take a road trip across the US and end up building a life together.
Made in 1995, the film stars Whoopi Goldberg, Drew Barrymore and Mary-Louise Parker. This film doesn’t shy away from real life, and there is tragedy and heartbreak a-plenty, including domestic abuse and the struggle of living with HIV.

Aside from the strength of formed friendships, the most moving thing about this film is the soundtrack, with a tenderly stripped back version of Orbison’s “You Got It” coaxing out tears in the final scenes.

Whoopi Goldberg, Mary Louise Parker and Drew Barrymore in Boys on the Side

Muriel’s Wedding

This quirky and tragic comedy set in Australia stars Toni Collette (Muriel) and Rachel Griffiths (Rhonda).
Two misfits from a middle-of-nowhere Australian town, Muriel is an Abba, wedding obsessed and socially awkward woman from a troubled family. She fills in a blank cheque from her father and books herself on a cruise, where she meets Rhonda and breaks away from the bitchy friends who have been holding her back. 
The two of them start a new life in Sydney and develop a close friendship. When Muriel volunteers to be a bride at a bogus wedding and Rhonda is confined to a wheelchair, it seems that Muriel has forgotten the importance of friendship, but at the end of the film, she comes to her senses and Rhonda and Muriel escape together!
Rachel Griffiths and Toni Collette in Muriel’s Wedding

Thelma and Louise
This has to be the definitive female friendship movie, doesn’t it? Across the world there are countless pairs of Thelma and Louise’s like these ladies. Which one are you? 
If you’ve spent your life in a darkened room then there is a small chance that you might not have seen this film. If you haven’t, I command you to go out and rent it!

Geena Davis (Thelma) and Susan Sarandon (Louise) star is this 1991 epic. Whilst on a girly holiday, all goes badly wrong when Louise shoots and kills a man who is trying to rape Thelma. The rest of the film follows the ladies on the run, where nothing is more important than their loyalty to each other, and they are empowered by their freedom and refusal of male domination. 

If these ladies aren’t enough to inspire you then I don’t know what will be. 
Who have been the best and most loyal friends of your life? If you’ve lost touch, look in the white pages and find an address or phone number. There’s no better time to tell an old or current BFF how much you love them!

Sophie Standing is a film fanatic and writer who currently blogs for White Pages.

Call for Writers: LGBTQI Representations in Film and Television

It’s that time again!

This is a wide-open theme, and we welcome all proposals that examine LGBTQI themes in film and television, however one chooses to interpret it; there are, after all, no strict definitions. You can find a slew of lists online that might give you some ideas on where to start, and I’ll link to a few here:

Greatest Lesbian Movies

List of Television Programs with LGBT Characters

Lesbian Film Review

The Big Queer Movie List

List of Transgender Characters in Film and Television

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These are a few basic guidelines for guest writers on our site:

–We like most of our pieces to be 1,000 – 2,000 words, preferably with some images and links.
–Please send your piece in the text of an email, including links to all images, no later than Friday, June 22nd.
–Include a 2-3 sentence bio for placement at the end of your piece.

Email us at btchflcks(at)gmail(dot)com if you’d like to contribute a review. We accept original pieces or cross-posts.

Submit away!

Guest Writer Wednesday: Happily Never After: The Sad (and Sexist?) Rush to Cast Some of Our Most Promising Young Actresses as Fairy Tale Princesses

Kristen Stewart as Snow White in Snow White and the Huntsman

This guest post written by Scott Mendelson was originally published July 2011 at Mendelson’s Memos. Cross-posted with permission.

There were a few interesting articles written over the last several months about the unusual amount of ass-kicking (or at least take-charge) young female roles being written into mainstream cinema. Whether it was Chloe Moretz in Kick-Ass, Hailee Steinfeld in True Grit, Jennifer Lawrence in Winter’s Bone, or Saoirse Ronan in Hanna, the last 18 months or so has seen a mini-wave of genre pictures where young females were basically the lead characters (or in the case of Kick-Ass the star attraction), ‘strong independent character’ (god, I hate that cliche) who not only could fend for themselves but were not defined in any way, shape, or form by their male love interest (not a one of them had a boyfriend). Yes, I would include Sucker Punch in this category, as it was basically a satiric examination of whether ass-kicking young women in pop culture were automatically sexualized by virtue of the salacious nature of such imagery (stop whining and read THIS). The somewhat negative undercurrent of this trend is that these actresses were generally under 18, often barely passed puberty. Point being, what would become of these actresses once they reached adulthood? If recent developments are any indication, Hollywood has a genuine desire to roll back the progress clock and turn these actresses into fairy tale princesses.

At the moment, we now have two competing variations on Snow White set to be released in the next year. One, pictured below, will star Lily Collins (from The Blind Side and soon to be seen as Taylor Lautner’s token girlfriend in Abduction) as the titular princess, while the other will star Kristen Stewart as the ‘fairest of them all’. Both are claiming to be somewhat revisionist, and for the moment I shall take them at their word. But no matter how much armor and battle-axes you give Snow White, you’re still hiring one of our more talented actresses (say what you will about Twilight, but she absolutely sells Bella Swann and shines in the likes of Adventureland) to play a woman whose primary job is to run away from an evil witch, play house with a bunch of asexual dwarves, then finally bite a poison apple and await rescue from a theoretical Prince Charming. Of course, you could argue that Ms. Collins isn’t one of the ‘great actresses of our time’ yet. But the fact that we have two competing projects based on Snow White is a sad commentary on our times, both as a statement about how obsessed the studios are with any kind of brand recognition as well as the kind of roles available for actresses on the cusp of adulthood.

