Robin Hitchcock – Page 9

Too Many Hitchcocks

Sienna Miller and Toby Jones in HBO’s The Girl

1997 had volcano movies. 2000 had Mars movies. 2006 had magician movies. 2012 has Hitchcock movies.

The Girl, premiering tomorrow on HBO at 9PM, stars Toby Jones as Hitch, Imelda Staunton as his wife Alma, and Sienna Miller as Tippi Hedren. Hitchcock, opening in limited release November 23rd, stars Anthony Hopkins as the title character, Helen Mirren as Alma, and Scarlett Johansson as Janet Leigh. Having only seen the trailers, it is my suspicion that the close proximity of these movies’ releases will sabotage the artistic impact of both films.

Based on Donald Spoto’s book Spellbound by Beauty, The Girl centers on Hitchcock’s obsession with and harassment of Tippi Hedren as he worked with her in The Birds and Marnie. It is a dark and unpleasant story, where the director is clearly depicted as a creepy antagonist:

And while “it’s not TV, it’s HBO,” The Girl debuts in the shadow of its theatrical release twin, Hitchcock. Toby Jones yet again plays the also-ran version of the lead actor in a biopic, six years after his take on Truman Capote in Infamous was eclipsed by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Oscar-winning turn from the previous year. For me, the biggest “this is only a TV movie” black mark is the casting of “We wanted X, but we got” Sienna Miller as Tippi Hedren.

But The Girl may well get its revenge on the flashier Hitchcock by undermining its depiction of the Master of Suspense as a lovable maverick; eccentric, sure, but far from diabolical:

It’s awkward to watch these trailers together, especially with the one for Hitchcock taking multiple opportunities to ogle ScarJo T&A and closing with a zinger about large breasts. I’m wagering that uncomfortable disconnect will be only more noticeable when comparing the two actual films. So while Hitchcock gets the bigger stars and better buzz, The Girl may pull the red carpet out from underneath it.

—

Robin Hitchcock (no relation) is an American writer living in Cape Town. She has been grumpy for years that the adjective form of her last name is already taken.

‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’: Unexpected Gem

Elizabeth Banks and Brooklyn Decker in What to Expect When You’re Expecting

What to Expect When You’re Expecting was [excuse the hack writing here, it’s unavoidable:] not what I expected. I expected it to be another He’s Just Not That Into You: an insipid, generally obnoxious star-studded ensemble piece loosely inspired by a bestselling cultural touchstone of a nonfiction book. Instead, it is an entertaining, surprisingly touching star-studded ensemble piece loosely inspired by a bestselling cultural touchstone of a nonfiction book.

One of the best things about What to Expect is that it never attempts to universalize pregnancy or parenting. The five semi-connected expecting couples in the film all have different conception stories (from an oops one night stand, to getting lucky after years of infertility, to choosing adoption) and pregnancy experiences (from Brooklyn Decker’s walk-in-the-park pregnancy with twins to lactation advocate Elizabeth Bank’s hormone-fueled emotional breakdown to [spoiler alert!] an astonishingly sensitive depiction of miscarriage). While the film unfortunately depicts an Atlanta that knows no gays and is largely white, it at least partway makes up for its lack of demographic diversity by exploring a rich diversity of experience.

“Dudes Group” of fathers in What to Expect When You’re Expecting

I was also very happily surprised by the depiction of fatherhood in What to Expect When You’re Expecting, especially after seeing the bit in the trailer where a group of dads pushing strollers slo-mo walk to Biggie’s “Big Poppa.” I expected this plotline to be another iteration of “men doing ladywork: HILARIOUS!” But the “dudes group” is celebrated, not mocked, for embracing fatherhood, and while the group has a code of “no judging” when they share such parenting mishaps as “last week, my kid ate a cigarette”, the dads are not depicted as incompetent impostors in a woman’s world. They’re equal partners in parenthood.

And best of all, What to Expect When You’re Expecting is genuinely funny and emotionally affecting. It’s sort of unfortunate that the movie features a lot of humor bizarrely specific to the 2012 zeitgeist, from food truck rivalries to autotuned remixes of public breakdowns; because the movie could be, like the book of the same title, something of a perennial classic for expecting parents. But What to Expect When You’re Expecting makes up some points by also including some of the best things about the 2012 cultural moment: scene-stealing Rebel Wilson and shirtless Joe Manganiello.

Shirtless Joe Maganiello is one of the best things about living in 2012.

Oscar Hosts Preferable to Seth MacFarlane: An Abbreviated List

Seth MacFarlane, unpleasant person and recently-announced host of the 85th Annual Academy Awards

Seth MacFarlane has been tapped to host the 85th Annual Academy Awards next February. MacFarlane is the creator of The Family Guy and several other animated television programs (American Dad, The Cleveland Show) known for their blatant hostility toward women, people of color, the LGBTQ community, and the basic tenets of comedic storytelling. MacFarlane’s first motion picture, Ted, was a box office hit last summer. He can sing and do funny voices and he looks pretty good in a tux. The producers of the Academy Awards ceremony are hoping he can bring in his lucrative young male demographic to boost the declining ratings for the Oscars telecast. [And I guess they already forgot about that whole debacle with Brett Ratner and Eddie Murphy last year.]

While it’s possible MacFarlane as host will bring in droves of 18-year-old boys to watch montages celebrating old movies they’ve never heard of interspersed with awards being granted to movies they’ll never watch, the Academy Awards have alienated at least one lifelong die-hard Oscars fanatic: me.

