Rachel Redfern – Page 5

Women in Politics Week: Political Humor and Humanity in HBO’s ‘VEEP’

Foul-mouthed and frazzled, Julia Louis-Dreyfus (eternally known as Elaine from Seinfeld), stars as United States Vice-President, Selina Meyer, in the Emmy Award-winning HBO political satire, VEEP. The show focuses on Dreyfus’ character, a woman who wants power, but resides in a fairly weak place, politically, having to hide in the shadows of the president and worry about her approval ratings.

There are two Hollywood versions of Washington, D.C.–one where the president is Morgan Freeman and he’s strong, but compassionate, and you feel good about being an American. The other version is something out of a John Grisham novel in which the city is one giant 60 Minutes expose of cynicism and conspiracy (the latter version just makes you sad to be alive). VEEP is the second, minus the conspiracy and snipers and with the addition of obsessive BlackBerry use.

Since the show never features the president, VEEP is free to focus on the more trivial aspects of federal politics, like the clean jobs bill Selina tries to put together, only to have the president close it down and give her obesity instead (not that obesity isn’t a big issue, it just offers a few more humorous situations than Guantanamo Bay). VEEP is interesting though, not because the characters surrounding her are ridiculous, but because Selina, the main character, is ridiculous and unlikable herself. She’s a toxic political figure, a creator of monumental gaffes and inappropriate situations who doesn’t even have the excuse of good intentions. Her intentions are always self-serving and she treats her staff atrociously, often assigning them the blame for her mistakes.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Selina Meyer in HBO’s VEEP

Selina’s staff isn’t any bundle of joy either; they’re just as unethical and self-serving as she is. Amy (Anne Chlumsky) is her competent, yet also incompetent chief of staff; Gary (Tony Hale of Arrested Development), is her faithful personal aide who is so loyal he takes a sneeze in the face to save her from being sick, and even breaks up with her boyfriend for her (in a sidenote, this is the second role that has featured him as a mildly obsessed man with an insane devotion to an older woman, a role that is played out as being emasculating and undignified); Sue (Sufe Bradshaw), is her sassy secretary; Mike (Matt Walsh) as the over-the-hill fading director of communications; Dan (Reid Scott) who is politically savvy, but also a social climber of epic proportions; and of course, the weird presidential liaison, Jonah (Timothy Simons), who tries to sleep with Amy.

Selina and her female staff are just as foul-mouthed and unpleasant as their male counterparts, a fact I actually really like about the show. Instead of giving the women a rosy, fictional gloss, they’re painted more as unique players in the political process, rather than just a token show about “Women in Politics.” In that vein, the show does portray the still highly sexualized role of female leaders, which is disturbing, but unfortunately very realistic. Examples of sexual harassment are fairly common on the show, like when Sue is the recipient of some pretty blatant comments from a congressman, which she just shrugs off; the death of a famously lecherous senator is mocked as everyone raves about him publicly, but in private, all the women sarcastically share their stories of his disgusting behavior. It’s sad to think that this situation is probably very common; male political figures lauded as leaders, when in reality they’re abusive perverts. For me though, the most astute and frustrating example of this came when Amy, Selina’s chief of staff, has to negotiate with two congressmen from Arizona; their immediate disdain for her and the patronizing, “sweetheart” she receives when she sits down is so realistic and problematic I wanted her to smack them. And yet, like so many powerful and intelligent women, she just had to take the condescension or risk sounding like an “over-emotional bitch.” This portrayal of randy behavior from the male senators strikes a contrast to the depth of scrutiny that the women on the show receive about their sex life. When Selina has a pregnancy scare, the media goes crazy and many of her interviews after address that very personal topic, rather than larger, national issues.

Humorously though, her cynical staff decide to turn it into a sympathy moment and try publish a story about in a woman’s magazine. It’s one of many instances when Selina’s stance as the loving, but absent mother plays a role in her political success; It’s only when Selina cries on camera about missing her daughter that her approval rating increases. Comedy shines again as the greater revelator of cultural inequality as Selina’s motherhood is constantly called into question (as is her femininity when she’s given the nickname, “Viagra inhibitor”). As is always the case, a male leader’s relationship with his children is less important than his hairline, but a female leader must always appear guilty and remorseful about her position, she must always regret the fact that her ambition has taken her out of the home or risk being perceived as cold-hearted or worse, un-maternal.

In the end, Selina (and even most of her staff) are undeniably unlikable people. Very little (if any) time of the sitcom is spent showing political figures as doing anything to improve the lives of their constituents; rather their days are filled with scheming and backbiting. Despite the fact that the characters aren’t people you would ever want to meet, the show does highlight the selfish and elitist world of the Unites States’ highest political people, and it’s a nice change to have that shown with a female lead.

Aside from the very astute commentary that the show makes about gender and politics, one of it’s greatest strengths is in the area of the gaffe. Oh the political gaffe: Romney and his 47 percent, Akin and his “women have a way to shut that whole thing down,” Vice-President Joe Biden about half the time. While all we see is the unbelievably stupid thing that a public figure has just said on national television, VEEP does an excellent job of leading up to Selina’s gaffes. They give us the background story and the same information that Selina is given so that when the gaffe does occur it’s incredibly funny, but also a bit understandable. It’s an element of the show that serves as a great reminder of the humanity of our politicians; while yes they say stupid things sometimes, we probably would too if we were in their shoes. I mean, I say stupid stuff all the time, I’m just lucky enough that there aren’t any TV cameras around when I say it. At the end of the day, politicians are just people with better hair.

Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and its intersection, however she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

A Review and An Interview: ‘Aung San Suu Kyi: Lady of No Fear’

To say that Aung San Suu Kyi, political prisoner and General Secretary for the Burmese National League of Democracy is one of the world’s most powerful and inspirational women would not be a stretch. Leaving the safety of England and the care of her family she endured 15 years of house arrest in her non-violent quest for removal of the military junta in power and the instating of democracy in Myanmar. Last week I was lucky enough to attend the 12th Annual Gwangju Film Festival here in South Korea and watch the 2010 documentary, Aung San Suu Kyi: Lady of No Fear. Even luckier was that the director, Anne Gyrithe Bonne, was in attendance and graciously agreed to an interview.