Lily Collins as Snow White in Mirror, Mirror

And it gets worse. What was Hailee Steinfeld’s reward for earning an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress for a film where she was unquestionably the lead? What was her follow-up project for stealing True Grit from Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon, and Josh Brolin? She gets to play Sleeping Beauty in (yet again) a revisionist variation on that old-chestnut. And we’ll see who gets to play Princess Aurora in the other competing project, Maleficent (allegedly starring Angelina Jolie as the villain) which was to be directed by Tim Burton before he came to his senses. Worst of all (and the catalyst for this rant) is the news that Emma Watson, who portrayed one of the great feminist icons of recent times, Ms. Hermione Granger herself, is being wooed for the lead role in Guillermo del Toro’s live-action variation of yes, Beauty and the Beast. Never mind that Guillermo del Toro certainly has better things to do with his time. Never mind that we have no real need for a live-action version of “Stockholm Syndrome: The Movie” (even my 3 year old dismissed the Disney version, because she stated that the Beast was mean and a grouch). It is sadly predictable that, as soon as Ms. Watson (a fiery feminist in her own right) was able to basically play adult roles, she would be shoved into the helpless fairy-tale heroine box.

Justin Timberlake and Amanda Seyfried in In Time

And that is really the point. To be fair, it’s not an all-encompassing issue. Chloe Moretz remains fairy tale-free at this point, and Saoirse Ronan has yet to be cast in a theoretical live-action version of The Little Mermaid. She does have a ‘teen girls as hit-women’ caper with Alexis Bledel, Violet and Daisy, that I desperately want to see. And Dakota Fanning has yet to be cast as the token hot girl quite yet. But there remains a disturbing trend that allows young actresses to be vibrant and active in their onscreen fates only until they reach young adulthood. Once they are old enough to be legally sexualized, their worth as empowered heroines is seemingly lost and they end up being tasked with playing the token love interest (SEE Emily Blunt be pulled by the hand by Matt Damon in The Adjustment Bureau!), helpless hostage/potential woman in refrigerator (SEE Blake Lively as the kidnapped girlfriend of both Taylor Kitsch and Aaron Johnson in Oliver Stone’s Savages!), or both (SEE Amanda Seyfried as Justin Timberlake’s hostage who learns to love him in In Time!). It is as if female roles can only be worthwhile when they are too young to be viewed exclusively as sexual objects. Now there is a new category for which to pigeon hole these actresses: perfectly pretty princess. Once they are old enough to be cast in stereotypical female roles, it’s straight to the ‘token’ box, with an occasional diversion in fairy tale theater. Is this new mini-fad simply another variation on tokenism, or a more insidious attempt to keep said young actresses virginal and pure?

It is telling that bloggers and pundits bemoaned Jennifer Lawrence passing on Savages and picking The Hunger Games instead. Maybe, no matter how prestigious an Oliver Stone film might be (because he writes SO well for female characters…), Lawrence chose to be a lead in her own action franchise rather than play a random hottie who is abducted as a pawn in a drug spat involving her dueling boyfriends (on the surface, it seems like a prestige variation on Double Dragon). And it is telling that no one seems to notice or care that a number of our most promising young actresses are being jammed into the ‘girl cage’ just at the age when they would be old enough to play quality adult female roles. Of course, roles such as that are few and far between. For the likes of Watson and Steinfeld, it appears once again that the choice is between no mainstream roles or regressive token roles or playing a live-action Disney princess. Oh well, I’m sure they can find an episodic television series when the time comes. When it comes to quality roles for adult women, for too many actresses, it is television instead of film that is the pathway to happily ever after.

Scott Mendelson is, by hobby, a freelance film critic/pundit who specializes in box office analysis. He blogs primarily at Mendelson’s Memos while syndicating at The Huffington Post and Valley Scene Magazine. He lives in Woodland Hills, CA with his wife and two young kids where he works in a field totally unrelated to his BA in Film Theory/Criticism from Wright State University. 

Guest Writer Wednesday: Fatsronauts 101

This guest piece by Melissa McEwan is cross posted with permission from her blog Shakesville.
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Fatsronauts 101 is a series in which I address assumptions and stereotypes about fat people that treat us as a monolith and are used to dehumanize and marginalize us. If there is a stereotype you’d like me to address, email me.

[Content Note: Fat bias; dehumanization.]

#3: Fat people are jolly/mean, and fat people are shy/loud.

These are a whole bunch of temperamental stereotypes about fat people, but these are probably the most common—and let us note the immediate irony that they can be conveniently grouped into two dichotomous pairs!

Fat people are jolly! Except for how we’re all mean. And fat people are shy! Except for how we’re all so loud and obnoxious.

How can all of these conflicting stereotypes about fat people be true?! Spoiler Alert: None of them are!

Obviously, not all fat people are jolly, nor are all fat people mean, and not all fat people are shy, nor are all fat people loud. Like any sweeping generalization made about any group, these are just garbage observations offered by people who attempt to justify their biases with dehumanizing monolithic narratives. Whoooops your bigotry!

Fat people, being actual human beings and all, experience a spectrum of emotions and have individual complex personalities, most of which can’t be contained in a single reductive adjective.

That said, it’s informative to examine exactly why these particular stereotypes are so ubiquitous.

The Jolly Fatty. The Jolly Fatty is a very recognizable stereotype, especially but not uniquely in the West. Children in many cultures are introduced to the Jolly Fatty in the form of a gentleman you may have heard of named Santa Claus, aka Father Christmas, aka St. Nick—red-cheeked and perpetually grinning, his big round belly jiggling as he “ho-ho-ho”s his way into their hearts.

The Jolly Fatty is also a staple in comedic duos (Laurel & Hardy, Abbott & Costello), trios (The Three Stooges), and troupes (Chris Farley, Horatio Sanz, Kenan Thompson, et. al. on SNL; John Candy on SCTV). Generally, the Jolly Fatty in comedic groups has been a male stereotype, owing primarily to the misogynist stereotype that women aren’t funny, full-stop. But as female comedic groups emerge, the Jolly Fatty Female Edition emerges, too, e.g. Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids and Phyllis Smith on The Office.