It’s hard for me to think of someone I’d be less excited about seeing host the Oscars than Seth MacFarlane. Instead, I humbly present an abbreviated list of potential Oscar hosts I think would do a better job:

1. Miley Cyrus

2. Billy Ray Cyrus
3. James Franco in a wig made from Anne Hathaway’s Les Mis chop
4. Tom Brokaw after half an Ambien
5. A brigade of mimes from Cirque du Soleil
6. Ben Affleck and Matt Damon [The 90s are BACK, people!]
7. On that note, how about reuniting the dynamic duo of the 1994 Oscars:

Oprah. Uma.

8. The Oogieloves
9. Anne Curry

10. One of the lesser Kardashians
11. A fully-articlated Oscar statuette, played by Andy Serkis in mo-cap, IN 3D
12. The Romney Sons
13. The cast of The Avengers dressed as the “Let’s All Go to the Lobby” snacks

Sam Jackson can play the popcorn.

14. The cast of Magic Mike in fat suits, because LULZ

15. Jennifer Aniston handcuffed to Angelina Jolie
16. Suri Cruise with a Speak & Spell
17. Mrs. Knerr, my first grade teacher
18. This guy:

That blue bodybuilder dude from Prometheus

19. The reanimated corpse of Bob Hope
20. The reanimated corpse of [insert non-dead previous host, but not Billy Crystal, I like him]
21. Clint Eastwood, live via satellite from an empty furniture store
22. The Fandango lunch bag puppets
23. Daniel Day-Lewis in character as Lincoln and Bill Murray in character as FDR
24. The last five hosts of the Sci-Tech awards, mud wrestling
25. Jay Leno. I mean it: Jay. Leno. I would rather watch Jay Leno host the Oscars than Seth MacFarlane. Let that sink in. Think about what that means. Jay Leno would be better. Did you ever think those words would appear on the internet? Well there they are, and they are true.

—

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa. Her actual proposed Oscar host is Paul Rudd.

‘Seeking a Friend for the End of the World’: The Perfect Setting for a Manic Pixie Dream Girl Love Story

Steve Carell and Keira Knightley in Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, from writer–director Lorene Scafaria (Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist), is a charming and oddly pleasant romantic comedy set against the backdrop of the last three weeks before the Earth is destroyed by an asteroid’s impact. Unfortunately, Seeking a Friend seems to have missed its cultural moment: it not only comes on the heels of 2011’s limited-perspective apocalypse dramas Melancholia and 4:44 Last Day on Earth, but it unironically presents a quintessential Manic Pixie Dream Girl in the year of her deconstruction, from Zoe Kazan’s Ruby Sparks to Parker Posey’s character Liz on the television series Louie. 2012 phenomena aside, Seeking a Friend feels like it ought to have come out around the turn of the millennium, the last time the cultural collective was fixated on The End. As it is, Seeking a Friend for the End of the World feels hopelessly dated and out-of-touch.

Steve Carell stars as the too-on-the-nose named Dodge, the Inhibited Sad Sack who needs Keira Knightley’s Manic Pixie Dream Girl Penny to deliver him from his lonely joyless life. Penny is 100 proof MPDG, from her introduction where she literally throws herself into Dodge’s arms through his apartment window when he checks in on her during a apocalypse/breakup-induced crying session on the fire escape, to her seemingly serious medical condition that’s presented as quirky and precious (hypersomnia); her misplaced priorities (fleeing her home as a rioting mob descends, she grabs as many vinyl records as she can carry and screams to the others, “Goodbye, Friends!”) to her improbably sunny disposition (when Dodge tries to prompt her to think of things she won’t miss about the world, she even finds sympathy for her dentist).

Keira Knightley as Penny

It is unusual to find such a classic Manic Pixie in a film written by a woman, but at least Scafaria crafts Penny so that she has her own motivation outside of fixing what’s left of Dodge’s life. After missing the last of the commercial flights to the UK where her family is, she agrees to help Dodge get to the home of his high school sweetheart in exchange for him taking her to “someone I used to know who has a plane.” In one of the most touching scenes, Penny is able to contact her family via satellite phone (cell service has been discontinued for reasons I didn’t quite understand), and in that moment she seems like a real person with a real history, completely independent from Dodge or any other man.

But for the rest of the film (most notably, the conclusion), Penny seems to exist to save the spirits of Dodge. If Seeking a Friend for the End of the World were just a touch more artful, I would surmise it was using setting to further deconstruct the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Because what better time to meet an Manic Pixie than the last two weeks before the apocalypse, when everyone is acting on hedonist impulses, and long term consequences are not a concern? At the end of most Manic Pixie Dream Girl films, the credits roll and the audience has to suppress cynical speculation as to how the rest of the MPDG and the Sad Sack’s relationship would play out, wondering how such a dynamic could possibly be sustained. As Seeking a Friend for the End of the World fades to white, we’re free from these doubts. Dodge and Penny’s whirlwind romance doesn’t have to work very hard to last until the end of time.

The Resident Evil Series Proves The Bechdel Test Does Not Measure Quality

Resident Evil DVD Cover

Feminist film discussion so often turns to the Bechdel Test—for the uninitiated, it asks if 1) a movie has more than one female character 2) if two female characters have a conversation 3) if that conversation is about something other than a man—that it is easy to forget the test is not meant to be a benchmark of quality. Passing the Bechdel Test does not make a movie good. It does not even make a movie particularly feminist. It’s a bare minimum requirement for movies at all interested in portraying women as part of its story.