It’s entirely coincidental that my interview with Anne Gyrithe Bonne will be published during the same week that United States President, Barack Obama, will be in Myanmar. While Myanmar’s current leadership has released many of their political prisoners, Myanmar still struggles with human rights violations. The President of Myanmar, Thein Sein, has promised to review all of the current political prisoners and seek their release by the end of the year. Hopefully President Obama’s visit to Myanmar can spur more changes and continue to encourage their transition to a stable and safe country.

The admirable Aung San Suu Kyi, ever mindful of the hard road towards peace, has warned against too early an acceptance of the government’s words, cautioning against their possible motive of appeasement and fearful that the country could slip back into military control with, ‘the mirage of success’ in front of them. Aung San Suu Kyi’s great strength and personal sacrifice in her fight against the government is ongoing and complete, features that are simply displayed in Bonne’s film.

Aung San Suu Kyi: Lady of No Fear naturally covers Aung San Suu Kyi’s infamous periods of house arrest and the personal discipline and mental fortitude she possessed which allowed her to be such a powerful leader and democratic activist. However, the film focuses on Aung San Suu Kyi’s private life, which Bonne would argue is essential to understanding her involvement in the Burmese struggle for democracy. Bonne specifically chose to focus on the astounding relationship between Aung San Suu Kyi and her husband, Michael Aris, since Aris was a major support to Aung San Suu Kyi and similarly held her belief that Burma was everything: more than each other, more than their children.

Aung San Suu Kyi

What the film does especially well at demonstrating is the incredible mythic power that Aung San Suu Kyi has over the Burmese people. Because of her background as the daughter of the great commander and soldier of independence, Aung San, as well as her renowned public speaking abilities, Aung San Suu Kyi was able to step into her father’s shoes; as one loyal Burmese supporter said of her, “She is not only a fighter, she is a commander.”

I asked Bonne what she felt that Aung San Suu Kyi had given to women of the world, particularly those involved with the issue of human rights and she suggested something very simple: “rebelliousness.” Without this rebelliousness, a rebelliousness founded in the exemplary cause of civil rights and human freedoms, hierarchies cannot fall and ongoing cycles of violence and abuse and repression cannot be removed. One of the most stunning moments of the film came during a clip of an interview Aung San Suu Kyi had given some years ago. In the interview she’s asked about the situation of her communications with the outside world. While she was given permission to write letters to her family, they were all censored by the government; so, incredibly, she refused to send any more letters because she didn’t want to, “communicate through the authorities.” Even completely isolated from her family she refused to give in to the demands of tyranny and authority.

There is a second side to her though; her graceful and poised nature set her apart from other would-be leaders, and even from her college friends. Aung San Suu Kyi was educated at Oxford during the sixties and while other women were exploring the sexual revolution, Aung San Suu Kyi protested that she wanted to be a virgin when she married and that for now she would, “just hug her pillow at night.” In many ways Aung San Suu Kyi never forgot that she was from Burma, even refusing British citizenship as a way to maintain her heritage, for, as she told Michael when they married, “If Burma needs me, I will go.”

This dual-nature she possesses highlights her relationship to Burma: Burma was always her home, but neither was she the government’s puppet, sporting a rebellious streak of her own. A rebellious streak that Bonne believes is demonstrated in her marriage to Michael Aris, who despite his cosmopolitan upbringing, was still an “enemy of Burma” as an Englishman. Aung San Suu Kyi directly went against her mothers wishes, her family’s wishes, and even the wishes of her country by marrying the man she loved: her mother refused to even attend the wedding.

For many years Aung San Suu Kyi stayed in Oxford with her family, giving birth to two children and supporting her husband’s rising career as a Buddhist scholar, a topic that surprisingly Michael actually taught Aung San Suu Kyi about and an interest that the two of them shared. Eventually, Aung San Suu Kyi began to start her own projects, beginning a biography about her father and even applying to graduate school. However, the sudden failing health of her mother in 1988 called her back to Burma, unknowing that she would become its most outspoken and inspiring democratic activist in just a few short months.

In reference to Aung San Suu Kyi’s sudden propulsion into Burmese politics Bonne felt that Aung San Suu Kyi had been seduced by Burma, stating that, “She had been a proper housewife for a long time, ‘ironing Michael’s socks.’ During that time period the world was more about the man; if you wanted to get a Ph.D you couldn’t because you had your children and your house and your husband. Then there was the 8-8-88 revolution and she went to Burma to visit her mother and she was finally elevated. She gave a lot of public speeches, speeches with some say 250,000 thousand people, some say even 500,000 people; she was an amazing public speaker and people loved her.”

But her success would lead to great personal sacrifice, a situation that Bonne outlines in her film. While many are aware that Aung San Suu Kyi was held under house arrest for almost 15 years, some might not be aware that she was allowed to leave if she chose: she just wouldn’t be allowed to return. The conditions for her release were dependent upon her willingness to live in exile from Burma, however, despite her desire to see her family (Aris and her children were refused visa’s into Burma starting in 1995) she knew that she could only be effective if she stayed in Burma. And how could she leave Burma knowing that so many others could not? How could she leave knowing that Burmese people were suffering and political prisoners were being abused? She therefore chose separation from her family rather than abandon her people, a decision that led to criticism against Aung San Suu Kyi, some saying that she had ‘abandoned her children:’ A harsh accusation against any mother.

Anne Gyrithe Bonne

Yet the interviews featured in the film point out this damaging double standard, a double standard that one of the greatest proponents of democracy and peace of our generation has had to endure. While male human rights activists have had to leave their families in the past, no one accuses them of child abandonment (Nelson Mandela was in prison for 27 years, but no one ever mentions his children). One of Aung San Suu Kyi’s friend’s from Oxford pointed out, that even the Buddha left his family in to go into the forest and meditate for a while, and yet a woman of self-sacrifice who gave everything for the family that was her country of Burma, still can’t be free from the lazy and illogical and damaging double standards that still rule our society.

It was the necessity of exposing the information about Aung San Suu Kyi leaving her children in England to serve Burma that was Bonne’s greatest concern about producing this film; “I was afraid of destroying her cause. It was a balancing act to make her story and also be respectful because I was afraid that the general [leader of Burma] and others would see the film and think she’s a bad mother and end up damaging her cause.” However, Bonne continued to make the film, believing it was essential to uncover the story behind the icon, to realize what had nurtured such a strong and effective supporter of democracy and civil rights.

