Since paganism revolves around the ideas of female and male deities, with special emphasis placed upon the role of women’s bodies and their natural connection to the earth, its accessible and inspiring.
In the end, most of these films and shows end up being a tangled dichotomy of supernatural darkness and violence, contrasted with very standard aspects of career and love; also, usually a lot of “girl talk” about boys and shoes.
Therefore, it begs the question, do women ask for these shows? Or are they merely consuming what media executives think they want?
A poor example of witches from Famke Janssen in Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters
With the recent season finale of The Witches of East End, the start-up of The Vampire Diaries, and then a whole slew of 90s rerun watching, the realization came: the occult is overwhelming the province of women. TV shows and films about the supernatural are always marketed to women—it’s one genre in fact where female characters have the lead and outnumber their male counterparts.
For some reason women seem indelibly drawn to representations of the cult, but within the context of wicca and paganism. Either that or they have been marketed as the exclusive province of women. Why is that?
Since paganism revolves around the ideas of female and male deities, with special emphasis placed upon the role of women’s bodies and their natural connection to the earth, its accessible and inspiring.
In the end, most of these films and shows end up being a tangled dichotomy of supernatural darkness and violence, contrasted with very standard aspects of career and love; also, usually a lot of “girl talk” about boys and shoes.
Therefore, it begs the question, do women ask for these shows? Or are they merely consuming what media executives think they want?
Probably both. And that’s not to put down such shows because in reality there’s been some beautiful acting and surprising plotlines and characters: the harried, independent woman, saving the world from evil while also trying to pay her bills and get a decent haircut is apparently an image that resonates deeply for female viewers.
But more than that, these shows of the supernatural aren’t action dramas of heroism, but rather, a discovery and exploration of female growth and power outside of physical strength.
Beautiful Elizabeth Montgomery was a trickster domestic goddess. She was elegant and all-knowing while always in some crazy family shenanigans, but not the ditzy shenanigans of I Dream of Jeannie (which no one is knocking). Bewitched occupied the number two spot in American television and ran for a total of eight season, but its popularity never really died and its been a staple of middle-American reruns ever since. And its longevity is deserved, within Bewitched we find a mysterious and powerful woman, otherworldly even, accessing a magic her adorable, albeit frazzled husband can’t even begin to understand. Within all of that, Montgomery struggled to mold into her suburban housewife role, making her infinitely relatable as well as fascinating.
In The Witches of Eastwick, John Updike’s novel of the same name isn’t perhaps done justice with the offbeat, camp of the 80s in this film, despite the efforts of Jack Nicholson, Cher, Susan Sarandon, and Michelle Pfeiffer.
These witches are not sisters, but what they do have is a far more naughty, realistic sort of paganism than the other (slightly goody-goody) witches used. Here, the witches are powerful, but also bitter, petty, lonely, silly, smart, independent, sexy, and seduce-able. Unfortunately, in the film version, the delightfully real woman aren’t aware of their supernatural powers until they basically start sleeping with the devil and have a sexual awakening and a threesome (Hollywood really decided to play around with the original plot).
Either way though, there’s fierceness and female connection, again the standard themes for female self-discovery (albeit couched within desire and lust).
The Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman remake of the classic Alice Hoffman novel, Practical Magic, repeated again the overwhelming wiccan theme of sisters, although this time there are three sets of sisters, rather than just two: the wise and ancient aunts, the bickering, bitter adults, and the bickering, hopeful youth. These women are grounded in their very normal, strained, familial relationships and in trying to repair it, but in this version they are also outcasts seeking acceptance from the town’s women.
There’s also a strain of dark violence running through the film, and it is this, a sort of communal fear, and a desire for safety and control, even for power, that brings all of the town’s women together as a supernatural shelter for a battered woman.
Charmed followed the “everyday woman with extraordinary life” formula with great success for an entire eight-season run: three sisters battled the forces evil and transitioned from young 20-somethings to successful 30-somethings. Each sister had her bout with her own dark side and an obligatory date with a demon, but hidden within a pretty fun, entertaining, often silly show, was the story of three women growing up and transitioning into confident, generous women who actually did have it all: career, family, money, good sex and great hair, and magical powers.
Perhaps most notable, aside from the early seasons special effects, was that Charmed really did manage to portray the growing pains of adulthood for women in the 21st century, dealing with job-hunting, career changes, dating, infertility, divorce, marriage, death, all bound together through the ties of family: grandmother, daughter, sisters, motherhood.
Witches of East End is less of an East Coast Charmed (Charmed took place in San Francisco and had a distinct West-coast vibe) and seems more like a Practical Magic TV show. It features two sets of sisters, the older played by the incomparable Julia Ormond and Madchen Amick, and the younger by Jenna Dewan Tatum and Rachel Boston. The sisters are forever cursed to die young and be constantly reborn to their powerful mother (Ormond) and witness the antics of fun-loving wild, cat transforming aunt (Amick). The show’s plot settles on the witchy powers of the women and the events of their past lives and the men who wander in and out of them; but Witches of East End finds its center in the up-and down relationships of the two sisters, especially Joanna (Ormond) and Wendy (Amick), whose interactions are fantastic.
Because these women live hundreds of year together, their lives completely entwined, Witches of East End highlights the bonds of sisterhood beyond just blood relation.
Through so many variations of the powerful female witch arising to power and self-realization, these shows are also showing generally relatable women struggling to balance intense power with their personal lives of love, family and career. It’s a theme that seems to echo the ongoing debate surrounding women; “Can we have it all?”
In these shows, she can, and more.
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Rachel is a traveler and teacher who spent the last few years living in Asia. Now back in her native California, she focuses on writing about media, culture, and feminism. While a big fan of campy 80s movies and eccentric sci-fi, she’s become a cable acolyte, spending most of her time watching HBO, AMC, and Showtime. For good stories about lions and bungee jumping, as well as rants about sexism and slow drivers, follow her on Twitter at @RachelRedfern2
HBO’s newest miniseries ‘True Detective,’ starring Matthew McConaughey (Rusty) and Woody Harrelson (Marty), has already spawned a substantial cult following, receiving universal acclaim, and it’s only just reached the halfway point at episode number four.
If you’re not watching it, you should be. ‘True Detective’ is being hailed as the “rise of the miniseries” (following on the heels of the mini-series sweep at the 2014 Golden Globes), a continuation of the TV excellence that has, and will continue to drastically reshape our visual storytelling experience (that’s a big claim, but one to bet on in the coming years).
HBO’s newest miniseries True Detective, starring Matthew McConaughey (Rusty) and Woody Harrelson (Marty), has already spawned a substantial cult following, receiving universal acclaim, and it’s only just reached the halfway point at episode number four.
If you’re not watching it, you should be. True Detective is being hailed as the “rise of the miniseries” (following on the heels of the mini-series sweep at the 2014 Golden Globes), a continuation of the TV excellence that has, and will continue to drastically reshape our visual storytelling experience (that’s a big claim, but one to bet on in the coming years).
At the forefront of the True Detective conversation is its subversion of the overdone police procedural (finally) and its meshing of gritty realism and drug-fueled surrealism, creating narrative that is both poignant and disturbing. Its scenes blend sharp, cynical dialogue with the ever-changing landscape of rural Louisiana.
Rusty (Matthew McCaunghey) and Marty (Woody Harrelson) spinning out of control.
The cinematography is fantastic; episode four, “Who Goes There” features a visceral, though down to earth, six-minute, one shot, gun fight (meaning one take through several houses, a few backyards, and one chain link fence). The scene overwhelms when contrasted with the highly edited, over-wrought action scenes we are spoon-fed at every Hollywood blockbuster and police drama. In fact, the scene orchestrated by Cary Fukunaga is so impressive, many are calling it the best scene of the TV season.
The soundtrack is throbbing, underplaying the simple actions of a police investigation and turning it into an event of greater significance: This is isn’t just a race to stop a serial killer, it’s a metaphor for the battle of good and evil, punctuated by Nic Pizzolatto’s intricate character studies of Rusty in his obsessive nihilism and Marty’s downward spiral.
