The Academy has announced the theme of this year’s Oscars ceremony. Producer Neil Maron announced in an Instagram video, “It’s going to be a celebration of movie heroes: the popular heroes, the real life heroes, the animated heroes, and the superheroes.” Here’s what I’m guessing this will look like: montages juxtaposing Nelson Mandela with Luke Skywalker and Norma Rae with Optimus Prime. Ellen DeGeneres wearing a Captain America costume (‘The Winter Soldier’: in theaters April 4!). Bumpers before the cuts to commercial in which stars talk about their heroes. Someone will say Woody Allen and someone will say “my mom.” Lots of commercials for ABC’s Marvel’s ‘Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.’ It feels like another desperate attempt to get a younger, male-er audience for the telecast (and, truthfully, one I vastly prefer to hiring Seth MacFarlane to host).
White hands holding Oscar statuettes
The Academy has announced the theme of this year’s Oscars ceremony. Producer Neil Maron announced in an Instagram video, “It’s going to be a celebration of movie heroes: the popular heroes, the real life heroes, the animated heroes, and the superheroes.”
Here’s what I’m guessing this will look like: montages juxtaposing Nelson Mandela with Luke Skywalker and Norma Rae with Optimus Prime. Ellen DeGeneres wearing a Captain America costume (The Winter Soldier: in theaters April 4!). Bumpers before the cuts to commercial in which stars talk about their heroes. Someone will say Woody Allen and someone will say “my mom.” Lots of commercials for ABC’s Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
All those corporate possessives highlight the blatant commercialism behind the selection of this theme. And not just the obvious aforementioned synergy opportunities for host network ABC (which like Marvel Entertainment, is owned by Disney). It feels like another desperate attempt to get a younger, male-er audience for the telecast (and, truthfully, one I vastly prefer to hiring Seth MacFarlane to host). Even if the superheroes part of the equation doesn’t get the most play (and who are we kidding, it will), I suspect the Oscars ceremony will present myriad objectionable approaches to the concept of heroism. I am adding “Lara Croft appears in a montage of movie heroes” to my drinking game.
Feminist frustration aside, “Movie Heroes” is also simply a BORING theme. It’s too loose a category: it could mean “Characters Who Achieve Greatness” or “Characters Who Triumph Over Evil” or simply “Protagonists!”
I should probably roll my eyes and let this one go. The “theme” of an Oscars ceremony is one of the most forgettable and frivolous parts of a largely frivolous event. I had to look up last’s years theme (it was “The Music of the Movies,” which is what to that Jaws theme-as-orchestra-playoff-music debacle), and I’m not even sure how many of the Oscar ceremonies even HAVE themes, and to my horror I cannot find a list anywhere on the internet.
But my endless mining of the Academy’s database of acceptance speeches reminded me that the 65th Academy Awards in 1992 had a theme of “Oscar Celebrates Women and the Movies.” So at least at one point, the Academy was willing to celebrate themes that could generate actual, you know, interesting content.
12 Years a Slave actors Lupita Nyong’o and Chiwetel Ejiofor and director Steve McQueen
I had hoped that the Academy would use this year’s ceremony to celebrate Black cinema. Even more so after last weekend’s surprising shut-out of actors of color at The Golden Globes (see this great piece by The Root‘s Keli Goff on that disappointment).
Annnnnnnnd I just deleted a paragraph I wrote about how it would be the perfect year for that considering the expected nominees, because the nominations just came out, and, well, why again did I think the Academy would celebrate Black cinema?
The white cast of American Hustle, four of whom are nominated for Academy Awards
While 12 Years a Slavedid nab nine nominations, it is knocked out of the headlines by American Hustle and Gravity, with 10 nods a piece. Nothing for Lee Daniels’ The Butler. Nothing for Fruitvale Station. Long Walk to Freedom couldn’t even get a Mandela death bump to get more than a “Best Original Song” nod for U2. (Hey, remember that time Bono sang “Tonight thank God it’s them instead of you” with the “them” being Africans?) I guess I’ll try to take some comfort in Pharrell Williams getting a Best Original Song nomination instead of Taylor Swift.