The documentary then walks a delicate line in respectfully baring Aung San Suu Kyi’s unique past, highlighting her political achievements, while also demonstrating Aung San Suu Kyi’s own humanity. In that light, the film focuses more on her personal relationships and features interviews from several of her close friends and family. Interviews that reveal just how much Aung San Suu Kyi sacrificed for the people of Burma after the Burmese government refused to allow Aris to visit his wife, even as he was dying of prostate cancer. Michael died in 1999 in England, unable to say goodbye to his beloved wife.

Despite the tragic circumstances surrounding Aris’s death and the Burmese governments unwillingness to allow him into the country, Bonne believes that Michael’s death served to increase Aung San Suu Kyi’s popularity and power among the Burmese people. When it became known that she had given up everything for them, she became even more beloved and her supporters ever more loyal.

While great attention should obviously be paid to Aung San Suu Kyi’s incredible political triumphs, when asked about what she wanted audiences to take away from the film, Bonne explained that she hopes people see, “That there’s always a story behind the person and then realize what price they had to pay to become that person and who they are.” A tie-in to a beautiful line in the film where Aung San Suu Kyi says, “Nothing is free: if you want something of value you must make payments accordingly.” According to Bonne, Aung San Suu Kyi, “paid a big price.”

The extended version of the film (which I was able to view on Monday night) actually starts at the end of her house arrest, the first few minutes of the film showing footage of Aung San Suu Kyi after her 2010 release. This is unique for many reasons: the documentary was originally released a mere two days before Kyi’s 2010 release. Bonne is humble about this astounding coincidence however, acknowledging that the film certainly, “brought people’s eyes to her.” Obviously the film created a fair amount of exposure about Aung San Suu Kyi’s situation and must have helped to place pressure on the Burmese government. In 2011 the film was selected for the exclusive Berlin ‘Cinema for Peace’ Festival, after which a journalist was finally allowed into Burma to photograph Aung San Suu Kyi.

Bonne’s film exposes Aung San Suu Kyi’s humanity and in so doing has shown the strength and desire for freedom that is possible in leaders and which is fundamentally necessary for the development of human rights in the future. As Aung San Suu Kyi has said, “we must nurture mental strength and support each other,” because it is then that we experience true freedom: “freedom from fear.”

Director Spotlight: Anne Gyrithe Bonne

One of our favorite things to do here at Bitch Flicks is to spotlight and support female directors. It’s an established fact that the amount of female directors in Hollywood is substantially less than that of their male counterparts: roughly 5% of big-grossing films are directed by women.

However, while the numbers are small in Hollywood, indie films, international films, and documentaries have a growing number of talented female directors producing incredible work.

Anne Gyrithe Bonne

This week Bitch Flicks is spotlighting a great female documentary director, Anne Gyrithe Bonne, from Fredricksburg, Denmark. Laudably, Bonne’s films focus on human rights, showcasing prominent civil rights activists and their struggles for equality or democracy; she is especially interested in revealing “the story behind the icon” and considering the great personal sacrifices that these figures must make in order to achieve their goals.

Bonne has made several notable films. In 2004 she made The Will to Live, which was shot between September 11, 2001 and March 11, 2002 in the USA, South Africa, and Honduras: a hugely significant time for each of those countries since all were dealing with the difficult question of forgiveness after a national crisis. South Africa had the Truth and Reconciliation Commission following years of Apartheid and human rights abuses; the criminal charging and death of many human rights defenders in Honduras; the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Towers that killed 6,000 people in the USA.

In 2008 she made The Art and the Maladjusted, a film about the influential Danish director, writer, debater and former artistic director of Odense Film Festival, Christian Braad Thomsen.

Most recently though, Bonne took on the difficult task of documenting the life of pro-democracy leader and human rights activist, the irrepressible Aung San Suu Kyi; this critically acclaimed documentary (nominated for ‘Best Documentary’ and the ‘Golden Butterfly’ award at the Movies That Matter film festival in the Netherlands) discusses Aung San Suu Kyi’s personal life in an attempt to understand what inspires and drives the Nobel Peace Prize winner. Bonne chose to specifically focus on Aung San Suu Kyi’s education at Oxford and subsequent marriage to Michael Aris (Buddhist scholar and Aung San Suu Kyi’s fiercest supporter of her cause).

Bonne was able to gain the trust of some of Aung San Suu Kyi’s closest friends and colleagues and the resulting film is one of great emotional depth and honesty about one of the 21^st century’s most influential women. Bonne is respectful of Aung San Suu Kyi, but neither does she shy away from addressing criticism that some have leveled at her.

I was lucky enough to see the film here South Korea last week at a local film festival. Even more fortuitous was the fact that Bonne was in attendance at the screening and graciously granted me an interview. Check back here on Tuesday for my interview with her and a review of Aung San Suu Kyi: Lady of No Fear.

Click here for the Aung San Suu Kyi: Lady of No Fear website and here to see the BBC world interview with Anne Gyrithe Bonne.

Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and it’s intersection, however she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

Please, ‘Turn Me On, Dammit!’

The 2011 Norwegian film, Turn Me On, Dammit! is, in a word, excellent. In the world of about a thousand American Pie films and cliched male teen sex comedies that usually revolve around bathroom jokes and well-endowed foreign exchange students, Turn Me On, Dammit! follows a more female centered theme that is as insightful as it is witty.

The star of Turn Me On, Dammit! is Helene Bergsholm who plays Alma, a 15-year-old girl who lives in a small town in Norway and is just realizing the amazing, albeit embarrassing, world of teenage hormones and sex. One night at a party, Alma’s crush, a boy at her school named Artur, exposes himself to her (or as the film’s refrain goes, “pokes her with his dick”) but when Alma excitedly tells her friends about the encounter, a jealous girl refuses to believe the story and spreads it around that Alma is a liar. Artur as well, embarrassed that he’s been confronted with the situation, denies that it ever happened, sending young Alma into the lonely world of high school drama.

The film’s writer and director, Jannicke Systad Jacobsen, fills the film with an excellent commentary on the fact that often, men are believed over women in situations of sexual harassment and assault. Now, while Artur and Alma’s situation is slightly different since it was youthful, consensual experimentation and not assault, the point is still there: women accuse, men deny. Jacobson however doesn’t strike an agressive tone with this theme, rather she couches the exposition of it in terms of courage and cowardice. Artur is a young coward too scared to admit the truth and instead just watches as Alma is increasingly shunned and ostracized from her friends.