Yet, for a show that is steeped within the masculinity of a 1996 rural Louisiana police station, and the personal crises of its two male leads, how are the women of True Detective faring? Its women are murdered and raped, wives and prostitutes, stenographers and secretaries. In short, the gritty brush with which Pizzolatto has painted Rusty and Marty has been used on the female cast as well.
However, some of True Detective’s women are all the more compelling because of their flawed station in life, and not just because it’s sadly accurate. In 1991, less than 9 percent of the US police force was female, so the fact that these women operate within in a different capacity doesn’t make the show any less forceful.
In fact, the ways that these women, varied, and often pitiful, demonstrate an adaptability and survival for their incredibly hostile environment, takes a prominent role in the mini series; since TrueDetective shows so much of Louisiana during their search, it similarly shows much of its women (especially within the confines of poverty).
One of True Detectives many prostitutes.
As the show progresses, one character in particular shines (if you want to call it that) in his interactions with women: Marty. The easy possession that “family man” Marty exerts over the women in his life, beginning to show a penchant for violence in his need to continue that dominion towards his wife Maggie (Michelle Monaghan) and girlfriend Lisa (Alexandra Daddario), is the key factor in showing Marty’s breakdown.
Yet, for all of the effort to steep his characters in realism, some would argue that True Detective still relies on sexist cliché to communicate it’s character failings; Sean Collins of Rolling Stone points out:
“But the idea of a mistress not understanding that’s all she’s supposed to be good for, besides being sexist points back to the show’s reliance on stock characters.”
And Collins might have a point there; so far, the show has featured a lot of women as victims. Though in episode two, “Seeing Things,” the dame of a whorehouse (a sort-of victim) offers an either brilliant, or crazy, provocative reason for prostitution.
Dame: “What do you know about where that girl’s been? Where she come from?…It’s a woman’s body ain’t it? A woman’s choice”
Marty: “She doesn’t look like a woman to me. At that age she’s not equipped to make those choices, but what do you care as long as you get your money?”
Dame: “Girls walk this earth all the time screwing for free, why is it you add business to the mix and boys like you can’t stand the thought. I’ll tell you why, its cause suddenly you don’t own it the way you thought you did.”
Which is an interesting foreshadowing to Marty’s violence when he later discovers that the woman he is having an affair with is also seeing someone else. The line itself, “you don’t own it the way you thought you did,” is particularly meaningful when aimed at the wandering possessiveness of Marty; however, outside of the episode, it enters the heated discussion on female sexuality, shame, and the commercialization of the female body.
Beth (Lily Simmons) as an underage prostitute.
This comes around to the tagline for the show, “Heart of Darkness,” an obvious play on words from Joseph Conrad’s classic novella about the African jungle, Heart of Darkness, (fitting since Pizzolatto spent several years teaching literature and writing in academia). For True Detective, the audience is left wondering, is the “Heart of Darkness” the Louisiana landscape? A metaphor for the state of humanity? Or a more literal casting of the two heros’ state of being?
Effective, especially considering that HBO’s website pops up as “Touch the Darkness” (and “Darkness Becomes You”), inviting the audience to experience the demons without, and the demons within.
There’s been some uproar, some talk, some criticism, and a lot of excitement about the return of ‘Girls.’ Lena Dunham’s insanely successful show (which for a show about a unsuccessful 20-something girl, strangely leaves me feeling even more unsuccessful as a 20-something girl who doesn’t have my own HBO show), while receiving fairly universal acclaim, has also been the recipient of some harsh criticism: where is the show’s diversity? And why is Dunham always naked?
There’s been some uproar, some talk, some criticism, and a lot of excitement about the return of Girls. Lena Dunham’s insanely successful show (which for a show about a unsuccessful 20-something girl, strangely leaves me feeling even more unsuccessful as a 20-something girl who doesn’t have my own HBO show), while receiving fairly universal acclaim, has also been the recipient of some harsh criticism: where is the show’s diversity? And why is Dunham always naked?
To be fair, both are valuable observations of the darkly comedic show; if you’re going to spend a lot of time naked on screen, what are the reasons? And, for a show about the millennial experience in New York City, why does the show only have white people?
First, for the commentators on the amount of nudity in Girls, I disagree; Dunham’s instances of sex (much like Masters of Sex) appear as way to further the character development, rather than give the audience “sexy times.” Jessa going down on another woman in the second episode, “Truth or Dare,” didn’t feel pandering or exploiting like most “girl on girl” sex scenes are; instead, if felt like an exposure of Jessa using sexuality, along with another person, in order to fulfill her own interest. Or as the Los Angeles Times said, “Dunham is forcing us to reconsider what bodies we value and why. It isn’t just nudity. It’s revolutionary.”
Second, there have been a lot of shows about white women in New York City, so yes, I think it’s time for change. Hopefully in the near future HBO and other prominent networks will expand into more varied character territory. Also, I think Dunham’s been fairly aware of the criticism leveled at the popular show and in her words, “We need to talk about diversifying the world of television. We are trying to continue to do it in ways that are genuine, natural, intelligent, but we heard all of that and really felt it deeply.” I feel it’s too Dunham’s credit as a writer that she “diversify” Girls in a way that flows naturally from the story.
More importantly though, Jessica Williams of The Daily Show glory will have a few spots in Girls season 3 (there’s no way this can turn out badly), and had some amazing thoughts on the situation: “It’s her art and it’s her voice. It’s not her responsibility to write from my experience.” I suggest you read it for yourself, since she says it so much better than I ever could.
“A little nepotiz” noticed by internet meme people.
There’s also been that nepotism controversy with Dunham, which could be true, but oh well. So Dunham made a TV show with her friends, does it make it any less well-done? Are the children of famous people destined to live a life away from ambition just because their parents were famous? No, (but to be fair, let’s be honest, the saying “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know” is a thing for a reason).
Now, on to the show.
Girls has a more sitcom feeling this year, moving past a lot of the darkness that characterized season two: Hannah’s OCD behavior, Marnie’s failure at everything, and Jessa’s inexplicable disappearance. Season three wraps all those issues up nicely and quickly picks the show up and runs along (though whether a good choice to keep the show moving, or losing key plot and character moments remains to be seen).
Surprisingly, Adam and Hannah’s relationship seems to have mellowed and Adam is by turns deeply disturbing and charming, though more charming than disturbing; which is good since I found his odd rape references in season one really problematic.
But the first few episodes raise some good questions for the audience: what seem to be the most prominent themes of season three? Jessa’s storyline seems to have been built up this year, which I hope for more of as Jessa’s bluntness is, hands down, one of the best things on the show.
As to Marnie, will she find her way out of the wilderness? I especially liked the quick scene of Marnie waiting for the bus in the ‘burbs, a quick moment to show us the alienation that she feels from the city and her former life.
Also, since when was Adam a love guru? Giving impossibly bad advice about making immediate connections with people and “Just knowing that they’re right for you” seems a little off, cause, you know, love at first sight and overwhelming feelings of immediate love were never a bad idea.
One thing to note this season though, is how Dunham has changed as a director. Three years of experience in directing with a first-rate network (HBO) have obviously enhanced the ways that she’s expressing scenes. Dunham and the Girls crew seem much more willing to invest in longer shots and monologue, interjected with quicker moments of character exposition, i.e.: Marnie waiting for the bus, Jessa on her older friend’s bed with a disarmingly sincere smile, Hannah curled up in the leaves listening to This American Life.
Everyone is either bored or geekin’ out. Sort of like real life.
This season seem to be picking up quickly in the arena of gender commentary, most notably in the way that women interact with each other, and the way that women are seen as interacting with each other. Early on Adam voices his opinion on how women behave, saying, “Women get stuck in this vortex of guilt and jealousy with each other that keep them from seeing situations clearly.”
Also, Amy Schumer was there with a weird bit about pregnancy that was terrifying, awkward, hilarious, and probably everything you’ve ever wanted to say to an ex.
Unexpectedly, people seem to be over the Marnie storyline and are instead focusing on Shoshanna, a character viewed as sort of trivial, but who is growing up and into herself by exploring her sexuality after losing her virginity (raise your hand if you’ve been there), while also juggling school and remaining inordinately optimistic about her post-graduation options (oh my god, it’s me).