I’d love it if more movies passed the Bechdel test, but don’t count on The Rule as the savior of cinema. Movies can easily pass the Bechdel test and be beyond terrible. Which is abundantly illustrated by the Resident Evil franchise; which releases its fifth installment, Resident Evil: Retribution, today. The first four Resident Evil films pass the Bechdel Test. They even pass the Sarkeesian Corollary—that women characters speak to each other about something other than a man for at least 60 seconds—which is fairly remarkable for action-heavy movies without much dialogue at all. The first four Resident Evil films also pass Alaya Dawn Johnson’s adaptation of the Bechdel test to evaluate the representation of people of color in movies.

[By the way, it’s very easy to pass the third prong of these tests when there’s a gender-neutral ZOMG ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE! to dominate conversation.]

Zombies: something to talk about

Additionally, the Resident Evil films pass what I would call The Ripley Test, in that many of the female characters’ gender is not essential to their character or to the plot, and a male character could have filled that “slot” just as easily. The series protagonist, Alice, played by Milla Jovovich, was not a character in the video game series but was invented for the films.

The second film, Resident Evil: Apocalypse, starts bringing over characters from the game series, and notably chooses Jill Valentine, the female of the pair of main characters from the original game, over Chris Redfield, who doesn’t appear until the fourth movie (one film after his sister Claire appears as the leader of a band of surviving humans.) [Author’s note: I’ve never played the Resident Evil games and relied heavily on the Resident Evil Wiki to write this piece.]

Jill Valentine in Resident Evil video game and film

One could cynically dismiss the choice to create the character Alice and select Jill Valentine as one of the first crossover characters as the result of Hot Action Chicks putting butts in movie seats. They do both make incredibly impractical clothing decisions (or in the case of Alice in Resident Evil, have incredibly impractical clothing decisions made for them). But the first film also has Michelle Rodriguez as badass S.T.A.R.S (think S.W.A.T, but working for an evil corporation) officer Rain Ocampo, who could just have easily been another tough dude to leave Alice our Smurfette.

Michelle Rodriguez as Rain in Resident Evil

Resident Evil: Extinction finds Alice, Claire Redfield, and secondary female characters Betty and K-Mart (seriously) dressing and acting much more like people whose primary concern is avoiding grisly death by zombie attack, give or take a little eyeliner.

Spencer Locke as K-Mart and Ali Larter as Claire in Extinction

So the Resident Evil franchise does not have an inclusiveness problem. Unfortunately, it has a problem with pretty much everything else that makes a movie enjoyable: storytelling, logic, consistent mythology, characterization, visual finesse. Zombie genre inventor George A. Romero was fired from the first Resident Evil movie over “creative differences.” Firing Romero from your zombie movie is like firing Zeus from your thunderstorm. His absence is profoundly felt in the Resident Evil films’ total inability to make up their mind about their internal Rules of Zombification (Resident Evil‘s zombie apocalypse is caused by the spread of a biological weapon called the T-virus, which sometimes seems airborne and other times not so much, which when exposed to living tissue either causes superpowers or horrific mutations depending on the will of the plot, and sometimes causes your traditional death and subsequent reanimation as a zombie, or maybe a gigantic Super Zombie if we’ve reached the end of ~~a level~~ an act).

The Resident Evil movies would also have benefited from Romero’s transparency when it comes to social commentary: it’s one thing to have the primary antagonist be the gigantic and sinister Umbrella Corporation, but that lack of subtlety offers no help in understanding the actual meat of your message when Umbrella Corporation’s apparent corporate mission is to be as moustache-twirlingly eeeeevil as possible, rather than, you know, normal corporate goals like making money.

Warning: this teaser trailer is infinitely better than the actual movies.

But the main problem with the Resident Evil series unfortunately is one that severely undercuts is Bechdel-busting assets, and that is that series protagonist Alice is a total cipher. In every film she is re-set, like a video game character reverting to the start of the level. In the beginning of Resident Evil, she awakes (naked in the shower) with no memories. In Resident Evil: Apocalypse, she begins and ends the film waking up in Umbrella Corporation lab with new sets of superpowers as the subject of unknown experimentation.

Alice wakes up in an Umbrella Corporation lab. Get used to it, Alice.

In Resident Evil: Extinction, she’s revealed to be one of hundreds of Alice clones. In Resident Evil: Afterlife, all the clones are quickly killed off in a massive explosion, and the surviving Alice is somehow stripped over her superpowers, only to act more or less exactly as tough as she was when she still had them.

Before the consequences of any of these changes to the nature of Alice’s character can be explored, the series hits the reset button yet again. Meanwhile, Alice’s personality can bizarrely and dramatically shift at any time, and we’re supposed to dismiss it because she’s always just had her memories erased or been genetically modified or remotely activated by satellite or cloned or de-powered or something wackadoo and scifi like that.

While the Resident Evil movies make it abundantly clear that passing the Bechdel Test is not enough to make a movie any good, ultimately I must say I like this series more than I would if it were another male-dominated action franchise. It’s not like video game adaptations are generally known for nuanced characterization anyway. I know I’m going to keep watching these terrible flicks because I like zombie movies and action movies, and if I’m going to keep punishing myself with crap movies, it’s at least nice to see some what-passes-for-“characters” of my own gender represented some of the time. Representing women doesn’t necessarily make a movie any good, but it at least makes it a little different.

