Why We Need to Stop Worshiping the Elusive Heteroflexible Femme

Queer inclusion has become downright trendy lately. Even Disney has jumped on the bandwagon. However, as we all know, just because a minority makes an appearance in the media doesn’t mean the mainstream won’t continue to compulsively shape their narratives. One thing show-runners can’t seem to get enough of is sad lesbians (and I say lesbians because according to most representation, bisexuality clearly doesn’t exist!).

...or are you?
…or are you?

Written by Erin Tatum.

Queer inclusion has become downright trendy lately. Even Disney has jumped on the bandwagon. However, as we all know, just because a minority makes an appearance in the media doesn’t mean the mainstream won’t continue to compulsively shape their narratives. One thing show-runners can’t seem to get enough of is sad lesbians (and I say lesbians because according to most representation, bisexuality clearly doesn’t exist!). Those women with their angst and their impulsiveness and their multiplied sex drive! Tragedy is almost always imminent, whether in the form of death or infidelity.

In the event that these go-to methodologies of misery are rightfully perceived by the powers-that-be as cheap and melodramatic, they’ll opt for the next best thing–an unrequited crush on a straight girl!

Our beloved lesbian (usually endowed with enough snark, swagger, or sheer adorableness to easily claim her place as estrogen brigade bait among the queer fandom) will pine her little heart away, hoping that the object of her desire will see the rainbow-tinted light. She may also spend a lot of time wallowing in self-loathing for loving someone who could never love her back.

Crushes on straight girls are a pretty common occurrence among queer women, and I’m sure it’s comforting to be able to relate to what the characters are going through. However, sexually incompatible crushes between women are used to codify some pretty unfortunate biases around gender, orientation and sexual expression that are frankly hella problematic.

I couldn’t think of a better segue to discuss Betty and Kate from Bomb Girls.

Kate (left) and Betty (right).
Kate (left) and Betty (right).

Bomb Girls is set in early 1940s Canada, about a group of women who work in a munitions factory during the war. Its storylines are almost exclusively focused on feminist issues and female empowerment, so of course it had to be canceled. But I digress. One of the central B-plots of the series involves the relationship between Kate Andrews (Charlotte Hegele), a wide-eyed runaway who fled the clutches of her abusive pastor father, and Betty McRae (Ali Liebert), a deeply closeted lesbian who also works in the factory. The two quickly become close friends, and Betty even helps Kate protect her false identity. Naturally, Kate’s strict religious upbringing makes her very naïve, giving her a fixed worldview of how things are supposed to operate in society. Betty feels incredibly protective of her. Can you see where this is going? Unable to hold back her growing feelings any longer, Betty impulsively tries to kiss Kate, much to the latter’s shock and disgust. Kate is so rattled that she contacts her father to take her back home and tearfully leaves the factory in spite of Betty’s desperate last-minute declaration of love.

Betty and Kate share a seemingly platonic moment in bed together at the end of season 2.
Betty and Kate share a seemingly platonic moment in bed together at the end of season 2.

The second season renders them even more ambiguous, if that’s possible. Betty rescues Kate and they become friends again, with Kate doing her best to pretend nothing ever happened. Betty briefly dates her other coworker, Ivan (Michael Seater), in an effort to deflect growing suspicions around her sexuality and as a means of denying it to herself. Although she quickly drops the ruse and actually manages to find a girlfriend, Theresa (on the DL), it’s clear that Betty still harbors unresolved feelings for Kate. Making matters more complicated, Kate begins dating Ivan soon after Betty dumps him. It also doesn’t take Kate long to connect the dots between Betty and Teresa, but it remains deliberately unclear whether or not her apparent discomfort with Teresa stems from homophobia, friendship possessiveness, romantic possessiveness, or some combination of the three. Needless to say, it’s all confusing and resolves nothing. When Betty’s crush does creep indirectly into the conversation, Kate either dodges the topic or something will conveniently interrupt them. The season two finale kept them firmly within the same innocent cat and mouse territory that they’d been in since the beginning.

Betty gets up close and personal with Kate.
Betty gets up close and personal with Kate.

While many viewers expressed frustration with Kate for leading Betty on, this follows the same whiny friend-zoning logic that we see all the time in any portrayal of heterosexual friendships. Kate doesn’t “owe” Betty anything for being treated kindly, and Betty’s actions post-kiss make it clear that she she loves Kate independently of romantic ulterior motives. On the flipside, I still find Kate to be a pretty shitty person, not because she might not reciprocate Betty’s feelings, but because she continues to knowingly deny Betty formal closure. Betty remains totally helpless, and the outcome of the whole scenario hinges on Kate’s every whim. I know you can try to pass it off on the fact that it’s a period piece and homosexuality was a criminal offense, but why is Betty’s lack of control so romanticized? Just kidding, we all know the answer to that. Kate’s a pretty femme straight girl, and Betty will always be socially perceived as a grotesque deviant, no matter how many friends she has! Hell, Betty herself validates the gay inferiority complex by repeatedly putting someone on a pedestal who she knows full well has zero implications of returning the same level of emotional investment, whether romantic or otherwise. But it’s okay, because we can always hope against hope that Kate will turn out to be queer, right?

And that’s the problem. We can’t keep worshiping straight femme agency as central to our validation. If they choose women, it’s some impossible Herculean feat that solves all of the lesbian’s problems forever. If they don’t, you’re still expected to trail after them like a lost puppy at their every beck and call because they’re clearly superior to you, and you’re just perennially unlovable. Why is that noble or sympathetic in any way? Neither outcome reflects a coherent grasp of self-worth or healthy relationships. Don’t let women who aren’t even in our community dictate the way you view yourself.

Delphine (left) and Cosima (right).
Delphine (left) and Cosima (right).

Another radically different example can be pulled from Orphan Black. The relationship between everyone’s favorite dreadlocked scientist Cosima (Tatiana Maslany) and sexy French biologist Delphine Cormier (Evelyne Brochu) quickly became a fan favorite. Orphan Black handles the subject of sexual fluidity very well, which is one of the many reasons that you should be watching it, if you aren’t already. Following an awkward failed first move, Cosima apologizes for assuming Delphine was gay. Delphine says that while she’s never considered bisexuality, she can’t deny her attraction to Cosima. Refreshingly, none of the angst in their relationship is caused by gay panic. However, all of that is tarnished when it’s revealed that Delphine has betrayed her by orchestrating their relationship as a pretext for spying on her (trying to avoid too many spoilers). This drags the authenticity of her queerness into question because it raises the real possibility that she was faking her feelings for Cosima. The storyline may not villainize straight/fluid/questioning women explicitly, but you can’t deny that Delphine’s moral duplicity serves as a fairly obvious metaphor for cautionary tales against the untrustworthy bisexual or the illusory, unattainable straight girl. Faced with the reality of Cosima’s discovery and understandable outrage, Delphine insists her feelings for her are genuine and begs forgiveness. Cosima is heartbroken, but unmoved.

By the end, after seeing Delphine’s remorse, the audience is arguably compelled to feel more sympathy towards her than Cosima herself. As usual, it’s supposed to be incredibly romantic, playing on common themes of finding love with the wrong person and love conquering all. I like them together and think there’s still potential, but I’m not digging the free pass and endless showers of adulation Delphine receives from the fandom. She fucked up massively and that shouldn’t be forgiven in the span of an episode because of some tears and melodrama. Who’s to say she isn’t still lying? What if she isn’t even queer? Who am I kidding? They’ll end up together next season with minimal reconciliation because they’re obviously ~meant to be~!

Delphine tries to explain herself to Cosima.
Delphine tries to explain herself to Cosima.

I don’t mean to pour on the cynicism, but we can’t let our cravings for sentimentality obscure our perspective. Love stories formed on the premise of sexual incompatibility should not be idealized. The only message that it sends to queer women is that it’s noble to martyr your own happiness by wishing for the improbable. Not only does it build up your unrealistic expectations, but it’s also kind of uncomfortable for your crush if you persistently carry a torch for them based on the off-chance that you could turn them one day. Sure, feelings oftentimes can’t be helped and it can be cathartic to see characters sharing your experiences onscreen, but treating potentially heteroflexible straight girls as the Holy Grail of love objects doesn’t exactly set yourself up for the most positive of queer futures. You don’t need their validation, and for the media to suggest otherwise is counterintuitive because straight girls have absolutely no bearing on our sexuality. If they want us, cool. If they don’t want us, that shouldn’t inherently make us pathetic.

You might not flip her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a confident, kickass queer woman.

_________________________________________________________________________

Erin Tatum is a recent graduate of UC Berkeley, where she majored in film and minored in LGBT studies. She is incredibly interested in social justice, media representation, intersectional feminism, and queer theory. British television and Netflix consume way too much of her time. She is particularly fascinated by the portrayal of sexuality and ability in television.

Racebending and the Academy Awards: Get Ready to Cringe

The very sad moral of the story is that Hollywood never “has to” cast a person of color. White supremacy in Hollywood finds a way.

The Academy Awards’ gross under-recognition of performances by people of color, both in terms of nominations and wins, is pretty much universally acknowledged. Check this thorough list from Your Media Has Problems on tumblr if you had any doubts.

One of the interesting dimensions covered in that piece is that the majority of people of color nominated for Oscars played roles that “had” to be portrayed by a person of that race. This is a sad reflection on the limited roles available for actors of color.

Linda Hunt as Billy Kwan in The Year of Living Dangerously
Linda Hunt as Billy Kwan in The Year of Living Dangerously

But what’s even sadder is the fact that Hollywood has a long history of squeezing that limitation even further by casting white people as PoC characters. From Racebending.com‘s crucial “What is racebending?” primer:

The term “racebending” refers to situations where a media content creator (movie studio, publisher, etc.) has changed the race or ethnicity of a character. This is a longstanding Hollywood practice that has been historically used to discriminate against people of color. In the past, practices like blackface and yellowface were strategies used by Hollywood to deny jobs to actors of color… Because characters of color were played by white actors, people of color were hardly represented at all–and rarely in lead roles. While white actors were freely given jobs playing characters of color in make-up, actors of color struggled to find work.