Partly, the Jolly Fatty exists because it’s fun to laugh at fat people just because we’re fat. Partly, it exists because it’s fun/amazing to see fat people engaging in exuberant activities that we’re allegedly unable to do. Chris Farley was a master at physical comedy, and the legendary Chippendales SNL sketch with Patrick Swayze is a classic example of being exhorted to laugh at the fatness of, but also the unexpected physical prowess of, a Jolly Fatty. Kevin James routinely plays the hilariously gravity-defying fat guy. After watching Paul Blart, I observed: “[The most depressing thing about the film is] that Kevin James is a fat guy who can move! He can run and jump and do somersaults, and he was kick. ass. on that Segway—had it doing all kinds of tricks. It was so sad that the movie was so rife with fat-hating stereotypes, because Kevin James himself actually defies so many of them!” The Jolly Fatty isn’t meant to break down stereotypes, though: The Jolly Fatty is meant to play to them for laughs.

And partly, the Jolly Fatty exists because real, live, actual fat people who aren’t created by or dependent on the media use a façade of cheeriness as a self-defense mechanism.

That’s not to say there are not fat people who are naturally happy. I’m dispositionally disposed to contentment myself. But that is a very different thing from a consciously constructed veneer of impenetrable ebullience worn like armor into a hostile world. I know the difference—because I have worn that armor myself.

It is terribly easy to slip into the always-accessible costume of the Jolly Fatty, because people are nicer to the Jolly Fatty than to a real, complex, vulnerable fat human being. I’ve said before that being publicly, shamelessly, unshakably fat and happy is an act of both will and bravery—and, the truth is, being publicly, shamelessly, unshakably fat and not-happy about things other than your fatness is even harder.

The thing is, affecting the Jolly Fatty is most useful/necessary around people who are fat-haters, between whom and ourselves fat people feel obliged to construct a deflective artifice of self-protection off of which can bounce the judgment and bullying central to fat hatred.

It’s not a coincidence that it’s fat-haters who most readily pronounce all fat people to be jolly. It’s because their bigotry results in inauthentic interactions with fat people.

The Mean Fatty. It’s also not a coincidence that it’s fat-haters who are most likely to declare all fat people to be mean. The fact is, if you go around treating fat people like shit, it’s no wonder most of us aren’t bundles of joy in your presence.

The Mean Fatty is similarly a familiar comedic staple. John Belushi and Jon Lovitz generally played Mean Fatties on SNL—or some variation of mean, e.g. grumpy, acerbic, bitter. Comedic foils and villains are often rotund—Pee-Wee Herman’s nemesis Francis is an iconic over-indulged, gluttonous, greedy Mean Fatty. The Coen Brothers also love a good Mean Fatty, and Disney routinely associates fat with villainous.

The Mean Fatty is also a more dramatic staple, showing up especially in dramatic fare for kids as a bully who makes like difficult for the thin protagonist—the classic ginger-haired, freckle-faced, chubby bully in his striped brown shirt, hurling snowballs or snarling epithets with a lisp at our long-suffering hero.

Partly, the Mean Fatty exists because it’s fun to hate fat people just because we’re fat. Partly, it exists because it reinforces—and validates—preexisting prejudices against fat people. It’s okay to hate them; look, they’re all nasty, anyway.

And partly, the Mean Fatty exists because there are real, live, actual fat people who are “mean” specifically around their fatness. And by “mean,” I mean defensive.

Which, of course, is meant to be A Terrible Thing—especially since we all know that fat people are supposed to be jolly! Fat people are supposed to make preemptive self-deprecating jokes about our own fat to diffuse the awkward situation of your quietly judging us! We’re not supposed to get all testy about being quietly (or not-so-quietly) judged by people who have decided to make our bodies their business! GEEZ! THE NERVE OF THOSE MEAN FATTIES!

You know the old saying that everything looks like a nail when you’re holding a hammer? Well, maybe every fatty looks mean when you’re a fat-hater.

The Shy Fatty/The Loud Fatty. I’ll take these two together. These are variations on the same stereotypes about members of all marginalized groups, which pivot around an invisible centerpoint of perfection in which the marginalized person is not too quiet/compliant/disengaged from activism around hir identity, but is also not too loud/defiant/engaged with activism around hir identity.

To fail to take a position is too quiet. To take a position in opposition to the narratives, stereotypes, and people which oppress us is to be too loud.

Basically: We are meant to have opinions, but only those which echo the opinions of our oppressors.

(See how that works?)

The Shy Fatty and Loud Fatty function in tandem as a way for people with thin privilege to deflect blame for fat hatred back onto fat people: Shy Fatties don’t speak up and demand better treatment. Loud Fatties are always shoving their fat in people’s faces and making them resentful of fat. Two extremes who fail to find the perfect balance in which fat people command respect in precisely the right tone.

The Shy Fatty and Loud Fatty stereotypes also exist partly because there are a lot of shy fat people whose shyness is inextricably linked with their fatness, who chose to withdraw and be as invisible as possible in an attempt to avoid attention on their transgressive bodies, and because there are a lot of loud fat people whose loudness is inextricably linked with their fatness, who choose to be boisterous and as visible as possible in a rejection of the cultural pressure to take up less space—to hunch, to crouch, to fold, to squeeze, to be unseen.

These stereotypes, when reflected in actual fat people, are reactions to fat hatred. And thus are they seen primarily by people who routinely express fat hatred and/or unexamined thin privilege.

It’s a self-reinforcing cycle of bullshit, which is broken by creating spaces in which fat people can express without fear of shame, hatred, or retribution the full spectrum of their emotional lives.

Presuming all fat people are all one thing—besides, ya know, deserving of respect—is failing to provide that sort of space. 

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Melissa McEwan is the founder and manager of the award-winning political and cultural group blog Shakesville, which she launched as Shakespeare’s Sister in October 2004 because George Bush was pissing her off. In addition to running Shakesville, she also contributes to The Guardian‘s Comment is Free America and AlterNet. Liss graduated from Loyola University Chicago with degrees in Sociology and Cultural Anthropology, with an emphasis on the political marginalization of gender-based groups. An active feminist and LGBTQI advocate, she has worked as a concept development and brand consultant and now writes full-time.