I Want a Woman to be the Next Woody Allen

Woody Allen and Penelope Cruz on set of To Rome With Love

I went to see To Rome With Love earlier this week with the intention of reviewing it for Bitch Flicks. But this film is practically un-reviewable: the kind of frilly nothing of a movie that exits your brain before you’ve taken your last sticky step out of the theater. It’s four short films set in Rome, unwisely edited together into a would-be Altmanesque ensemble piece, thwarted by temporal disjointedness (switching between a storyline that takes place over the span of a day and those that cover weeks or months) and a failure to thematically link the pieces beyond a tone of jovial silliness. If I had a dollar for every review of To Rome With Love that used the phrase “Lesser Allen”, I could pay my rent this month. Because there isn’t much more to say about this movie than those two words.

But one thought since seeing To Rome With Love just won’t leave me alone: I want a woman to be the next Woody Allen.

I want a woman who makes at least one movie a year for thirty years, without caring that they’re all practically the same movie. No one else will care either. If one of her films out of every dozen or so is exceptional in any way, the critics will proclaim that her genius is “back” and award her with another Academy Award even though they know she won’t be there to accept it because, I don’t know, her Breeders cover band has a standing gig on Sunday nights or something.

I want a woman who can write herself as the main character in 85% of her films, and “act” as this “character” whenever she pleases, or, in her autumn years, have the latest Up-and-Coming Actress step in, doing her best impression of our auteur. Every aspiring actress will have a passable impression of our Lady Allen in her stable of characters, just in case.

I want a woman to be able to cast whatever Hot Young Actor is her current muse as her love interest, and enjoy a real-life relationship with a significant portion of these muses. And should that relationship end by her cheating on him with one of the most scandalous available partners, she will only have to endure ten years of so of late-night jokes at her expense, and suffer zero artistic consequences for her personal indiscretions.

I want a woman who can build Dream Team ensembles for any passing notion of a movie script that might come to her. She’ll have a roster of venerable Standard Players, but also be able to pull legends out of retirement or grab the latest It Girl or make the latest It Girl (Never forget: Mira Sorvino has an Oscar).

After Lady Allen writes actors and actresses their Oscar-winning role, they’ll be content to be used by her however she sees fit (As in To Rome With Love, where Vicky Christina Barcelona Best Supporting Actress Penelope Cruz takes on a thankless hooker role in an embarrassing Three’s Company-style storyline of mistaken identities and pointless ruses), or forgotten and shuffled out of the way for her next muse (Another reminder: Mira Sorvino has an Oscar.)

Let’s be clear: I’m not being sarcastic. I am not trying to belittle the great Woody Allen’s admirable body of work. I LIKE having silly little diversions of films with stellar casts coming out on the regular. I don’t miss the seven bucks I paid to To Rome With Love, a movie that devotes around a quarter of its runtime to setting up a low brow opera joke, just to prove that such a thing can exist. And I LOVE getting to see that one out of every dozen or so Woody Allen movies that is true genius. And I truly believe part of what makes those movies possible is that the powerful, prolific Allen has unfettered release of all his creative notions, and leaves it to his audience to separate the wheat from the chaff.

I just want a woman to get in on this action too. I want a woman to have this level of clout in Hollywood. I want a woman who can get away with making whatever movie she feels like at any given time. I want a woman whose “lesser works” are still recommended, who is free from worrying about being “only as good as her last picture.”

So to Lena Dunham, Mindy Kaling, Zoe Kazan, Rashida Jones, Jennifer Westfeldt, Tiny Fey, and the next generation of aspiring writer/director/actresses I say: THIS COULD BE YOUR LIFE. Get cracking.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Week: Defending Dawn Summers: From One Kid Sister to Another

Michelle Trachtenberg as Dawn Summers

In the final scene of the first episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer‘s Season 5, Dawn Summers, Buffy’s never before seen or heard-of little sister, appears seemingly out of nowhere. While she’s completely new to the audience, oddly, it is clear that from the characters’ perspectives that Dawn has been there all along.

Dawn and Tara, fellow outsiders from the Scooby gang, pass time with a thumb war.

To quote my husband’s reaction as we reached season 5 during his (in-progress) Buffy indoctrination: “Why on earth are they doing this?”

Most of the Buffy fandom reacted with the same puzzlement. As Dawn’s character was fleshed out over the first few episodes of the season as the archetypical annoying little sister, the audience was still denied all but the vaguest of clues as to Dawn’s true nature and reason for being retconned into the Buffyverse.

Dawn as annoying little sister.

It was not until the fifth episode of the season, “No Place Like Home”, that the Dawn’s existence is explained: she is a mystical key that opens gateways between dimensions, magically given human form with blood relation to the slayer, woven into her memories and all of those around her so that Buffy would protect her with her life, to keep the evil god Glory from using the Key to destroy the universe.

Unfortunately, the only place the monks’ spell couldn’t reach was the minds of the audience, and Dawn Summers had to win us over without the benefit of false memories. Which may have been an impossible feat, given her character is pretty much laid out as an immature, whiny, brat with a tendency to get into trouble.

Dawn in damsel-in-distress mode.