(The term “racebending” is also used refer to the usually positive and exciting practice of casting a person of color in a role previously/traditionally played by a white person, but this article focuses on the sadly much more common dark side of racebending.)

I decided to take a look back at the acting nominations in the Academy Awards’ 86-year history to see how many examples of racebending were honored with nominations or awards. The results are unsurprising, yet still incredibly disappointing.

There are a few distinct forms of the bad kind of racebending. The most obvious and arguably most egregious is “black/brown/yellow/red-face,” where a white actor plays a person of color by wearing makeup.

Hugh Griffith's Oscar-winning brownface performance in Ben-Hur
Hugh Griffith’s Oscar-winning brownface performance in Ben-Hur

Then there is the strange Hollywood treatment of all “vaguely ethnic” actors as interchangeably castable in any PoC role. In the past, this meant actors we’d now code white playing characters of color, e.g. George Chakiris as Bernardo in West Side Story, but this lives on today with “brown is brown!” casting, e.g. Maori actor Cliff Curtis‘s globe-spanning character roster. There’s some overlap between this and the first category.

Greek American George Chakiris as Puerto Rican Bernardo in West Side Story
Greek American George Chakiris as Puerto Rican Bernardo in West Side Story

And then there is whitewashing, the insidious form racebending that erases the race or ethnicity of a character (often a real-life figure) to cast a white person in the role.

Jennifer Connelly's Oscar-winning portrayal of a whitewashed Alicia Nash in A Beautiful Mind
Jennifer Connelly’s Oscar-winning portrayal of a whitewashed Alicia Nash in A Beautiful Mind

Each of these types of racebending are represented in Academy Award-nominated and -winning performances. My list below is most likely incomplete. Lists on Wikipedia and TV Tropes and articles by Michelle I. on Racebending and Tanya Ghahremani on Complex.com got me started. I then attempted to thoroughly review the complete lists of winners and nominees to find other instances. I am sure I missed some, particularly in the whitewashing category. If you can think of other examples, please share in the comments!

There are also “gray area” examples such as half Indian Brit Ben Kingsley playing Gandhi in heavy brown makeup, Siberian Russian Yul Brynner playing the King of Siam, and Robert Downey Jr.’s role as Kirk Lazarus as Lincoln Osiris in Tropic Thunder, which was meant to parody this entire phenomenon, but, you know, was still a white actor in blackface receiving an Oscar nomination in 2008.  I’ve left these examples in the list but with asterisks.

Oscar-winning race-bent performances with a white actor in makeup to play a PoC:

Luise Rainer's Oscar-winning yellowface performance in The Good Earth
Luise Rainer’s Oscar-winning yellowface performance in The Good Earth
  • 1937 Best Actress: Luise Rainer as O-Lan in The Good Earth
  • 1959 Best Supporting Actor: Hugh Griffith as Sheikh Ilderim in Ben-Hur
  • 1982 Best Supporting Actress: Linda Hunt as Billy Kwan in The Year of Living Dangerously
  • *1982 Best Actor: Ben Kingsley (light-skinned half-Indian in makeup) as Mohandas Gandhi in Ghandi

Oscar-nominated race-bent performances with a white actor in makeup to play a PoC:

Marlon Brando in Viva Zapata!
Marlon Brando in Viva Zapata!
  • 1937 Best Supporting Actor: H.B. Warner as Chang in Lost Horizon
  • 1944 Best Supporting Actress: Aline MacMahon as Ling Tan’s Wife in Dragon Seed
  • 1952 Best Actor: Marlon Brando as Emiliano Zapata in Viva Zapata!
  • 1955 Best Actress: Jennifer Jones as Han Suyin in Love is a Many Splendored Thing
  • 1959 Best Supporting Actress: Susan Kohner as Sarah Jane Johnson in Imitation of Life
  • 1965 Best Actor: Laurence Olivier as Othello in Othello
  • *2008 Best Supporting Actor: Robert Downey, Jr. as Kirk Lazarus as Lincoln Osiris (a white character in blackface, meant to parody this phenomenon, still offensive to many cultural commentators)

Oscar-winning race-bent performances with an “interchangeably ethnic” actor playing a PoC not of his race or ethnicity:

Yul Brynner in The King and I
Yul Brynner in ‘The King and I’
  • *1956 Best Actor: Yul Brynner (Russian of Buryat/Mongolian descent) as King Mongkut (Thai) in The King and I
  • 1961 Best Supporting Actor: George Chakiris (Greek American) as Bernardo (Puerto Rican) in West Side Story

Oscar-nominated race-bent performances with an “interchangeably ethnic” actor playing a PoC not of his race or ethnicity:

Jeff Chandler as Cochise in Broken Arrow
Jeff Chandler as Cochise in Broken Arrow
  • 1936 Best Supporting Actor: Akim Tamiroff (Armenian) as General Yang (Chinese) in The General Died at Dawn (also in yellowface makeup)
  • 1950 Best Supporting Actor: Jeff Chandler (American Jewish) as Cochise (Apache) in Broken Arrow (also in redface makeup)
  • 1962 Best Supporting Actor: Telly Savalas (Greek American) as Feto Gomez in Birdman of Alcatraz
  • 2003 Best Actor: Ben Kingsley (Half-Indian Brit) as Massoud Amir Behrani (Iranian) in House of Sand and Fog

Oscar-winning race-bent performances with a white actor playing whitewashed PoC:

Whitest Dude Alive runner-up William Hurt as South American prisoner Luis Molina in Kiss of the Spider Woman
Whitest Dude Alive runner-up William Hurt as South American prisoner Luis Molina in Kiss of the Spider Woman
  • 1984 Best Actor: William Hurt as Luis Molina in Kiss of the Spider Woman
  • 2001 Best Supporting Actress: Jennifer Connelly as Alicia Nash in A Beautiful Mind

 The very sad moral of the story is that Hollywood never “has to” cast a person of color. White supremacy in Hollywood finds a way.

See also on Bitch FlicksThe Academy: Kind to White Men, Just Like History


Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa

‘Battlestar Galactica’: The Show Where All of the Women Die

Taken in the larger scope of what’s available, it’s so rare to find a TV show with so many great parts for women – so many characters who are interesting and smart and competent and vital to the stories they live in – that it’s kind of a bummer when all of them die. That said, I do think there’s a case to be made for why this may not be a horrible choice.

Um… spoilers for Battlestar Galactica.

bsgfire

What Battlestar Galactica is
To recap for anyone who isn’t familiar with the show but still wants to hear about death, Battlestar Galactica (2004) is a remake of the original series, in which humanity lives on a ragtag group of spaceships because robots are trying to kill everyone. The robots are called Cylons, and they look like human people, and it’s a metaphor for how the Other is really the same as we are, and that’s a lesson we need to learn to make peace.

In practical terms, there are twelve models of humanoid Cylon and multiple copies of each. So, whenever a Cylon dies (with a few specific exceptions) he or she downloads into a new, identical body and gets to come back again.

The main story line is about how the ragtag band of humans tries to find a mythical planet called Earth with the Cylons acting (mostly) as antagonists along the way. There’s also a supernatural/religious element in which there are prophecies and angels, and God has a special plan to save both the humans and Cylons by making the most vile man in their number his prophet.

Laura Roslin is the president, Kara “Starbuck” Thrace is the hotshot viper pilot, and there are videos on YouTube that recap the first three seasons if you want to know what happens.

As other Bitch Flicks writers have previously discussed, there are a lot of really good, well-written, interesting female characters, human and Cylon alike. And almost every single one of them gets killed.

Teach the Controversy: What We Mean When We Say “All of the Women Die”
As the show was winding down in its final season, Slate ran an article by Juliet Lapidos called “Chauvinist Pigs in Space” that criticized several aspects of the way women are filmed and portrayed on BSG. Among other points, Lapidos argued that, “The main female characters are all dying, dead, or not human” and that this trend sent the unintentional message that “women…just can’t hack it when the going gets rough.” The piece prompted several responses, including this one from Slant, but Lapidos wasn’t the only one saying it; similar comments were popping up on message boards and blogs (by which I mean Live Journal, because that’s where we all hung out in 2009, amirite?), especially after the series finale aired, and both Starbuck and Roslin were down for the count.

One common response to Lapidos’ article, and to the more general complaint that so many women die on this show,  is to either start listing all of the male characters who died – and, since the overall death toll on this series was high, it’s a very long list, or to argue that, hey, there are still cylon women alive at the end of the show, and they’re women, too, goddammit. The problem is that comparing the number of dead characters, or human versus Cylon characters, doesn’t get at the real issue. A better way to ask the question is, “Who, of all the characters on the show, was able to survive four whole seasons without getting killed?”

On the men’s side, we’ve got all three of the leads (William Adama, Apollo, and Gaius Baltar), several important secondary characters (including Chief Tyrol, Colonel Tigh, and Helo), and a few other randoms who we never got to know that well. On the women’s side, we’ve got more randoms and (probably) a minor character named Seelix who does not appear in the final episode.

That’s all.

All of the non-Seelix women we know, including all of the lead female characters, have died. The human women are gone, and every Cylon woman left standing at the end died on screen earlier in the series. Tyrol and Tigh are also Cylons, and they didn’t have to die ever.

While I don’t like her phrasing that much, I have to agree with Lapidos that there’s a sense in which this doesn’t sit well. A sense in which it seems like, intentionally or not, the show is telling us that capable women need to die, either as a warning to the rest of us (“the price for being good at things is that you won’t survive”), or as a way of making the audience feel safe around them. Sort of like how you feel safe at the end of a monster movie when the monster gets swallowed by lava – like, don’t be afraid! These women are not roaming the Earth, continuing to be really awesome. They’re dead, like Xena, and the threat is contained.

Um… spoilers for Xena: Warrior Princess.

On a personal note, as a woman who’s watching TV, it’s also just kind of a downer. Taken in the larger scope of what’s available, it’s so rare to find a TV show with so many great parts for women, so many characters who are interesting and smart and competent and vital to the stories they live in – that it’s kind of a bummer when all of them die.