I can’t wait to see Shoshanna next season when she’s looking for a job.
But, hands down, the best line of the two-episode premier, proving that the show has a few laughs ahead, comes from the indomitable Hannah Horvath: “This rocking chair is so pointed it’s just not giving me any room to express myself.”
On Aug. 21, 2010, 14-year-old Laura Dekker sailed out of Den Osse, Netherlands for a two-year circumnavigation of the world, alone. By the time she finished her journey, on Jan. 21, 2012, at the age of only 16, Dekker would be the youngest person to ever sail solo around the world. Documentary ‘Maidentrip’ chronicles Laura’s voyage. It’s an emotional coming-of-age story, set as a love letter to the ocean and the transformative experience of encountering a larger world.
On Aug. 21, 2010, 14-year-old Laura Dekker sailed out of Den Osse, Netherlands for a two-year circumnavigation of the world, alone. By the time she finished her journey, on Jan. 21, 2012, at the age of only 16, Dekker would be the youngest person to ever sail solo around the world.
Following her journey was documentary filmmaker, Jillian Schlesinger; from film shot while meeting with Dekker at various points in the trip, and sea-voyage scenes filmed by Dekker’s hand-held camera, Schlesinger has produced an emotional coming-of-age story, set as a love letter to the ocean and the transformative experience of encountering a larger world.
Since there were two Bitch Flicks’ staff vying for the opportunity to review Maidentrip, which premieres Friday, Jan. 17, in New York City, writers Rachel Redfern and Megan Kearns teamed up to produce a special conversation-based review, sharing their reactions to the award-winning documentary.
Rachel: Well first of all, this movie was fantastic! It really hit me on a personal level, since I just returned for two years living abroad in South Korea, and I remember what it was like to really push myself outside of my comfort zone. Watching the changes that Laura goes through and her feelings of loneliness and wonder, it made me relive a lot of my own experiences. But after watching the film, I wanted to go on an adventure again, to leave and challenge myself. Which to me means that it’s a powerful and dynamic film, when it can force audiences to identify with the protagonist, evaluate their own emotions, and then motivate them.
Megan: Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!! I completely agree with you. I thought Maidentrip was fantastic too. The film really struck a chord with me on multiple levels. I thought it was incredible to be able to view her journey through her perspective, to see the world through her eyes. It’s rare for a film to show us a woman or girl’s perspective throughout. I was also impressed by her determination and resolve.
Megan: Laura wasn’t doing this for fame or notoriety or money, but that she had a dream as a child that she was determined to fulfill. That she wanted to go after something so passionately. I’ve always wanted to travel the world, but due to finances or school or work, I’ve never been able to travel as much I yearn to. So it was wonderful for her to seize the moment and just do it. I also loved that she didn’t like school because she didn’t like people telling her what to do!
Rachel: Yes, I was blown away by her maturity and how grounded she was, she’s obviously an incredibly mature and independent young woman
Megan: Yes! We need to see more independent young woman like Laura on-screen. It’s so fascinating how she was far more interested in exploring, meeting new people, trying new things, seeing new places.And how comfortable she was with herself and with being alone, yet when she met people, she had these deep connections.
Rachel: That speaks a lot to her personality I think, to be so comfortable disembarking from her boat at the age of 14 and wandering around a country by herself.
Megan: She rejected the narrative of what she’s “supposed to do.” And I love that. It was intriguing to see her journey. It was a moving love letter to travel and to sailing.
Rachel: I absolutely agree. In fact, I thought that the film did a beautiful job of showing the wonder and beauty of sailing, as well as the great community around sailing. The film also did a great job of showing how skilled Laura is as a sailor and her obvious love of sailing. I loved that Laura confesses that only Guppy, her boat, feels like home, but it could also be taken as a criticism of her home life and relationship with her parents
Megan: I also thought it was interesting when she says that true freedom is to not have attachments. It seems like Laura became increasingly comfortable on her own away from people. She seemed to crave solitude.
Rachel: I was really struck by Laura’s development, as she came into herself and became a more private person–obviously not wanting to deal with other people, and loving the moments when she was just alone on her boat. That was one thing I loved about the film was that it was able to really show Laura’s changes; it’s fantastic to be able to see someone grow up in a two hour film.
Megan: Yes, me too! That typically only happens in the arc of a TV series. Not a two-hour movie. AND we typically only see coming-of-age stories with men/boys. Not women/girls.
Rachel: Yes, I found it refreshing! I was really stunned that Schlesinger was able to show so much or Laura’s self-assurance and confidence as the trip progresses. I just felt that it painted a whole and complete picture of an individual really coming of age. And, maybe a weird side note, but I love that we see Laura physically change (her face, she grows up, and dyes her hair).
Megan: That’s a fantastic point! I couldn’t believe that so much was shown, revealed…yet it felt so expansive and not rushed at all. The film really breathed. Although sometimes, with my short attention span, I wanted things to hurry up. But I was so glad that they didn’t. The film really unfolded beautifully. I really felt that I want on this emotional and physical journey with Laura. It’s as if her journey at sea was a physical manifestation of her moving through the liminal stages of childhood/adolescence and into adulthood.
Laura Dekker on the deck of “Guppy”
Rachel: What did you feel that you gained the most from the film?
Megan: I’m glad you asked! I think I’d have to say the most I gained was to stop wasting time or making excuses and go after what you want. To pursue your dreams, whatever they may be. To not give a shit about people’s opinions. To chart your own course. Sometimes we as adults get bogged down in our day-to-day duties and responsibilities. We forget what matters most to us. We put our dreams on the back burner.
What did you gain most from the film?
Rachel: Something similar to you I think; I gained a desire to travel/go abroad again. I guess that it reaffirmed my belief in the power of experiences to change us in really profound ways and the need to be proactive in our lives and really push and challenge ourselves. And challenging yourself can be so difficult, that it seems daunting and overwhelming sometimes. For instance, in the film, when speaking about a difficult time in her journey, her first few weeks alone on the first big ocean crossing, Laura said, “I just couldn’t get any food down, I just feel really strange.” I kept thinking about my own experiences living abroad, and how it can be so expanding, but also terrifying. But then, only a few minutes later, we see her crying as a group of dolphins play alongside her boat and she confesses to the camera how much they mean to her, as company, and as a reminder of the beauty of the world.
Rachel: Laura’s story is an intense one, and has garnered a lot of media attention. It’s great that they are recognizing the accomplishment of this incredible young woman. And in conjunction with that, it was interesting when Laura talked about the two other young woman who tried to do the “Not Stop Around The World” records: Jessica from Australia and Abby from America. Did you notice all three were women? I was curious, if there were also a lot of young men trying to do the same thing?
Megan: Yes, I DID notice that too!
Rachel: I think that it’s telling that there are brave young women so willing, and so focused on their goals, that they’re out there doing these kinds of things.
Megan: Perhaps there’s this notion of getting out there because society so often dictates to women what they can and can’t do. It’s a form of rebellion. A revolutionary act. Maybe even on a subconscious level?
Rachel: Interesting idea. What did you think of the cinematography of the movie? Especially since half of the film was hand-held footage from Laura herself?
Megan: I thought it was stunning, breathtaking. I really felt the majesty and beauty of nature. And I liked that the majority of the footage was shot by Laura. Sure, some of it was choppy. But I thought that added to its charm. It’s a little rough around the edges. But then the camera pans on this exquisite sunset. Seeing the waves crash against the boat in the storm, the dolphins swimming beside the boat. It made me feel like I was right there alongside her. Also, I thought the score was haunting and beautiful, punctuating the story perfectly.
Rachel: Yes, it made me feel more involved in the film, the traveling and the sailing with the camera rocking around; probably just one more reason that the movie was so powerful. I also thought it was a tribute to Jillian as a filmmaker that she was able to effectively use different elements of storytelling to accentuate Laura’s youth, and the fact that she is searching for herself, her place in the world, and her independence. Yet, all of this is couched within the framework of Laura’s love of sailing. I love how this film was able to speak to both of us on such a personal level, and really connected with us in our past experiences.