She lives just outside Chicago with three cats, two dogs, and a Scotsman, with whom she shares a love of all things geekdom, from Lord of the Rings to Alcatraz. When she’s not blogging, she can usually be found watching garbage television or trying to coax her lazyass greyhound off the couch for a walk.

Motherhood in Film & Television: MOTHER

Mother (2009)

This is a guest post from Tatiana Christian.

This review contains some spoilers. 
For the past few years, I’ve been slowly immersing myself in international cinema; specifically France, Korea and Japan. So when Bitch Flicks did a call for reviews on films about mothers, I immediately thought of MOTHER (also known as Madeo), a Korean film made in 2009, directed by Bong Joon-ho. Bong Joon-ho is also the mastermind behind another Korean classic, The Host. So naturally, I HAD to watch it, and writing a review for Bitch Flicks offered me the perfect opportunity! 
Categorized as a drama, MOTHER centers about a mother, (who is played by Kim Hye-ja) who lives with her 27-year-old son, Do-joon (played by the luscious Won Bin) in the countryside. The film chronicles Hye-ja’s search, after her mentally challenged son is convicted of murdering a local girl, as she attempts to find the real killer. 
As expected by the title, MOTHER focuses extensively on Hye-ja’s journey — in the opening of the film, we see her wander out into a field and start dancing. In the next scene, we watch as she’s chopping medicinal herbs, observing her son across the street as he plays with a dog. Her gaze never shifts from him, even as we’re being led to believe that she’s going to cut herself if she doesn’t pay attention. 
When Do-joon is hit by a speeding Benz, his mother rushes out to see if he’s okay – even though he’s alright and doesn’t appear to have any bruises or scratches. Even when she’s having her cut treated, she’s obsessive about finding her son, and making sure that he’s okay. And this type of concern is portrayed through the film; such as in the scene where he’s peeing outside and she holds the bowl for him to drink his medicine. This particular scene struck me as rather intimate, as she stares down at his penis for a moment or two before encouraging him. 
I found this relevant because in a later scene when Do-joon comes home intoxicated, he crawls into bed with his mother (presumably the only bed in their small apartment), and immediately rests his hand on her breast. She murmurs that it’s “too late” and eventually he withdraws his hand. MOTHER never delves much deeper into the potentiality of incest, and aside from another character teasing Do-joon by suggesting that they’re having sex – that’s it. 
However, I can’t really suggest that their relationship is necessarily codependent, as Do-joon demonstrates his independence several times (such as telling his mother to go to sleep when she calls because he’s out late at the bar or confronting her when he remembers that she attempted to kill him as a child). Hye-ja is shown caring and worrying more about Do-joon than he does for her, and he seems not all concerned with the fact that he has confessed to a crime he didn’t commit. 
MOTHER is driven more by Hye-ja’s desire to save her child, to protect him based on the belief that he is innocent. (Portrayed as a mentally challenged character, there’s an air of innocence — or general ignorance — to him. For example, when he’s taken to the crime scene and there is a crowd of spectators, he looks out to someone he knows, takes off his mask and begins to wave while smiling — seemingly oblivious to the severity of what‘s happening.)
So Hye-ja takes on the burden of caring; trying to locate a lawyer who will take on Do-joon’s case, trying to convince a police officer who is a family friend to investigate further, sneaking into Jin-tae’s (played by Ku Jin) cabin to search for clues, approaching the friend of the girl Je-Moon (played by Je-mun Yun) who has died, and so on. It’s all rather impressive actually, watching Hye-ja commit to discovering the real story behind the murder, and enlisting the help of Jin-tae (who proves invaluable in her quest) and having no qualms about getting involved, lying or impersonating someone. 
Without giving away too much of the ending, she discovers who the real killer is and commits yet another crime in response to the truth she learns. At the end of the film, we see her taking a type of bus retreat with other mothers, and she’s the only person sitting as the others dance in the aisle. In her lap is her acupuncture kit, and she inserts a needle into her upper thigh in an effort to open her heart and let her emotions flow. Soon after she begins to dance with the other mothers, perhaps finally free. But this time, her dancing is more expressive, versus when we see her in the beginning of the film. 
This quote ultimately summarizes my experience with MOTHER – a film about a mother willing to do whatever it takes to save her child. In many American films, mothers are often portrayed as deranged (such as the biopic Mommy Dearest) or some kind of superhero (based entirely on tropes) mom who does everything for everyone else but nothing for herself (such as I Don’t Know How She Does It, starring Sarah Jessica Parker). 
In MOTHER, Hye-ja is a full-fledged character with both flaws and strengths; she’s unafraid, determined and single-minded in her purpose. In the film, we see her attend the wake of the murdered girl to insist that her son is innocent. Expectedly, the family violently confronts her, dragging her off the premises, while cursing both her and her son. In the very next scene, we see the mother has wandered into a nearby graveyard, looking into her compact and applying lipstick so that she can meet up with the lawyer who will help her son’s case.

MOTHER isn’t about the ideal or perfect depiction of a mother and her relationship with her children; MOTHER is about one individual in her search to save her son. 

Tatiana loves watching foreign cinema, and thanks to Netflix, she’s definitely gotten to watch a bit more of it too! Currently, she’s the Marketing Director for Side B Mag (an awesome lit mag!), always on the search for literary magazines to submit to and has recently continued her self-study to help her become more proficient in French. Merci beaucoup! 

Motherhood in Film & Television: Julia Roberts in ‘Steel Magnolias,’ ‘Stepmom,’ and ‘Erin Brockovich’

This is a guest post from Allison Heard.
J.D. Salinger wrote in his famous novel Catcher in the Rye that “mothers are all slightly insane,” typifying motherhood as a feat of strength, bravery, and oftentimes a few glasses of wine. While Salinger and many other legendary authors narrated the triumphs and downfalls of motherhood, film and television brought these stories to life. Who could forget the prim and proper Carol Brady (Florence Henderson) from The Brady Bunch, the slightly kooky Bren MacGuff (Allison Janning) from Juno, or the homemaking, badass witch Molly Weasley (Julie Walters) from the Harry Potter series. Even Robin Williams tosses his hat in the ring for mother-of-the-year in his role in Mrs. Doubtfire while disguising himself as a housekeeper in an outfit so ridiculous it could be a Halloween costume just to spend more time with his kids. Among these, another awesome on-screen mom is Julia Roberts, an actress known for her portrayal of all different mothering sorts.