That said, I do think there’s a case to be made for why this may not be a horrible choice, so…

starbuckgun

Why This May Not Be a Horrible Choice
Like almost every TV show, Battlestar Galactica is a mixed bag when it comes to storytelling. Some of the women die stupid deaths, but some of them die pretty good ones that follow from actively participating in the world in which this story takes place.

Starting on the Bad Death side, the main example that Lapidos focuses on is Chief Tyrol’s wife, Cally, and how she gets murdered by Tyrol’s Cylon mistress on her way to commit suicide. That’s a fair death to focus on, because it’s probably the worst, especially when paired with the mistress’ murder (by Tyrol!) in the series finale, which was just a WTF moment that got buried in all of the other explosions and stories that came to a close.

After she’s married to Tyrol, Cally is almost completely defined by her relationship with him and, even before they get married, it sometimes feels like her only role in the story is be jealous because he’s with someone else. Her death happens firstly as a surprise switcheroo for the audience, and secondly as a way to complicate Tyrol’s relationship with his boring, boring mistress who was never that great of a character, either. The show does this last minute thing where it tries to take us inside Cally’s experience when she finds out her husband’s a Cylon, but it’s really too little, too late.

Also in the not-such-a-great-death category are popular secondary characters Dualla (who shoots herself in the head out of nowhere during the final season) and Kat, who gets a very special, very manipulative episode all about her, so that we can learn about her backstory and feel bad when she gets radiation poisoning, which she gets by addressing a problem that also only exists in that one episode.

In fairness to the show, though, there are plenty of pointless, annoying, cannon fodder, and/or emotionally manipulative deaths to go around for both men and women. Starbuck has a dead boyfriend who exists only to create tension between her and Apollo, and she’s lost some male pilots just so she’ll feel bad about what a crap teacher she was. Roslin’s sidekick Billy gets offed pretty randomly when he no longer serves the story, and the whole point of his death is to show us that Dualla and Apollo were mean to him on the last day that he was alive (and he was too gentle to live in this world, or something).

That said, because all of the women die, it makes sense that viewers would take a more critical attitude to examining how they die and to what purpose in the story.

And that’s where it starts to seem like it might not be a horrible choice because, while some of the women die stupidly, a lot of them die because women are the do-ers of Battlestar Galactica. They’re making things happen; they’re driving the story, and, when the supernatural element rears its head, they’re the prophesized saviors of the human and Cylon race.

Like a lot of militaristic stories, Battlestar Galactica measures its characters’ heroism partly through their capacity to suffer, both physically and emotionally. And unlike a lot of stories, BSG splits its heroic suffering pretty evenly between its male and female characters.

Starbuck is the action hero of the story – she goes on the dangerous missions, she gets the crap kicked out of her by robots, she has a tragic backstory with a dead boyfriend and an abusive mother, and she has a special destiny that requires her to sacrifice herself to save the people she loves. Roslin finds out that she has terminal cancer on the same day that she becomes President, and in order to lead, she has to overcome the fear that she feels for herself. During the last season, her body is falling apart just like the Galactica is falling apart, like tenuous hopes for the future are falling apart, and the question is whether any of those things will hold together long enough to find Earth. She and the beat-up old spaceship are both trying to complete their final missions by bringing the people to Earth.

Starbuck and Roslin are two of the most important characters on the show, and one could make the argument that, along with Gaius Baltar, they make up a trinity of the most important characters on the show, in terms of moving the primary story line forward. They die in the process, but it’s part the heroic journey.

Even some of the other, more perfunctory deaths come from a pretty strong place. Admiral Cain is there for three episodes before she bites it, but her character is right at the center of everything and killed as a direct result of the choices she makes as a leader (to place revenge above everything else). Athena, a Cylon, has her husband kill her so that she can download into another body on a Cylon ship and rescue her kidnapped baby – it’s pretty badass. Ellen Tigh gets murdered for betraying the humans to the Cylons. D’Anna Biers dies multiple times while investigating the identities of the final five Cylons (who are unknown to the remaining seven). The list goes on. In a universe where lots of people die as the product of doing, many female characters die because they do something that affects the story.

This is one of those instances where everyone’s a little bit right. It’s legitimately kind of annoying that, in a story full of strong, well-written women, none of them but (probably) Seelix can manage to survive. The television landscape being what it is, it makes you wonder what’s going on there. At the same time, and without this cancelling out the annoyance, a lot of the women died because they were such good characters and because the show was fairly egalitarian in determining who would drive the story.

Personally, I wish that in those last, sweeping shots of the surviving characters standing on Earth, we had seen Cally, or Dualla, or Kat, or someone we cared about who was female and lived for four years. I wish that it seemed possible, in the BSG universe, to be female and live for four years. And that feeling exists side-by-side with my joy at having such great characters to begin with.

 

See also at Bitch FlicksWomen in Politics Week: “I Don’t Take Orders from You”: Female Military Authority as Represented by Admiral Helena Cain in Battlestar Galactica by Amanda Rodriguez; Reproduction & Abortion Week: Procreation at the End of Civilization: Reproductive Rights on Battlestar Galactica by Leigh Kolb; 10 Fascinating Female TV Characters Who Are Often Overlooked by Rachel Redfern


Katherine Murray is a Toronto-based writer and couch potato who yells about movies and TV on her blog.

Bourgie White People Problems and Fat Shaming in ‘Enough Said’

To put it bluntly, I hated ‘Enough Said.’ The theme was trite, the characters were insufferable with their selfish pretensions, and there was a whole lot of fat shaming going on. Frankly, I’m surprised that Julia Louis-Dreyfus has been getting such high praise for starring in this turd, and I’m disappointed that I can’t be more supportive of a film written and directed by a woman: Nicole Holofcener.

"Enough Said" Movie Poster
Enough Said Movie Poster

 

Though guest writer Heather Brown wrote a Bitch Flicks review of Enough Said, I felt compelled to weigh in because my opinion of the film was the exact opposite. To put it bluntly, I hated this movie. The theme was trite, the characters were insufferable with their selfish pretensions, and there was a whole lot of fat shaming going on. Frankly, I’m surprised that Julia Louis-Dreyfus has been getting such high praise for starring in this turd, and I’m disappointed that I can’t be more supportive of a film written and directed by a woman: Nicole Holofcener.

 

Director Nicole Holofcener with stars Julie Louis-Dreyfus & Catherine Keener.
Director Nicole Holofcener with stars Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Catherine Keener.

 

Though I’d love to congratulate a female writer and director (especially one who employed kickass actresses like Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Catherine Keener, and Toni Collette), the storyline itself fell flat. Enough Said is about a massage therapist who ends up dating a man while giving massages to his ex-wife. Once she learns of the connection, she continues to probe the ex for information about her new beau despite the moral ambiguity of building a false friendship and essentially spying on her new boyfriend. Doesn’t that sound like a snore-fest sitcom episode of misadventure where you know the guilty party will be found out in the end and then realize the error of their ways? Well, that’s pretty much what happens. The themes admirably touch on the desire to make smarter relationship choices, to understand why relationships fail, and to avoid committing to the wrong person. In the end, though, the film claims that relationships, human compatibility, and chemistry are all a mystery…that over-thinking it doesn’t do us any favors. Talk about making a really simple point seem complex enough to warrant an entire movie. It’s also a very privileged upper-crusty perspective. Breaking out of destructive or abusive relationship cycles does require a good deal of introspection, honest analysis of choices, and recognition of personal patterns as well as a willingness and commitment to change. This movie basically pisses on the reality of the lives of people who aren’t wealthy (or at least financially comfortable), straight, white people. It pisses on the people who’ve faced major life struggles, crises, and trauma.

 

Vapid friends and friendships.
Vapid friends and friendships.

 

Speaking of which, the cast of characters is astoundingly shallow and self-involved with boring upper class bored-people pseudo-problems. Main character Eva’s best friend, Sarah, obsessively rearranges the furniture in her house and can’t bring herself to fire her (of course) Latin maid. Sarah’s husband, Will, has the least interesting or complicated case of middle child syndrome ever; he is simply obsessed with fairness.

 

Eva probes Marianne for dirt on her new boyfriend (& Marianne's ex-husband) Albert.
Eva probes Marianne for dirt on her new boyfriend (and Marianne’s ex-husband) Albert.

 

Eva’s new friend, Marianne, reveals that her marriage failed because she was annoyed by her husband Albert’s (played by James Gandolfini) annoying little habits and his weight.

 

Is there such a thing as oblivious daughter replacement syndrome? Eva's got it.
Is there such a thing as oblivious daughter replacement syndrome? Eva’s got it.

 

Eva herself comes off as sweet at first, but we learn she hates most of her massage clients, is selfishly and obliviously trying to replace her daughter, Ellen, who is going off to college with one of Ellen’s friends. Plus, she cultivates a faux-friendship with Marianne just to get dirt on Albert, which she then uses to humiliate him at a dinner party.

 

Eva gets drunk and humiliates Albert, the only nice person in the film.
Eva gets drunk and humiliates Albert, the only nice person in the film.

 

Eva’s behavior at that dinner party sealed the deal for me. I wanted her to get everything that was coming to her. I wanted the incredibly sweet, gentle, intelligent Albert to realize he was dating a horrible person and ditch her ass. Eva’s callous treatment of Albert doesn’t end with her general mockery of his inability to whisper or her distaste for the way he eats guacamole. No, she fat shames him in front of her friends. Fat shaming is never okay, but this seems particularly cruel because Albert sheepishly admitted to her beforehand that he has a complicated relationship with his weight and wants to lose some. She picked a very sensitive point of insecurity for Albert and exploited it because she was insecure about their relationship and about how people would think of her for dating a fat person. How is that ever okay or forgivable? If Eva had been a male character and Albert was female, would people be so quick to excuse that fat shaming? I hope not. Not only that, but Eva is ignorant. She is oblivious to the struggles of people who navigate the world with bodies different from her own, bodies of which the world doesn’t approve. How is her fat shaming any better than if she’d mocked Albert had he been a person of color, trans*, or differently abled? It is not different. She is an inexcusable bigot.

 

Eva is appalled by the way Albert eats popcorn when they go see a movie.
Eva is appalled by the way Albert eats popcorn when they go see a movie.