Malin Bjorhovde, Helene Bergsholm, Beate Stofring in Turn Me On, Dammit!

This theme is one that avoids blame and victimization, focusing instead on the human propensity to make stupid (and even cruel or damaging) mistakes and either be a coward about it, or face the consequences. A gender-relevant argument that doesn’t feel aggressive, giving the film a wide appeal to audiences.

While there is some slight “slut-shaming” that occurs in the film (Alma’s new nickname, “Dick Alma” is called after her by even small children), there is more of a focus on how Alma’s sexual activities lead the people of the town, as well as her mother, to think that she must be crazy or abnormal in some way. It’s a familiar sort of idea in the teen sex comedy, the raging sexual hormones of youth leading to a certifiably insane son or daughter whose activities seem to be those of pervert. Take for example the famous scene in American Pie when Jim decides to have sex with an apple pie because he believes it will simulate how sex actually feels; naturally, that is the exact moment that his father walks in the room.

The scene in American Pie, however, is so extreme that it could never be real, a problem that Jacobsen doesn’t have. Alma’s scene’s of “sexual craziness” are awkward and embarrassing to be sure, but never outside the realm of possibility, grounding her characters in in a more realistic comedy. Because of this, Alma is ultimately able to attain something that most characters in a teen sex comedy never can: self-respect. Turn Me On, Dammit! is at its core a film about growing up and gaining confidence in ourselves, a true coming-of-age story where Alma reaches self-acceptance and Alma’s mother is able to do the same for her daughter.

So many parental-child relationships are sacrificed in teen movies, parents becoming bumbling idiots whose outdated slang and terrible educational sexual analogies feed into cliched humor. It’s a shame that’s the case since Alma’s mother’s quiet confusion and occasional fear of her daughters healthy curiosity in sexuality lends a lot of subtle humor to the film. Alma’s mother feels her daughter must be abnormal in some way and so all she begins to see is the apparent erratic and embarrassing behavior of her daughter, not realizing the social exclusion her daughter is experiencing. Alma as well doesn’t see her mother’s loneliness and attraction to her boss; it’s a moment of selfishness for each character in their unwillingness to empathize with the other.

While the mother and daughter relationship is a strong plot point for the film, my favorite exposition is the very female-centered, sex-positive demonstration of female fantasy. So often visual sexual fantasy in films remains squarely in the center of the male gaze: women in bikinis washing cars, licking ice cream cones, and rising silkily out of a swimming pool come to mind. Alma not only has a very sweet, male phone sex worker friend (who is willing to also just listen to the problems of a young girl, albeit his solution to those problems are “booze”), but also fantasizes about her crush in both the sweet and the sexy, her boss (hilarity with a bike helmet and “I’m bringing sexy back”), and most notably, a fantasy about her female friend. Female fantasy is often kept in the overly dramatic (when it is portrayed at all) and rarely are same-sex fantasies expressed from a straight woman, a fact I find unfortunate since it’s been scientifically proven that most straight women are actually more sexually flexible in their arousal than men.

I suppose that my analysis has made the film sound like the only thing that is ever discussed is sex; this is however, not the case–obviously the issue of first love is important, drugs make an appearance, as does a surprising commentary on the American legal system. One of the main characters, Alma’s friend Saralou, is a social activist concerned with the plight of American prisoners on death row, she in fact writes letters to American prisoners, often discussing the local high school drama with various offenders.

The strengths (as well the flaws) of female friendships are portrayed in the film, giving a varied look at the silly and serious side of young people. Instead of a world bound by stereotype and cheap laughs, Jacobsen has created a rich and deeply human world filled with genuine characters and issues. And sex.

Women’s Anger or Women’s Violence in ‘Sons of Anarchy’?

L-R: Tara (Maggie Siff) and Gemma (Katey Sagal) in Sons of Anarchy

In a recent interview, Mark ‘Boone’ Junior, the actor who plays Bobby in Sons of Anarchy, stated that one of the strengths of the show is that it has, “tapped into a lot of women’s anger.”

It’s an interesting point about a show that does have some very angry women, but more so than that, it has some very violent women. Several times a season there’s a pretty physical fight between a few of the women, and not a standard hair-pulling and a few slaps kind of fight either. Gemma “nails some tart from Nevada” with a skateboard, throws around a very peppy Ashley Tisdale, Gemma and Tara beat up Nero’s assistant Carla, Tara shoots up another girls car, punches her boss, and most recently decks Gemma.

While there is often a sexual fantasy aspect associated with most ‘girl fights,’ I would posit that there is very little sexualizing of the Sons of Anarchy women during these moments, rather these fights seem to mirror the more ‘outside of society’ feeling that the male fights have.

Women’s anger is often portrayed as very catty and manipulative, rarely as physical, so in that respect, Sons of Anarchy is unique. I wonder though, are the physical encounters between these women really expressions of anger, or more a demonstration of women’s own brand of violence?

In order to access the interview, follow this link, scroll down to the section ‘Before the Anarchy’ and click on ‘Bobby.’

The Unexpected Portrayal of Motherhood in ‘Looper’

Warning: Spoiler Alert

It seems an obvious sort of review to talk about the unexpectedly large presence of motherhood in Looper, but while I expected to have plenty to say on the movie’s women (or lack thereof) I was not expecting to see motherhood played out in such a diverse way. It’s just not something I expect in a Summer/Fall Hollywood science fiction blockbuster: shame on me for my lack of faith in Hollywood’s creativity.

The first part of Looper is a tangled, intriguing, sometimes gory, exploration of time travel: what happens to your future when we mess with your pass? How do you remember the past if your future doesn’t exist anymore (or vice versa for that matter)? A great question would be, if you chop off a person’s legs in the past, while their future self is in the past, wouldn’t that change their future, even if they’re in the past? Oddly enough, all those questions are answered in the first hour of the film.

But the film really took off for me during the second half, when a different film than the one the trailer promised me, emerged. Cityscapes were traded in for cornfields and discussions on the finer points of temporal displacement are exchanged for character development.