Laura Dekker and her home, “Guppy”
Megan: But now you’ve got me thinking… Documentary films are so tricky. Because I’m thinking of the film, framing it as a story, despite it being a true one. Documentaries always have a bias, a perspective that the filmmaker wants you to see. They’re manipulative. Not necessarily in a bad way, but they’re trying to make you see/feel something specific.
Rachel: I think that’s a great point. What perspective/bias do you think Jillian was trying to portray?
Megan: Hmmm…I think she was trying to convey a coming-of-age story. That here’s this incredibly brave, independent, mature, thoughtful young women. Setting out to achieve her dream but also discovering more about herself along the way. There’s this aura of anything is possible.
Rachel: I love that the film brought up Laura’s very conflicted relationship with the press, touching on the fact that the Dutch government tried to stop Laura’s journey, and even have her removed from her father’s custody, especially since Laura never wanted that kind of notoriety for her trip.
Megan: YES. But it’s so interesting that she has a film made about her, yet she values her privacy and doesn’t like journalists with their prying questions.
Rachel: I would be very interested to know how Julian (the director) was able to convince Laura and her father to participate in the project. As a little aside though…I did some research yesterday and found a few articles stating that Laura Dekker is not happy with the film and isn’t supporting it anymore. Which is a very interesting continuation of Laura’s distrust of the media.
Megan: Oh wow.
Rachel: But apparently Schlesinger (the director) has been fantastic about Laura’s refusal to support the film
“Jillian Schlesinger, to her credit, doesn’t seem to be taking Laura’s disapproval too personally. ‘We prefer to respect Laura’s privacy and to let her speak for herself on the matter as much or as little as she’d like to at this time.'”
Rachel: I suppose it would be hard for me to watch a story of my own life journey from kid into adult….To see my mistakes, even if it did end up in a positive place?
Megan: While of course Jillian edited the film and scored it, it’s still a majority of Laura’s footage which I think makes it different than most other documentaries. Perhaps this is naive, but I feel like it makes it a “purer” story. Truer to the source.
Rachel: Especially since it’s all Laura, there are no outside influences going on there.
Megan: You raise a great point about how hard it must be for Laura to watch this, to see her triumphs but also her mistakes, her pain and her growth. What do you think about the film’s commentary on the passage of time?
Rachel: Oh, great question! Because it does cover a full two years in only two hours, I think that it can sometimes be easy to forget just how long two years is, and they end up shortening six weeks at sea into five minutes of footage. Perhaps, whether intentional or not, the film really underscores memory of time, only choosing the parts we consider the most important or significant to remember, when in reality, there might be more to the story. Things that could have been important to someone else, but that we don’t always remember or see or hear about. What do you think that the film is saying about time?
Megan: I agree with you. Also, I thought it was interesting that Laura says, “After 30 days [at sea], time doesn’t exist any more. It was the best feeling…I made peace with it. I was just there, with nature.” That was really powerful. To slow down. To not obsess over the past or worry about the future, but to really live in the moment.
Megan: I know we already talked about the media. But I thought it was interesting and awful to see all the headlines and descriptions of Laura in the media before her voyage. That she was “crazy” and “unstable.” I wonder, would they have said the same thing about a boy her age?
Rachel: The horrific things people were saying about her! Do you remember that one person said, “I hope she sinks” And I just thought, “Really? I mean, really? You thought that was OK to say? Wishing for someone else’s death?!” I was shocked. Hmmm, I’m not sure that they would have, I think they would have been more willing to let him go ahead with the trip.
Megan: Yes, I remember her saying that! That’s disgusting. Why would you wish for someone’s death?! And the media would never say that about a boy. They might say reckless or impetuous or something like that. But not “crazy” or “unstable.”
Rachel: That is one thing I’ve noticed, as a traveler and a woman, People are ALWAYS telling me, “But do you feel safe?” “Don’t you think it would be better to travel with a group?” I think people definitely have this perception that women maybe shouldn’t be traveling alone, because it’s too dangerous, and because of this, many women stop themselves. And while yes, we can’t ignore that it can be more dangerous as a woman, I think it’s unfortunate that so many women stop themselves from opportunities, or are stopped by others, because of fear.
I love that Maidentrip is about a girl taking control of her life and doing what she needs to do.
Rachel: But all that said, would I allow my 14-year-daughter do what Laura did? Probably not. And I think it is a valid point, and one that is underscored by Laura’s own admissions, she didn’t have the best relationship with her parents, making her an incredibly self-assured and independent young woman
Though, I wonder, while I don’t think many 14-year-olds would be ready to leave their parents and go off into the world, history is full of people stepping up at that age and doing incredible things.
Megan: You raise a fantastic point. I wouldn’t let my daughter (if I had one) go on a trip alone at that age. Especially sailing, when there’s so much that can go wrong. But then I think, you can’t live your life in fear. I’m torn. But yes, her loving yet strained relationship with her parents had to have played a role.
Rachel: I think people are far more capable than we give them credit for and Maidentrip is definitely a testament to the human ability to adjust itself to its environment.
One thing, the sea is always thought of as a woman (as is mother nature), perhaps it’s significant that a girl who had a very sad relationship with her mother, would have this typically female symbol (the ocean) guiding her into womanhood.
Megan: YES! And boats are named after women. That definitely makes the film even more powerful on a symbolic gender level.
Rachel: Yes! It becomes an incredibly female film, centered in the female experience.
Megan: Yes, it illustrates Laura’s perseverance, determination and resolve. What a survivor. I also love when Laura says, “There were all these people who looked at me like it was impossible that I had come in with this weather. And then as I finally started to warm up again and to think straight, I realized that wow, that’s actually pretty badass.” Such a powerful declaration — her realization of her own power and agency. She’s not shy or humble or timid about it. She embraces it.
Rachel: It was definitely a moment of self-realization, for her to be able to see that in herself. How powerful for us, and the audience, especially when you think that “sailor” stories always seem to be male ones, (pirates, etc…).
Megan: You’re SO right! Almost all sailor stories — and survival stories in general — are told from a male perspective. Like All is Lost, Castaway, and Captain Phillips.
Rachel: Or Life of Pi and Liam Neesen’s The Grey.
Megan: That’s one of the reasons why I love Gravity. It’s important to see women survivors and explorers too.
Rachel: Yes! And I just thought, “I want more women to have that kind of experience!!!”
Megan: YES! Exactly!! I felt that too.
Rachel: Maybe that’s the true power/message of the film? Hopefully that it could make women (and men) realize that inner ability.
Megan: Laura will never stop searching, never stop being herself. I want every woman to recognize and embrace her inner strength and power.
Rachel Redfern is a Staff Writer at Bitch Flicks. She is a traveler and teacher who spent the last few years living in Asia. Now back in her native California, she focuses on writing about media, culture, and feminism. She writes for Policy Mic and tweets at @RachelRedfern2.
Added on is the fact that American Hustle is less about the hustle and more about the American dream; each character portrays ambition and insecurities in the quest for more: a better community, more money, security, power, fame, recognition, leading to that great American end, excess.
The Fabulous Five: Bradley Cooper, Amy Adams, Christian Bale, Jennifer Lawrence, Jeremy Renner
Go and see American Hustle, the latest from director David O. Russell. Go and see it not just for the fantastically eclectic seventies soundtrack, but for the amazing acting by Jennifer Lawrence, Amy Adams, Christian Bale, Bradley Cooper, Jeremy Renner, and for surprise roles from Louis C.K. and Robert De Niro. Go especially for Jennifer Lawrence and Amy Adams in brilliantly funny and evocative character studies.
I didn’t grow up in the 70s, but perhaps that’s why Russell’s larger than life film about the FBI ABSCAM sting is infinitely more interesting and more colorful than your average con film. Added on is the fact that American Hustle is less about the hustle and more about the American dream; each character portrays ambition and insecurities in the quest for more: a better community, more money, security, power, fame, recognition, leading to that great American end, excess.