I’m not playing by my own rules. I shouldn’t expect the Oscars to nominate the worthiest performances or meaningfully reflect on our cultural moment and current place in the history of cinema. I should expect circus performers wearing capes doing interpretive aerial dance to a montage of John Williams themes. I should expect clips of Disney’s Bolt interspersed with Mr. Smith going to Washington. Maybe this year, instead of cutting off speeches with the Jaws theme, Superman will swoop in to pluck those verbose Sound Effects Editors right off the podium and fly them back to the nosebleed seats.
‘The Seventh Seal’ was released in Sweden in 1957. The title is a reference to the Book of Revelation (Rev. 8:1): “And when the Lamb had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.” Ingmar Bergman’s 17th film examines the big question: where is God? Set in Sweden in the 14th century during the Black Plague, the film documents the travels of the knight Antonius Block (Max von Sydow) and his squire, Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand), as they return home from the Crusades (this is one of many useful anachronisms in the film, just go with it). Block is literally pursued by Death (Bengt Ekerot). Along the way, Bergman also muses on love, isolation, and death.
The Seventh Seal was released in Sweden in 1957. The title is a reference to the Book of Revelation (Rev. 8:1): “And when the Lamb had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.” Ingmar Bergman’s 17th film examines the big question: where is God? Set in Sweden in the 14th century during the Black Plague, the film documents the travels of the knight Antonius Block (Max von Sydow) and his squire, Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand), as they return home from the Crusades (this is one of many useful anachronisms in the film, just go with it). Block is literally pursued by Death (Bengt Ekerot). Along the way, Bergman also muses on love, isolation, and death.
This film is a classic. If you think you haven’t seen it, you are wrong. You have seen it by way of parody in The Colbert Report, Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, Last Action Hero, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and others. Bergman’s mastery of dialogue and symbolism is on constant display in the film. While not typically considered Bergman’s best work, it was a critical success and solidified his position as a leading director and screenwriter of the post-war era. Continue reading “‘The Seventh Seal’: A Skull is More Interesting Than a Naked Woman”
‘Orphan Black’ is gritty sci-fi with layered mysteries, mistaken (and impersonated) identity, and lots of complicated female characters. The most intriguing part of the show is that many of those multifaceted female characters are played by the same woman, Tatiana Maslany. She portrays all the clones involved in a seemingly nefarious scientific experiment.
Spoiler Alert
Canada’s compelling show Orphan Black will be airing its second season on BBC America this spring, and though Ms Misanthropia reviewed it on Bitch Flicks, I had to weigh in now that I’ve finally had a chance to finish watching the series! Orphan Black is gritty sci-fi with layered mysteries, mistaken (and impersonated) identity, and lots of complicated female characters. The most intriguing part of the show is that many of those multifaceted female characters are played by the same woman, Tatiana Maslany. She portrays all the clones involved in a seemingly nefarious scientific experiment.
Welcome to Clone Club.
At first, I was skeptical of Maslany’s acting abilities because there’s a lot of subtlety and nuance required to play at least nine characters with different upbringings, nationalities, socioeconomic backgrounds, and habits. Not only that, but the clones do a lot of impersonating each other. I was sold when I could tell one clone was impersonating another before the narrative announced it. Each clone’s mannerisms, body language, and even facial expressions are different. Damn. My hat’s off to Maslany who can make her smile different enough that I can tell which character she is without context.
Bravo, Tatiana Maslany. Bravo.