In the second half of the film, Looper did a really great job of showing a few different kinds of mothers starting with Summer Qing (Qing Xu), who plays Bruce Willis’ wife, wants a child, but never gets to have any (explicitly stated in the film). Sara, (Emily Blunt) may or may not have given birth to a seriously creepy, possibly homicidal destructor of the future, and Suzie (Piper Perablo) is a prostitute and exotic dancer who independently raises and supports her young child (and is proud to be able to do so).

Sara’s (Emily Blunt) storyline centers on her incredibly creepy kid, Cid (Pierce Gagnon) who is possibly one of the best child actors I’ve ever seen. Sara’s storyline is unique in that she is a late mother to her son, but despite her fear, and the fact that Cid doesn’t believe she’s really her mother, feels that she must and can save him from a possibly violent future. It’s sort of reminiscent of a Harry Potter plotline—a mother’s love is all that’s needed to make a child grow up “good” and “safe.” The audience is left with the hope that Sara’s belief in her own mothering skills will be enough to stabilize the troubled child and keep him from harming others.

It’s a really sweet sentiment, this “power of love” idea, and to its credit, the film doesn’t specify whether it does heal all ills, but I find this idea sort of problematic. So many parents believe that every mistake their child has made and every bad thing that they’ve done is their fault as a parent. Obviously, this is not always the case. I’m no sociologist and the argument for nature vs. nuture is still swirling around out there, but reinforcing the ideals of a perfect motherhood and it’s redemptive powers seems to be placing too much responsibility on the shoulders of women (without regard for temperament and personality). This is not to devalue motherhood and the great job of raising their children that so many women do, but rather to point out a possibly naïve and damaging ideology that we seem to be indirectly promoting, that if a person were to do something really, really awful (for instance, murder someone) that it would be based on some failure of the parents.

Emily Blunt and Pierce Gagnon in Looper

Looper does get credit though for the fact that it does portray a less-than traditional type of mother: Single mom, out on her own on a farm, raising a child she barely knows since her sister raised him first. She was just a woman, doing what she could to be a good mother (though she had some pretty high expectations for herself, and I can say I’d feel a bit of pressure to be the best mother ever if I knew my son would become an evil mob boss and the man I loved had killed himself so I could have a chance to raise him right and stop that from happening). Spoiler Alert by the way.

I bring this up because of an interesting article I read a while ago about children who display characteristics of psychopaths. I feel awful just typing that, but hey, the New York Times said it first. In the article they talk about children who seem to have a neurological condition in the brain centers that control empathy and shame, two essential traits that help to regulate our behavior and response to others. The part I find fascinating is the fact that some children have neurological disorders and that parenting, no matter how wonderful and loving, might not change that. The article quotes a psychologist who, in regard to the possibility of diagnosing the disorder in children, stated:

“‘This isn’t like autism, where the child and parents will find support,’ Edens observes. ‘Even if accurate, it’s a ruinous diagnosis. No one is sympathetic to the mother of a psychopath.’”

Poor Sara with her troubled, possibly evil, child. Nobody feels support for the mother of a psychopath except the psychopath who didn’t have a mother, Joe in this case. Joe mentions his own mother several times in the movie, asking his girlfriend (lover? prostitute?) to rub his hair as his mother did when he was a child (I’ll ignore that possibly Oedipal situation) and telling Cid that his own mother sold him to the gangs. Joe obviously sees himself in Cid, particularly the scenes where he projects into Cid’s future, riding the train alone, hurt and scared, resenting his mother and others for abandoning him and then eventually taking it out on everybody else by becoming homicidal (Jon does kill for a living, it’s not like he’s particularly well-adjusted himself).

The scene seemed a bit fallacious, in terms of it’s logical progression, as I said, loss of a mother should not indicate future murderer. However, I did appreciate the sub-idea that Cid, despite his known future, is not predetermined, perhaps he can change and learn to control himself, and therefore obviously deserves to live.

The movie’s dark beginnings really ended in a very hopeful, life-affirming place, even though it begins and ends with the loss of life.

Female Sexuality in Polley’s Disappointing ‘Take This Waltz’

This small, Canadian romantic indie film starring Seth Rogen, Michelle Williams and Luke Kirby and directed by Sarah Polley seems like it should a moving and insightful film about relationships (much like Michelle Williams earlier movie, Blue Valentine, was). However, despite its female centered love triangle, the film offers little of interest.

If you were to read the synopsis of this film on IMDB it would tell you that “A happily married woman falls for the artist across the street,” a pretty uninformative summary since it’s apparent from the first scene that Margot is unhappy and struggling in her marriage. The film follows Margot (Michelle Williams) as a slightly off-kilter aspiring writer married to chicken cookbook-writer Lou (Seth Rogen). Margot meets Daniel (Luke Kirby) while doing research for a pamphlet she’s writing and then again on the plane, only to discover that he lives on the same street as her. And so begins their romance, full of clichéd significant looks and fevered whispers, as they get lost in the forbidden.

Unfortunately, my two sentence synopsis was far more interesting than the movie itself, since much of the movie was long shots of Williams looking confused and depressed and Rogen acting oblivious. The music was a particularly pretentious brand of lackluster indie and on the whole, the film just felt like it was trying too hard to be profound.

In reality, the best parts of the film came from Margot’s interaction with her sister in law, Geraldine or the brilliant Sarah Silverman. Silverman’s character is a recovering alcoholic who, at the end of the film, offers one of the two best lines in the film, “Life has a gap in it, it just does, but you can’t go crazy trying to fill it.” (She’s also a part of a legitimately funny scene involving the incredible world of water aerobics, I tried to find a clip of it online, but alas, I failed).

It’s after the water aerobics scene when we get the second best line of the film, delivered by a naked older woman in the women’s locker room (a great scene by Polley that doesn’t shy away from the normally unsightly issue of aging and women’s bodies—read more about it here); Margot is wistfully considering the merits of “something new” with Geraldine and the woman smiles wisely and replies “New things become old.”

There was a subplot of the film that had some potential as well had it been developed a bit more, in particular the issue of Margot’s sexuality. It’s obvious that Margot and Lou are not the most sexually active of couples since we see Margot attempt to seduce Lou several times, only to be rejected in favor of his cooking. While the lack of sex doesn’t seem to especially bother him, it could be argued that one of the reasons Margot continues to seek after Daniel is the promise of sexual discovery that he offers her. At one point in the film, there is a montage of Daniel and Margot having sex (it sounds spicy, but really, don’t get excited) where it becomes apparent that Margot is finally able to explore that part of herself; the premise was interesting and one that I think many women can identify with, however I think it could have been fleshed out a little more.