In a film where everyone is ridiculous and almost a caricature, there is no true hero or protagonist, and the women of American Hustle are no exception; their big hair and red nails reveal a character just as selfish and flawed as any male counterpart. And the fact that the film exposes the deep insecurities and physical vanities of its male cast is an amazing reversal; in fact, they hold perhaps a larger role than female vanities–the opening sequence of the film featured three minutes of Bale’s morning hair routine, with his combover as the star, ending in one of the most amazing introductions to a character I’ve ever seen.
Jennifer Lawrence and Amy Adams gave brilliant performances; while the film doesn’t pass the Bechdel test, within the context of the plot, the female interactions cover material relevant to the characters, so it makes sense. And in their few interactions, the two women were volatile and terse, and captivatingly emotional.
Two women, amazing and emotional.
Jennifer Lawrence was especially fantastic, at turns both hilarious and sad, a vain, silly woman on the surface, depressed and angry and confused at the core. It’s especially impressive since Lawrence just emerged from a very different role for The Hunger Games, and here showcases her skills as the best kind of actress and comedienne: sad hiding behind funny. Some are calling Adams and Lawrence’s performances Oscar-winning, and I’m inclined to agree; in fact, the entire cast was fantastic. While I find Christian Bale in some serious need of anger management, the man is a chameleon, becoming startlingly physically different for each role. And I’ve been a fan of Bradley Cooper since his Alias days, but this is his first film role that I found especially powerful, even more so than Silver Linings Playbook. Obviously Lawrence and Bradley have found a fantastic director in David O. Russell, and hopefully this collaborative pairing will continue.
In American Hustle, Cooper, more than anyone, embodies the prime theme of the film, the need for more, and in that endeavor, becomes erratic, sexy, lustful, arrogant, angry.
Adams and Cooper’s interactions are built on a sickening chemistry that becomes more and more messed up as the film progresses; in the spirit of not spoiling the film, I’ll stop there,; but in one scene, Cooper loses control in front of Adams, and becomes terrifying and dangerous in just a few moments, with Adams attempting to calm him and keep herself safe.
While the film is a little heavy handed in its use of the “something rotten is necessary to make something even more beautiful” metaphor, the focus on re-invention, survival, power, ambition, vanity and mostly, wanting a better life, are what take this con movie to the next level: an expose of the black comedy that is the American life.
Go see the film, and listen for the amazing soundtrack and its fabulous augmentation of the characters and watch for all that was bad and good of 70s fashion.
The addition of Evangeline Lilly (Lost) as Tauriel caused some concern among real LOTR fans, mostly because that character never existed in The Hobbit and no one wants to see a beloved a story messed with; but to be fair, if it wasn’t tinkered with and explored, then why go and see the film? You might as well just stay home and read the book then if you’re not interested on gaining a new perspective on the story.
Movie poster for The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug premiered on Friday, just in case you didn’t know. And while the film has pulled in $73.7 million and topped the box office this weekend, there have been some mixed reviews–it’s too long, too boring, too overdone, too much action, or it’s fun, it’s brilliant, it’s beautiful. The divisiveness is understandable. Tolkien is a necessary staple to any library and Jackson’s Lord of The Rings, really is a visually-stunning, incredibly acted epic series; in my re-watching of the films last week, I was struck with just how impressive the films still were, perhaps even more so now.
It makes sense that any spinoff of such a beloved and hefty series, could either be a magical dream true (hello, Stephen Colbert), or too much of a good thing.
And here, in this installment especially, there was bound to be naysayers. The addition of Evangeline Lilly (Lost) as Tauriel caused some concern among real LOTR fans, mostly because that character never existed in The Hobbit and no one wants to see a beloved a story messed with; but to be fair, if it wasn’t tinkered with and explored, then why go and see the film? You might as well just stay home and read the book then if you’re not interested on gaining a new perspective on the story. But as was the case with Game of Thrones (at least according to me, don’t get too angry), I thought that the TV show was better with some of the changes and additions to the story, especially in the fleshing out of Margery Tyrell and Shae, both of whom are far more fascinating and interesting in the show than they are in the book. Why couldn’t the same be true in The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug?
Amazingly hot, always awesome, Elves
Tauriel is a playful Captain of the Guard whose fighting skills rival that of the great CGI scenes for Legolas; except seriously though, Lilly actually used to teach archery at summer camp. Besides that, Lilly has a beautiful poise that really is perfect for a Tolkien Elf, and while I don’t speak it so I can’t be sure, her Elvish sounded fantastic. As Lilly is a staunch fan of Tolkien she was worried about adding in a new character, but in one of my favorite quotes from 2013, stated that, “I keep repeatedly telling people that in this day and age, to put nine hours of cinema entertainment in theaters for young girls to go and watch, and not have one female character for them to watch is subliminally telling them, ‘you don’t count.’ You’re not important, and you’re not pivotal to story.”
Which is exactly the attitude that is essential for progress to be made in the representations of women on film and television, and it’s amazing that Lilly was so invested in a larger goal that she was willing to tamper with one of her favorite stories. And she took even one step further; according to Lilly, she originally agreed to the part under one condition: “One condition, and they agreed to the condition, and that condition was in place for two years. The condition was I will not be involved in a love triangle. Right? Because any of you who are fans of Lost, I’ve had it up to here with love triangles.”
But then, that changed, and while Lilly, Jackson, and Phillipa Boyens (writer) all agreed that the love triangle just sort of arose naturally during filming, it was still a bit disappointing (despite Kili [Aiden Turner] being a remarkable rare mix of adorable sexiness). Twilight, Vampire Diaries, Hunger Games–all uber-famous features that are centered around a love triangle, and mostly, it’s just sort of getting old: there are others ways of portraying love than two fantastically handsome men drooling over an unreachable average woman.
An assortment of testosterone.
I agree with Jackson and Lilly in their decisions to bring in a female character and wish more could have been incorporated, because at it’s core, The Hobbit is just a hairy version of Band of Brothers with a lot of mountains. And in reality, after watching The Desolation of Smaug, I tried to dream up a female version of this film, and I wondered, what would it look like? How would those interactions have changed? And it was really difficult to imagine anyone producing a film about 15 very short women of vary levels of attractiveness, traveling through a forest to kill a dragon with their queen and bossy/optimistic sorceress in tow.
Generally in film, large group female interactions, with or without world-saving levels of adventure, tend to be characterized by passive-aggressive bitchiness. And I’m at a loss for any TV show, miniseries, or film, that has ever been about an all-female group trying to save the world, much less three four-hour films about said adventure.
In all seriousness, would you go to see that movie?
But Laurie Metcalf hammering a nail into the wall with a gynecologist’s ducklips thingy is priceless, as is a confused patient’s eyes clearing as Niecy Nash holds her hand. Here is perhaps where the show’s delicate balance between comedy and compassion becomes most apparent; the understaffed nurses are, at times, ridiculous in their adherence to bureaucracy and hospital politics, but they, and the patients they serve, are also given moments of generosity and human connection.
It is a wide wonderful world filled with HBO. My love for the brilliantly gritty channel has grown exponentially the past three years, starting with the toe-curling, cherry-popping of my innocence that was True Blood and from there, it took over my computer screen in a way I never knew was possible: Game of Thrones, The Sopranos, Girls, Deadwood, The Wire, Veep and we haven’t even mentioned their miniseries yet.
And for every person who protests against the channel’s, hmm, illuminating use of sex and violence (and perhaps not entirely unjustly—there were a few scenes in Game of Thrones that made Quentin Tarantino raise an eyebrow) can it be denied that going back to a network show after a satisfying three-day binge of cable, feels lackluster and overly clean without the free-flowing use of the F-word?
Therefore, I give you Getting On, the latest British show to make its way across the pond in a cabled retelling, leaving us asking, is it a show ahead of its time?
Getting On is a dark comedy from creators Mark Olsen and Will Scheffer (Big Love) following the daily trials of the beleaguered Billy Barnes Extended Care Unit. There, we meet its aging female patients–ambitious director of medicine Jenna James, Laurie Metcalf (Roseanne), kiss-up head nurse Dawn, Alex Borstein (Family Guy), empathetic nurse DiDi, Niecy Nash (Reno 911), and neurotic supervisor Patsy, Mel Rodriguez (Community).
