‘Chasing Amy’ is a complicated movie for a feminist fan. There’s the initial terror that it’s an “air-quotes ‘lesbian’ just needed to find the right guy” romcom. This fear is dissuades despite the film’s obtuse refusal to use the word “bisexual,” as we get to know more about would-be erstwhile lesbian Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams). And there’s some really poignant criticism of straight men’s fear of and failure to understand women’s sexuality, as we see that Ben Affleck’s Holden prizes Alyssa’s lesbianism because he conflates it with sexual purity. And while this is a fascinating, under-explored facet of sexual politics, it does mean the movie ends up being about Holden’s hurt fee fees more than Alyssa’s actual sexual identity and choices.
When a movie has so much promise but such big problems, especially a movie so dated by the ebbing flannel tide of the late 1990s, there’s only one reasonable option: A REMAKE.
Ben Affleck as Holden and Joey Lauren Adams as Alyssa in Chasing Amy
Chasing Amy is a complicated movie for a feminist fan. There’s the initial terror that it’s an “air-quotes ‘lesbian’ just needed to find the right guy” rom com (see Katherine Murray’s piece for BF: “When It Seems Like the Movie You Are Watching Might Hate You”). This fear is dissuades despite the film’s obtuse refusal to use the word “bisexual,” as we get to know more about would-be erstwhile lesbian Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams), and see that even though no one ever uses the word in the film, she is bisexual. And Chasing Amy levels some really poignant criticism of straight men’s fear of and failure to understand women’s sexuality, as we see that Ben Affleck’s Holden prizes Alyssa’s lesbianism not because of a fetish or the pride of a challenge, but because he conflates it with sexual purity. And while this is a fascinating, under-explored facet of sexual politics, the movie ends up seeming to be more about Holden’s hurt fee fees more than Alyssa’s actual sexual identity and choices.
When a movie has so much promise but such big problems, especially a movie so dated by the ebbing flannel tide of the late 1990s, there’s only one reasonable option: A REMAKE.
And in this remake, I humbly submit the following suggested improvements upon the original:
1. Make Holden less (or more) horrible (preferably less)
Holden McNeil: The Worst
Holden is one of those movie protagonists who is so abjectly hate-able I really doubt you’re supposed to like him. I mean, his name is Holden. He’s played by Ben Affleck at the height of his smug uselessness. He’s too cool for his own improbable success as a comic book writer and artist, refusing to sell out to producers who want to adapt his title into an animated series. He rolls his eyes at his friends more than he listens to them. He assumes Alyssa wants his D because she talks to him. He wears oversized cardigans over ratty white undershirts in public. (Plead 90s all you want, ‘Fleck. I won’t hear that defense in my court.) And he breaks up with his girlfriend because she’s encountered other penises before his, and absurdly insists the only way for her to make this up to him is to have a threesome with him and his best friend (more on that later).
Holden’s awfulness makes it harder to feel sorry for him when his total failures as a human being bite him in the ass, which takes up a lot of the third act. The remake could get around this problem by owning Holden’s The Worstness and framing the outcome as just deserts. But Holden’s awfulness also calls into question Alyssa’s character judgment. When she says she didn’t want her gender preference to stop her from being with someone who “complements [her] so completely”, you have to wonder what kind of person would feel that way about this knob. So if Holden is more likeable, so will be Alyssa, and the entire movie.
I would start by giving him a name other than Holden.
2. Explicitly address bisexuality.
Gif of Alyssa by Film Fatale
Alyssa is certainly within her rights to identify as lesbian despite having had sex with men and dating a man. But the total absence of the word “bisexual” makes the viewer worry that the concept isn’t in the filmmaker’s worldview. And given media’s track record with bi-erasure, that’s very troubling. Chasing Amy actually has interesting things to say about biphobia, shown in both the hetero- and homosexual sides of Alyssa’s social circles. But it is impossible to really appreciate them in a movie that may itself be so biphobic as to deny its central bisexual character that label.
Especially because Alyssa is probably not the only bisexual character in the film! Which leads me to…
3. Deal with male sexuality beyond male ignorance of female sexuality.
Holden and Banky (Jason Lee)
The weakest part of Chasing Amy is the subplot about Banky’s alleged repressed attraction to Holden, mostly because the actors are so uncomfortable with it there might as well be a flashing “no homo” chyron. That palpable discomfort really muddles what the film was trying to say about the potential for homoerotic tension in close male friendships. I honestly don’t know if we’re supposed to think Banky is really gay or bi or just in love with Holden, and to what extent Holden returns those feelings (for what it’s worth, he’s the one who kisses Banky and proposes they have group sex with Alyssa).
So the remake has got to clear all this up, and cast some actors who can handle the material.
And because our culture is currently obsessed with “bromances,” this kind of deconstruction will be all the more topical.
And speaking of topical, it’s 2014. The fluidity of female sexuality is not particularly fresh subject matter, and male sexuality is rarely depicted as anything less than concrete. Digging deeper into Holden and Banky’s relationship has a lot of potential. It would be even better to see trans and/or nonbinary characters in this mix so it’s not a lot of “men are from monosexual Mars women are from bisexual Venus” hooey.
4. Centralize Alyssa
Joey Lauren Adams as Alyssa
Even if the male characters are made more likable and interested as outlined above, Chasing Amy would still have the problem of making Alyssa the object and not the subject of the story. Why does Alyssa obscure her history with men to Holden? How does Alyssa feel about her gay friends feeling betrayed when she dates a man? What does Alyssa think about the potential sexual layer of Banky and Holden’s relationship? Chasing Amy hardly deals with any of this because it is really only about Holden’s wants, needs, and feelings. Which is silly, because who’s having the more interesting story here: “I thought I was a lesbian but I fell in love with a guy?” or “I thought I was straight and I fell in love with a girl.”? Obviously those are gross over-simplifications of Alyssa and Holden’s arcs, and would hopefully be even moreso in this new-and-improved remake. But seriously, it seems pretty clear the only reason Holden is the main character here is that he’s the white dude.
You’re welcome, Hollywood. With these four easier-said-than-done steps you can remake a problematic minor classic into a perfectly awesome MEGA CLASSIC. Or at least another staple of queer media studies syllabi.
Like many film lovers, I have found my life much enhanced by the many video streaming opportunities that have emerged in the last two decades. There’s a lot to relish in the convenience of being a touch screen away from almost anything I’d want to watch. But here’s one thing I do miss: context. While Netflix categorizes movies according to a variety of genres that have led me to plenty of interesting films based on my tastes, what I don’t get from this browsing experience is a sense of how the films I watch are situated in relation to other films.
Like many film lovers, I have found my life much enhanced by the many video streaming opportunities that have emerged in the last two decades. There’s a lot to relish in the convenience of being a touch screen away from almost anything I’d want to watch. But here’s one thing I do miss: context. While Netflix categorizes movies according to a variety of genres that have led me to plenty of interesting films based on my tastes, what I don’t get from this browsing experience is a sense of how the films I watch are situated in relation to other films. Searching for movies in independent video stores and the audiovisual section of university libraries always took me into unexpected places (like Town Bloody Hall, just to name one gem I found in the stacks), and I often felt like I was being educated as well as entertained. And this is why I was so happy to find Fandor. This a film subscription site created by and for cinephiles who are interested in promoting discovery and curiosity. One of the ways they do this is to integrate the Bechdel test as a search category. Users of Fandor are encouraged to take the Bechdel test every time they watch a film and flag it as having passed the test; it then gets added to that category.
I highly recommend Jerome Fandor’s refreshing explanation of the connection between independent film and the Bechdel test, and I am truly excited to watch how Fandor will continue to expand its offerings and expand what it means to discover films.
While villainesses often work at cross-purposes with our heroes and heroines, we love to hate these women. They’re always morally complicated with dark pasts and often powerful and assertive women with an indomitable streak of independence.
As a follow-up to my post on the Top 10 Superheroines Who Deserve Their Own Movies, I thought it important to not neglect the bad girls of the superhero universe. I mean, we don’t want to piss those ladies off and invoke their wrath, do we? While villainesses often work at cross-purposes with our heroes and heroines, we love to hate these women. They’re always morally complicated with dark pasts and often powerful and assertive women with an indomitable streak of independence. With the recent growing success of Disney’s retelling of their classic Sleeping Beauty, the film Maleficent shows us that we all (especially young women) are hungry for tales from the other side of the coin. We want to understand these complex women, and we want them to have the agency to cast off the mantle of “villainess” and to tell their own stories from their own perspectives.