Also, she occasionally does this thing where she piercingly shrieks “Get out, get out, GET OUT!” which ranks up there with nails on a chalkboard, dental drills, and Katy Perry songs when it comes to horrible sounds to endure:

And so it is that Dawn is one of the least-liked characters in the Buffyverse. But not by me. I love Dawn Summers.

I suspect my unusually high tolerance for Dawn comes from my OWN memories. In “Real Me,” the episode which properly introduces Dawn’s character, she writes in her diary/narrates: “No one understands. No one has an older sister who is the slayer.”

Dawn writes in her diary.

But I understand. OK, sure, my big sister didn’t have superpowers, and as far as I know she did not save the world even one time, much less “a lot.” But from my perspective as her bratty little sister, I felt like I could never escape her long and intimidating shadow. I could never be as smart as her, as special as her; I couldn’t hope to collect even a fraction the awards and accolades she racked up through high school. And she didn’t even properly counteract her super smarts with social awkwardness: she always had a tight group of friends and the romantic affections of cute boys. She was the pride and joy of my family, and I always felt like an also-ran. Trust me: this makes it very hard to not be at least a little bratty and whiny.

And my big sister was a lot nicer to me than Buffy usually was to Dawn. If the audience found out before Buffy did that Dawn was created to induce the slayer to protect the key, it might have been a little hard to swallow. Buffy shows only hostile resentment toward Dawn for the first half of Season 5. It is only after Dawn learns herself that she is new to the world that Buffy shows her true sisterly love, when she lovingly insists to Dawn that she is Buffy’s “real sister” despite her mystical origins.

“It doesn’t matter where you came from, or how you got here, you are my sister.”

Because I relate to Dawn as a fellow annoying little brat following around her remarkable older sister, I am more forgiving of her character flaws. But I do think viewers without my background ought to take it easier on Dawn as well.

A common criticism of Dawn is that she’s much more immature than the main characters were at the start of the series, when they were close to her in age (Dawn is introduced as a 14-year-old in the eighth grade; Buffy, Xander, and Willow were high school sophomores around age 15 or 16 in Season 1). Writer David Fury responds to this in his DVD commentary on the episode “Real Me,” saying that Dawn was originally conceived as around age 12 and aged up a few years after Michelle Trachtenberg was cast, but it took a while for him and the other writers to get the originally-conceived younger version of the character out of their brains. But I don’t need this excuse; I think it makes perfect narrative sense that Dawn comes across as more immature than our point-of-view characters were when they were younger. Who among us didn’t think of themselves as being just as smart and capable as grown-ups when we were teens? Who among us, when confronted with the next generation of teenagers ten years down the line, were not horrified by their blatant immaturity?

Additionally, Dawn starting her character arc as whiny brat lets us watch her grow and mature into a pretty awesome young woman. It is a long road, beset by personal tragedy and a theme of abandonment: Dawn loses her mother and her sister within a matter of months in Season 5, and in Season 6 sees her surrogate parent figures Willow and Tara split up just as a returned-from-the-grave Buffy is too detached from humanity to be there emotionally for Dawn. Throughout Season 6, Dawn acts out: lying to Buffy to stay out all night with friends, habitually and perhaps compulsively stealing, and ultimately sublimating her abandonment issues into a curse (with the help of ~~Vengeance~~ “Justice” Demon Halfrek), temporarily trapping the Scooby gang and some innocent bystanders in the Summers home.

Dawn’s tantrum in Season 6’s “Older and Faraway”

But Season 6 represents an era of bad choices for almost the entire cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so Dawn should be given as much slack for her missteps as we give the other wayward characters, including Buffy herself. And it is Dawn who finally pulls Buffy out of the emotional purgatory she is suffering in this season. In the Season 6 finale “Grave”, Buffy finally truly regains her will to live and recaptures her complete humanity, and this epiphany comes in large part because she finally sees Dawn as a gift in her life rather than a burden:

Buffy and Dawn hug in “Grave”

“Things have really sucked lately, but that’s all gonna change—and I want to be there when it does. I want to see my friends happy again. I want to see you grow up. The woman you’re gonna become… Because she’s gonna be beautiful. And she’s gonna be powerful. I got it so wrong. I don’t want to protect you from the world—I want to show it to you. There’s so much that I wanna to show you.” – Buffy to Dawn in “Grave.”

Dawn with Buffy during her metaphorical rebirth in “Grave.”

Dawn finds her own self-actualization in the Season 7 episode “Potential.” Having once again been shoved to the sidelines of Buffy’s attention by the arrival of a collection of young “potential slayers” who need protection from the Bringers who have been systematically wiping out the future slayer lineage. While Buffy focuses on protecting and training the potentials, Dawn clearly feels left out, trapped by her own ordinariness and unimportance (a significant change for a girl who was once the key to the fabric between dimensions).

Dawn lurks in the background as Buffy gives a speech to potential slayers.

That all changes when a spell cast by Willow appears to identify Dawn as a potential slayer herself. Dawn is emotionally overwhelmed by the news, mainly because she thinks it means that Buffy must die before Dawn could ever realize this potential (I’m pretty sure the next potential would be called only by the death of Faith, but that’s neither here nor there). A part of Dawn is clearly excited by the news, and given a huge jolt of self-confidence that lets her bravely defend herself against a vampire and then fight off the group of Bringers who come for her classmate Amanda, the true potential slayer identified by Willow’s spell. Dawn handles the news of her lack of slayer potential with perfect grace, saving Amanda’s life and transferring to her the confidence that comes with knowing you are “special.”