Three comediennes: Laurie Metcalf, Alex Borstein, and Niecy Nash
Obviously, the setting is a bit unusual, and potentially disturbing; some are concerned about the show trivializing a difficult time of life and the rigors of hospital work. Yet, death happens to everyone, so in the same way that we can all relate to the subject matter, it also makes us, at best, a bit uncomfortable, and for some, possibly a painful reminder of someone they’ve lost.
Which makes the whole comedy setting seem so insanely inappropriate, but perhaps brilliant at the same time? I mean, at least ER had hot doctors and a lot of people who made it out alive; you get the sense with Getting On that there won’t be that many George Clooneys and even less chance that the fountain of youth will appear in the final season.
But Laurie Metcalf hammering a nail into the wall with a gynecologist’s ducklips thingy is priceless, as is a confused patient’s eyes clearing as Niecy Nash holds her hand. Here is perhaps where the show’s delicate balance between comedy and compassion becomes most apparent; the understaffed nurses are, at times, ridiculous in their adherence to bureaucracy and hospital politics, but they, and the patients they serve, are also given moments of generosity and human connection.
DiDi (Niecy Nash), our hero.
However, will Getting On resonate with an older audience? The original British version never made it past the third season, but I’m hopeful, as the show has some incredible dialogue and fantastic acting.
And besides its unusual setting, the show sports three main female characters (all middle-aged) taking care of elderly women. Basically, Getting On defies every statistic about women in Hollywood by single-handedly employing almost every woman over the age of 40 located in Los Angeles: women with wrinkles, saggy boobs, and poorly executed fashion choices; women of color, women with money, women without it; foul women, funny women, fantastic women. I even loved episode two’s racist, homophobic grandma that kept throwing up on everyone and then throwing things at everyone.
While the show isn’t perfect, it’s boldly treading into off-limits territory (or at least boldly following in the footsteps of it British predecessor) and exposing both funny and profound elements of growing old.
Now, let’s hope that the show isn’t cut off while still in its prime.
And in a society where male revelations about abuse, physical, emotional, or sexual, are still considered a mark of weakness, it’s fantastic that such a successful figure is willing to set an example. Especially when that person is Captain Jean Luc Picard, a super smart, sexy, sensitive, nerves-of-steel spaceship captain. I have a feminist daydream of Kirk (Shatner), Janeway (Mulgrew), Sisco (Brooks), and Picard (Stewart) doing a women’s rights PSA: I would make it my ringtone forever.
Written by Rachel Redfernas part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
Sir Patrick Stewart being amazing for Amnesty International.
At a spry 78 years old, Sir Patrick Stewart is just as popular as he was 25 years ago in Star Trek: The Next Generation, perhaps even more so now as his persona has popped from talented dramatic actor to powerful women’s rights activist, and an almost mythic status as an all-around amazing human being.
And part of that love and general good feeling toward Sir Stewart is his vulnerable and very personal campaign to end domestic violence, support battered women, and fight for women’s rights. In a world filled with Alec Baldwins, Todd Akins, and Hunter Moores, perhaps we just expect old white men to be entitled and offensive. Similarly, in a world filled with Katy Perrys and Taylor Swifts who insist on denying the need for feminism (how nice for them as wealthy, successful white women) and insisting that they are NOT feminists, it is inspiring to see a man willing to not only own the label, but wear it.
“This is what a feminist looks like”–and it looks good.
And really, it seems mind-boggling that Sir Stewart is seen as an original, groundbreaking human being when in reality he’s fighting for basic human rights. Why is saying, “Stop Hitting Women” such a unique perspective for a male public figure?
But considering the overwhelming response pretty much every time he steps in front of a camera, millions of people are connecting with him in a profound way. It must come from his willingness to share the painful and intimate details of his own past with domestic violence on a global scale, then turn around, listen to someone else’s story, and respond with empathy and sincere compassion. It probably helps that he does all that in a brilliant English accent and fantastic deep, rich voice—that man could read my stereo instructions and I’d breathlessly wait for a plot twist.
And his interest in women’s causes isn’t just a cause-of-the-day as, let’s be honest, most celebrity causes are only to foster a positive public image and distract from that time they hit a pedestrian while doing 90 MPH in their Porsche. As an obviously huge participant in sci-fi conventions where there is a lot of fan interaction, fans are constantly reporting that he is just as committed to spreading awareness when there’s a line of 300 hundred Deanna Trois and William Rikers waiting to get his autograph as when there’s a microphone and a camera in his face.
One blogger tells of the time she got to ask him a question about his fight against domestic violence at an Austin Comic Con convention panel and he was great; then she asked him a similar question when she was standing in line to talk to him and he made a special point of spending extra time with her discussing resources she might be personally interested in.
Sir Stewart’s involvement with Amnesty International has also led him to be the face of a very public campaign, posting his own and his mother’s experiences of domestic abuse at the hands of his father. And on top of that, adding his public criticism of the police’s handling of that situation; at that point, when his mother tried to report what was happening the police would respond, “Well, you must have done something to make him mad.” Or doctors would assert, “Mrs. Stewart it takes two to make a fight.”
The above stories highlight victim blaming at its finest; an unfortunate, but still daily experience for many women who report sexual assault, stalking, abuse, violence, and even the spread of intimate photos online. But I love that while Stewart is harshly critical of such terrible tactics, he’s also a huge proponent of increasing expectations for men and young boys. People are people, some are good and some are bad, but when the expectation is not, “How could you let him do this to you?” but rather, “How could you treat a fellow human being this way?” victims are treated respectfully and the default condition is “Real people don’t treat other people this way.”
And in a society where male revelations about abuse, physical, emotional, or sexual, are still considered a mark of weakness, it’s fantastic that such a successful figure is willing to set an example. Especially when that person is Captain Jean Luc Picard, a super smart, sexy, sensitive, nerves-of-steel spaceship captain. I have a feminist daydream of Kirk (Shatner), Janeway (Mulgrew), Sisco (Brooks), and Picard (Stewart) doing a women’s rights PSA: I would make it my ringtone forever.
And while we wish that things were better for women (and they sort of are), when the response to Rihanna’s own experience is for Chris Brown to get a tattoo of a battered woman on his neck and then sing at the 2013 VMAs, there’s still a long way to go. (Feminist fantasy number two where Stewart eloquently destroys Brown, shaming him so publicly that banks will freeze his bank accounts, give the money to a battered women’s shelter, and Brown won’t be able to find work as a birthday party entertainer in Wyoming.)
Imagine Chris Brown on the receiving end of this.
The truth of all this is that as much as we love Stewart the actor, we desperately need Stewart the activist as a substantial male proponent of feminism. As with any movement, people need leaders that they can identify with, and as dynamic as Gloria Steinem is, she might not always be the most relatable face for men who are interested in women’s rights.
Sir Patrick Stewart, we salute you (while possibly wearing a Starfleet uniform).
But, the biggest question for the show will obviously be, um, what about the sex? Sex is in the title: the opening sequence bathes in it, and every episode features it. As a big proponent of women’s sexuality I’m pretty much all for it, however I desperately hope that Masters doesn’t just become cheap exhibitionism driving up late night ratings; I want to know that Masters of Sex is trying to tell us something in all of the orgasmic moaning (fake or real).
Masters of Sex is Showtime’s newest protégé, a mid-century period piece steeped in desire–a desire for what though? Considering that Masters of Sex is only on the sixth episode, the show is still finding its stride, with its characters and dialogue still evolving.
However, I have high hopes for the show. Lizzie Caplan (Virginia Johnson), chooses provocative projects and usually plays fascinating, complex characters: a sociopathic hippie in True Blood, a relationship-squeamish woman in Save The Date, and an emotionally damaged party girl in Bachelorette. Unfortunately, while we’ve learned a bit about the motivations and back-story for Mr. Masters (Michael Sheen), Johnson remains still undeveloped. The show makes a big deal about Johnson being a unique, sexy, fascinating woman and showing her interest in being a scientist, but I’m still curious as to what’s driving her. But, the show is only beginning, and hopefully her character’s development will begin to grow and we’ll get more of a peek into what’s helped her become such a confident woman, as well as fostering her fascination with scientific studies.