1. Mystique
The shapeshifting Mystique
Throughout the X-Men film franchise, the blue-skinned, golden-eyed shapeshifting mutant, Mystique, has gained incredible popularity. Despite the fact that she tends to be naked in many of her film appearances, Mystique is a feared and respected opponent. She is dogged in the pursuit of her goals, intelligent and knows how to expertly use her body, whether taking on the personae of important political figures, displaying her excellent markmanship with firearms or kicking ass with her own unique brand of martial arts. As the mother of Nightcrawler and the adoptive mother of Rogue, Mystique has deep connections across enemy lines. X-Men: First Class even explores the stigma surrounding her true appearance and the isolation and shame that shapes her as she matures into adulthood. The groundwork has already been laid to further develop this fascinating woman.
2. Harley Quinn
The playful, demented Harley Quinn
Often overshadowing her sometime “boss” and boyfriend The Joker, Harley Quinn captured the attention of viewers in the Batman: Animated Series, so much so that she was integrated into the DC Batman comic canon and even had her own title for a while. She’s also notable for her fast friendship with other infamous super villainesses, Poison Ivy and Catwoman. Often capricious and unstable, Harley always looks out for herself and always makes her own decisions, regardless of how illogical they may seem. Most interestingly, she possesses a stark vulnerability that we rarely see in villains. A dark and playful character with strong ties to other women would be a welcome addition to the big screen.
3. Ursa
Kneel before Ursa!
Ursa appears in the film Superman II wherein she is a fellow Krypontian who’s escaped from the perpetual prison of the Phantom Zone with two other comrades. As a Kryptonian, she has all the same powers and weaknesses of Superman (superhuman strength, flight, x-ray vision, freezing breath, invulnerability and an aversion to kryptonite). Ursa revels in these powers and delights in using extreme force. Ursa’s history and storyline are a bit convoluted, some versions depicting her as a misunderstood revolutionary fighting to save Krypton from its inevitable destruction, while others link her origins to the man-hating, murderous comic character Faora. Combining the two plotlines would give a movie about her a rich backstory and a fascinating descent into darkness in the tradition of Chronicle.
4. Sniper Wolf
“I watched the stupidity of mankind through the scope of my rifle.” – Sniper Wolf
Sniper Wolf from Metal Gear Solid is one of the most infamous and beloved villainesses in gaming history. A deadly and dedicated sniper assassin, Sniper Wolf is ruthless, methodical and patient when she stalks her prey, namely Solid Snake, the video game’s hero. Not only that, but she has a deep connection to a pack of huskies/wolves that she rescues, which aid her on the snowy battlefield when she faces off with Snake in what was ranked one of gaming’s best boss fights. In fact, Sniper Wolf has made the cut onto a lot of “best of” lists, and her death has been called “one of gaming’s most poignant scenes.” Her exquisite craft with a rifle is only one of the reasons that she’s so admired. Her childhood history as an Iraqi Kurdish survivor of a chemical attack that killed her family and thousands of others only to be brainwashed by the Iraqi and then U.S. governments is nothing short of tragic. Many players regretted having to kill her in order to advance in the game. She is a lost woman with the potential for greatness who was manipulated and corrupted by self-serving military forces. Sniper Wolf is a complex woman of color whose screenplay could detail an important piece of history with the persecution of Kurds in Iraq, show super cool weapons and stealth skills while critiquing the military industrial complex and give a woman a voice and power within both the male-dominated arenas of spy movies and the military.
5. Scarlet Witch
One of the most powerful mutants in X-Men lore, Scarlet Witch
Scarlet Witch, the twin sister of Quicksilver and daughter of Magneto, is one of the most powerful mutants in the X-Men and Avengers universe. With power over probability and an ability to cast spells, Scarlet Witch is alternately a valuable member of Magneto’s Brotherhood of Mutants as well as the Avengers. She can also manipulate chaos magic and, at times, control the very fabric of reality, such that she can “rewrite her entire universe.” Um, badass. She’s also one of the most interesting characters in the X-Men and Avengers canon because she’s so deeply conflicted about what she believes and who she should trust. Eventually coming around to fight on the side of good, Scarlet Witch has a true heroine’s journey, in which she has a dark destiny that she overcomes, makes choices for which she must later seek redemption, finds her true path as a leader among other warriors, and she even becomes a mother and wife in the process. Despite her extensive comic book history (first appearing in 1964) and the fact that she’s such a strong mutant with such a compelling tale of the journey from dark to light, Scarlet Witch has only been a supporting character in video games, TV shows, and in movies (most recently set to appear in the upcoming Avengers: Age of Ultron). That’s just plain dumb.
6. Ursula
The ominous, magnetic sea witch, Ursula
Ursula, the sea witch from Disney’s The Little Mermaid, is so amazing. Part woman, part octopus, she has incredible magical powers that she uses for her own amusement and gains. With her sultry, husky voice and sensuous curves, she was a Disney villainess unlike any Disney had shown us before. What I find most compelling about Ursula is that her magic can change the shape and form of anyone, and she chooses to maintain her full-figured form. Though she is a villainess, this fat positive message of a magnetic, formidable woman who loves her body (and seriously rocks the musical number “Poor Unfortunate Souls” like nobody’s business) is unique to Disney and unique to general representations of women in Hollywood.
Now that Disney has made Maleficent, they better find a place for this octo-woman sea witch, and they better keep her gloriously fat, or they’ll be sorry.
7. Evil-Lyn
Evil-Lyn
Evil-Lyn was the only regularly appearing villainess on the 80’s cartoon series He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. Unlike its blissfully female-centric spin-off, She-Ra: Princess of Power, He-Man was pretty much a sausage-fest. Much in the way that Teela and the Sorceress were the only women representing the forces of good, Evil-Lyn was the lone lady working for the evil Skeletor. As his second-in-command, she proved herself to be devious and intelligent with a gift for dark sorcery that often rivaled that of the seemingly much more powerful Skeletor and Sorceress. There appears to be no official documentation of this, but as a child, I read Evil-Lyn as Asian (probably because of her facial features and the over-the-top yellow skin tone Filmation gave her). I love the idea of Evil-Lyn being a lone woman of color among a gang of ne’er-do-wells who holds her own while always plotting to overthrow her leader and take power for herself. (Plus, she has the best evil laugh ever.) I have no illusions that she’ll ever get her own movie (despite Meg Foster’s mega-sexy supporting performance as the cunning Evil-Lyn in the Masters of the Universe film). However, I always wanted her to have more screen time, and I always wanted to know more about her, unlike her male evil minion counterparts.
8. Knockout and Scandal
Knockout and Scandal are bad girls in love
Scandal Savage and Knockout are villainess lovers who appear together in both comic series Birds of Prey and Secret Six. As members of the super-villain group Secret Six, the two fight side-by-side only looking out for each other and, sometimes, their teammates. Very tough and nearly invulnerable due to the blood from her immortal father, Vandal Savage, Scandal is an intelligent woman of color who’s deadly with her Wolverine-like “lamentation blades”. Her lover Knockout is a statuesque ex-Female Fury with superhuman strength and a knack for not dying and, if that fails, being resurrected. I love that Scandal and Knockout are queer villainesses who are loyal to each other and even further push the heteronormative boundaries by embarking on a polygamous marriage with a third woman. I generally despise romance movies, but I would absolutely go see an action romance with Scandal and Knockout as the leads!
9. Lady Death
Lady Death overcomes her status as eye candy
Lady Death has evolved over the years. Beginning her journey as a one-dimensional evil goddess intent on destroying the world, her history then shifted so that she was an accidental and reluctant servant of Hell who eventually overthrows Lucifer and herself becomes the mistress of Hell. Her latest incarnation shows her as a reluctant servant of The Labyrinth (instead of the darker notion of Hell) with powerfully innate magic that grows as she adventures, rescuing people and saving the world, until she’s a bonafide heroine. An iconic figure with her pale (mostly bare) skin and white hair, Lady Death has had her own animated movie, but I’m imagining instead a goth, Conan-esque live action film starring Lady Death that focuses on her quest through the dark depths of greed, corruption and revenge until she finds peace and redemption.
10. Asajj Ventress
The Dark Side has Asajj Ventress. #win
Last, but not least, we have Asajj Ventress from the Star Wars universe, and the thought of her getting her own feature film honestly excites me more than any of the others. I first saw Ventress in Genndy Tartakovsky’s 2003 TV series Star Wars: Clone Wars, and she was was mag-fucking-nificent. A Dark Jedi striving for Sith status, Ventress is a graceful death-dealer wielding double lightsabers. Supplemental materials like comic books, novels and the newer TV series provide more history for this bald, formidable villainess. It turns out that she’s of the same race as Darth Maul with natural inclinations towards the Force. Enslaved at a young age, she escaped with the help of a Jedi Knight and began her training with him. She was a powerful force for good in the world until he was murdered, and in her bitterness, she turned to the Dark Side. Her powers are significant in that she can cloak herself in the Force like a mist and animate an army of the dead (wowzas!). Confession: I even have a Ventress action figure. The world doesn’t need another shitty Star Wars movie with a poorly executed Anakin Skywalker; the world needs a movie about Asajj Ventress in all her elegantly brutal glory.