At the episode’s end, Xander, the only other remaining character without any superpowers, has a heart-to-heart with Dawn. He shares with her the wisdom he’s gained in seven years in these circumstances:

Xander has a heart-to-heart with Dawn

“They’ll never know how tough it is, Dawnie, to be the one who isn’t chosen. To live so near to the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realizes because nobody’s watching me. I saw you last night. I see you working here today. You’re not special. You’re extraordinary.” – Xander to Dawn in “Potential.”

Dawn accepts her humanity and finds her maturity.

After “Potential”, Dawn, who began life at age 14, crafted from a ball of mystical energy and a spell creating powerful false memories, is finally defined by her humanity, her normalcy. She accepts this position with dignity, grace, and bravery. And in so doing, Dawn also steps up to her place as a mature young adult. And at least for this one-time bratty kid sister, that makes Dawn Summers is just as heroic and inspiring a character as Buffy herself.

—

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa. She is a regular contributor to Bitch Flicks with a new piece appearing each Friday. She is still upset that the Season 5 Buffy DVDs don’t include the awesome “previously on” montage from “The Gift”.

‘The Expendables 2’: Masculinity Porn

Still from The Expendables 2 [source]

“You want to man up? I’ll man you up.” – Sylvester Stallone in The Expendables 2

It’s a good thing The Expendables 2 was released after the Olympics ended, or a lot of innocent athletes might have tested positive for testosterone doping. Where 2010’s The Expendables set out to recreate the 1980’s tough-guy action genre with a straight face, its sequel is more willing to consciously dip into self-parody territory, finally giving audiences what they had wanted and expected out of the original: The Travelling Wilburys of action movie stars running through every available cliche from the genre with a wink and a smile. [The sequel currently rated 62% fresh at Rotten Tomatoes versus the original’s 41% rotten rating.]

The Expendables 2 strives to be the Most Macho Movie of all time. Every possible signifier of manliness is on display [spoilers ahead]: Skulls. Guns. Knives the size of small children. Nameless henchmen who explode into geysers of blood when killed. Hip flasks. Cigar chomping. Feats of brute strength. Explosions. Tanks. Brass knuckles. Gratuitous beret-wearing. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme. Chuck Norris himself reciting a Chuck Norris fact.

What appears on screen is not driven by story, logic, or reason, but by whatever is the most Righteously Dudely. This is the only reason I can account for Stallone’s character favoring a single-action revolver in firefights against scores of men with automatic weapons, or Jean-Claude Van Damme’s villain using a roundhouse kick to drive one of the aforementioned child-sized knives into the chest of a restrained man, or Terry Crews pausing to announce “we’ve got company” before diving to safety under a hail of bullets. Because it looks cool, because it looks manly, because it’s how it would have happened in a twelve-year-old boy’s imagination in 1985.

To my surprise, The Expendables 2 gets very little mileage out of promoting masculinity by contrasting it against femininity. The only significant female character, Nan Yu’s Maggie, is the Smurfette of the group. Stallone gets some macho points with his absurdly chauvinist reaction to being told to work with a woman (“I don’t have time to babysit,” yadda yadda), but Maggie shows him up by being smart and competent and tough and even proficient in torture. She’s one of the guys. She even hits on Stallone with an awkward forced pun. [Her advances are rejected, because of the old Spider-Man excuse of “people I love get killed”, not because Stallone is literally twice her age.]

Promotion poster for The Expendables 2 featuring Nan Yu

In contrast to Maggie, when the team comes across a village of only women (the men having been forced into plutonium-excavating by Van Damme), their attempts to defend themselves with firearms are so incompetent that they can’t hit any of Our Heroes even after they start deliberately walking into the line of fire. Women! Can’t force them into plutonium-excavating, can’t leave them behind to defend themselves either. Sheesh.

And that’s the only scene in the film with more than one woman in it. The Expendables 2 is actually a bizarrely sexless film, with no nudity, hardly any expression of the male gaze, and only the aforementioned fleeting hint at unconsummated romance. Perhaps the filmmakers were worried about girl cooties. Or perhaps women are just irrelevant to the type of masculinity relevant to the film: a pre-pubescent hero-worship of larger-than-life tough guys.

Side-stepping sexuality may have been a shrewd move on the part of the filmmakers, or we could have ended up with another Sucker Punch on our hands. The Expendables 2 is masculinity porn that audiences can walk away from without shame and without further thought. With its shear over-the-top silliness, it easy to dismiss the whole thing as harmless and apolitical.

But that doesn’t mean we should dismiss it as such. Why do unbridled displays of masculinity in an of themselves provide entertainment value (or at least, why are they expected to)? What would a throwback-y femininity extravaganza of a movie look like? Is it terrible that the idea of such a film sounds miserable to me, and I genuinely enjoyed my time watching The Expendables 2? How is the collective id of young boys from thirty years ago still such a powerful cultural force that it’s apparently imprinted on the mind of this grown-up feminist woman in the year 2012?

‘Friends With Kids’: When Harry Co-Parented With Sally…

Still from Friends With Kids. [source]

I’ve been excited to see Friends With Kids since Megan Kearns first wrote about it for Bitch Flicks last March. What a cast! A female writer/director! A romcom with a genuinely new and interesting premise!