But, the biggest question for the show will obviously be, um, what about the sex? Sex is in the title: the opening sequence bathes in it, and every episode features it. As a big proponent of women’s sexuality I’m pretty much all for it, however I desperately hope that Masters doesn’t just become cheap exhibitionism driving up late night ratings; I want to know that Masters of Sex is trying to tell us something in all of the orgasmic moaning (fake or real).
Don’t lie, you would have looked too.
One thing I’m loving though, it’s two women picking all the material, which is fantastic for a show that is portraying the way that society’s view on sexuality, especially female sexuality, is changing. And I think that a lot of people were curious, and maybe a bit worried, wondering how Masters of Sex was going to be dealing with sex, women, and stereotypes. There are still so many myths and legends, images and dichotomies, and pop psychology and moral sermonizing that happens anytime women and sex are placed anywhere near each other, that it was very possible for Masters to become another fluffy, giggle-fest of boob shots and phallic jokes.
Masters of Sex showrunner, Michelle Ashford, discussed the staff’s perspectives on the show’s sex scenes, and how much they’ve chosen to include; turns out, they’ve been selective and thoughtful—sifting through hours of scenes, trying to ensure that they’re engaging and fulfilling the narrative, instead of just becoming pornographic. In fact, Ashford admitted that she finds many sex scenes boring without any real relevance to the story; in the case of Masters, they’ve tried to take a different approach: “We knew we had to figure out a new way to do sex so that there was always story pulling through it. And there had to be a point of view to the sex, so it’s either tragic or it’s funny or it’s confusing … but it could never be showing sex just to be sexy.”
Intimacy tells their story
Are they successful in telling the story of sex in their scenes? I would argue that yes, they are: Masters and his wife, Libby (Caitlin Fitzgerald), have terse, dutiful sex, while Virginia is direct and free-spirited, and the young Dr. Haas (Nicholas D’Agosto) is controlling, searching, experimenting. Each character’s experiences (not necessarily their proclivities) reflect their relationships with each other and themselves. Perhaps, at this point, the sex scenes are where the story is, and it’s where we learn the most about each character.
So what do you think? How is the show evolving? Are the sex scenes merely exhibitionism? Is the show helping the way we think about sex? How do you think it’s portraying sex?
When the movie begins we’re introduced to Brad, a hero (Barry Bostiwck) and Janet, a heroine (Susan Sarandon), two straight-laced representations of the all-American, white middle class Christian boy and girl who are suddenly thrown into a den of loose morals and provocative dancing. At all turns, we’re blatantly reminded of their status as a proxy for a nice boy and a good girl, and it’s reinforced with every cliché possible.
While many cult films have fan websites and forums, and even conferences and gatherings, they probably haven’t been shown in a movie theater continuously since 1976 (making the RHPS the longest running theatrical release in history), and they most probably are not shows with audience participation. A true showing of RHPS has a script for audience members in response to certain phrases and cues from the film, and some showings even include props, such as toast, frankfurters, confetti, toilet paper, rice, a whistle, a flashlight, newspapers, water guns, and more.
If you haven’t seen the movie, here is the summary my mother gave to me when I first learned of the film in high school: Dr. Frank-N-Furter is a transvestite who really wants to get laid and creates himself a man with “blond hair and a tan.”
If you haven’t seen it, most of this review might seem like the crazed wanderings of a feminist mind, but only because the film is the crazed wanderings of some kind of mind. And while the Glee tribute episode was well done, it can never compare to the sheer raunch and random hilarity of the original.
Tim Curry in his ultimate roll
The original had a young, unheard-of Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in one of the most amazing performances of all time; his full-bodied commitment (pun intended) to the part of a flamboyant drag queen is fantastic. I weep a little every time I watch it at the realization that Tim Curry looks better in a corset and garters than I do, and he is rockin’ it with a confidence that would make Lady Gaga jealous.
[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/lwUjJXxoGy4″]
RHPS talks a lot about illusion vs. reality, time vs. space, meaning vs. nonsense, all while mockingly, and seriously, parodying the science fiction genre, having been intentionally set up as a parody of B-movies. But the film is also a gender-bending festival of sexual exploration embodying the sexual awakening of the 60s and later, the 70s, when the Western world was coming to grips with their new social mores: the film is an obvious exploration of the incorporation and aftermath of the feminist movement and sexual freedom.
Why is it that so much of our ideologies and idiosyncrasies are revealed in parody and satire? Richard O’Brien (Riff-Raff in the film), who wrote and composed The Rocky Horror Picture Show, has been an outspoken advocate for removing cultural norms of establishing gender in children, since he himself identifies as transgender.
Brad and Janet before sex
When the movie begins we’re introduced to Brad, a hero (Barry Bostiwck) and Janet, a heroine (Susan Sarandon), two straight-laced representations of the all-American, white middle class Christian boy and girl who are suddenly thrown into a den of loose morals and provocative dancing. At all turns, we’re blatantly reminded of their status as a proxy for a nice boy and a good girl, and it’s reinforced with every cliché possible.
For example, Janet faints and screams at the slightest noise and speaks in a breathy, sweet voice; she’s sexy, but also the girl next door. She’s obviously sexy because she doesn’t know she is, until she begins her own seduction of Rocky and sings out, “Touch me! I wanna be dirty!” in her very own musical number.
Brad is confident and protective, placing his arm around Janet and calming her, leading Frank-N-Furter to remark, ““How forceful you are Brad, such a perfect specimen of manhood,” and he is, of course, absolutely heterosexual until Frank-N-Furter crawls into his bed and the two have a happy, little romp, followed by a good smoke. By the end of the film, Brad’s staunch conservativism is belied by the women’s dressing gown he wears and the lyrics of his last song, “It’s beyond me/help me Mommy/I’ll be good you’ll see/take this dream away/What’s this, let’s see/Oh I feel sexy/What’s come over me?”
Juxtaposed, however, with the happy minion of dancers and their choreographed “Time Warp” dance moves (my dream party) is the intense violence of Eddie’s death, and then his subsequent cannibalism. Eddie’s death is a mercy killing according to Frank-N-Furter because while charming, his muscles weren’t very nice.
As much as I enjoy the film, it is legitimately disturbing in its overtones of rape (toward Janet and Rocky), cannibalism, and gruesome violence. But in the midst of all the destruction, Frank-N-Furter turns to the camera and quips, “It’s not easy having a good time. Even a smile makes my face ache,” biting his finger coyly. It’s such a brilliant, meta moment of recognition for power and privilege and the way that terrible things are acted out in service to his desires.
The ending: Lingerie and Confusion
The climax of the film is “The Floor Show,” a confessional performance for each of the characters, held in an empty theater, there revealing their lusts, desires and insecurities. As the performance culminates, and Frank-N-Furter strips off his makeup, vulnerable, and bows to an imaginary crowd, it becomes apparent that everything has been just one big, grand performance. Dr. Scott remarks that, “society must be protected” and Frank-N-Furter removed, and thus, the pretension must go on.
It’s actually a fabulous narrative to couch the ideas of sexuality in, since admittedly, much of sexuality, in terms of preferences, sexual performance, orientation, pornography, and gender roles, are performances of stereotypes and long-held expectations.
But the fairytale redux is also a hugely modern fascination, and a substantial moneymaker for TV and movies. To steep this article in some timely context, consider these popular and recent remakes of fairytale stories: Once Upon A Time, Once Upon A Time In Wonderland (save yourself and evening and don’t watch), and Sleepy Hollow. In film, there is Snow White and the Huntsman, Mirror Mirror, Hanna, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, The Brothers Grimm, and Jack and the Giant Killer (among others). There’s even a fabulous book of Politically Correct Bedtime Stories and a great series of photographs from Dina Goldstein called Fallen Princesses.