Please bring Asajj Ventress to life on the big screen!
Peeling back the layers of these reviled women of pop culture is an important step in relaxing the binary that our culture forces women into. Showing a more nuanced and empathetic version of these women would prove that all women don’t have to be good or evil, dark or light, right or wrong, virgin or whore. Why do we love villainesses? Because heroines can be so bloody boring with their clear moral compasses, their righteousness and the fact that they always win. When compared to their heroine counterparts, villainesses have more freedom to defy. In fact, villainesses are more likely to defy expectations and gender roles, to be queer and to be women of color. In some ways, villainesses are more like us than heroines because they’re fallible, they’ve suffered injustices and they’re often selfish. In other ways, villainesses are something of an inspiration to women because they’re strong, confident, intelligent, dismissive of the judgements of others and, most importantly, they know how to get what they want and need.
Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.
The second season of ‘Orange is the New Black’ is all about respect: how you get it, how you keep it, whether it’s something that someone can give you, or something you hold for yourself. Anchored by a standout performance by Lorraine Toussaint, this season is darker and richer than its predecessor, but still extremely fun to watch.
The second season of Orange is the New Black is all about respect: how you get it, how you keep it, whether it’s something that someone can give you, or something you hold for yourself. Anchored by a standout performance by Lorraine Toussaint, this season is darker and richer than its predecessor, but still extremely fun to watch.
Vee and Red are old friends (that means one of them has to die)
To recap: Orange is the New Black is that insanely popular Netflix series about a minimum security women’s prison. The second season went online earlier this month, and it ranks about the same as the first season, in terms of being very entertaining and slightly uneven. If there’s one reason to watch it, though, it’s for the pleasure of seeing Lorraine Toussaint knock it out of the park as this season’s new villain, Vee.
Toussaint, whom you may remember from a very long list of acting credits (I remember her from Ugly Betty), brings so much presence, intensity, and commitment to this role that she steals every scene she’s in. You can’t take your eyes off her – and that’s part of the point.
Vee, who’s introduced to us as Taystee’s foster mother, is an actual sociopath who somehow slipped into minimum security. She’s supposed to be magnetic, charismatic, and charming in a way that draws people to her despite the fact that she’s obviously going to murder them. The performance succeeds not only because it creates a memorable character, but because it allows the audience to experience the same draw — it’s clear from the start that Vee’s an awful human being, but we want more of her, all the same.
Maybe in response to criticism of the first season, or maybe just because this is a natural evolution, the second season of Orange is the New Black is less focussed on Piper (who served as the first season’s protagonist), and more focussed on the other inmates of the prison. The A-story, this time, concerns Vee’s arrival at Litchfield, and the way she lures some of the other characters into her web so that she can use them to smuggle in drugs. This puts her in conflict with Red (who normally corners the market on contraband), and creates a rift between Taystee and Poussey, who’ve been BFF this whole time.
While flashbacks have never been this show’s strong suit – they’re heavy handed, and they over-simplify complex situations by boiling them down into ten-minute narratives – this season throws roughly eight-hundred million our way, as a means of explaining the motivations of the major players in the season finale. In general, the flashbacks are not very good, but one thing they do nicely is lay the groundwork for the dynamics we see play out between Vee and the group. The flashbacks involving Taystee explain why she’s loyal to Vee – Vee may have been a lousy foster mother, but she’s the only real family Taystee has. There’s one really good scene that shows Taystee, her foster brother, R.J., and Vee, sitting down to a normal family dinner; you can tell from the expression on her face – and a nice bit of acting from Danielle Brooks – that this is one of Taystee’s best memories – a moment of real happiness in an otherwise difficult life.
The flashbacks also impress upon us that Suzanne (a.k.a. “Crazy Eyes”) feels rejected and like an outsider – something Vee immediately exploits by love bombing her in an obvious way – and that Cindy needs to prove herself as an adult. (Janae already got a flashback in season one, and we know she’s pissed off because she keeps going to solitary for no real reason.) More importantly, though, the flashbacks show us that Poussey, who seems like she was pretty rad on the outside, is an independent thinker who’s willing to fight for her relationships. Unsurprisingly, there’s a lot of conflict between Poussey and Vee, and the strongest emotional story line of the season is about Taystee being caught between them.
Poussey and Taystee, hanging out in the library (as cool people do)
There are several other story lines this season – Dayanara and the idiot guard who impregnated her are still trying to figure things out; Rosa, the cancer patient, is quickly getting worse; a new inmate named Soso goes on a hunger strike; Pennsatucky has new teeth – but, like the A-story, most of them revolve around respect.
Daya wants the idiot guard to come clean and take his lumps so that they don’t have to lie for the rest of their lives (so that they can respect themselves by living truthfully). The idiot guard experiments with being a hard-ass in order to win some respect from his boss and the inmates – which leads Daya to explain, in a heavy-handed way, that he doesn’t need to bully anyone; the fact that he has a choice about what he does already gives him more power than any of the inmates have.
Soso, a college-aged inmate, initially refuses to shower for unspecified reasons, though it eventually becomes clear that she feels ashamed to be naked in front of everyone else. After the guards force her to do it anyway – in a scene that’s excruciatingly uncomfortable to watch – she starts a hunger strike as a way to reclaim some of her dignity by fighting back against the system. While she attracts some followers who aren’t very serious about prison reform, she also attracts a few people with legitimate grievances. We’re invited to laugh at the protest, but it’s a way for several characters, with different motivations, to try to gain respect.
The A-story, which is about the fight for control of the contraband line – between three opposing, racially segregated camps, represented by Vee, Red, and Gloria Mendoza – is really about individual women trying to hold onto positions that give them a positive sense of self. Controlling the kitchen gives Mendoza higher status in the prison, and it lets her give cushier jobs to the other Latina women; controlling the contraband line gives Red special status, and allows her to buy herself friends; controlling other people feeds Vee’s sociopathic drive to power.
There’s a moment, late in the season, where Vee jokes that it’s stupid to kill and die over who can sell mascara in prison – but that’s not what the fight is about. It’s about holding onto a sliver of self-respect in a place where you have to lie down on the ground when you hear an alarm; it’s about having something that’s yours in a place where you are a number, and issued the same clothes as everyone else.
It’s easy to understand how it would be detrimental to someone to be on a chain gang, to be assaulted, or tied up like an animal while she gives birth – but it’s also detrimental to be treated like you’re not a person, no matter how nice the cellblock is. What Orange is the New Black shows us effectively is women trying to hold onto personhood, even in difficult times.
Vee’s playing the long game (with Suzanne and Cindy)
The first season ended with Piper beating the shit out of Pennsatucky – a meth addict who’d harassed her all season, and pushed her so far that she snapped. The second season dives farther into that same well of darkness, striking an awkward (and sometimes confusing) balance between acknowledging Litchfield as kind of a candy-ass prison, and stirring things up by releasing a predator into the mix.
There are moments that are disappointing, there are moments that are cop-outs, there are moments that are sickeningly sweet, there are moments that don’t make sense, there are moments that seem kind of creepy and slightly misogynist (see: Caputo’s ill-gotten blowjob from Assistant Warden Fig) – but, one of the things that’s always been worthwhile about this show is that most of its characters – good, bad, dull, interesting, funny, sexy, cruel, cunning, average – are played by women, and that means that we get to see something we don’t normally get to see on TV. We get to see complex stories about human nature where “human” doesn’t default out to “male.” That’s the first thing everyone says when they write about Orange is the New Black – I know – but it’s worth saying again, because it’s such an unusual thing.
Season two, if anything, is stronger than season one, since it widens its focus, and gives more of its characters a chance in the spotlight. It’s also stronger because it’s gone beyond the story of season one (being in prison is hard, and it’s not like being out of prison at all), to explore something deeper. It’s pounding the same drum of “prisoners are people,” and, for those of us who already know that, that drum can get old, but this season at least drums with style.
Orange is the New Black is not on my list of “World’s Greatest Television Shows,” but Lorraine Toussaint may be on my list of “Greatest Performers in a Television Show,” and the series is doing something important by modelling how you can have a diverse cast of characters made up of women, and how you can tell stories about our universal humanity, when the humans in question are female.
So, if you didn’t binge watch it opening weekend, it’s worth a look, just to see something different. If you did binge watch it, you already know.
Katherine Murray is a Toronto-based writer who yells about movies and TV on her blog.