Steel Magnolias (1989)

One of Roberts first major roles came in 1989 with the release of Steel Magnolias, a film about two mothers both fighting for their children. The films main characters are Shelby Eatenton Latcherie (Roberts) and her mother M’Lynn Eatenton (Sally Fields). The film opens on Shelby and her mother in a local hair salon, preparing for Shelby’s impending nuptials to her fiancé Jackson later that afternoon. Arguing with her mother about whether or not she can bear children, Shelby falls in to a state of hypoglycemia due to her diabetic condition. She quickly recovers, but this proves to her mother that she is in no state to become a mother. Despite the day’s early events, the wedding goes off without a hitch, and several months later Shelby announces that she is expecting a child with Jackson. While Shelby is ecstatic to have a child, her body does not respond well to childbirth. She goes in to kidney failure and M’Lynn donates her kidney to her ailing daughter. While the kidney responds well temporarily, Shelby’s body eventually rejects it and she slips in to a coma. M’Lynn’s friends help her move past the loss of her daughter by celebrating her life instead of remembering her death. 

Steel Magnolias shows the undying love of mothers and daughters through disagreements, tragedy and happiness. Shelby exemplifies the young woman desiring to become a mother despite unruly and unpredictable circumstances. Her choice to bear children despite her physical limitations shows that all she wanted was motherhood, despite the cost. M’Lynn exemplifies the experienced mother who only wants to protect her daughter from harm. Both Shelby and M’Lynn make the ultimate sacrifice for motherhood, that being a kidney and a life. 
Stepmom (1998)

Nearly ten years after the release of Steel Magnolias, Julia Roberts was thrown into a mothering role once again. This time, however, she was quite different. Stepmom portrays a businesswoman, Isabel (Julia Roberts), who becomes a stepmom after marrying recently divorced attorney, Luke (Ed Harris). Isabel lacks any maternal instinct and is further degraded by the children’s biological mother and Luke’s ex-wife, Jackie (Susan Sarandon). Their disagreements and feuds are only worsened when Jackie is diagnosed with a terminal illness. Jackie doesn’t think it’s fair that Isabel gets to witness her children grow up, while she becomes just a memory, and Isabel is secretly worried she cannot compare to Jackie. The two women eventually admit these fears to each other, and become a true family before Jackie’s death and Isabel’s marriage to Luke. 

In this film, Julia Roberts plays an unwilling mother, completely opposing Shelby Eatenton Latcherie and her ultimate desire to become a mother. Roberts represents a sect of women who are thrown in to motherhood through unusual circumstances and come out successful. While there are numerous struggles and hardships for Isabel to become a mother that Jackie approves of, she eventually does so. This film not only shows motherhood as a role of importance, but also the interpersonal relationships between women, despite the circumstances. Jackie and Isabel could have continued their feuding, but settled their differences for the sake of the children, both exhibiting strong maternal traits. 
Erin Brockovich (2000)

Possibly Julia Roberts most noted role as a mother, Erin Brockovich tells the story of an unemployed, single mother who loses a personal injury lawsuit after she was in a car accident. Upset by her lawyer’s failure, she demands a job at his firm in compensation. He offers her a position as a file clerk in his office, and she soon uncovers a ring of deceit surrounding a major company. Brockovich eventually reveals that the company has been destroying files and laying off its employees. This discovery leads to a huge settlement that is split between the injured employees. 

Again, this film shows Roberts in a different motherly role. This time, she is a single mother struggling to support her three children. Her struggles are only furthered when her accident happens and she loses her settlement case. Despite her uphill battle though, Brockovich overcomes and shows that she can survive amongst the high-powered attorneys and deceitful corporations. Based on true-life events, this story is an uplifting account of motherhood and the struggle to survive it alone. 
These three films show a variety of motherhood roles in the film industry. Julia Roberts plays a single mother, an unwilling mother and a woman desperate to become a mother. Amongst all of these films are other mothers trying to protect their children from harm, like Shelby’s mom M’Lynn or Jackie in Stepmom, who also show off their maternal instincts. 
Motherhood in film and television, while oftentimes portrayed by actresses who are not real life mothers, offer a narrative for the struggles and triumphs of mothers in the audience and at home. These films offer mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and other caretakers an escape from their real life mothering to feel the comedy, tragedy, drama and sheer bliss of being a mother. Without these film and television portrayals, we would be left without the experiences and stories of other women, whether alike or different from your own personal story. 

Allison Heard is a writer for HalloweenCostumes.net, and wants to remind you all that your stepmother is not the Wicked Witch of the West. 

Motherhood in Film & Television: Hey, Let’s Do Some Mommy Issues! (Babies Not Required)