 

What it boils down to is that the character problems in Enough Said are a function of class. They say more about how much money and comfort these people have than about the state of the human condition. Movies that advocate for hateful bigots like Enough Said‘s fat shamers, even the ones who learn their lesson in the end (can you say Shallow Hal?), appeal to people who have “isms” of their own. Seeing a lead character bully another character due to their marginalized status (whatever it may be) allows the audience to vicariously indulge in that behavior and to vicariously feel solidarity in the character’s eventual contrition. It doesn’t necessarily help the audience inhabit the Othered, marginalized character.

Albert and Eva kiss
Albert and Eva kiss

Another important point that I’ve been dying to make for years is: Understated performances from people who’re typically in comedies…does not good acting make.  I’m so tired of people “breaking out” of their comedy typecast to reap countless praise for roles that simply didn’t have them laughing or cracking jokes or…emoting. I’m thinking of Jennifer Aniston in The Good Girl, almost every Jim Carrey, Bill Murray, or Adam Sandler “serious movie” ever made. Acting like a normal human being isn’t range. Don’t get me wrong, I think Julia Louis-Dreyfus is a stellar actress, but I don’t think bourgie, fat-shaming, linoleum Enough Said showed that.

——-

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.

A Study of a Singular Woman: A Review of ‘White Material’

‘White Material’ is about Maria Vial, a white Frenchwoman striving, in the face of mounting hostilities, to secure the coffee plantation she manages. French troops are assigned to evacuate their nationals but she refuses to leave the land she considers home. Superbly played by Isabelle Huppert, Maria is a profoundly complex character. Whether hanging on to the back of a bus heaving with humanity, or applying red lipstick as the world around her goes up in flames, her tenacity is shown to be incontestable and remarkable.

White Material, 2009
White Material, 2009

 

Written by Rachael Johnson

Claire Denis has made remarkable films about both French colonial Africa and the immigrant experience in post-colonial France. In White Material (2009), Denis returns to the continent, to an unnamed, post-colonial, Francophone country in the throes of civil war. Interestingly, the script was co-written with French author Marie NDiaye. Although of different race, background and generation, both the writer and director have a close connection with French-speaking Africa and an intimate understanding of otherness: Parisian-born Denis grew up in colonial Senegal and Cameroon while Franco-Senegalese NDiaye was born and raised in France.

A singular presence
A singular presence

 

White Material is about Maria Vial, a white Frenchwoman striving, in the face of mounting hostilities, to secure the coffee plantation she manages. French troops are assigned to evacuate their nationals but she refuses to leave the land she considers home. Superbly played by Isabelle Huppert, Maria is a profoundly complex character. Whether hanging on to the back of a bus heaving with humanity, or applying red lipstick as the world around her goes up in flames, her tenacity is shown to be incontestable and remarkable. Maria is, however, a deluded single-minded woman. Her flaws are rooted in both her privileged white European background and singular personality. She may feel an attachment to African soil- indeed, she feels she belongs to the country- but we know that her struggle to save “her” coffee plantation shows supreme self-interest. She shows concern for a worker’s sick child but disregards the fears of those fleeing her plantation. Equally revealing is her willingness to let her employees stay in unpardonable living quarters.

Claire Denis
Claire Denis

 

Maria’s dismissal of the concerns of others, particularly those of her ex-husband, André (Christopher Lambert), and refusal to acknowledge the dangers encircling her adolescent son, Manuel (Nicolas Duvauchelle), may strike the viewer as unrealistic. This capacity for denial is improbable but may also mask a racist assumption: namely, the belief that her white skin will protect her. The viewer is encouraged to read Maria’s commitment as a white fantasy of belonging and possession. This post-colonial white woman may have had a romantic relationship with the local mayor, and may be contemptuous of other whites, but her mindset is considerably colonial. Note that Denis does not judge her central character in an obvious way. Her approach is to observe rather than condemn. It is up to the individual viewer to interpret Maria.

The film is primarily about the position of white people in Africa. The expression “white material” refers both to white people and their possessions. It is wittily employed by the local radio DJ who provides sharp political comment on the conflict: “As for the white material, the party’s over. No more cocktails on shaded verandahs while we sweat water and blood. They’re deserting. They’re right to run scared.” Although Maria’s extraordinary energy and audacity are constantly highlighted, Denis appears to underline that her very presence on African soil is incongruous. This is accentuated by the striking image of her pale-skinned, red-haired character standing, all by herself, on a dirt road in a pale pink dress. Maria is presented as an idiosyncratic anachronism. As it did for the European colonial male in the past, Africa, for Maria, represents opportunity and romantic self-realization. She asks the Boxer, a wounded rebel leader holding up on the land (Isaach de Bankolé), “How could I show courage in France? It would be absurd…I’d slack off, get too comfortable.” Interestingly, it is the Frenchmen of White Material who embody white European decline. Her ex-husband is in debt to the mayor, Cherif, her father-in-law (Michel Subor) aged and ailing, and her son slothful and unstable. Degraded by child soldiers, the latter self-destructs in disturbing ways.

Co-writer Marie NDiaye
Co-writer Marie NDiaye

 

It is to both the child soldiers of the land–“the fearless young rascals”–and Marie that Denis dedicates her film. The former are portrayed as children. We see them play with toys in Maria’s home and we also see their throats slashed by government forces as they bathe and sleep. Although Maria’s commitment to the soil is emphasized, the director’s sympathies rest with the orphaned child soldiers. Their tragic fate is portrayed in an unsettling, heart-breaking manner.

The representation of African political unrest in White Material is troubling, however. The country in question is never named and nor is the viewer given a background to the war. This universalizes the African conflict experience and, unhelpfully, portrays the continent’s wars as incomprehensible, colossal nightmares. The filmmaker’s impressionistic, elliptical approach is problematic too. Africa still needs to be demystified in the Western popular imagination. The continent’s diversity is extraordinary–as the writer and filmmaker undoubtedly know–and, as any thoughtful student of modern African history knows, its wars are invariably politically engineered and highly calculated and organized.

Child soldier
Child soldier

 

The narrative approach of White Material also serves to generalize the contemporary European expatriate white experience in post-colonial Africa. It may seem obvious but the global audience needs to be reminded that there are many different kinds of expatriates across the continent–of all races and socio-economic backgrounds–as well as white expatriates–and citizens–who are not colonial in their mentality. White Material is specifically about privileged white people who still farm African land in a post-colonial French-speaking country. Further, one may question whether a family so singular can represent the French post-colonial mindset. Manuel’s fate is, to be honest, quite bizarre. The apocalyptic resolution befits a classical tragedy but it is frankly absurd. If it is meant as a searing condemnation of the colonial mentality–and I hope and trust it is- the message is lost in all the strangeness.

Troubled son
Troubled son

 

Razor-sharp remarks about European exploitation of black Africans ring true in White Material. The DJ mocks those “who rip us off and use our land to grow mediocre coffee that we’d never drink.” However, both the script and story lack clarity. What to make of Cherif’s remarks about Maria’s son, Manuel? He observes: “Extreme blondness brings bad luck. It cries out to be pillaged. Blue eyes are troublesome. This is his country. He was born here. But it doesn’t like him.” The remarks are striking but somewhat cryptic. They have political intent and resonance in the sense that they force Maria to confront her whiteness. She is reminded that her ancestors were not African. These somewhat obscure words also appear to indicate a belief that whiteness is somewhat demonized in the popular black African imagination. This is worrying as they arguably serve to reinforce Western associations of Africa with superstition. The character of the rebel leader, the Boxer, is, equally, opaque. Before finding refuge, The Boxer roams the scarred land on an abandoned horse like a kind of phantom. Suffering a stomach wound, he also appears to symbolize African stoicism. The portrait is, therefore, a somewhat mythic one.

Under pressure
Under pressure

 

White Material thankfully lacks the exoticism of Hollywood films about Africa. This is unsurprising, of course, considering the filmmaker’s background. Nor does it adopt a didactic approach. Although not without interesting ideas and striking images, it ultimately, though, does not provide great insight into African politics or conflict. Due perhaps to its obliqueness and opaqueness, White Material is neither sufficiently stirring nor powerful. It is an interesting rather than impressive work by the veteran director. What is unusual about White Material, however, is that it has a single-minded, risk-taking, ideologically dubious, deeply flawed complex female character at its center. What’s more, it elicits important discussions about white European femininity and entitlement.

 

Cute Old Ladies Who Talk Dirty in ‘Nebraska’ and ‘Philomena’

But Payne doesn’t seem to give much thought to Kate’s situation. In all but one scene Kate is called on to be testy and not much else. Even though we laugh as she chirps the cause of death of a late, but not lamented relative and we feel satisfied when she cusses out greedy members of Woody’s family, the character is more of an exclamation point than a person.

June Squibb as Kate in Nebraska

The women in the films of writer/director Alexander Payne are a mixed bag. I enjoyed his early film, Citizen Ruth but the contempt he seemed to have for most of the women characters seeped into–and made me hesitate to laugh at–the movie’s comedy. I hated Election in spite of a pre-stardom Reese Witherspoon in the lead and the cool, teenaged lesbian character in a prominent supporting role: what some other critics have called misanthropy in Payne’s body of work seemed to me more like misogyny.

I skipped About Schmidt  because Jack Nicholson and Alexander Payne didn’t seem like a woman-friendly combination, a hunch confirmed when even male critics used the m-word to describe the film. I thought I’d also avoid Sideways with its manchild protagonist, but when I saw the movie, late in its run, I loved it: the same care had gone into developing the Virginia Madsen and Sandra Oh characters as Payne had put into creating the roles played by Paul Giamatti and Thomas Haden Church. Payne’s next film, The Descendants had a comatose, unfaithful “bad” mother at its crux but also showed her willful, smart-mouthed daughters (Shailene Woodley played the older of the two) at their most vulnerable. So I went into Nebraska, nominated for a slew of Oscars including Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actress and Best Director, hopeful but cautious. But in this film Payne seems to be going not sideways, but backwards.