The obsession of glossy celebrity magazines with “baby bumps” and “post baby bodies” (both of which were completely absent in the 80s from People and Us– and made them a lot more interesting to read) doesn’t extend into actresses playing complex protagonists who are visibly pregnant for most if not all of the action. There’s ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ and ‘Juno’ and… ? Full-term pregnancy for most women is a big fork in the road, with life changes that extend beyond bikinis and maternity wear, but in films it’s more like a plot device, so we can hear and see how the male protagonist feels about the pregnancy (as in ‘Knocked Up’ or the recent ‘Locke’), as if we don’t already have more than enough films in which men let us know what they think about women’s experiences.
The obsession of glossy celebrity magazines with “baby bumps” and “post baby bodies” (both of which were completely absent in the 80s from People and Us— and made them a lot more interesting to read) doesn’t extend into actresses playing complex protagonists who are visibly pregnant for most if not all of the action. There’s Rosemary’s Baby and Juno and… ? Full-term pregnancy for most women is a big fork in the road, with life changes that extend beyond bikinis and maternity wear, but in films it’s more like a plot device, so we can hear and see how the male protagonist feels about the pregnancy (like in Knocked Up or the recent Locke), as if we don’t already have more than enough films in which men let us know what they think about women’s experiences.
So I was excited to see up-and-coming indie director Nathan Silver’s Uncertain Terms(showing tonight, June 17, as part of the Los Angeles Film Festival)which is set at a group home for pregnant teenagers. India Menuez (so memorable as the American hippie girlfriend in Olivier Assayas’s Something In The Air) plays one of the teenagers, Nina. Menuez has worked as a model, but has the type of beauty that isn’t typically featured in magazines. With the deep copper red of her long, full, wavy hair cascading from her high forehead past her narrow shoulders, her pale skin possessing the glint of gold leaf, her face often in repose, Nina resembles both a Renaissance portrait of the Virgin Mary and the woman in Jan Van Eyck’s Arnolfini painting–complete with pregnancy bump.
But Nina, like the rest of the residents at the home (which includes It Felt Like Love‘s star, Gina Piersanti in a small role), don’t talk like they come from the past, especially in the support group in which they tell the stories of their pregnancies. “I was drunk. There were three guys,” says one. Carla (Cindy Silver, the director’s mother), who manages the house, tells the story of going to a home during her own early pregnancy–which is why she runs the house today. She admonishes the girls to stop fighting, but as they continue with GED studies, one silently writes on a notebook which she shows to the other, “Your (sic) a cunt.” For one girl’s birthday party they dance to “My Neck, My Back” with each other, their late-stage pregnancy bellies becoming just another curve they move in time to the music.
The girls are allowed “visitation” three times a week so we meet Chase (Casey Drogin) Nina’s pierced boyfriend who can never keep a job even though she will be having their baby very soon. “Just don’t fucking worry about it,” he tells her.
Nina and Chase
Robbie (David Dahlbom) is at the home (the rainy, lush green woods surrounding it seem to be in upstate New York: the excellent cinematography by Cody Stokes reminded me of Jody Lee Lipes framing of a similar setting inMartha May Marcy Marlene) to get away from his troubled marriage, which he at first doesn’t tell his Aunt Carla about as he completes odd jobs she needs done around the site. He sleeps at night on an air mattress in the basement and smokes pot on the house steps where Nina joins him to take a hit or two herself. When he tells her he’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to be doing so, she laughs and says, “I feel like I should be smoking for two.”
I wish the film had continued to show the girls in all their complexity, but instead it devolves into scenes we’re familiar with from other films and TV written by men (the script is by Silver and Stokes as well as Chloe Domont): a girl climbs into a much older man’s bed and he leaves. And even though her leaving his room later might look to everyone else like he had an inappropriate sexual encounter with her, he didn’t. And if he had, that encounter would have been all her fault. I am tired of directors and screenwriters of both independent and big budget entertainment continually showing male characters in what looks like compromising or criminal positions and then make them all a big misunderstanding–like Louie’s recent show about the title character “accidentally” hitting a woman he has sex with.
Nina, who needs someone to talk to in the face of her boyfriend’s burgeoning unreliability and verbal abuse, has long conversations, then flirts, with Robbie–in a manner obvious enough that the other girls notice. This competition between the girls for a much older guy’s attention seems unseemly and unlikely. As we know from their background stories, most of these girls have had devastating experiences with boys fairly recently, and will soon give birth, so hooking up with someone new probably wouldn’t be first priority. Also the girls would make fun of a man like Robbie, who is old enough to have started to lose his hair, the same way they make fun of him when he says, “tie the knot” instead of “get married.”
Nina and Robbie
Robbie has conversations with Nina about her relationship with her boyfriend that could just as easily be about his relationship with his wife (an over-the-top villain who saddles him with debt, cheated on him–of course–and now harasses him to get back together: the buzz of his phone is a constant background noise in all of Robbie’s scenes). Robbie, because he’s so much older, sees that Nina and Chase’s relationship won’t improve–and pretty much tells her so. What the script neglects to do is explore how an older man could use the age discrepancy (and the life experience that goes with it) to manipulate a teenager at a very vulnerable point in her life. Age-related manipulation is a pretty common story: most teen pregnancies are the result of an encounter or relationship with an older man.
Male staff at institutions of every kind (including penal and therapeutic ones) are often caught sexually abusing women patients/residents/prisoners to the point that some facilities choose to no longer employ men in direct care positions. Silver and his co-screenwriters including these cliched, unrealistic scenarios where the girls are “seductive” or as in Orange Is The New Black“in love” with a man who works onsite is more than lazy writing: it, like an endless loop of similar scenes from past movies and TV, provides a ready-made excuse for some real-life asshole to say, “She wanted it, your Honor, I swear.”
Robbie at one point says to Nina, as if he were a teenager himself, “I just want to be with you.” This scene reminds me of the Ryan Gosling character’s offer to marry Michelle Williams in Blue Valentine to help her raise her unborn child. The difference between the characters is Gosling’s, with his ukelele and his dare-devil stunts on the bridge is, unlike Robbie, a dreamy, reckless kid himself and doesn’t foresee how the dreariness of home life and dead-end jobs will kill the love he and Williams’ character have for one another (as the latter part of the film shows).
A birthday party at the home
Robbie is only supposed to be 30, but the actor looks older and the apparent age of the aunt (who had her son–who seems close to Robbie’s age–very young) would also seem to place him in an older bracket, so his pairing with Nina is even creepier. Menuez was born in 1993, but Nina’s soft, open face, mercurial nature and especially her breezy, unwarranted optimism about Chase, make her seem very much a teenager.
In Robbie’s final confrontation with his wife he carries and physically restrains her to keep her from going someplace he doesn’t want her to. Seeing the wife yell at and even slap a pregnant girl afterward shows us Robbie was “right” to try to prevent her from entering. Again, I’m pretty tired of seeing, especially in indie films, “nice guys” with reasonable explanations for doing abusive, criminal things to women (as also happens in the latter part of Blue Valentine). At the end of Uncertain Terms we’re supposed to think that (spoiler alert) if not for his drunk, psycho, violent, cheating wife, 30-year-old Robbie could have had a perfectly loving, balanced and beautiful relationship with a pregnant teenager, something those of us with life experience of our own might be skeptical about.
Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing besides appearing every week on Bitch Flicks has appeared in The Toast,xoJane and the Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender.
Female characters are often filler, like the cartilage that goes into hot dogs, with no real meat on their bones. They stand in the doorway, boxed in the jam, never truly inhabiting the whole room. Why? Why are female characters relegated to the margin? Maybe because studios believe men go to the movies more than women. Maybe because the industry spends time and money making action figures and toy guns for boys, whose mothers are trying to teach them that violence is always unacceptable, especially toward women. We have got to stop feeding this system.
Tracy Nichole Cring
This is a guest post by Tracy Nichole Cring.
Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables), Jordan O’Neill (G.I. Jane), Ellen Ripley (Alien), Marie von Trapp (Sound of Music), Jo March (Little Women), Zula (Conan the Destroyer). These women are my role models.
I want to be Diane Court (Say Anything), popular because she’s smart, Sally Albright (When Harry Met Sally) a funny friend and cohort, Andie Walsh (Pretty in Pink), a girl who has the guts to go it alone in a homemade dress. Growing up, I specifically patterned aspects of my personality, humor, and gumption on the females I saw in film. Thankfully, I had a mother who introduced me to them and wanted me to be inspired and moved. Without these amazing works, I absolutely would not be the woman I am today. And this is exactly what concerns me when I look at the marquee at the CinemaPlex: Why are women so underrepresented? How will future generations gain inspiration? TheHunger Games is a good film, but it’s violent and not terribly deep or inspiring. The recent string of white-washed young adult tween books turned film are just not very soulful. Everyone is lapping it up, but I say this milk is sour!