This is a guest post from Glosswitch
Imagine this: 
You are a beautiful single mom. You get on well with your baby’s father – indeed, perhaps you are still in love with him – but you’ve decided it’s not to be. You’ve been offered a dream job on the other side of the Atlantic, in a country where they don’t even speak your language, and you’ve decided to go for it. 
Do you:
a. go through a great deal of soul-searching about uprooting your daughter, taking her away from her father and managing on your own, then stoically board the plane clutching both your child and a ton of crap toys which will keep her entertained for about five seconds on a transatlantic flight.
b. go through a great deal of soul-searching because, basically, you still want to rip the clothes off your baby’s daddy, then stoically board the plane looking cool and stylish. Your daughter is off somewhere or other, maybe already in France with your mom or something. Anyhow, that’s all a bit boring. So boring, in fact, that when you have another change of heart you get off the plane and don’t give a second thought to the fact that little Emma might already be waiting, “Mommy” sign held pluckily aloft, at Charles de Gaulle airport.
Rachel (Jennifer Aniston) from Friends
Did you answer a? If so, we have established that you are not in fact Rachel from Friends. Well done, you (after all, if you were, you’d be all barren and pining for Brad Pitt by now, with all your other rom-com achievements mere ashes at your feet).
Here is another scenario: 
You are a beautiful single mom (again), but this time working in a crime lab. Perhaps you are called Catherine Willows and in another life a woman called Marg Helgenberger will portray you in a biopic of your life. Anyhow, you have a daughter, possibly called Lindsey, and she can, to put it mildly, be a bit of a pain in the ass. 
Do you:
a. use any and every opportunity to remind your colleagues that you’re a mom and therefore understand certain things that only a mom can understand. Stuff like other moms being sad if their kids get murdered, that sort of shit. You know about this because you’re a mom. And also because you finally got rid of that bitch Lindsey by shoving her in some posh private school.
b. tend to shut up about being a mom while you’re in the workplace. It wouldn’t do you any favors come the next round of promotions.
So, what did you pick? Was it b? Me too. That’s why no one’s offered either of us a job in the Las Vegas crime lab to date.
Catherine (Marg Helgenberger) from CSI
Now look, I’m not stupid. I know that TV comedies are meant to be funny, and dramas meant to be dramatic. It isn’t real life. That’s why we don’t see characters needing to take a piss in the middle of an important monologue, or stumbling over their words when pronouncing the dic vead, sorry, the vic dead. It’s all made up. I bet everyone working in the real Las Vegas crime lab is ugly as sin and that they all hate each other and are useless at solving crimes. Actually, that’s probably not true either. It’s probably a lot more boring than that. They probably all just plod along, solving some crimes, not solving others, then go home, watch a bit of TV (not CSI – I’m sure they hate that) and then just go to bed. No one would want to watch that. So why does this unrealistic portrayal of mommies end up annoying me so much?
The thing is, I wouldn’t mind if characters like Rachel and Catherine were just like all the other characters – ridiculously gorgeous and ace at their jobs, yet somehow flawed and kooky at the same time – while also being mommies, albeit ones whose lives aren’t that much impinged on by having a child. I wouldn’t mind that. It’s just that Rachel and Catherine seem to have MOMMY tattooed in big letters across their botoxed foreheads. You can almost hear the sound of scriptwriters patting themselves on the back. “Hey guys, relax! We’ve done the “mommy issues” bit! Now let’s send everyone off to Central Perk.” This creates an environment in which it no longer seems legitimate to assert that motherhood still doesn’t really exist as a theme in our TV programmes. But by and large it doesn’t. You wouldn’t have to do much. You don’t literally have to show shitty diapers or a woman crying her eyes out at 3am with engorged breasts and a howling newborn. It’s just the little things. Perhaps you have women who aren’t able to go to the bar with colleagues at the drop of a hat. Women who don’t always have childcare issues magically resolved by a grumpy ex who’s half new man, half self-pitying passive aggressive bully. Women who work part-time. Women who are, most of the time, in the company of children, not for one “doing the issues” childcare episode, but all the time. You can still have humor and drama in that. Let’s face it, children can be total lunatics; there’s loads of humor and drama in that.
Abby (Maura Tierney) from ER
In ER (yeah, another oldie) Abby has a full-on dramatic birth, followed by lots of trauma caring for a sick child and then gradually going back to work. See, that’s quite good. They sure milked the drama from that. But then she just goes back to being another TV mom with an invisible child. Said child is useful for hostage situations and for making the Abby character “softer” than all the other female leads, but not for affecting the actual structure of the plot itself. That would just be too messy.
I guess that messiness is a big part of the problem. Motherhood is portrayed as a women’s issue – a thing to be picked up, examined then dropped – rather than as something that structures the flow of life and shapes the plots we all live out. This is as true for real life as it is for fiction. Mothers have to fit in around everyone else’s plots, plots in which no one in paid employment really has children and no one who isn’t paid employment is ever believed to be working.
When did you last see a TV programme that treated having a job or having grandparents or being male as an “issue” to be covered? They’re not; they’re just long-term ways of being, which might sometimes be the cause of issues but without being issues in themselves. Being a mom ought to be like that. Instead, it’s “a thing.” A thing that can be covered in a half-hour show, including ad breaks, before Mommy puts her invisible child back in the closet and heads back out to spread the fake mommy wisdom that, thankfully, doesn’t prevent her heading off to an all-night club with friends at the end of the evening.
Lois from Family Guy
In Family Guy we see Lois frequently exploiting the trope of the put-upon Mommy whom no one values. Hey, good issues coverage, guys! The fact that Lois leaves her baby in the care of the family dog whenever it seems appropriate doesn’t even come into it. And yeah, this is a cartoon, and it’s silly and surreal and why should I even bother worrying about that? But the trouble is, we then get the “I am Peter, hear me roar” episode in which Lois ends up taking on hardcore feminist Gloria Ironbox and dramatically asserting her own “choice” to be a mother and homemaker. It’s here that you start to feel the scriptwriters are taking a little too many liberties. How many issues can you squeeze from a portrayal of motherhood that isn’t even remotely realistic? Despite the catfight and the stripping and the sex with Peter at the end, there’s something horribly serious and sanctimonious about Lois’s little outburst. It’s like having Cleveland and Loretta solemnly discussing affirmative action, albeit with them only being permitted to be “actively” black 10% of the time.
Allison from Medium
Of all the shows I’ve seen in (fairly) recent years, the only one where I find the portrayal of motherhood even vaguely satisfactory is Medium. That is, I’ll admit, a little weird. Motherhood, for me, has not yet involved having crazy psychic dreams and then passing “the gift” on to my sons, and them getting all stressed about it, and me having to comfort them because, hey, it’s okay; it might seem distressing now but later on you could solve crime, just like Mommy! No, my experience of motherhood has not been like that. But what I like about that show is that underneath it, there still seems to be quite a lot of “normal” mess. The scriptwriters have allowed motherhood to invade the plot. Alison puts her children to bed and strokes their heads and it’s just what happens, not the chance for some once-in-a-lifetime monologue. Alison goes into the kitchen in the morning and there they are, making a mess of the kitchen table and demanding more food. In normal TV-land, she’d have the kitchen to herself, at least assuming no one was having a psychic crisis at the sight of the Cheerios. I found Medium difficult to watch while pregnant, not because it gave me funny dreams, but because I’d think “Wow! That parenting thing looks like hard work!” In truth, it’s not as bad as all that. It’s probably worse if your nights are interrupted not just by kids, but by pesky dead people. If it were that bad, I’d probably run away to France, just like Rachel. Or shove my kids in some private school, like Catherine. But hey, if I did that, you shouldn’t judge me too harshly. I’d just be following the plot.
Disclaimer: Most of the shows referred to here are from over four years ago. I’m sorry. I had a couple of those “real” babies in the interim. If only I’d had a plot device child, all this would be way more up to date.