I finally got the chance to watch Friends With Kids on a long flight this week, and I tremendously enjoyed watching it, but still found myself wanting more. As Megan expressed in her subsequent review of the film, Friends With Kids falls short of being a “feminist extravaganza” and ultimately isn’t too dissimilar from your standard romantic comedy. I was constantly reminded of When Harry Met Sally… a film that Friends With Kids echoes not only thematically (testing the limits of men and women in platonic relationships) but also structurally (following its characters over the course of several years of their lives) and tonally (witty comedy striped with serious relationship pathos).

Writer/Director/Producer Jennifer Westfeldt also stars as Julie, whose life seems pretty great even though she’s been unlucky in love (one of the most refreshing things about this movie is how it portrays singledom as Not The End Of The World even for a woman who ultimately does want a committed relationship). Her best friend is Jason (Adam Scott, as though that guy needed any more crush points), who favors brief dalliances with large-breasted women to actual relationships. Julie and Jason function as an ersatz couple in their circle of paired-off friends (Maya Rudolph and Chris O’Dowd as the stable and happy partners Leslie and Alex, and Kristen Wiig and Jon Hamm as the more tumultuous pair Missy and Ben). After the rest of the gang starts having children, Jason and Jules surprise everyone by deciding to have a kid together. They both want children and do not want to wait to find “their people” to do so, especially given the negative effects on romantic relationships they’ve seen having children can bring. As best friends, they have a lifelong love and commitment to each other making them suitable co-parents, without having to sacrifice passion or romance to the demands of child rearing.

My disappointment with Friends With Kids is that it doesn’t really explore the promise of that premise. Jules and Jason’s child-rearing arrangement works seemingly effortlessly, and the film fails to really express why. When the movie needs to inject some conflict, Friends With Kids retreats to the well-worn issue of whether a woman and a man can enjoy a truly platonic relationship. Only when romantic drama is thrown into the mix does the pair struggle to divide their time with and responsibilities to their son, which seems to support the wisdom of Jason and Jules’ original arrangement, but in reality nullifies their alternative parenting scheme by suggesting that close male/female friendships are always a pretense ultimately giving way to romance.

Which means that in the end, Friends With Kids doesn’t have that much to say about alternative family structures, which is terribly disappointing. Lip service is paid to gay couples raising children, and a few divorced straight couples with kids appear on the sidelines, but their struggles aren’t really explored. So when our heroes end up as yet another “traditional” family by film’s end, it’s quite the let-down to my feminist hopes for the film.

That said, like with When Harry Met Sally…, my id was tickled to see these two characters find love with each other, even though I still long for a movie that explores a male-female friendship that is genuinely platonic. Jason and Jules were so believable as best friends (I particularly got a kick out of their go-to conversation starter: making the other person choose between two hypothetical causes of death) and initially so believable as people not attracted to each other (their baby-making sex scene was so hilariously awkward I couldn’t help but laugh out loud even though I was watching it on a personal headset with earphones on a crowded airplane) that I was quite surprised when Friends With Kids took the old-fashioned turns it did.

Friends With Kids is still eminently watchable: smart, funny, and really phenomenally cast and acted (this is a movie where even Megan Fox is well-cast!). Given that I like watching even bad romantic comedies, it feels unfair and greedy to emphasize my disappointment with what is a really, really good one, just for not being exactly the kind of movie I wanted it to be.

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer currently living in Cape Town, South Africa. She would choose death by shark over death by alligator.

‘Friends With Kids’: When Harry Co-Parented With Sally…

Still from Friends With Kids. [source]

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer currently living in Cape Town, South Africa. She would choose death by shark over death by alligator.

Friends With Kids: When Harry Co-Parented With Sally…

Still from Friends With Kids. [source]

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer currently living in Cape Town, South Africa. She would choose death by shark over death by alligator.

‘The Dark Knight Rises’s Catwoman: a (Shhh!) with a Heart of Gold

Anne Hathaway as Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises [source]

While The Dark Knight Rises has had a more mixed reception than Christopher Nolan’s previous two entries in his Batman trilogy, everyone, even President Obama, can agree that Anne Hathaway’s Catwoman was the best thing about the movie. Slate’s Alyssa Rosenberg calls her, “the best Catwoman ever to grace the big screen.”

And I loved her too. The Dark Knight Rises‘s Selina Kyle is smart, sexy, and complex in her morality: the trinity of characteristics that unites all incarnations of Catwoman. The other details of Selina and her alter-ego Catwoman shift constantly (a fate common to comic book characters). She’s been an amnesiac flight attendant abuse victim (in the Gold and Silver Age comics in which she first appeared), a wealthy socialite who burgles for the thrill of the hunt (how she was portrayed in my introduction to the character, Batman: The Animated Series), a meek secretary transformed into a badass vigilante after her apparent murder by her powerful boss (in Batman Returns), and, well, whatever Halle Berry was reduced to doing with the character (who, just to be clear, was not Selina Kyle, but rather Patience Phillips, and I will waste no more words on a character and film that is best forgotten). As Rosenberg puts it in her Slate piece, “Catwoman has, in the past, been a rich well for explorations of female trauma.”