Female characters are often filler, like the cartilage that goes into hot dogs, with no real meat on their bones. They stand in the doorway, boxed in the jam, never truly inhabiting the whole room. Why? Why are female characters relegated to the margin? Maybe because studios believe men go to the movies more than women. Maybe because the industry spends time and money making action figures and toy guns for boys, whose mothers are trying to teach them that violence is always unacceptable, especially toward women. We have got to stop feeding this system.
That being said, I did go to the theater to see Godzilla. I love my popcorn blockbusters. But riddle me this: Why would Juliette Binoche be in less than ten minutes of the film? Why were there no other female characters introduced? The studios might think that a bunch of girls aren’t going to watch Godzilla anyway—who cares if we kill the best actor in the film before the opening credits are finished? But I call a foul on the play.
But it is possible to have a complex and fascinating female character. Look at the amazing Robin Wright, for example. Early in her womanhood, Robin was cast as the static ethereal beauty. Because of this typecasting, as she moved into her 30s, she was lucky to have the small parts in big movies—lucky to be a distracted mom or a doting wife with a few lines. In her 40s, she shared the spotlight with Naomi Watts in Adore, showing off her complexity AND looking amazing. Then, House of Cards came along and Robin was catapulted into the meaty role of the modern Lady Macbeth. As the series continues, she only grows more and more complex; she’s Gordan Gecko, she’s smart, powerful, and when she makes mistakes, she owns up to them. She plots her success and navigates toward it. She truly is a fully rounded and realized human being.
Given the enormous success of House of Cards, why are these central, complex female characters so few and far between? And why does this discrepancy extend behind the scenes too? The disproportionate number of male “leads” is in every facet of this business. What are the causes?
Men. They just don’t get it. As writers, the only women many seem to write are mirrors of their own disconnected wives or the bimbo they want to bed. But this is not to say that a man does not have the ability to write a female character. It’s pretty easy—change some of the male characters to females. The sexes are not dissimilar in what drives them and how they react. Remember that Sigourney Weaver’s famous role as Ripley in Alien was originally written as a man. When they changed it, it brought a new dynamic to the role, which kick-started a franchise.
Women. We just can’t seem to get out of our own way. As long as we insist that “lifetime” storytelling belongs in major or indie films, we will never be taken seriously in this business. The term “chick flick” is a very dangerous one, pigeonholing female artists into unrewarding genres. This problem becomes evident when a director like Kathryn Bigelow confounds conventions about the kind of films she wants to make—movies that have no concern for appealing to a general sex but, instead, are grand spectacle and intimate storytelling. Near Dark, Point Break, and Strange Days all have gender equality and high-octane entertainment. But who is the female equivalent of Gilliam, Lynch, Cronenberg, or Kubrick? Every one of those artists was an outsider who scraped for every project he ever did. Where are our risk takers? We have to go find them and support with ticket and DVD purchases.
Children. They are a cinematic problem for everyone. A family seeing a film together is at least three tickets as opposed to the individual with one. So when math influences art, you see that art diluted so as to not offend the sensibilities of anyone under 18. This thinking is responsible for a huge majority of forgettable entertainment in the last twenty five years. The fact that Baby Geniuses even exists proves my point. Let Disney and Pixar fight out the family market. Of AFIs top 100 films of all time, how many of them would appeal to a seven-year-old? Let children have their entertainment, but films that appeal exclusively to adults are important. Though there are great movies rated G and those rated NC-17, the story should dictate the rating, not the box office.
So, to put it simply: To solve this problem a variety of people need to take action. Men, diversify your characters outside of the people who look and sound just like you. Women, support sophisticated entertainment and don’t reward inequality with your ticket money. Children, don’t torture the babysitter so Mom and Dad can go see a film that reflects what they are going through.
Now make your opinion known and support the films you want to see more of.
Tracy Nichole Cring grew up in a small town in Tennessee. Surrounded by industrious and self-taught artisans, she was inspired to follow her own path and fell in love with film. By 17 she had taught herself to use cameras, edit, and she won her first film festival (Los Angeles Film Fest 1997) for which she received the grand prize of the latest, new filmmaking gear.
After moving to Nashville (200?) she met Jon Russell Cring and put to use her festival winnings co-writing, shooting, and editing a TV series together.
“The ExtraOrdinary Film Project” was born – an attempt to make 12 feature films in 12 months. Though it took 20 months to complete all 12 features, shot on such locations as Bugscuffle, Tenn., Phoenix, Ariz., San Fransisco, Calif., and Flint, Mich., Tracy was cinematographer for all 12 films. In addition, she also co-directed Budd (film no. 12), appearing in the Route 66 Film Festival, Southern Appalachian Film Festival, and Memphis Film Festival in 2008.
Tracy then moved to Albany, New York with the aim of slowing the production pace and taking time to study and hone her craft. Her last three films, And See All the People, Creeping Crawling, and Little Bi Peep, currently touring the film festival circuit, have been winning awards ( New Orleans fest, Atlanta Horror, Atlantic City Cinefest (four awards) and have distribution offers.
A natural at writing unique scenes that speak to her audience, Tracy has also taken on writing feature screenplays with partner Jon Russell Cring to great success, having optioned many to other producers.
Tracy serves on the board of Upstate Women in Film and Television and has teamed up with fellow UPWIFT Board Member and President, Actor/Producer Heidi Elizabeth Philipsen-Meissner and her husband, Producer Niko Meissner to collaborate on Tracy and Jon’s newest script, the dark drama, This is Nowhere. The indie feature, currently in development, is projected to enter production in the late summer of 2014.
Without revealing too many spoilers, the philosophy of the main characters was overwhelmingly skewed toward the idea of the “hen-pecked” “downtrodden” American male, completely emasculated by a society that demands respect and a lack of violence. At first then it appeared we were viewing a hyper-masculine awakening of the main character, Lyster Nygaard (Martin Freeman) and cheering him on as he committed his first acts of violence.
Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand) and Molly Solverson (Allison Tolmun)
Fargo, the 1996 black comedy from the Coen brothers, featured a beloved, innocuous female lead–a demonstrably unique, pregnant chief of police, seemingly full of Minnesotan goodwill and rural sensibilities, yet surprisingly quick and courageous. FX decided to do a remake, and personally, when I first heard this, I felt there was no way a network spin-off could ever mimic the ingenuity of the original: it seemed like nothing but a bad idea.
But after viewing, Fargo is the rare kind of remake that manages to hold true to the aesthetic sensibilities of the original while expanding the world/characters.
Within the pilot however, I had a few concerns. Without revealing too many spoilers, the philosophy of the main characters was overwhelmingly skewed toward the idea of the “hen-pecked” “downtrodden” American male, completely emasculated by a society that demands respect and a lack of violence. At first then it appeared we were viewing a hyper-masculine awakening of the main character, Lyster Nygaard (Martin Freeman) and cheering him on as he committed his first acts of violence.
Martin Freeman is Lester NyGaard: The Emasculated Modern Man
Similarly, the fantastic character of a less-young female chief of police, so outside of a tough and rumble portrayal normally shown, was no longer present, it seemed. Instead, there was a traditional male police chief–steady, measured, respected, with a pregnant wife and a cohort of bumbling deputies. In fact, in general, Fargo is overwhelmingly a male show, playing host to a lot of casual, intense violence.
The themes of savagery and aggressiveness sort of manage to double-back on themselves, however, where male characters are often referred to as predators and wolves, yet the two most savage characters are also the smallest and the most sensitive to bullying. There’s an underdog quality to the violence as those who are humiliated and emasculated, suddenly turn on their oppressors. Breaking Bad subtly led us down the dark side over five seasons, blurring lines between right and wrong all the time. Fargo though goes straight for the jugular and within the first few minutes we see a main character fundamentally change as he commits his first act of violence. Fargo is less about exploring the grey areas and developing an anti-hero in the vein of Walter White and Don Draper; rather it takes a more literal battle between good and evil, echoing its own biblical themes and references.
So, there are obviously several straightforward evil men running around Fargo, but where are the women, I asked?
Allison Tolmun in Fargo
But then, up came Molly Solverson and her ridiculous last name. Fargo DOES have a delightful female protagonist in the vein of the great Marge Gunderson. She’s smart, unassuming, and tenacious. In reworking the original, Noah Hawley has given us a new character to enjoy, but definitely evocative of Gunderson. Newcomer Allison Tolmon (Molly Solverson) brilliantly acts the part and has even been careful of viewing the original Fargo so as not to confuse her character and that of Gunderson: “I think the series lives and breathes as its own entity. I felt that I’d given myself enough time to work with Molly that I could go back and watch Margie and that I would’ve created enough distance between the two of them that she wouldn’t bleed over into Molly, which was my concern.”