I wanted this film to be good; the trailer was interesting, all of the actors are talented, and Polley is a promising new director (and you know how Bitch Flicks feels about new female directors). While there were good moments and unique ideas being toyed with, the film was, in reality, a lukewarm portrayal of a good topic; in short, I was bored most of the time.

**Cross posted from Not Another Wave

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Seeking the Alpha in ‘Breaking Bad’ and ‘Sons of Anarchy’

**I’m assuming that the people who are reading this article, have caught up pretty far into both of these shows, so some spoilers are present.

In the past few years I’ve noticed a shift in the televised portrayal of the villain. Character shows such as Mad Men, the Sopranos, Breaking Bad, Sons of Anarchy, Game of Thrones, and several other high-profile shows are now highlighting the complicated nature of humanity. Rather than black and white hero and anti-hero, we have character portrayals that feature more in-depth considerations of choices and the motivations that drive those choices. While few would agree with the behaviors espoused by these protagonists, neither can we hate them; instead, we’re drawn further into their world, a grittier one not shown on the mainstream shows.

Breaking Bad

High school chemist turned god-like meth creator. Walter White’s (Bryan Cranston) journey from quiet grading to bloody drug kingpin is engrossing and incredibly well done. May I also say, that “Yo, bitch” and “Yo, Mr. White” have officially become standard in my vocabulary and I root daily for Jesse (Aaron Paul) to be a winner.

Sons of Anarchy

Sons of Anarchy follows the misadventures of the original chapter of a motorcycle club in Central California, the Sons of Anarchy. Sons of Anarchy are an obvious reference to Hells Angel’s (which has been classified as a criminal organization by the US Department of Justice) and likewise the Sons are arms dealers who sell IRA guns to drug lords. The arrangement is more complicated than just some gun runners though, the Sons of Anarchy are a respected organization in their small town of Charming; they own the police and in exchange for their cooperation and silence, protect Charming from drugs and gang violence. The show is further complicated by it’s Hamlet-esque plot line for the young protagonist, Jax (Charles Hunnam), who begins to doubt the Sons actions and wants to move away from arms dealing (although he manages his fair share of brawls, murders and the occasional knife fight).

Being from Northern California, the backdrops and town names are familiar to me, as is the sight of a large group of bikers cruising down a California highway. Even the sights of New Mexico in Breaking Bad seem homelike, with that crisp desert and blue sky. I find it interesting that both shows take place in the West—the home of cowboy justice; the Wild West still holds some draw to us and remains the place where fortunes can be made and men become men.

Anyone would say that Walter White from Breaking Bad is a raging egomaniac trying to become an alpha male (“I’m the one who knocks”) and that the Sons of Anarchy are territorial egomaniacs who seek to maintain their alpha male status. Both groups of men, while able to beat-up various other bad guys with impunity and whose criminal activities just serve to fuel their need to do so, constantly reiterate that their violent activities are necessary for the protection of their families.

Each group uses family and honor as a justification for their own aggressive desires, espousing an almost medieval chivalric code of honor, one where “the family” is paramount, but pride, strength, and respect are the true priorities. This portrayal of such harsh masculinity is one where the only way to reclaim one’s sense of honor and control, is through violence.

The men in each of these shows maintain this violence with constant rationalizations about how they and their protection is needed by the ones they love. Jax puts a man into the hospital with a horrific beating when he discovers that he sold drugs to his ex-wife. Walt kills Tuco and his cousin, up close and personal, because he believes that they might hurt his family. Vigilantism and backdoor deals are treated as the only way to keep their families safe, despite the obvious truth that it’s that very behavior which has brought them to that point.

There is an obvious hierarchy displayed by each group: either you’re smart enough to live outside of the law, or you’re a sheep. These men who embrace a counterculture lifestyle, place themselves, their intellect, even their consciousness at a higher level than those around them, as if they are entitled to live the way that they do because they remain free from it’s taint. Their honor remains intact because their motivation (family, freedom, love) is pure (or so they believe), a fact that places them above common gangsters.

However, the reasons for the justification have to remain pure as well, meaning that gender roles, must be strictly upheld, otherwise, what are they fighting for? Walt resents Skyler’s need to work, only being supportive when she is actually laundering money for him. His sexual dominance towards her increases as well, needing to feel in control of her behavior.

Sons of Anarchy especially uses gender roles with women pushed into two groups, prostitutes to be played with and passed around the men, and the legitimate “Old Ladies” who are the matriarchs. While these women (in particular Gemma and Tara) are afforded great respect, they are still expected to oversee the comfort and maintenance of the families, while also turning a blind eye to any wayward straying of their men.

The women in Sons of Anarchy are complicated and full of their own issues and ideas and even their own unethical and immoral rationalizations. For me, one of the most interesting arcs of the show has been to see the change in Tara, an intelligent doctor who becomes dangerous in her own right when she attacks a hospital administrator who has suspended her. Gemma is likewise fierce, being gun toting, punch throwing, and threatening all on her own.

Skyler and Marie are complicated protagonists as well, and not fully innocent either. Skyler starts to launder money, has Saul on her speed dial, and arranges for Ted Beneke’s intimidation (even finishing the job herself).

Yet, even as these women are somewhat outside of the norm because of their lifestyles, I think that both shows do a great job at featuring women who are varied and interesting, many of who have reclaimed their sexual nature in spite of the way that they are manipulated and treated by the men in their lives (Bitch Flicks contributor Leigh has a great article discussing this trend).

However, those considerations are secondary to this article. Rather, the focus is this question, what does it mean to be an “alpha” among humans? Is that drive still as present as these shows say it is? And, can you be an “alpha” without being a criminal?

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Comedic Feminism in ‘3rd Rock from the Sun’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strong Boy/Smart Girl: Another Hollywood Trope in ‘The Bourne Legacy’

Jeremy Renner and Rachel Weisz in The Bourne Legacy

The division of labor exists with impunity in the fine world of the Hollywood action movie, a genre that I do occasionally enjoy. Hollywood’s latest action film, The Bourne Legacy, is a continuation of the atmospheric, amnesiac thriller that originally starred Matt Damon. The new version with Jeremy Renner (Hurt Locker) doesn’t stick Renner in as the next Jason Bourne (thank goodness—this is not Batman or James Bond), but adds a new super assassin for us to chase throughout the world, while riding some rickety mode of transportation.