Will Forte and Bruce Dern in 'Nebraska'
Will Forte and Bruce Dern in Nebraska

The film’s focus is on the relationship between two men: addled, alcoholic Woody (Bruce Dern, nominated for Best Actor) and his son David (Will Forte, who many know from his days on Saturday Night Live). David ends up taking his father on a quixotic road trip to collect the money Woody mistakenly and stubbornly believes he’s won through a letter from a company that is very much like Publishers’ Clearing House. We see many scenes that demonstrate the challenge Woody’s drinking and encroaching dementia are for his son (who seems to be around 40 and able-bodied), but David never considers that the trip might be a chance for his own mother to have a break from being Woody’s sole caretaker. Instead, David repeatedly says he agreed to drive his father over two states because the trip might be the last chance for the two of them to spend some time together.

June Squibb plays Woody’s wife and David’s mother, Kate, and is the film’s nominee for Best Supporting Actress (she also played Jack Nicholson’s wife in About Schmidt). She has the kind of face that moviegoers are used to seeing everywhere but onscreen: an 80-something woman who doesn’t appear to have undergone any plastic surgery and doesn’t look like she’s just come from a session with a team of makeup artists and hair colorists.

Bruce Dern and June Squibb
Bruce Dern and June Squibb

Anyone who has known an older woman left alone to take care of a husband in declining health will recognize the exasperated tone and facial expression Kate uses whenever she speaks to Woody. David, in contrast, is unfailingly patient and calm, like a cross between a therapist and Mr. Rogers, when he talks to his taciturn and pigheaded father, perhaps because he knows when the trip is over, his father’s care will go back to being Kate’s responsibility and will remain so until he dies–or she does.

We can see that Kate, direct and bereft of tact, is supposed to be a refreshing change from the smiling, always forgiving grandmothers of yore, but seeing her yell and swear reminds me of every role Betty White has played in recent years, the same role that goes to many other actresses once they hit 65. Dern’s character is also often angry and uses crude language, but as limited as his character is we do see other aspects of him, both in Dern’s performance and in exposition from the other characters. So much of our time and focus goes to this character, we think that his opaque and maddening surface will crack so that he can can finally show some affection and gratitude toward his son or to his old girlfriend whom his son encounters in the town where he was raised, but Woody remains selfish, irascible and without redeeming qualities to the end.

Parents and son

A better and more interesting movie would have included more about Kate. In spite of the women all around us who take care of men when they get old and sick (even though these women are often not young themselves) we very rarely see movies about a woman who is a caretaker: off the top of my head the only film I can think of is Marvin’s Room.  But Payne doesn’t seem to give much thought to Kate’s situation. In all but one scene, Kate is called on to be testy and not much else. Even though we laugh as she chirps the cause of death of a late, but not lamented, relative and we feel satisfied when she cusses out greedy members of Woody’s family, the character is more of an exclamation point than a person.

That we, in the audience, aren’t as sick of the Grandma Who Talks Dirty trope as we are of the Magical Negro or the Sassy Gay Best Friend shows that the culture either isn’t paying attention or doesn’t care how older women are portrayed. Philomena is another Oscar-nominated film (for Best Picture, Best Actress, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Score) which features an older woman, and it left me frustrated for slightly different reasons.

DenchCoogan

Although Philomena is based on a true story about the title character (Best Actress nominee Judi Dench), it’s equally about the journalist, Martin Sixsmith (Steve Coogan), who helps in her search for the son who was taken from her (sold to American “adoptive” parents) when she was a young, single mother. Philomena Lee was sent to a Magdalen laundry (run by the Catholic Church but also supported by the Irish state) to have her baby and afterward forced, along with many other girl and women “sinners”, to work washing clothes for years afterward with no pay–a part of Irish history which receives a more detailed treatment in 2002’s The Magdalene Sisters.

I understand why the film makes Sixsmith an equal player in the story (the film is, after all, based on his book and was brought to the screen by Coogan), and the culture clash between romance-reading Philomena and Oxford-educated Martin is mildly entertaining, but this film reminded me a little too much of films from the 1980s like Mississippi Burning and Cry Freedom, in which stories about Black people were told through a white-guy main character and savior. I had the feeling if Sixsmith’s character had taken his rightful place as a background figure no producer would have put up the money for this film.

The real-life Sixsmith and Lee
The real-life Sixsmith and Lee

In Philomena, we again have an older woman with a surprising vocabulary: I guess I should be grateful that a mainstream movie features a lead actress (especially one of Judi Dench’s stature) saying the word “clitoris,” but I wish the scene weren’t played for a cheap laugh. Philomena Lee embodies contradictions that many of us have seen in our own families: women who remain devoted to the Catholic Church after years of being mistreated by it (with the people now around them pointing out that mistreatment), whose ideals are also more liberal than the church’s dogma.

I wanted to see more of the women I knew in Dench’s performance, but she’s miscast. She doesn’t sound any more Irish than…Judi Dench (and though some Irish people of Lee’s generation who moved to England made sure to lose their brogues–Lee wasn’t one of them–they didn’t then adopt Dench’s Received Pronunciation). Dench doesn’t speak in the same rhythm as someone from Ireland, or even as someone whose parents are from Ireland (though Dench’s mother was Irish). So Dench’s portrayal of Lee’s faith and forgiveness also fall flat. I have not seen any other review that notices how wrong Dench (as great as she has been in other roles) is for this part, the same way straight critics never seem to notice when two women playing lovers in a film have zero chemistry together. We’re supposed to be sated by seeing these women characters in a film at all. We aren’t supposed to want older women in films to do what they do in our lives outside movie theaters: to charm us, to move us, to sustain us.

___________________________________________________

Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing has appeared in The Toast, xoJane and the Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender.

Interview with Athena Film Festival Co-Founders Kathryn Kolbert and Melissa Silverstein

I had the wonderful opportunity to speak with Athena Film Festival co-founders Kathryn Kolbert, Constance Hess Williams Director, Athena Center for Leadership Studies at Barnard College, and Melissa Silverstein, Founder and Editor, Women and Hollywood. We discussed the upcoming festival, creating opportunities for female filmmakers, and the importance of seeing women leaders on-screen.

Kathryn Kolbert and Melissa Silverstein via Women of Athena Pinterest
Co-Founders of the Athena Film Festival, Kathryn Kolbert and Melissa Silverstein [Photo by: Kristina Bumphrey/Starpix]

The Athena Film Festival “is an engaging weekend of feature films, documentaries and shorts that highlight women’s leadership in real life and the fictional world.” I had the wonderful opportunity to speak with Athena Film Festival co-founders Kathryn Kolbert, Constance Hess Williams Director, Athena Center for Leadership Studies at Barnard College, and Melissa Silverstein, Founder and Editor, Women and Hollywood. We discussed the upcoming festival, creating opportunities for female filmmakers, and the importance of seeing women leaders on-screen.

 


1. Megan Kearns: Why did you both start the Athena Film Festival?

Kathryn Kolbert: The festival started after an event at Gloria’s Steinem house that Melissa had organized to honor Jane Campion. Both of us were very struck by hearing the same thing from all the filmmakers who were there about the difficulty of having movies with strong female courageous women characters in their films. I had just started at Barnard at the Athena Leadership Center and really felt like we needed to focus some of our attention on changing what I call the “blink” — what do you think of, what do you see when you think leader or when you’re asked what does a leader look like. Most people respond to that by thinking of a white man with gray hair at the temples. I think our view was we need to change that in the wider culture. And we need to level the playing field for women or men who want to tell stories about great women leaders. From there, the festival was born.

 

2. Megan Kearns : I’m sure you both love all of the films showing at Athena Film Fest? Which films or panels are you the most excited about? If people can only see one or two, which are must-see?

Melissa Silverstein: Firstly, we are very excited for three films that would highlight our opening film, our centerpiece film and our closing film. They’re all really different.

Belle directed by Amma Asante, tells the true story of a woman from history who helped basically bring down the slave trade in England. Decoding Annie Parker, also based on true events about two women, not connected to each other but separately, who came up with the idea that breast cancer is passed down from person to person. And then lastly, the documentary on Geraldine Ferraro [Geraldine Ferraro: Paving the Way]. Those are the pieces that we’re holding up as our “tent poles,” as they say. And Megan, you write about Hollywood, you know those “tent poles” are never about women, right? So all of our “tent poles” are about women at the Athena Film Festival.

And then there are amazing nuggets and conversations going on here that I don’t want people to miss. I want people to get a film, and then a panel, and then a film and then a panel. Some of those highlights are, especially for your audience, the “Bechdel Test 2.0,” which is really asking people to look beyond just the Bechdel Test and beyond representation to how do we create more substantive leading roles for women. Amplifying women’s voices — we’ll talk about and feature people working behind the scenes to get more women-friendly and women-centric content out there. Also, some leaders who are leading that charge.

[Filmmaker] Lexi Alexander is coming. She made a big hoopla with her piece on what it’s like to be a woman director. The woman is just like raw energy rolled up into…I don’t even know what she would be rolled up into. She’s going to explode like a cannon, I have a feeling. She’s got a lot of things to say and she’s not afraid to say it. And in a business where people are afraid to say the truth, I think this could be a very revealing conversation.

Kathryn Kolbert: I would highlight that I’m going to be talking with Leymah Gbowee who is the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize Winner from Liberia. A woman whose story was told in the film Pray the Devil Back to Hell. And I think that helped to internationalize the unbelievable work that she did to create peace in a country that had been at war for many, many decades. If you’ve never had the opportunity to hear her, she’s just extraordinarily charismatic and interesting because she’s had a chance to visit with women all across the globe who are working for peace.

The second thing I think is really interesting across the festival is we have everything from a teenager sailing across the ocean alone [Maidentrip] to an animated film [Frozen], to women from all different countries around the world do many different kinds of things. I encourage people to go see more than one film, to come in and see 3 or 4, because that’s the story, that’s the subtext of what we’re doing that doesn’t get noticed until you’re seeing lots of things. The shorts are a really good example of that. Both shorts programs are great.

Melissa Silverstein: We curate a program that allows you to see all different kinds of women doing all different kinds of leadership. You have an opportunity to put together for yourself a vision of what you think films could be like and leadership could be like. I know the readers of Bitch Flicks like that vision and believe in that vision. By coming in and just sampling one or two things you get a little bit of it. But if you feel the breadth of it, you can understand the potential if we have more women’s stories in our culture.