So it was inevitable that Selina Kyle be portrayed as a sex worker, at least once Frank Miller got his hands on her. Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy has always been transparently inspired by Miller’s seminal comics Batman: Year One and The Dark Knight Returns. The former series first introduced Selina Kyle as prostitute:

Sex worker Selina Kyle in panels from Frank Miller’s Batman: Year One [source]

And over the next twenty years or so of DC comics, the prostitute origin story would be hinted at, overtly dropped, slyly repackaged, forgotten, and popped back in at the whims of various comic book writers. Brian Cronin provides a thorough overview of the waxing and waning of this storyline in his Abandoned An’ Forsaked column. When it was announced that Hathaway had been cast as Selina Kyle in The Dark Knight Rises, speculation went wild regarding which Catwoman we’d get.

As it should be, The Dark Knight Rises offers a unique take on the character. And it stays cagey about her life’s details and origin story. But watching the film, I inferred that they were incorporating the sex worker background for the character. On the ride home from the theater I mentioned it to my husband, who is not a comic book reader, and he was bewildered how I had gotten that impression.

[SPOILERS for The Dark Knight Rises FORTHWITH]

As a comic book fan, I came in with the expectation that this movie’s version of Selina Kyle might be a sex worker. Because I knew Selina Kyle had been portrayed as one, most notably by Frank Miller, whose work has been so influential on the trilogy. So when Anne Hathaway’s Kyle seduces and absconds with a Congressperson (to provide herself with cover when she makes an illicit exchange, we discover) I figured she was doing this in the course of her business.

As that deal goes down, another character is introduced: Selina’s friend, played by Juno Temple, and according to IMDb named “Jen.” I don’t recall her being addressed by name in the film, but as soon as I saw her I thought to myself, “Oh, hey, it’s Holly Robinson!”

Holly Robinson as drawn by Cameron Stewart in Catwoman Secret Files [source]

Holly Robinson was created by Frank Miller in Batman: Year One, a fellow sex worker living with Selina Kyle. The appearance of that character, even though they’ve given her another name, signaled to me this character was meant to be in line with Miller’s Selina Kyle, a sex worker.

There’s also an offhand reference to Kyle living in “Old Town,” which I’ve never encountered in Batman comics (although there are many thousands I’ve never read, so maybe I am missing something) but which instantly called to mind the prostitute-run red light district of another Frank Miller comic, Sin City.

Selina Kyle’s primary motivation throughout The Dark Knight Rises is acquisition of the “Clean Slate,” a bit of technology that will erase her record, even her very existence, from the world’s databases, allowing her to escape an unspecified past where “she did what she had to do to survive.” Her past could be anything. It could merely be the thieving she’s clearly so adept at. But Kyle very pointedly shows no shame about her burgling, wearing Martha Wayne’s stolen string of pearls while dancing with Bruce at a gala, for example. It stands to reason there is something else she is running away from.

If you accept that The Dark Knight Rises‘s Kyle has a past or present as a sex worker, unfortunately the dynamic character seems much less innovative and much more like yet another iteration of the trope of the Hooker with the Heart of Gold.

The stock character of the Hooker with a Heart of Gold is problematic, even from a sex-work-positive feminist perspective, because the trope itself is not sex work positive. These characters are meant to be interesting because they are good “inside” even though they do “bad” things. The viewer is allowed to be titillated by the character’s occupation without needing to feel as though they condone it. And because hookers with hearts of gold are so often “saved” by men, it plays to a variety of male fantasies beyond women as commodities: that women need them; that women are “correctable.” The trope also reinforces traditional gender roles by masculinizing work for pay, often giving the hookers with hearts of gold tough, emotionally cool exteriors on the job (like men!) that when cracked (by a man!) show their soft, compassionate, womanly true self.

As we have with Selina Kyle in The Dark Knight Rises, who steals and betrays and displays a general disdain for everyone she speaks with in the first half of the movie (other than Holly Robinson’s stand-in). But somehow Batman cracks that ice, first getting Selina Kyle to display emotional vulnerability, and finally inspiring Catwoman to heroically help save the same Gotham she’d been keen to abandon after helping it fall to anarchy. When we spot her casually dining with Bruce Wayne in Florence at film’s end, it’s easy to imagine she’s given up her criminal ways: another soiled dove lifted to grace by a good man.

Anne Hathaway as Catwoman, in hero-mode on the Bat Pod. [source]

Even though I just wrote it, I find this summary of The Dark Knight Rises‘s arc for Selina Kyle overly reductive, and Anne Hathaway’s phenomenal performance in the role nuanced and charismatic enough that it elevates the material. Which is why I don’t so much object that The Dark Knight Rises invokes the trope of the Hooker with a Heart of Gold, I just mind that it does so covertly. It weakens the film’s ability to twist the trope and present a feminist take on it, and wastes an opportunity to give the world an iconic, heroic, feminist character who does or did sex work.

So it doesn’t bother me that The Dark Knight Rises possibly included sex work in the character background of its Catwoman, but it bothers me that they didn’t commit to it. The film signals dog whistles to comic book fans and enable the character and movie to enjoy all the male-id-pleasing benefits of the Hooker With a Heart of Gold trope, without actually having to go to all the trouble of crafting a modern and respectable portrayal of the sex industry in a major summer blockbuster. It’s lazy, even cowardly, and Catwoman, Anne Hathaway, and us movie-watchers all deserved better.

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer currently living in Cape Town, South Africa. She had to take the long way home for weeks while The Dark Knight Rises filmed in her neighborhood in Pittsburgh.