Glosswitch is a mother of two living in the UK, hence the unfortunate mixture of US and UK spellings in this piece. She blogs at http://glosswatch.com about feminism, motherhood and anything that annoys her (i.e. anything).

Motherhood in Film & Television: Being a Good Mother in ‘Gilmore Girls’

Rory and Lorelai Gilmore are the Gilmore Girls
This is a guest post from Friederike Wunschik
The two main characters of Gilmore Girls are a mother-daughter pair: Lorelai and Rory Gilmore. There are two things the viewer is told almost instantly: they are only 16 years apart and actually have the same first name (though the daughter goes by a baby-version of it). 
The Lorelais’ adventures and development are what propels the series forward. Their relationship is characterized by friendship, mutual understanding and respect, with only a few hiccups when the older Lorelai actually goes into mom-mode. They live in Stars Hollow (the imaginary Connecticut town that serves as the backdrop for most of the series), which is quaint, safe, and homogenous (there are practically no persons of color and income disparity is not an issue). Both are depicted as strong and independent women with the occasional romantic interest that never really threatens this independence.
Lorelai Gilmore is certainly depicted as a non-conventional mother. She has been described as a “disgraced Connecticut Brahmin teen heiress who flees prep school to keep and raise her now teen-aged daughter while estranged from her own parents” (Jennifer Crusie, Coffee at Luke’s, p. 174). But she is not the only mother in the series. Gilmore Girls spends a surprisingly large amount of time focusing on mother-characters, some of which are shown more often and more in-depth than others.
The first episode deals with Lorelai reluctantly contacting her parents (after 16 years of barely talking to them) in order to ask them for financial help. The viewer is immediately aware of the awkwardness and manipulation between Lorelai and her mother, Emily. Later we meet one of Rory’s friends, Lane, whose Korean immigrant mother is shown to be very strict and religious – she is only ever addressed as “Mrs. Kim”.
In subsequent seasons other mothers are show-cased:
  • Liz Danes, Luke’s sister (Luke is one of Lorelai’s main love-interests) and mother of Rory’s troubled second boyfriend Jess
  • Sookie (Lorelai’s best friend; she becomes pregnant in season 3)
  • Sherry Tinsdale (the absent mother of Rory’s much younger half-sister Gigi)
  • Lane, Rory’s best friend (she becomes pregnant in season 7)
This list is not complete in any way, and many of the female inhabitants of Stars Hollow take on temporary parenting responsibilities throughout the series.
Despite the various complications and problems the characters experience as mothers, motherhood is depicted as a fundamentally good thing in Gilmore Girls. Each mother in this series tries her best and finds her own solutions to various problems.
However, the different mother-models occasionally clash, causing the characters to question each others’ and their own style and technique. They even go so far as to openly criticize each other, forcing the viewer to consider both points of view and weigh the advantages and disadvantages of the parenting approaches. Nevertheless, it is important to note that every child in the series turns out alright, despite any problems it might have encountered.
In the following paragraphs I will analyze some of the issues the mothers of the series struggle with. 
Nurturing and Food
It is easy – but not fair – to extrapolate the quality of parenting a mother provides from the quality of the meals she serves.
One of the most emphasized aspects of Lorelai Gilmore’s mothering, apart from her youthful mother-friend approach, is the lack of home cooking. The Gilmore girls barely use their kitchen and table. They make coffee and Pop Tarts. They order take-out – a lot. The biggest effort Lorelai ever puts into the preparation of food is when she makes peanut butter sandwiches and marshmallow and gummy bear skewers for a movie marathon or “dessert sushi” to cheer up Rory (Season 07 Episode 02; check out http://gilmoregirlsgourmet.tumblr.com/post/12420447490/dessert-sushi for more on dessert sushi).
Dessert sushi
This lack of culinary skill is a matter of pride for Lorelai. She and Rory eat quite a lot junk food during each episode, but most “real” meals are consumed either at Luke’s diner, at Emily’s house, or consist of a selection of take-out eaten in front of the television. Lorelai is a working mom and does not have a lot of time to prepare meals. Her refusal to even try can be interpreted in several ways: she enjoys her consumerist lifestyle too much, she is too much of a child herself to consider providing a healthy and balanced diet to her daughter, or she is happy to be free of a chore she doesn’t enjoy.
Emily’s dinner table
Emily on the other hand uses Friday night dinners to guarantee a certain involvement in her daughter’s and granddaughter’s lives. She does not prepare meals either, she has help do that for her. Nevertheless she plans the meals and insists they be eaten at an impeccably set dining room table. Because she tries to control Lorelai’s life through the forced attendance, these dinners are often the site of conflict; in one instance Emily even tells the maid to take away Lorelai’s plate, thereby showing the viewer how much she is willing to use these meals as a means of control. (S04E06)
Mrs. Kim’s dinner table
Mrs. Kim’s Korean cooking is only used to highlight her Otherness. Lane longs for the pizza and candy diet Rory is on, yet she must endure weird foreign food that none of her friends know. Because Mrs. Kim is so strict about a healthy diet, Lane is forced to hide a stash of candy bars under the floorboards in her room and is afraid to eat fried foods, convinced her mother can smell it on her later.