Molly is the moral center of the show; there are no grey areas here either–Molly is the good guy, dedicated to peace and justice and an eye roll towards the overwhelming incompetence she encounters from the men in her office. And to give Noah Nawley credit he’s accomplished something very difficult in a female TV show character: he’s made her relatable. She’s competent, confident, silly and quirky, the very-real embodiment of a girl you’d probably watch a movie with on a Friday night.
So while the show still lacks a lot in the female character department, do we consider it a failure or success that there’s at least one, dynamic and unique female character? Even one as delightful as Molly Solverson.
Rachel is a traveler and teacher who spent the last few years living in Asia. Now back in her native California, she focuses on writing about media, culture, and feminism. While a big fan of campy 80s movies and eccentric sci-fi, she’s become a cable acolyte, spending most of her time watching HBO, AMC, and Showtime. For good stories about lions and bungee jumping, as well as rants about sexism and slow drivers, follow her on Twitter at @RachelRedfern2
It is, apparently, very difficult to put a good trans character in your TV show. Recent attempts at portraying trans men have tended to leave something to be desired. And last week on ‘Orphan Black,’ along came Tony.
It is, apparently, very difficult to put a good trans character in your TV show. Recent attempts at portraying trans men have tended to leave something to be desired. Max on The L Word perpetuated a number of troubling stereotypes about masculinity and trans men. Adam on Degrassi wound up being another in a long line of buried queers. I understand Cole on The Fosters is something of a bright spot in the trans televisual darkness, though I have not yet watched the show (I’ll report back once I have). And last week on Orphan Black, along came Tony.
Now my colleagues here at Bitch Flicks have written somegreatpieces on Orphan Black, drawing attention to some crucial feminist elements, from the expansive female character list to the commentary on reproductive rights. In season two, I have been particularly enjoying the camaraderie between the clones, the way that they google hangout together and claim each other as sisters.
And then Tony happened.
Oh honey, no.
Here are the things I like about Tony:
His existence. Metatextually, it’s awesome to have another trans guy on TV. Narratively, it’s really intriguing. Once you think about it, the fact that there is now a trans clone and a gay clone strikes an important blow against “born this way” reductionism.
The way the other characters treated him. They were all down with his pronouns, were mildly surprised at having a male clone but didn’t make a huge deal out of it, and gave a little exposition that might catch the less-clued-in viewers up to speed without sensationalizing transness.
Here are the things I dislike about Tony:
His facial hair. The Max Sweeney School of Facepubes is not an institution anyone ever should be attending. I guess I can forgive the awful head-hair, because I’m given to understand a short-haired wig was unworkable with Maslany’s real hair, which she needs for the other parts, but the facial hair? Nope nope nope.
Daniela Sea pubing it up as Max Sweeney on The L Word.
His characterization. Tatiana Maslany is a monumentally talented actress, playing multiple characters with nuance, and I really think this is her first misstep on the show. Her portrayal of Tony seemed undercooked compared to how thoroughly she inhabits the other clones. There was an air of trying too hard about Tony’s masculinity, something I would believe in the portrayal of a trans guy who was just coming out, but – in a guy who had begun transition as long ago as we were evidently meant to believe Tony did (contra The L Word, testosterone doesn’t make facepubes all grow in at once; I’m rising 16 months and can barely muster an outline of straggly pubescent scruff) – it rang false. Watching the other clones, I forget that I’m watching an actor act; with Tony, I was fully conscious of it the entire time.
This is unfortunate, because there’s already a terrible cultural misperception that trans people are faking it, acting, deceiving, putting it on. I don’t think this is helped by continuing to cast cis people of the wrong gender as trans characters (Daniela Sea on The L Word, Jordan Todosey on Degrassi, back to Hilary Swank in Boys Don’t Cry, and that’s not even getting into the much longer and more offensive list of men playing trans women… thank God for Tom Phelan, at least).
Tom Phelan as Cole on The Fosters.
A show about clones has pretty much the best possible justification for casting a cis woman as a trans man, but Maslany’s failure to really nail the character, as she does all the rest, kind of makes this portrayal seem like it belongs on that list.
Here is a thing I am still on the fence about:
The decision to show Tony injecting T. You could make an argument that it was a bit of gratuitous, othering exploitation; you could also make an argument that it was a normalizing teachable moment for your average non-trans-adjacent viewer. I haven’t decided yet which side I come down on.
In the end, I am glad Tony exists. He’s an important contributor to the still-tiny demographic of trans guys on TV, and the show didn’t get anything majorly wrong about transness (apart from the facepubes). Tony did not return in this week’s episode, but I hope he will be back on our screens in future, and I hope that next time around Tatiana Maslany will have nailed down the character and will play him more convincingly.
Like many fans of this film, I initially watched ‘Ink’ (2009) on Netflix and immediately conducted some research to learn more about the making of this independent picture. It’s also a narrative that lingers with you after you’ve finished watching it, so I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about the film’s acting and score, as well as the pivotal moments that merge with a complex plot that unfolds somewhere between reality and fantasy. After maybe a half a dozen viewings, this story never fails to evoke tears for me.
Like many fans of this film, I initially watched Ink (2009) on Netflix and immediately conducted some research to learn more about the making of this independent picture. It’s also a narrative that lingers with you after you’ve finished watching it, so I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about the film’s acting and score, as well as the pivotal moments that merge with a complex plot that unfolds somewhere between reality and fantasy. After maybe a half a dozen viewings, this story never fails to evoke tears for me.
This independent film by Jamin Winans is structured around the story of a father and daughter, alongside breathtaking visuals, ethereal yet warrior-like beings, and an amazing, ambient soundtrack. Comparable to the existential terror of Donnie Darko and the romantic beauty of Eternal Sunshine, Ink is a masterpiece in terms of storytelling, artistic integrity, and the craft of merging humor with the spiritual and the potential darkness lurking in the subconscious. Winans’ vision will make you question where you go when you close your eyes to sleep and how you find your way back to waking. Ink also instills a sense of philosophical well-being, suggesting that some events in our lives may be pre-determined while we maintain the ability to step in and incite change if we would like.
Allel tries to figure out how to save Emma’s soul.
John (Chris Kelly) falls apart and loses his way after his wife dies, leaving him and his young daughter Emma (Quinn Hunchar) behind. However, with the help of otherworldly companions and foes, father and daughter find each other in the dark, traversing through the world of dreams and nightmares, reminding us that we are our own worst enemy. In this reality, those who bestow pleasant dreams watch over us as we sleep and fight the evil incubi who attempt to burden us with nightmares. These two forces battle as we sleep, and John and Emma find themselves in the crossfire in Ink.
Liev, the “Storyteller,” acts as a sort of spirit guide and helps to save both John and Emma through her kind patience and gentle push for John to remember who he used to be.
Via flashbacks, we discover that John grew up poor and is now obsessed with fortune and success in his career, so much so that he has become a cold shell of the person he once was. We are also shown glimpses of the love story between John and his late wife. However, rather than cherish the piece of Shelly still in this world–Emma–he abandons his entire life and embarks on a downward spiral of depression and oblivion.
Most central to the plot of Ink is the conflicted father-daughter relationship we see between John and Emma. We are shown the dark implications of suicide when we watch John shoot himself and become the grotesque figure, Ink, whose name reminds us that we are always capable of changing our own story, taking initiative and owning our lives and our choices. Emma also shows immense courage as she loses her father and then helps him to recall his former life.
In an especially critical scene toward the beginning of the film, Emma pleads with her father to play with her, and he is reluctant, claiming that her mother can entertain her when she wakes. Here, we see the prototypical image of the bumbling, single father who feels uncertain about his parenting abilities, but is in fact doing well raising a daughter (see Casper, My Girl, and Dan in Real Life). However, after some resistance, John gives in and leaps into Emma’s make-believe world where he must rescue her from “the monster,” which we later discover is indeed John himself.
Making the transition from monster to father, John fights off the incubi and saves his little girl.
I think it’s important to recognize Allel as a fierce guardian over both father and child, and also a wonderful role model for young viewers. In this dimension, we see multiple fight scenes between Allel and male-gendered incubi. While saving Emma is truly a group effort, it’s always refreshing to spot a woman who isn’t afraid to swing a dangerous weapon–in Allel’s case, a staff she carries on her back. Liev, the beautiful and ethereal woman who is willingly taken prisoner by Ink as he and Emma journey to hand over the girl’s soul, is a prominent feminist character in the film, as well; she encourages Emma by explaining that she is transforming into a lioness in this new world and she had better practice her roar. Unlike Allel, Liev carries no weapons and teaches Emma that her voice is her weapon.