Renner jumps off of buildings, waterfalls, climbs mountains, wrestles wolves and basically does everything that would ever make you feel self-conscious about your own athleticism; He is offset by Rachel Weisz as the brilliant scientist who knows everything about anatomy, psychology, biology, but can’t really throw a punch.

Enter in the standard action movie plot and character trope: A very strong, good-looking guy with mad survival skills is thrown together, by some mutual need, with a beautiful and intelligent, slightly nervous smart girl who has perfect hair. These two will originally struggle with mistrust and some playful bickering before realizing their mutual respect and lust and getting together, thereby becoming the perfect team of strong boy and smart girl.

Some examples to help illustrate my point: The Saint, Batman Begins, Superman and feel free to just queue up the James Bond music as that’s the plot for every single Bond movie ever made (although, to be fair, in a Bond movie one of the girls will turn out to be an evil kickass).

Val Kilmer and Elizabeth Shue in The Saint

I can think of exceptions to this rule, but in those cases it’s usually the sort of the guy who holds all the chips: Spiderman (let’s be honest MJ was never particularly bright) but Peter Parker is brilliant and strong, Ironman (nothing wrong with Pepper Potts, she’s pretty much a layer of good, uptight, responsibility—girl style), yet Tony Stark is, of course, a genius and strong (though he has a weak heart so I suppose that equals the field or something).

The point is not to make you hate your favorite action movies and neither is this trope all-encompassing; there are dozens of exceptions and variations of the boy/girl thrown together action plot. Rather, the point is a much more fundamental question I’ve been considering lately: inequality in romantic relationships. Now, I’m not complaining about making women smart in movies, I think it’s great. I mean no one wants to see that annoying chick in The Princess Bride, Buttercup, who does absolutely nothing the whole movie but look nice. Female characters who are smart (or who perhaps represent the tough girl switch where the girl is strong and the boy is smart like in How to Train your Dragon) are interesting and (somewhat) multi-dimensional, but why does it have to be divided so transparently even?

Contradictions in character are what make characters relate-able and engaging. Again, this is not a campaign for bringing back Buttercup or making women completely smart and tough all the time in all the movies, because well, that’s just not good film-making since film is about people and everyone is different. What I’d just like to see is some variation, less of an oh-so-obvious split down the middle….perhaps, fewer tropes and more people? Specifically, I’d like to see some variation in the portrayal of women in action movies. It’s a great genre, full of adrenalin and good times, why can’t women reflect that while still being original?

Having people be so completely well matched is unrealistic. And not that a super assassin (who just also happens to be super trustworthy and great boyfriend material) running all over the world with a sexy scientist is a realistic situation, but the people in that situation are supposed to be realistic-like, as is their relationship. Why must it be that either the two characters hang there in completely balance to each other, ‘I’m smart, I contribute” and “I’m strong, I contribute” or one is at the top carrying everything, while the other lags along at the bottom just brushing their hair and making us sad?

I’ve read a few things that suggest that some people believe that heroines have overwhelmingly ascended to the top of the action movie pile; that they’re so cool that mean can’t keep up anymore. Please, just look at this year’s action movie selection to realize that’s not true. But what is true is that a lot of characters in mainstream action movies are still falling short of accurate character portrayals and stepping outside of the plot box.

Now, granted, did I enjoy the movie? Yes. Could it have been better? Yes. Are there examples of interesting, more human based characters in action movies? Yes, (I actually think the original Bourne movies do a great job of that). Does Hollywood need to do a little better in it’s portrayal of women and actually give them a unique personality? YES.

The Four Mothers of ‘Hanna’

Saoirse Ronan as Hanna

This independent film came and went and while a few friends mentioned it, I didn’t seem to read too much about it, a shame because the film offers a lot for a feminist viewers (Bechdel win!) in it’s portrayal of female friendship, Hanna’s coming of age, a female action hero and an interesting Cate Blanchette as the villain. While the story revolves around a familiar plot of revenge and CIA subterfuge, the screenwriter, Seth Lochhead, always intended for the film to feature elements of fairy tales, specifically the darkness that is featured in any morality tale.

Hanna is certainly suited to a Grimm fairytale ambiance; Saoirse Ronan (Hanna) is cursed with special gifts and raised by her vengeance-fueled father in a faraway land. There is a wicked witch (Cate Blanchette) who cursed her with her special abilities and who must be destroyed, Hanna’s father (Eric Bana) must then push his daughter out into the world to fulfill her cursed destiny, during which time Hanna will ultimately grow up and discover the truth about her mother.

Specifically, it was the portrayal of parents, mothers especially, that I found really interesting in the film. There are three mothers portrayed, Hanna’s mother, Hanna’s grandmother, and the mother of Hanna’s friend (Olivia Williams), all of which are shown to be absent mothers to their daughters.

Motherhood is tricky in Hollywood; films about the subject usually involve a lot of tears and yelling and misunderstandings. It’s understandable, this confusion over the topic, since there is no definitive model of what a perfect mother would look like; however, there is usually one characteristic that we do all seem to seek in our perfect mother: her presence. I can name dozens of films that feature the absent mother: perhaps she is dead, or ill, or a drug addict, or even (gasp) the clichéd, power-hungry career woman.

In the case of Hanna, there are other forces that drive mothers and daughters apart; for Hanna’s mother, it’s her unwanted pregnancy and then later, her involvement in a top-secret government program (which is just a more complicated version of the guilty mother trying to give her kid a better life plot). Hanna’s mother ultimately fails in this task though; all her attempts to “make her baby special” (enter fairytale queen asking the witch for some special gifts for her kid) leads to Hanna’s cursed nature (abnormal abilities) and itinerant loneliness. Hanna is so lonely that she follows around a traveling family, amazed at their family life and obviously longing for the things she cannot understand.