 

3. Megan Kearns : How important do you think it is for people to see women in leadership roles on-screen?

Kathryn Kolbert: It’s incredibly important. Let me give you one piece of research that I think is extremely useful and telling in terms of what we’re trying to do here. A number of years ago in India, they passed what’s known as a reservations law which reserved a third of all town heads, the equivalent of mayors, around the country for women. They did that on a randomized basis so you could study what happened when women became mayors. Therefore, it couldn’t be attributed to something other than the gender of the women who ascended to these roles. Two things happened. One, the agendas of the women were different than the agendas of the men because they were listening more closely to both the men and women in the villages. The men’s agendas seemed to reflect the male leadership in the village. The women’s leadership reflected both the attitudes of male and female constituents. So the agendas changed.

But here’s the interesting piece that applies to our festival. What also changed was the aspirations of girls. When you had two women in a row who became mayors in their village, they believed and understood they could be a mayor themselves. That’s what this festival is all about. It’s how you inspire the next generation or the generation after that to ascend to leadership in whatever capacity they aspire to. Until they see people who are like them, in those roles, they won’t be able to do that as effectively.

Melissa Silverstein: So bringing in a person like Lexi Alexander, who has taken on — she doesn’t always think this is the thing she needs to do but she understands by putting this out there — she has taken on a responsibility. She wants this business to change. Not just for herself but for other women, the women who can’t get jobs and for the girls who want to see — as Kitty always says, “What do you think a leader looks like? The guy with gray hair at his temples.” When you ask girls, “What does a director look like?” They describe Steven Spielberg-like. We want girls to be able to dream, to see themselves as potential directors. That way we’ll have more stories about women, because we know the research shows that when you have more women behind the scenes, you have more stories about women.

 

4. Megan Kearns: There’s a panel on the Bechdel Test at Athena and last year 4 Swedish cinemas employed a Bechdel Test rating to indicate gender bias. How important do you think the Bechdel Test is?

Melissa Silverstein: I’m going to push back on you on the Bechdel Test. It’s not the beginning and it’s not the end. We get stuck in the fact that two women talking to each other about a man. Two women talking to each other about something other than a man is not enough. And should not be enough.

Kathryn Kolbert: If we put this in another context, it would be like saying because one Fortune 500 company has one woman on their board of directors, that the fight is over. It’s just beginning. It’s not really a fight. It’s an effort to bring parity in the world in a whole range of arenas. From my perspective, in terms of leadership, you only can change the world if women get beyond their gender and can contribute equally within any kind of organization or entity. And as long as they’re a minority, in any respect — whether it’s on-screen, behind the screen, directors, whatever role they’re playing — as long as they’re a minority, their gender is the only issue people are looking at them for, rather than the huge contributions they bring to the table. We believe in parity because it makes the product better. 

 

5. Megan Kearns: Filmmaker Lexi Alexander wrote a stunning article at Women & Hollywood where she stated, “There is no lack of female directors…But there is a huge lack of people willing to give female directors opportunities.” How do you think the Athena Film Festival might help women directors obtain more opportunities?

Melissa Silverstein: What we’re trying to do with the Athena Film Festival is give women directors the opportunity to have their films at a first-class event and create conversations that show people — basically what we want to say is, it shouldn’t be a big deal to have six movies directed by women in a film festival. Yet, at all the film festivals I go to, it is always a big deal to see six movies by women. We want to create opportunities for them out there, they just don’t have the opportunity to be seen at this level. We want people to take them more seriously and we want people to understand that their work stands on its own. People in the film business need to look at this work a bit differently and to redefine what success is.

Kathryn Kolbert: We want to remember that men are allies in this as well. One thing that the Athena Film Festival has always stood for is it’s important what the story is, not necessarily the gender of the person who directed the film. While we do believe women directors need more opportunities, there’s no question about that, we also show movies by male directors who are telling stories of interesting, creative, courageous women because that needs to be part of the norm as well. The issue is not who made the film so much as what the film is contributing to the cultural conversation. From my perspective, in terms of how you change leadership, men and women need to work together to change what leadership looks like.

 

6. Megan Kearns: What are your thoughts on the Celluloid Ceiling’s Report that there hasn’t been progress for women in film in 16 years. How can we move past the “gender inertia” of film that Dr. Martha Lauzen talks about and achieve more diverse female representation in film?

Kathryn Kolbert: It’s not much different than any other major institutions in the country. Hollywood has despicable numbers but so do Fortune 500 companies, so do non-profits, so does the education sphere. All over the world, this is a problem, in terms of women and leadership roles. I think that the solutions are more complicated than any of us would like. It would be really nice if we could say there’s one thing that could be done and the problem is solved. It’s not that simple, nor do we believe that to be the case.

But I do think for Hollywood, there are two things that can make a significant difference. One is this myth that the major audience are 18- to 25-year-old guys. The blockbuster films are kind of geared toward that audience. In fact, women go to the movies, women are more likely to go to the movies when they’re not seeing blockbuster films for 18-year-old guys. That’s one really significant thing: the industry has to catch up to their own data.

Melissa Silverstein: It has to catch up to the rest of the country.

Kathryn Kolbert: The second thing is they have got to say this, they have got to admit that there is a problem. Until they do, it’s not going to change. To me, we need to call upon the leaders of the big studios to say openly that this is a problem, we’re going to address the problem, we’re going to work on the problem, and we’re going to quit ignoring it.

Melissa Silverstein: I agree. There has to be the will. Now there is no will. Now, Dr. Lauzen’s statistics, she’s been counting this for 16 years. I would venture to say that it’s been that bad for many more years than that. We just have those statistics for 16 years. This has been going on for decades.

But Hollywood is a business. These people’s jobs are to make money and the inertia comes from the fact that they continue to make money and they don’t see how bringing women into it will improve on their bottom line. They don’t see the need because their bottom line continues to grow. They’re contracting the amount of movies they’re releasing at the studios. As they contract, they make bigger “tent poles,” more boy-centric, more superhero-centric, more action-centric, more internationally-centric. All those issues lead into less and less opportunities for women.

Until somebody says, “I’m going to hire a woman to direct the next Marvel movie or the next Avengers movie, we’re going to have this conversation until we break through that glass ceiling. It’s got to happen at the top level.

 

7. Megan Kearns: Who are your favorite female filmmakers?

Melissa Silverstein: I’m a huge Lynn Shelton fan. I also feel like I’ve seen Nicole Holofcener’s body of work. There are many men you can say, “I’ve seen that person’s body of work.” There are not that many women where you can have the body of work and you can feel really connected to it. For me, I have that connection to Nicole Holofcener’s work. And I think one of my favorite movies of all time is Whale Rider. And Bend It Like Beckham.

 


The 4th Annual Athena Film Festival takes place February 6-9, 2014 at Barnard College in New York, NY. Learn more about this year’s lineup and buy tickets.

On Loving ‘Her’ … and Why It’s Not Easy

But, as a woman in the audience, my relationship to these types of characters, who are reliably, predictably, boringly male, is fraught. I relate to them, but only insofar as I must continually reinvest in the myth that men are the only people who are truly capable, truly deep enough, of having wrenching crises of the soul. Even though I know this to be false in reality—women experience alienation and existentialist ennui, too (I can’t believe I even just typed that)—I am deeply troubled that the experience of this sort of angst seems to be the exclusive province of men in our cultural imagination.

Her movie poster
Her movie poster

 

This guest post by Lisa C. Knisely previously appeared at Medium.

Her is an achingly beautiful film that adroitly explores postmodern alienation and the alterity at the heart of our relationships, both with other humans and our increasingly intelligent machines. I found the lonely, withdrawn main character, Theodore (played by Joaquin Phoenix), to be an immensely relatable and sympathetic protagonist.

But, that’s the problem.

Much like Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character at the beginning of 500 Days of Summer, we know Theodore is a sensitive and depressed dude from the moment we see him listening to “melancholy songs” in the elevator as he leaves work at a large and impersonal office building in the city. And, like Jim Carrey’s character in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, we soon come to find out that Theodore was once deeply in love with an emotionally complex and intelligent woman who has left him heartbroken. Films like Her bank on the audience’s ability to relate to the experiences of lost love and existentialist ennui of their main character.  And we do. As, I think, we should.

Joaquin Phoenix and Amy Adams in Her
Joaquin Phoenix and Amy Adams in Her

 

But, as a woman in the audience, my relationship to these types of characters, who are reliably, predictably, boringly male, is fraught. I relate to them, but only insofar as I must continually reinvest in the myth that men are the only people who are truly capable, truly deep enough, of having wrenching crises of the soul. Even though I know this to be false in reality—women experience alienation and existentialist ennui, too (I can’t believe I even just typed that)—I am deeply troubled that the experience of this sort of angst seems to be the exclusive province of men in our cultural imagination.

Why are these stories we tell, stories about something I would venture to call essentially human, also largely stories about being men? As Noah Berlatsky points out in a piece for Salon.com, “In Her, difference is simply subsumed into a single narrative of midlife crisis and romance — everybody’s the same at heart, which means everybody is accepted as long as their stories can be all about that white male middle-age middle-class guy we’re always hearing stories about.”

Amy Adams in Her
Amy Adams in Her

 

And women? Well, we’re mostly relegated to the role of foils for man’s (meaning men’s) quest for meaning, transformation, and lasting human connection.  As Anna Shechtmen writes in a piece for Slate.com, “Her commits the most hackneyed error of the big screen: It fails to present us with a single convincing female character—one whose subjectivity and sexuality exist independent of the film’s male protagonist or its male viewers.”

While I agree with Shechtmen’s assessment, I’d also wager that there is nothing particularly unusual about this state of affairs in a great many Hollywood films. That the main female character in Her is a disembodied operating system through which (whom?) Theodore’s subjectivity is revealed and transformed didn’t strike me as unusual. Zooey Deschanel’s character in 500 Days of Summer might as well have been a disembodied computer voice as far as I’m concerned.  Ditto Natalie Portman in Garden State. Ditto Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation.  Ditto Helena Bonham Carter in Fight Club.  Ditto the real doll in Lars and the Real Girl. Ditto any film where the role of the main female character is to be a beautiful and sexually available aid to the male protagonist’s gradual transformation as he gains a deeper level of self-understanding as he learns to connect with others.