As a chef, Sookie is used to cooking elaborate haute cuisine meals. She likes experimenting with ingredients and tastes. When she is asked to cater a children’s birthday she serves decidedly grown-up food. This incident serves to highlight her unpreparedness for motherhood: how can she look after a child when she doesn’t even know what to feed them? (S04E03) This unpreparedness is mirrored in the final season when Sookie finds out she is pregnant for a third time. (S07E12) After giving birth to her second child, Sookie had ordered (not asked) her husband to get a vasectomy, which he failed to do. This third pregnancy freaks Sookie out and she lists all the ways she is not mentally prepared for this baby “there was less than 4000 left […] diapers! For the last year and a half I’ve been changing more than 20 diapers a day! […] There was a light at the end of the tunnel. […] Diaper rash, colic, and potty training.”
Controlling One’s Child
As mentioned before, Emily uses Friday night dinners to keep tabs on both her daughter and granddaughter. She has a history of trying to control every aspect of Lorelai’s life (Lorelai occasionally compares her mother to dictators). Lorelai says that she would have run away, teen pregnancy or not, because she had “nothing in that house; I had no life, I had no air; you strangled me.” Emily argues that she did everything to provide a good life for Lorelai “I put you in good schools, I gave you the best of everything, and I made sure you had the finest opportunities.” (S01E09) These efforts were not only wildly unsuccessful, but might have actually driven Lorelai to actively seek out activities and people her mother would disapprove of. (S07E03)
Given her reaction to her mother’s parenting, it is not surprising that Lorelai is much more lax when it comes to Rory. Lorelai tries not to pass too much judgement on boyfriends and is not too strict about curfews. However, when Rory slips up and doesn’t come home at all (S01E09), Lorelai almost lets Emily convince her that Rory will make the same mistakes Lorelai did and will “ruin everything” by becoming a teen mom.
Emily is not the only one to criticize Lorelai’s laissez-faire attitude: Mrs. Kim confronts her in S01E07 and tells her “maybe you should be less busy […] then you could keep your daughter from running around kissing boys. […]” Arguing that “Lane is a young impressionable girl, she doesn’t need to hear about your daughter’s kissing.” Obviously Mrs. Kim feels that Lorelai and Rory are undermining her efforts to raise Lane appropriately. In the end, her strict parenting does not stop Lane from dropping out of college, joining a band and marrying a man who is not Korean. Nevertheless, Mrs. Kim makes peace with that in the end, helping her son-in-law to write a song, throwing Lane’s wedding, and offering her support when Lane unexpectedly becomes pregnant. None of her religious parenting has really stuck, except one thing: Lane won’t have sex until she is married and when she does have sex she comes away believing that her mother was right when she said it is not enjoyable at all. (S07E02)
Liz Danes presumably also had her first child very early, though not as early as Lorelai, and her son Jess serves as an example of a child running wild because his mother cannot control him. She is a single mother and somewhat of a wild child herself. Because she cannot provide a stable household to her son, Liz sends Jess to live with his uncle Luke in Stars Hollow. Despite being a troubled teenager, Jess later finds happiness in running an independent publishing house. (S06E18) Liz becomes pregnant again in season 6. This second pregnancy makes Liz panic and she convinces herself that her husband, TJ, will be a horrible father and she needs to avoid the mistakes she made with Jess. (S06E21) In the end, though, she and TJ are very happy together and have fun raising their daughter.
Parental Absence
Absent parents play a substantial role in Gilmore Girls. Lorelai is a single mom, Liz was a single mom, the viewer is never told whether there is a Mr. Kim or not, even Luke finds out he’s missed the first 12 years of his daughter’s life because he didn’t know about her. Yet, the parent whose absence is seen as most problematic is Sherry’s.
Shortly after Rory’s father, Christopher, decides to be more involved in his daughter’s life, the viewer is introduced to his girlfriend Sherry (S02E14), only to find out that Christopher is unhappy in his relationship and wants to leave her. Nevertheless, when he finds out she is pregnant, he goes back to her. (S02E22) Two years later Sherry leaves Christopher and their daughter Gigi to take a job in Paris, France. (S05E06) After another two years she contacts Christopher and says she would like to see Gigi again. (S07E07) Her disappearance and reappearance drive the plot of several episodes in which Lorelai and Rory contemplate and try to make sense of Sherry’s actions. Although ultimately no real judgement is passed, the Gilmore girls are obviously baffled and alienated by this behavior and wary of Sherry’s reconnecting with Christopher and Gigi.
No Bad Mothers Here
Ultimately, none of the mothers shown in Gilmore Girls are bad mothers. Even Emily is shown to be understanding and nurturing. In the end everything turns out alright: Rory graduates from Yale, making her mother and grandparents proud; the entire town of Stars Hollow throws Rory a graduation party, prompting Emily and her husband to express their pride in their daughter for cultivating such strong friendships for herself and her daughter; Jess has redeemed himself and his mother by pursuing an intellectual life as an author and publisher; Lane has reconciled herself with Mrs. Kim and gives birth to twin boys.
Lorelai is obviously celebrated as the best mother in town, she is young, fun, independent, and interested in letting Rory be herself. But throughout the series the viewer sees that she doesn’t have the answers to all the questions and all the mothers are just doing the best they can.
Further reading: 
Calvin, Ritch, ed. Gilmore Girls and the Politics of Identity: Essays on Family and Feminism in the Television Series. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2008.
Crusie, Jennifer, ed. Coffee at Luke’s: An Unauthorized Gilmore Girls Gabfest. Dallas, TX: BenBella, 2007.

Friederike Wunschik lives in Germany and has an M.A. in American Culture Studies. She occasionally blogs on friederike.wunschik.net. She will become a mother later this year and is excited and terrified at the same time.