This Friday, October 25, just a few days before Halloween, is a timely beginning for the season 3 premiere of NBC’s Grimm, the crime drama with a dark fairy tale twist. The twist being that Detective Nick Burkhardt (David Guintoli) is a Grimm, a man who can see beyond the human masks of “Wessen,” the dark monsters who often peopled the Brothers’ Grimm fairy tales.
Fairytales and princess stories have come under fire the past 20 years because of the blatant sexism in so many of the stories. Most modern day retellings of these fairytales have reinforced narratives of beautiful, weak women waiting for men to save them, and over-ambitious wicked stepmothers (which is a stereotype rife with hatred of older women, women of power, and extends the “witch/harlot” conundrum).
But the fairytale redux is also a hugely modern fascination, and a substantial moneymaker for TV and movies. To steep this article in some timely context, consider these popular and recent remakes of fairytale stories: Once Upon A Time, Once Upon A Time In Wonderland (save yourself and evening and don’t watch), and Sleepy Hollow. In film, there is Snow Whiteand the Huntsman, Mirror Mirror, Hanna, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, The Brothers Grimm, and Jack and the Giant Killer (among others). There’s even a fabulous book of Politically Correct Bedtime Stories and a great series of photographs from Dina Goldstein called Fallen Princesses.
But beyond the Hollywood blockbuster is the rich storytelling and deeply human morals that these ancient fairy tales often portrayed. These stories are just as relevant in today’s world, and we’re obviously still searching for answers about our own humanity and problems in the same places.
The original fairy tales were often disturbing with a straightforward moral: happy endings don’t always happen. Also, they included a lot of death. Grimm, while usually solving its episodic murder mystery, does still delve into the darkness inherent in many of these stories. And in doing so, exposes the continuation of many of the mythic themes that made the original stories so enduring.
Irony? (Intro frame from Grimm.)
One of the biggest themes in fairy tales? Women’s sexuality. Consider the young little red riding hood being gobbled up by an aggressively large, male wolf. The beautiful Snow White (with her obviously virginal name) is literally poisoned by her stepmother; and of course, the overwhelming exquisite Sleeping Beauty is locked away until marriageable age. The whole thing reeks of repressed sexuality,
Since most of the fairy tales were about a deep fear of women’s sexuality, Grimm seems to echoes those. Again, this makes a lot of sense with all the insanity in the United States about abortion, the slut-shaming of Sandra Fluke, the pearl-clutching Victorianism towards Miley Cyrus, and the entire blessed cornucopia of society that thinks the world will implode into a steaming orgy should a women’s libido exist.
But Grimm does a good job of playing with and displaying that fear back at us.
**Beware: Spoilers ahead
Juliette (Bitsie Tulloch) in obsessive distress.
The main female protagonist, Juliette (Bitsie Tulloch) falls under the witches’ spell (Sleeping Beauty story), but then becomes physically, chemically, lustfully obsessed with the man who wakes her. So much so, that the obsession, and the subsequent attempts to become physically intimate, become destructive and violent. This unbridled emotion towards each other is so dangerous that it must end in death, seeming to imply that consummation is a darker, more powerful act than dying.
It was a surprisingly meta-fictive moment for a network TV show, and I was startled to see the writers and producers playing so freely with the darker, sexual presence from the Sleeping Beauty fairytale.
In the hexenbeast Adalind Schade (Claire Coffee) plotline we see the scheming and vindictive side of a female nature as she brazenly seduces Detective Hank Griffin (Russel Hornsby) Captain Renard (Sasha Roiz) and his royal brother and then after she becomes pregnant, in her willingness to use her baby to regain her power. Maternity is often how we define female characters, so I always find it fascinating when mothers are cast in anti-maternal roles. Obviously in the case of Adalind (and even in the case with her own mother), the witches (or hexenbeast) are seen as intensely anti-mother, but not unfeminine. I suppose it’s an easy way to cast her as a villain, but I enjoy it regardless.
The seductive powers of a witch (Claire Coffee).
Of course, the power-hungry female “Wessen,” called “Musei” (meaning Muse), is a natural addition to this list. In the show she is not only the archetypal prostitute, her kind have literally been prostitutes in the past, but she draws power and pleasure from first creatively building up artists and then destroying them with obsessive sexual desire. This willfully enticing creature sets her sights upon the protagonist, needing him to fill the spot of her next plaything, until in a reversal of the Sleeping Beauty myth, true love’s kiss must awaken him from the spell.
It was a very circular moment for the show, since it mirrored an earlier plotline from the season, but with reversed genders. Instead of the female being the helpless one, the male “prince” must wait to be rescued.
Even in season one, the early episode “Lonely Hearts” is provocative in its dealings with rape and sexual assault since the women in question are literally begging to be kissed because of the rapist’s intense pheromones; but in spite of the “begging,” it was a situation still cast as absolute rape within the show, a plot device that seemed intent upon revealing the ridiculousness of that stupid phrase, “she was asking for it.”
Grimm’s awareness of the fear of female sexuality ties into the more general fear and exploration of the inner animal in all of us: the darker urges, manipulations, aggression, obsessions, temptations, and desires that religion and societal mores have been fighting against for ages. And strangely, that works very well within the framework of a police drama—the rule of law attempting balance and come to terms with the more volatile aspects of humanity.
So, besides an entirely ridiculous second season opening credits sequence, Grimm is exploring some provocative reversals and thematic elements.
In the end though, the show is also about transformation within the search for balance. Nick is transformed into a Grimm, slowly developing in a new kind of law-man, and Juliette, Adalind, Rosalee, and Monroe all show that development as well as they try to find this balance between light and dark for themselves.
Do you find the stories in Grimm intriguing and unique? Or is it merely replaying tired old stories? How does it stack up against shows like Once Upon A Time?
When the trailers for Jerusha Hess’ Austenland and Diablo Cody’s Paradise first premiered, there was a lot of talk about the two young female directors and their debut films. Each woman had good credits, Cody for writing the academy award-winning script for Juno, and Hess for her work on the surprising cult-hit, Napoleon Dynamite.
At first, the hype was positive; Cody would hopefully turn out another witty conglomerate of social insight and angsty sarcasm and Hess might bring a quirky, women’s-focused comedy to the table.
When the trailers for Jerusha Hess’ Austenland and Diablo Cody’s Paradise first premiered, there was a lot of talk about the two young female directors and their debut films. Each woman had good credits–Cody for writing the academy award-winning script for Juno, and Hess for her work on the surprising cult-hit Napoleon Dynamite.
At first, the hype was positive; Cody would hopefully turn out another witty conglomerate of social insight and angsty sarcasm and Hess might bring a quirky, women-focused comedy to the table.
And then they each released a bit more information about their projects: Cody’s Paradise was a story of a young Christian woman recovering from a plane who decides to sample the pleasures of the world in Las Vegas. And Hess’ Austenland featured an obsessed Austen fan who travels to England to live out her unrealistic romantic fantasies in an Austen theme park.
Instantly, the tone surrounding the two films changed; Paradise would be an edgier piece with great commentary about the loss of innocence, whereas Austenland would be a fluffy rehash of romantic clichés.
In the world of “women’s film,” the conversation can move quickly from one of support, to one of derision. Even just a film’s association with a topic normally seen as “girly” is instantly belittled and pushed to the background. A shame, since Jane Austen’s insight into social classes and wealth make her still relevant today, and some of her writings included fabulous satire about over-indulgent romantic media. By extension, Austenland had some true potential for meta-commentary about romantic comedies and the dangers of “fandom.”
Unfortunately, both films have disappointed critics, box office sales, and audiences—neither film proving to be original, funny or insightful (or apparently, even well-acted).
But the worst part is, setbacks like these always take female directing down a bit, proving fodder for those who make quippy remarks about how women “just aren’t funny,” and can’t really direct. With only 11% of Hollywood directors being women, we still under-represent half the population going to see movies in a big way, and it’s always sad to see young directors struggling after only one film.
But, hopefully, Hess and Cody won’t give up, and instead, will return with new stunningly original characters and winning comedy. We need it.
What do you think? Did you enjoy Paradise or Austenland? How will this impact female directors in the future? Can they bounce back from these two flops?