Olivia Williams plays the ultimate bohemian mother; her fifteen year-old daughter is given leave to run around Europe on the back of a moped with a few boys she met at the pool. This sentence alone would probably give my mother a heart attack. Williams believes so wholly in the purity of independence that she allows her entitled daughter complete and total rein, even allowing her to engage in activities, which could be harmful. Yet Williams still considers herself to be a maternal protective figure in her choice to take in Hanna, believing her to need some parenting (of which she doesn’t seem to do much). In the end however, despite her daughters friendship with Hanna and her own desire to help her, William’s character closes off their family to Hanna, pushing her away yet again from another mother figure.

Hanna’s grandmother is a different kind of woman, solid and gentle, who longs to know where her granddaughter is and whether she is safe. She is so pure and innocent in her serene motherhood that she allows herself to be killed, rather than reveal any information about her granddaughter’s whereabouts. It’s a powerful scene of what I imagine we think of for ideal motherhood: self-sacrifice and love.

Cate Blanchette as Marissa Weigler

Cate Blanchette, who plays the villain, in a way even struck me as a type of mother, which could be read in one of two ways. Either she’s no mother at all—the anti-mother if you will, the woman who is negative mother space in that she considers the progeny which she helped to create to be disposable tools. Or perhaps she is instead the great mother figure who tries so hard to control her children, to mold them into her image that she ultimately destroys them or must be destroyed.

Startlingly, in order for Hanna to thrive, all of her mothers must die, forcing her to experience extreme independence. After which she crosses over into her own womanhood, freed from the four women whose influence has controlled her life.

The intended morality of this dark fairy tale was not that mothers should be killed, however the intersection of independence, self-discovery and loneliness was pivotal for Hanna to grow up and discover her self.

This is only one facet of the film though; the film almost reads like a backpackers love song to Europe, exploring the little known and “off the track” places in much of Southern Europe. As a bonus, look for Tom Hollander (of the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy) as a brilliantly creepy, Eurotrash thugs, all whilst wearing absurdly small shorts.

The Dark Side of ‘The Dark Knight Rises’

Warning: Spoilers ahead!!

So I’m writing this movie review with a lot of spoilers, because well, according to my Facebook newsfeed, everyone’s already seen it. But even if you have seen it already, you’re probably desperately longing for my insightful commentary of the film; I mean, how else will you know what to think of it?

No one here is going to deny that Christopher Nolan has managed to take the superhero movie to a whole other level: the characters have far more complexity, a hell of a lot less campy lines, and a darker, grittier setting than the more upbeat Marvel comics. Even the fight scenes in this Batman film had a visceral heaviness to them, with each punch sounding so thick and weighty, you could just feel the epic-ness pounding you from the screen.

My praise for Nolan as a filmmaker however comes mostly from his dealings with evil. Most directors have laughable Lokis (The Avengers) and shapeless Sinestros (The Green Lantern) whose overwrought motivations and plans for world domination just get more tiresome with every rendition. The genius behind Nolan’s villains is in how he makes them insidious by how fascinating we find them, exploring that ever-present possibility of the darker side of humanity is so psychologically interesting that we can’t turn away. For example, Heath Ledger’s Joker was infamously brilliant and is, I think, the best superhero villian, given that his motivation was just “wanting to watch the world burn,” and it felt so…seductive.

In a similar vein, Bane was inscrutable and intense; it wasn’t about some in-your-face world domination or strawman plot of blowing up the moon. Bane’s motivations are completely hidden until the last ten minutes of the movie. And that’s the draw. That’s why we keep watching. And in the last few minutes, when we learn that motivation, it was so simple, so seemingly counter to his character, that you couldn’t help but pity him. That motivation was of course love, and it was humanizing, equalizing even.

I feel a little bad bringing up the human fascination with darkness and villains in the aftermath of the tragic shootings in Aurora, Colorado, but as with anything, it has become a media event, one where we desperately want to know the motivation of the killer. As humans we seek that casualty in those we consider perverted and ill in an attempt to validate our own humanity.

Besides the characters, the plot eerily parallels the current economic climate in the United States, looking basically like the occupy movement on crack. Even the scene of Bane breaking into Wall Street (which felt evocative of Rage Against the Machines, “Sleep Now in the Fire” video) was a reminder of our economic vulnerabilities in the West. There is a sort of palpable fear that has started to seep into the world’s economic consciousness, asking “how long can this continue?” This fear, of course, fed by the constant bank scandals that I hear about on the news every morning, the lack of any kind of new budget, and the general disillusionment with the viability of our political leaders (in both parties). Nolan did an excellent job of tapping into that fear, highlighting the destruction that can come from one good hack job on Wall Street.

The class warfare depicted in the film, with it’s disturbing scenes of makeshift courts to punish the wealthy and French Revolution style executions, brought home the problematic images of what happens when poverty reaches it’s breaking point. I especially found the violence that was present to be very familiar, reminding me of A Tale of Two Cities or Les Miserable, both stories that demonstrate the intense hatred that was turned onto the ruling classes during the French Revolution.

The revolutionaries of this film literally destroyed the vestiges of wealth as they smashed pictures and pulled scared socialites out of their homes and yanked the fur coats off their backs. However, the film did have some subtler points on economy, most notably offered by the reluctant billionaire Bruce Wayne (who admittedly has experienced poverty in his travels) when he critiques the charity functions where thousands are spent on venues and food. A valid point, since the money spent on the charity function could probably just have been given to the charity in the first place. Similarly, Catwoman states that the “rich don’t even go broke like the rest of us,” disgusted that even without money, Wayne will be able to maintain his lifestyle.

The two women in the movie actually play an important role in the economics portrayed: Catwoman as a sort of liaison between the wealthy do-gooders and poor revolutionaries. She pretends wealth in order to achieve her thieving, but claims herself to be a woman of the people. Miranda as well comes from nothing and has managed to rise up in the ranks of the world, only intending to tear it down again. I found it interesting though, that both women seem to at first be a part of the upper classes, but instead, stand as symbols for those who are struggling (though neither seems to have a very positive way of dealing with their financial difficulties).

Ironically enough though, the movie seemed almost an affirmation of class status quo, since these revolutionaries were the bad guys, and the billionaire (granted now broke billionaire) was the one who had to save the day and reassert order. On the one hand, at the end, there were scenes of the orphan boys heading off to stay in mansions and the bravery of the policemen, working class heroes if you will. However, I felt that the film had a lot of potential to address economic disparity, but didn’t seem to come to any new resolution, just reasserted whatever economic platforms existed in the first place.

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