Allel and Liev both act as spirit guides in their quest to protect the innocent life of Emma, who is suffering due to her father’s neglect and drug and alcohol use. Liev is more of a maternal, pacifist figure in the movie while Allel gets pretty down and dirty beating up the forces of evil. Both characters are feminine forces the film can’t do without; Allel is part of Emma as she infuses her unconscious with pleasant dreams while Liev lends the resilient Emma the strength to cope with her kidnapping at the hands of her unrecognizable father.
The gang battles their enemies in another dimension, never causing physical change or destruction in our world.
We’re so invested in cycles and rhythms, whether it’s in our own lives or in film or literature–which mirror our lives–it’s provocative to find a scene in Ink that depicts the halting or disruption of flow in favor of necessary disorder so that change can be reached. Jacob, the “Pathfinder,” easily recognizes the chain of events and tells us that “one thing begets the next.” In an intense and memorable scene, Jacob demonstrates how sometimes the steady and predictable rhythms of life must be interrupted to jar us so that we can experience a personal revelation and recall what we value and who we are.
Jacob orchestrates an “accident” so that John is sent to the same hospital where his daughter is in a coma.
The set of metaphysical beings who travel alongside John and Emma in their quest to be reunited are so likable in their efforts to protect father and child, and we fret that they can be defeated at any moment, and all will be lost. With the combination of bad ass fight scenes, magnificent imagery, and the sense that these guardian spirits are reflections of our own spiritual imaginations and longings, it’s shocking that Ink’s budget was a mere $250,000. This low-budget sci-fi drama certainly exceeds viewer expectations, and the irony of a blind seer with a chip on his shoulder adds a dimension of comedy to an otherwise somber film. Ink’s cinematography is impressive, and the film’s score–also developed by Winans–is exquisite and accompanies the film’s juxtaposition of action and quiet nurturing nicely.
Allel tries to hold off the incubi from entering Emma’s hospital room.
Realizing his error and that he almost abandoned Emma for good, John fights off the evil incubi who merely capture the little girl. Something awe-inspiring happens as we watch this narrative unfold in two opposing dimensions, one in the clinical environment of a hospital and the other in a world where our souls may be lost if we lose our way. The merging point is brilliant; John rescues his daughter when she needs him the most, and the film offers us both dream-like metaphor and concrete reality, which work alongside one another well. John’s decision to seek Emma at the hospital works as Ink’s denouement in a deeply visceral fashion. We also come to discover that when John is jolted out of his own coma or temporary self-exile, in choosing to father Emma, he chooses himself.
Jenny has a Master of Arts degree in English, and she is a part-time instructor at Alvernia University. Her areas of scholarship include women’s literature, menstrual literacy, and rape-revenge cinema. You can find her on WordPress and Pinterest.
Through its one and only season, the fake reality show chronicled the life of Valerie Cherish, played by my favorite Friend, Lisa Kudrow, an 80’s has-been trying to make a comeback through her role on an insipid sitcom. Valerie was a perfect reality star, yelling at the cameras, fighting with her co-workers and suffering one dignity after another, to the point where watching the show can be painful at times.
Poster for The Comeback
The Comeback is a deeply thought-out, complicated show about shallow television.
Through its one and only season, the fake reality show chronicled the life of Valerie Cherish, played by my favorite Friend, Lisa Kudrow, an 80’s has-been trying to make a comeback through her role on an insipid sitcom. Valerie was a perfect reality star, yelling at the cameras, fighting with her co-workers and suffering one dignity after another, to the point where watching the show can be painful at times.
But as a scripted series, The Comeback never really caught on. Created by Sex and the City’sMichael Patrick King, the cringe comedy only ran for 13 episodes on HBO before cancellation. It has since enjoyed a second life through DVDs and streaming, acquiring a reputation as a cult program. In May, HBO announcedThe Comeback’s revival for a six-episode limited series set to air this fall.
It’s easy to figure out why the show was unpopular in its original run, as it’s unlike anything else on TV. Valerie is often unlikeable, out-of-touch and incredibly vain, traits not often found in female lead characters. Though there have been female characters like Valerie, they have generally been only supporting figures providing comic relief. Also unusual are the show’s dark tone and raw footage format, which allows Valerie to run through multiple takes of different actions which are supposed to be spontaneous reality, call for time-outs when something is said that she doesn’t want to air and repeatedly tell filmmakers to stop filming (though they never do). It’s important to note however, that similar shows with male leads like Curb Your Enthusiasm and The Office have been very popular.
The character of Valerie Cherish is well-observed and very specific. She is a Hollywood wife married to a successful executive, carting around her Birkin bag and her loyal closeted hairdresser, Mickey. She’s also incredibly fake, adopting an glamorous, affected attitude, a trendy passion for yoga and eastern spirituality, and a love of dogs and distancing herself from embarrassing friends, to put herself in the best possible light for the cameras.
Valerie’s character is referred to as “sad, pathetic Aunt Sassy”
Early on, Room and Bored, the sitcom Valerie is cast in, originally a show about four single women in their 30s and 40s, is retooled to be sexier and hipper. The leads are given to a former Disney star and a pop star taking on her first acting role, male “hunks” are added, and the sitcom instead focuses on sexy 20-somethings in bikinis sleeping with each other. There is barely space for Valerie, who is cast as Aunt Sassy, an uptight, frumpy woman who wears only pastel jogging suits and usually appears in only one scene of each episode. Still Valerie is unable to accept that she is not the star. While her former TV show, I’m It, is generally forgotten and she hasn’t worked it years, she refuses to admit that she even needs a comeback.
Throughout the series, Valerie often frustrates her co-workers by trying to control the production and writing of Room and Bored and get a larger role for herself. For example, in cast photo session, where she is asked to stand far in the background, she continuously moves forward to stand with the young cast. In another scene, she angers the writers by protesting a joke she feels would make viewers dislike her character and wins the studio audience’s approval by getting them to chant for her to get another take. She is reminded several times to view The Comeback as her show and her main shot and to allow the 20-somethings to have Room and Bored, but she never listens.
Valerie gives her opinions on what is happening in to-the-camera confessionals, a staple of reality TV
Though Valerie is generally well-meaning, she seems genuinely oblivious to the people she uses and takes for granted in her struggle back to the top. She uses a writer named Gigi to get better story lines, even when it complicates Gigi’s job, tries to convince a young gay fan to come out for the sole purpose of using his gushing praise of her on the show, and dismisses Mickey when it suits her. However, this behavior never comes from a place of outright meanness, but instead a lack of empathy.
But what The Comeback gets so right, is its display of Valerie’s humanity. While she’s not always likable, she is always understandable. In Valerie’s nervous, brittle laugh, her frequent clearing of her throat when uncomfortable and her obsession with appearing perfect, a deeply self conscious, even desperate woman emerges. Kudrow’s performance is as much in what she doesn’t say as what she does, and the pain behind her eyes when she experiences a setback and tries to brush it off makes her deeply sympathetic. Valerie absorbs a lot of ridicule and humiliation in 13 episodes, much more than most people could take. Yet she continues to grow and adjust rather than shut down. Rather than lash out at her cruel co-workers and risk her job she smiles and pretends to enjoy being the butt of jokes.
Valerie is also desperate to be liked and is constantly giving gifts and trying to take coworkers out to lunch. She plays out elaborate rituals, jokes and skits to get people to like her and yearns for the approval of her young costars. As her life continues to fall apart, Valerie keeps smiling. When Room and Bored gets bad ratings, she gives a speech to the cat about keeping up hope and trying harder. She’s the closest thing there is to a female Michael Scott: clueless and insensitive but ultimately redeemed through her genuine well-meaning.
Though viewers come to assume things are going to go wrong for her, nine times out of 10 she’s created the trouble for herself. It’s surprising when one of her seemingly delusional ideas works out, such as when she gets Tom Selleck to agree to play Aunt Sassy’s boyfriend. Often watching The Comeback is like watching a horror movie, which forces you to scream at the characters onscreen to stop and think about what they’re doing. While viewers are allied with Valerie and want her to succeed, we understand why she fails and agree with the realism of what happens. In reality, without an all access pass to Valerie’s insecurities and the moments where her persona falters, she would be very difficult to root for.
Reality TV is portrayed as intrusive and unglamorous, as cameras invade Valerie’s private moments
The Comeback has no great love for reality TV. Throughout the series, Valerie is followed around by her reality crew, who are always hoping something awful will happen in Valerie’s real life that will boost ratings. The crew creates chaos following her and require multiple conversations to plan logistics and their presence causes the cast and writers of Room and Bored to resent Valerie. In the final episode, when the reality show is pieced together, it is revealed that much of what Valerie and the people around her have said and done was manipulated in editing and used to created cheap laughs at her expense. Paulie G. (Lance Barber), a writer on Room and Bored who is relentlessly cruel to Valerie is portrayed as a consummate professional who Valerie abuses unprovoked.