Joaquin Phoenix in Her
Joaquin Phoenix in Her

 

Maybe Samantha, the operating system voiced by Scarlett Johansson with whom Theodore falls in love in Her, is just the ultimate Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Or maybe Spike Jonze is critiquing contemporary heterosexuality in which men project their desires onto objectified women. As Shechtmen notes, “One could argue that Jonze knows just what he’s doing…he is foregrounding Samantha’s role as the dark screen upon which we can project our erotic and romantic fantasies.” Daniel D’Addario at Salon.com maintains that the critique of possessive masculine desire is exactly Jonze’s point in Her, writing, “[the] evocation of female sexuality as easily controlled isn’t what the film is telling us is inherently good; calling to mind the control Theodore seeks to have over women doesn’t mean Jonze is seeking the same control. If anything, making Samantha invisible totally forecloses the option of the ‘male gaze’….”

While there is an implicit feminist critique of masculine heterosexual romantic desire in Her, D’Addario is oversimplifying the concept of the male gaze. The male gaze, as it was developed by feminist film critics like Laura Mulvey, isn’t just about women being sexually objectified and gazed at on screen; it is more deeply about the way a film structures its viewpoint so that we, the audience, are made to see through the eyes of the (usually male) protagonist and thus identify with him. In Her, there is only one brief moment during the film where the camera switches and we see Theodore from Samantha’s viewpoint. Any other glimpse of her subjectivity we get solely through Theodore’s relationship to her.

Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) goes on a date in Her
Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) goes on a date in Her

 

One can argue that all people, of any gender, project a certain amount of fantasy onto others in our intimate relationships with them. This too, seems to be something definitive of human experience. And Her examines that experience thoughtfully, with complexity, pushing our conceptual understanding of what it is to be “human” at a moment in history when we are more and more becoming cyborgs.

Still, I have trouble coming up with a Hollywood film where a woman’s subjectivity, her struggle for meaning, self-transformation and connection with others, has truly taken center stage in such a way that men in the audience are expected to identify with her story as one that is universal. Even more unimaginable, and currently unrepresentable in our current cinematic landscape, is a film in which a man or men operates as a reflective vehicle for a woman’s existential journey.

Go see Her. Ache with Theodore. Enjoy the beautiful aesthetic of the film. But, take a minute to imagine, too, if Joaquin Phoenix had played Sam to Scarlett Johansson’s Thea instead. That’s a film I’m still waiting for someone in Hollywood to write, direct, and especially, to produce.

 

Recommended reading: “Meet Samantha, the Manic Pixie Operating System in Her: A Review in Conversation”

 


Dr. Lisa C. Knisely is a freelance writer and an Assistant Professor of the Liberal Arts in Portland, Ore. 

Seed & Spark: Dandie and Me

When the screenplay for ‘Black Hat’ finally arrived at my desk to read, I knew immediately that I wanted to produce it. Not because of its very unique backdrop of anime, manga (Japanese comics), and cosplay, which certainly adds a fresh slant to this “road trip” movie, or because of its subject matter—teen bullying—which is so prevalent today in schools (especially in the LGBT community). I certainly find myself wanting to talk to each and every one of these kids, who have feelings of isolation, loneliness, and despair everyday. I want to hug them and tell them, “This is not the end; it is barely the beginning.”

-1

This is a guest post by Christie Botelho.

When the screenplay for Black Hat finally arrived at my desk to read, I knew immediately that I wanted to produce it. Not because of its very unique backdrop of anime, manga (Japanese comics), and cosplay, which certainly adds a fresh slant to this “road trip” movie, or because of its subject matter—teen bullying—which is so prevalent today in schools (especially in the LGBT community). I certainly find myself wanting to talk to each and every one of these kids who have feelings of isolation, loneliness, and despair everyday. I want to hug them and tell them, “This is not the end; it is barely the beginning.”

But, no, that’s not what had me hooked by this amazing project, although what a fantastic bonus and privilege it will be to tackle. News that the family of a beautiful, disabled, young woman named Cassie England—to whom we were introduced before she passed away from a rare skin disease—requested that we name a main character after her so that Cassie could be “immortalized” as someone she loved and dreamed to be. That’s not the reason that this film tugs at my heart…although it helps.

No, what did it for me was the main character, Dandi, an alternative 16-year-old girl who loves everything anime, manga, cosplay, and the musical group Slipknot. As I read about this young lady who marches to the beat of her own drum, I couldn’t help but laugh remembering the day I came home to my family in the straight-laced, middle-class, tiny town of Wales, MA back in the late 1980s sporting a shaved scalp on the right side of my head. My mother and father were very supportive parents, no doubt, but I couldn’t help but notice a bit of blood coming out of the side of my dad’s mouth where he’d been biting his lip—figuratively and literally—and my mother reaching for another cup of coffee, even though she had already hit her two-cup limit.

Then again, they knew their daughter had long sealed her reputation of marching to the beat of HER own drum ever since the day I showed up at school wearing my dad’s pajamas, a fedora, and (of course, the only acceptable footwear to round out my fabulous ensemble) a pair of perfectly shined combat boots.

This is not to say that I was an irresponsible adolescent. I wasn’t, and neither is Dandi in the film. She goes to school and works two jobs, one at her family’s cleaners and another at a New Age store, just so she has the cash to create her own magical cosplay (costumes emulating anime characters that cosplayers wear at conventions, to express themselves in ways they can’t at home or at school) and to pay for travel, hotels, and entrance fees to the conventions.

Much like Dandi’s parents, my family could afford to get me certain things, but it was made clear at an early age, that if I wanted the coolest new outfit or to attend a class trip, I was going to have to pay for it on my own. I starting working at 13, babysitting for several families, including one single father of three who worked the graveyard shift and would wake me up when he got home so I could wash up in time to go to school. I worked summers at the billing department at the hospital where my parents both worked, waited tables all through college, and worked at the local dance studio where I took classes until I graduated from Emerson College, where I received a degree in theatre and dance. From there I moved to NYC to pursue a career in the arts.

Today, I am old enough to be Dandi’s mother, and it is fun for me to sit back and think of where this kindred spirit of a girl will be when she gets to be my age. You never can tell where life will take you. The girl who once shaved the side of her head and wore her dad’s PJs to school got a temp job at a computer IT company almost 20 years ago and pounded the pavement looking for acting gigs. From temp, I was promoted to office manager, then marketing manager, then director of operations, and now I am the COO of that same multimillion-dollar company. Not a day goes by that I don’t smirk a bit at the ascent in an almost totally all-male environment. But more so, think about what all my dance teachers would say if they could see me now!

I am thrilled that I can still keep my roots in being a creative (and now business) force at Good To Be Seen Films to help bring this touching story to life—because of the teen bullying topic we are tackling, because of being able to ease, if ever so slightly, the pain of Cassie England’s family as we remember her through a character in the film.

Mostly, though, because I can tell the story of this free-spirited soul who marches to the beat of a very special drum…who wants to be who she is, without taking anything away from you or me. Just let her be her. And smile warmly thinking back to another odd drumbeater from a small town who did pretty okay taking the her own path.

Follow our project at http://www.seedandspark.com/studio/black-hat and support teaching tolerance through storytelling by contributing to our crowdfunding campaign.

 


Christie Botelho, producer - executive producer
Christie Botelho, producer – executive producer

Christie Botelho attended Emerson College where she received her BFA in Performance. Upon graduation she formed Mass Motion Dance Company with co-founder Terri Gordon, formerly of the Boston Ballet. 

She moved to NYC in 1995 where she began to pursue a career in acting and dance, honing her craft at the Michael Howard Studios and studying with dance aficionados, Linda Kent and Donald Byrd, while continuing to work in both television and film mediums.

In 1998 with her partner Robbie Bryan, she formed Good To Be Seen Films, and Executive Produced the company’s first independent feature, The Stand-In. GTBS Films has two projects on tap for 2014, including the family-friendly The Mighty Misfit Kids, from Robbie Bryan’s World Fest Houston Silver Remi-Winning screenplay, and the anime/manga-themed “Black Hat”, starring Jodelle Ferland (Twilight, Silent Hill), which while mostly narrative, will include ten minutes of anime from world-renowned Japanese Producer Masao Maruyama and music from the band SLIPKNOT.

In addition, Ms. Botelho continues to serve as Chief Operating Officer for a high-level technology consulting company in NYC.

Women’s Bodies in the Oscar-Nominated Films

What is telling is the presence of so many films that either elide or sexualize female bodies in the category that presumably represents the best of the best. The Academy clearly has a critical preference for movies about men, with women present primarily as wives and sex objects.

video-undefined-19A6CE7F00000578-696_636x358
The Wolf of Wall Street

This guest post by Holly Derr previously appeared at Ms. Magazine and is cross-posted with permission.

Jake Flanagin at Pacific Standard and Victoria Dawson Hoff at Elle recently floated an interesting idea: The Oscars should be entirely segregated by gender. Their proposal would create categories such as Best Female Director and Best Female Writer in addition to the already segregated acting awards.

Though this would lead to recognition of more women working in the field, it wouldn’t solve one of the Oscars’ main gender problems: the Academy Award for Best Picture. Most films are produced by teams of both men and women, making segregation in that category impossible. And yet, the Best Picture category is where we can see the clearest evidence of the Academy’s preference for male-driven films. Only three of the nine films nominated this year even have women in leading roles: American Hustle, Gravity and Philomena.

Perhaps as significant as the lack of women characters is the treatment in these films of women’s bodies. The main female character in Her is not even human, allowing the film and its central relationship to avoid dealing with the messy reality of  women with bodies. In Dallas Buyers Club, one of the two female-gender-identified characters is played by a cisgender man, effectively replacing a body that would raise interesting questions about the difference between sex and gender with one that is much easier to understand. One cannot help but wonder, if a trans actor had played the role, in which category would she be eligible for a nomination?