Though Valerie tries to maintain control over the reality show and of how she is portrayed, she misunderstands what the show is and what viewers want. She decides the director, Jane (Laura Silverman) is her friend and tries to be close to her, getting her a gift bag at the awards show and inviting her to her premiere party. Valerie feels that a friendship with Jane will allow her to be portrayed in a positive way and feels betrayed as a friend and disrespected as the celebrity she feels she is, when she sees how Jane edited the footage. It takes her a long time to respect Jane’s judgement and understand what Jane always knew: that conflict is what makes a good reality show.
Another interesting facet of The Comeback is its portrayal of an adult workplace as full of immaturity and pettiness. In the same way Leslie Knope’s idealism is tested by the baffling ignorance of Pawnee’s city council, Valerie grapples with Paulie G., a fratboy misogynist who sees no value in women beyond sexual objectification. At every turn, Paulie G. tries to thwart Valerie and make rude comments about her, though its clear that if she was 20 years younger, he’d tolerate anything she did. In addition, Paulie G. torments Gigi, the sole female writer, for being overweight.
In one memorable scene, Valerie comes to the studio late at night to bring cookies to the writers and finds them mocking her and portraying her in crude sexual playacting. While she expected Paulie G., who wears his contempt for her on her sleeve, to mock her, she is shocked to see that behind closed doors, the other writers, including Tom Peterman who had appeared to like her, join in on the mockery and call her pathetic.
In an attempt to humiliate Valerie, the writers have Aunt Sassy dream of herself as a giant cupcake taunted for being fat
The show also explores Hollywood’s intolerance of aging women. Valerie is too young to play Aunt Sassy, an under developed character who appears to be written as a senior citizen. As an older woman, Valerie is shuffled off to the sidelines of the show and as Aunt Sassy, is exclusively given lines about how pathetic and sexually frustrated she is. When Aunt Sassy is given a spotlight episode about her romantic life, Valerie relishes the opportunity to flesh out the character and make her more than a punchline. But the episode is quickly cancelled and Valerie is told that writers and producers see giving Aunt Sassy a storyline as a step in the wrong direction.
Though Valerie still feels youthful and attractive, by Hollywood’s standards, she’s ancient. Valerie is married with a step-daughter and prefers staying home to going clubbing, she can’t keep up with the twenty-somethings on her show and along with her husband Mark, worries that she can’t do things like have adventurous sex or do coke anymore. Most of her young costars treat her with distanced politeness, like a visiting relative.
Still, the show allows Valerie to be attractive. In one episode, even Paulie G. drools over a sexy photo of her and briefly looks at her in a new light after seeing her. In another, Valerie wears a low-cut dress to an award show and is complimented for her body.
Valerie shows she is still attractive with her revealing awards show dress
It’s difficult for Valerie to watch everyone fawn over Juna (Malin Akerman), the star of Room and Bored. Juna is young, thin and her attractiveness is constantly discussed and stressed by the show’s direction. In one scene, Juna’s costume, a tiny bikini, is contrasted with Valerie’s dowdy jogging suit. When Juna changes in front of Valerie’s cameras and Valerie notices her young body, she enters a one sided competition with the young star. Valerie is determined to prove herself still relevant and attractive, as shown when, Juna lands the cover of Rolling Stone with a provocative pose and Valerie responds by bringing in topless poster from her own youth.
But Juna proves to be Valerie’s only consistent ally and she eventually decides to put aside her jealously and act as a mentor. Their relationship seems to grow into a genuine friendship, but continues to be frequently manipulative on Valerie’s part as she uses her allegiance with Juna to boost her own star and her place on the show. Her friendship with Juna also helps her to connect with her stepdaughter, Francesca a rebellious teenager who loves Juna and thinks Valerie is cool for knowing her.
Valerie is jealous of young star Juna Milken
The Comeback was a show ahead of its time, but maybe it’s time has finally come. Reality TV is more omnipresent than ever, and with no sign of slowing down.
There’s a retrospectively ironic moment in one of the early episodes, when Valerie sees a magazine cover that asks, “Is Reality TV Dying?” and becomes worried that her show will fail. But by the series’ final episode, it’s clear Valerie Cherish’s comeback will be a huge success, as it offers everything viewers expect from reality TV. I’m looking forward to the seeing how the series will tackle our current media and to catching up with a fascinating female character when it returns this fall.
I want to give ‘Non-Stop’ the benefit of the doubt, because I truly enjoyed it, certainly more than any of the other films in the Grizzled Action Hero phase of Liam Neeson’s career. It deftly plays with audience expectations and genre-savvy to yield more red herrings than a Lenten Fish Fry to keep the whodunit simmering for most of its tight 106-minute runtime.
Liam Neeson in Grizzled Action Hero mode in Non-Stop
I want to give Non-Stop the benefit of the doubt, because I truly enjoyed it, certainly more than any of the other films in the Grizzled Action Hero phase of Liam Neeson’s career. It deftly plays with audience expectations and genre-savvy to yield more red herrings than a Lenten Fish Fry to keep the whodunit simmering for most of its tight 106-minute runtime.
Julianne Moore in Non-Stop
An example of how Non-Stop plays with tropes is its use of lead actress Julianne Moore. “The Most Famous Person Did It” is such a classic problem with mystery film and television I remember noticing it in reruns of Murder She Wrote when I was in grade school. Non-Stop knows you are wondering if Julianne Moore is slumming it here because she wants that juicy villain monologue at the end. So she gets lots of opportunities to do suspiciously weird things, but also plenty of opportunities to be vulnerable and likable, so we don’t just assume she’s the bad guy and decide to just watch Air Force One again. At some point we wonder… could she possibly be an age-appropriate love-interest for Liam Neeson? It’s almost inconceivable!
“You do know she’s ONLY eight years younger than him, right?”
Then there’s a half-dozen or so recognizable character actors taking turns being potentially sinister and/or mean enough we want to see Liam Neeson punch them, even if they might not be the terrorist in question. (Liam Neeson will ultimately punch nearly all of them). Is it the shifty businessman? The genteel captain? The John McClane wannabe who is already making fists with his toes because he’s got so much anger? The squirrelly oversharer played by that guy named Skeet or Street or Poot or something? The brown guy in the kufi (please don’t be the brown guy in the kufi)?
Maybe it is Lupita!!!
Lupita Nyong’o in Non-Stop
Spoiler alert: it is not Lupita. In fact, one of the most precious things about this movie is that it clearly got a last-minute Lupita-heavy re-edit to reflect her It Girl status. Her character is named (Gwen) but she’s really just an extra (Flight Attendant #2), with no significant dialogue (the film would even pass the Bechdel Test without her!) and zero characterization. But there are so many pointless cuts to Lupita B-Roll. Liam Neeson sneaks around the galley. But what is Lupita doing? (Checking the latch on an overhead bin.) Liam Neeson defies his superiors at DHS. But what is Lupita doing? (Picking a piece of lint off her uniform.) Liam Neeson punches a guy. BUT WHAT. IS. LUPITA. DOING!? (Making a “who is this punch-happy jackass?” face.)
Lupita ruefully thinks, “Get off my plane.”
But I digress. Everyone’s a suspect (I seriously entertained the notion that the shy unaccompanied minor would be an accessory to the terrorist plot somehow), and that’s a big part of why Non-Stop works. But scratch that seemingly clever surface and Non-Stop has a quintessential Idiot Plot, as defined by Roger Ebert: “a plot containing problems that would be solved instantly if all the characters were not idiots.” It’s cat and mouse between a villain doing asinine things for incomprehensible reasons and a hero who responds irrationally, which could all be avoided if the pilot would just make an unscheduled landing (I know from long-haul flights, and you’re not “in the Middle of the Atlantic!” When Halifax is 45 minutes behind you).
Even the characters are confused.
Often the most plausible explanation for the main character’s strange behaviors is “because that’s the way a man’s man would do it.” Liam Neeson doesn’t tell anyone he was [minor spoiler] just forced to kill his partner in self-defense because… that makes him all the more tragically guarded with his emotional pain? (He’s got the requisite dead daughter backstory and surprisingly not-inconvenient drinking problem.) I don’t really understand why being tragically guarded with emotional pain is on the Action Hero Checklist to begin with. Look, I’ve got dead family and stunted emotions too, and I’m decidedly not a badass.
Non-Stop is usually gripping enough to distract you from its various weaknesses, but it’s got no choice but to tear open its nonsensical underbelly when the villain (or villains!?!) are revealed, and no, there isn’t some hidden agenda that makes all the ridiculous stuff that’s happened make any more sense. Fortunately the movie is almost over then.
Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town. Her feelings about Lupita Nyong’o are comparable to Key & Peele’s valets’ regarding “Liam Neesons.”