Where women’s bodies are present in these films, they are almost always objectified through an emphasis on their sexuality. In The Wolf of Wall Street, one woman has sex on top of a pile of  money (the actor says her back was covered with paper cuts after filming) and another woman literally wears money. One could argue that these moments are designed to reveal the callousness of the male characters, but in imagining and glamorizing a world without any female characters who aren’t objectified, the film ultimately endorses its characters’ worldview. The main female character in 12 Years a Slave is literally a possession, and she is repeatedly raped. Unlike with The Wolf of Wall Street, which encourages the audience to identify with criminals, 12 Years a Slave invites us to sympathize with the victim rather than the perpetrator. In this way, the film does at least provide a critique of turning women into objects, rather than an endorsement.

o-12-YEARS-A-SLAVE-PRESS-IMAGE
12 Years a Slave

American Hustle provides the clearest example of Hollywood’s inability to deal with women’s bodies without sexualizing them.Though most of the fashions in which the male characters adorn themselves–from the polyester to the conspicuous chest hair to the hairstyles–are quite unsexy, the women are dressed in ways that reveal their every curve. Though plunging necklines were popular for evening wear in the era portrayed in the movie, women also wore formal dresses that, by today’s standards, look like your grandmother’s nightgowns. During the day, women wore button-up shirts with large collars; the most popular woman’s outfit of the decade was the pantsuit, and hair was more commonly worn natural than elaborately styled.

amy_adams_wardrobe_malfunction_a_p
American Hustle

It makes sense for Amy Adams’ character to wear a dress cut down to her belly button, but when her character impersonates a British aristocrat, it would have been more logical to have her button up. She would still have been sexy and her talent would have shone just as brightly without an outfit that invites the viewer to spend most of the scene staring at her boobs. Similarly, the notion that a troubled housewife would wear her hair in an updo all the time is incongruent both with Jennifer Lawrence’s character and with the style of the time.

The contrast between the body of Christian Bale’s character and those of his lovers is especially striking. Whereas Bale’s character has an outside that matches his inside–his corrupt, conniving character is manifest in his weight, physical health and  unnatural hairpiece–Adams’ and Lawrence’s characters are gorgeous despite their twisted insides. I would love to see a version of this film in which the women’s bodies, the clothes they wear and the hairstyles they sport are as reflective of their unsavory inner selves as the men’s are.

Only two of the nine films nominated for Best Picture are genuinely about women, and the difference in how women’s bodies are treated in those films versus the other seven is telling. Sandra Bullock spends much of Gravity in shorts and a tank top, yet at no point is she sexualized. One might note that she looks strong and healthy, but one’s eyes are not deliberately focused on her breasts either by her costume or the camera. The unnecessary addition of [SPOILER ALERT!] a lost child to Gravity betrays Hollywood’s inability to portray women without reference to their biology, but even the final shot in which the camera slowly pans from Bullock’s feet to her head is much more about showing her strength than it is about showing her girl parts.

gravity-sandra-bullock-10
Gravity

Philomena is a film centered around a woman’s reproductive past, yet it trounces the competition in its fully human representation of a woman character. Unlike  Jennifer Lawrence in American Hustle, Judi Dench is old enough to conceivably be the woman she portrays. Close-ups of her face make no attempt to hide signs of age, revealing a beautiful woman whose wrinkles only make her intense emotional experience all the more gripping. Though the film is about the woman’s search for her lost child, the woman herself is far more than a mother on a mission. She loves her children, but she also loves sex. She’s a woman of faith, she’s openly accepting of gay people, she loves to read and she makes friends everywhere she goes. This is not to say that every female lead in every movie needs to be a saint;  most real women are not. But is there any other female character in this year’s nominees for Best Picture about whom the audience learns so much and in whom they become so deeply invested because of whom she is instead of what?

You might question whether the absence/objectification of women’s bodies in this year’s Best Picture nominees reflects on Hollywood or the culture as a whole. None of these films would necessarily be problematic on its own—12 Years a Slave in particular performs the important function of detailing the violence under which female slaves really lived and showing slave owners to be as oppressive as they really were. What is telling is the presence of so many films that either elide or sexualize female bodies in the category that presumably represents the best of the best.  The Academy clearly has a critical preference for movies about men, with women present primarily as wives and sex objects.

Though segregating awards by gender would up the profile of women working in Hollywood, it would also perpetuate the notion that there is something fundamentally different about work created by women and work created by men. And it would not solve the fundamental problem at the heart of Hollywood: Movies about men are more highly valued than those about women.

 

Related Reading: 7 Ways Stars Can Change Hollywood This Award Season

For more Bitch Flicks commentary on the 2014 Academy Award nominees: 2014 Academy Award NominationsThe Academy: Kind to White Men, Just Like History

________________________

Holly L. Derr is a feminist media critic who writes about theater, film, television, video games and comics. Follow her @hld6oddblend and on her tumblr, Feminist Fandom

Call for Writers: Women and Work/Labor Issues

On screen, we often see the demonization of women with professional power and/or ambition. These women are usually portrayed as callous, frigid (or conversely hyper-sexual), masculine, and even unnatural. These women tend to be fiercely competitive with other women in their field. All this tells viewers that women don’t belong in high-power positions.

Call-for-Writers

Our February Theme Week for 2014 will be Women and Work/Labor Issues.

Women in the workplace has continued to be an incendiary topic in the U.S since WWII. Before that, Marxist thinker Frederich Engels formed the basis of Marxist Feminism when he wrote about gender oppression in 1884, insisting that class is the basis for the oppression of women. Wikipedia describes Engels theories from his book The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State:

Women’s subordination is a function of class oppression, maintained (like racism) because it serves the interests of capital and the ruling class; it divides men against women, privileges working class men relatively within the capitalist system in order to secure their support; and legitimates the capitalist class’s refusal to pay for the domestic labor assigned, unpaid, to women (childrearing, cleaning, etc.). Working class men are encouraged by a sexist capitalist media to exploit the dominant social position afforded to them by existing conditions to reinforce that position and to maintain the conditions underlying it.

We see this even now, 130 years later, with the limited opportunities that women have within the work force, the lack of value placed on the labor of women as evinced by the continuation of the unpaid child-rearing system, and the fact that women consistently earn less than men for performance of the same job (and that positions typically held by women tend to be compensated at a lesser wage).

On screen, we often see the demonization of women with professional power and/or ambition. These women are usually portrayed as callous, frigid (or conversely hyper-sexual), masculine, and even unnatural. These women tend to be fiercely competitive with other women in their field. All this tells viewers that women don’t belong in high-power positions.

Conversely, there are a lot of stories about working class women who are filled with gumption and fortitude (if not a lot of education), which lionize the women who scrape to get by, keep their family fed, and struggle to improve their working conditions.

This month, we’d like to explore representations of women in the work force. Some questions you may want to think about are: How does being a woman affect the character(s)’ relationship with work? How does class intersect with gender oppression (or other kinds of oppression)? What does her job (skilled or unskilled labor) say about her? How does she relate to other women in her field? How does her job affect her interactions with men?

We’d like to avoid as much overlap as possible for this theme, so get your proposals in early if you know who or what you would like to write about. We accept both original pieces and cross-posts, and we respond to queries within a week.

Most of our pieces are between 1,000 and 2,000 words, and include links and images. Please send your piece as a Microsoft Word document to btchflcks[at]gmail[dot]com, including links to all images, and include a 2- to 3-sentence bio.

If you have written for us before, please indicate that in your proposal, and if not, send a writing sample if possible.

Please be familiar with our publication and look over recent and popular posts to get an idea of Bitch Flicks’ style and purpose. We encourage writers to use our search function to see if your topic has been written about before, and link when appropriate (hyperlinks to sources are welcome, as well).

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, Feb. 21 by midnight.

 

A sampling of films/shows that highlight women & work/labor issues:

Working Girl

Nine to Five

Gilmore Girls

Tootsie

Erin Brockovich

Norma Rae

Damages

Commander in Chief

Gravity

Roseanne

Grey’s Anatomy

I Love Lucy

Laverne & Shirley

The Mary Tyler Moore Show

Murphy Brown

Who’s the Boss

Mr. Mom

Parenthood

Miss Representation

Baby Boom

An Officer & a Gentleman

Waitress

The Passion/Crime d’amour (Love Crime)

The Devil Wears Prada

Scandal

Judging Amy

The Good Girl

Battlestar Galactica

Ally McBeal

 

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

recommended-red-714x300-1

 

Take the Tarrant Test for 2014 Super Bowl Ads! at Ms. blog

Alice Walker: Beauty in Truth premieres nationally Friday, February 7 at 9 p.m. on PBS

Telling women’s stories will change the world, Sundance filmmakers say by Ellen Fagg Weist at The Salt Lake City Tribune

Watching Downton Abbey With an Historian: Birth Control by Mo Moulton at The Toast 

Study: Female Movie Stars’ Paychecks Decrease Rapidly After Age 34 by Inkoo Kang at Women and Hollywood

Don’t Be a Dick: A Comic About the History of Lady-Centric Comics by Ladydrawers at Bitch Media

Harvey Weinstein: Quentin Tarantino producer vows to stop making excessively violet films by Tomas Jivanda at The Independent

Reel Girl’s List of Top 10 Movies Starring Heroic Girls to Show Your Kids at Reel Girl

Five Theories For What ‘American Horror Story: Coven’ Was Actually About by Alison Willmore at Indiewire

Watch This Anita Hill Documentary Trailer and Remain Calm, I Dare You by Hillary Crosley at Jezebel

7 Ways Stars Can Change Hollywood This Awards Season by Holly L. Derr at Role/Reboot

Shonda Rhimes on her DGA Diversity Award: ‘We’re a tiny bit p-ssed off that there has to be an award’ by Lindsey Bahr at Entertainment Weekly

4 Films about LGBT Muslims Everyone Needs to Watch at QWOC Media

Margaret Cho cast in Tina Fey-produced comedy by Sandra Gonzalez at Entertainment Weekly

Sexed up Powerpuff Girls point to Cartoon Network’s girl problem at Reel Girl

 

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!