In Orphan Black, the clones are often wildly different from one another, really hammering home the nature over nurture angle, which is an important representation of how women (and other marginalized groups) are affected by their environment. Orphan Black shows us women who thrive due to their environment (Cosima with her scientific brilliance), struggle because of it (grifter Sarah Manning), or become deviant and destructive as a result of it (religious serial killer Helena). There are tweaks made to each of their genetic code that explain away Katya’s respiratory disease, Cosima’s need for glasses as well as her gayness, and perhaps other anomalies among the clones yet to be introduced, but the message is clear that the DNA of these women is virtually identical making the entirety of their development environmentally-based.
The show gives social reasons for the expression or dormancy of homosexuality.
I also want to take a second to talk about big brained science nerd Cosima, my favorite clone.
Cosima rules.
Maybe it’s because I, too, am a queer nerd girl, but Cosima’s aptitude for science and her lesbian sexuality are awesome. Where Sarah must use her body to get what she needs (like seducing Paul to distract him from realizing she’s not Beth Childs), Cosima uses her intellect. Cosima is the glue. Without her, the clones wouldn’t be able to do DNA testing or crawl down the rabbit hole of the scientific experimentation that created them. Not only that, but she is the one who discerns that each known clone has a “monitor” to observe and report back on clone activities. This means that Cosima is also capable of understanding and anticipating the psychological factors involved in genetic testing and cloning. It’s great to get to see the nerd girl shine and not be deemed sexless because of her brain power, as her affair with her monitor Delphine is the most engaging of the romances played out in the show.
Delphine & Cosima bond over science geekoutery
Orphan Black showcases great female characters who are strong or interesting or smart or even infuriating, but they’re all unique and full of depth. The series also shows that the path of each clone’s development is dependent upon her environment, which is a huge statement about how oppression and opportunity are what shape us. In order for women to succeed, we must cultivate an environment that encourages achievement, and that means we’ve got to bust up gender norms.
Aggressive and unpredictable serial killer clone Helena
Orphan Black exists on the strength of one actress’s ability to play multiple characters convincingly. Most importantly, it’s a show about a group of women: their lives, their families, their loves, their history, their interaction with each other, their deaths, and, most poignantly, their quest to solve the mystery of their existence. Good stuff, no? It’s getting harder and harder for the media to claim that people won’t watch stories about women, especially in the face of Orphan Black‘s gripping action, great story telling, and superb acting.
—————— 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.
‘Ellie Parker’ offers a knowing, humorous take on Hollywood. The routines, processes, and lifestyle of its performers–male and female–are mocked but the film never satirises the professional anxieties and ambitions of Hollywood actresses in a punishing, misogynistic fashion. Ellie is considerably self-conscious, self-absorbed, and kind of nutty, but this is unsurprising, if not pardonable, as her psyche and spirit have been impacted by countless frustrations and disappointments. Really, God knows what it’s like to be constantly appraised and objectified at work.
Written and directed by Scott Coffey, Ellie Parker (2005) is the tale of a talented Australian actress struggling to survive, and get ahead, in one of the strangest places on the planet. Naomi Watts is charismatic, fearless, and entirely credible in the title role. Interestingly, the story is partly autobiographical. Coffey and Watts were in David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (2001) together, and they both produced Ellie Parker. The film is all the more curious, of course, to those familiar with the career of the Australian actress. It is said that Watts had a difficult, frustrating time in Hollywood before landing her break-through role in Mulholland Drive–as a very different aspiring Hollywood actress–and gaining great reviews for her tour de force performance. Her charged acting in Ellie Parker resonates too–and has perhaps been more celebrated than the film itself. I want to, however, appreciate not only Watts’s performance but also Coffey’s Hollywood story. This entertaining tale by insiders about the acting profession offers a satirical and perceptive take on the movie industry and it deserves greater consideration.
Another unsuitable mate
Coffey adopts a somewhat naturalistic, slice-of-life approach in Ellie Parker. We see the actress go on auditions, perfect her craft in acting lessons, visit her therapist, hang out with her best friend (another ambitious Australian performer), break up with her cheating slacker-musician boyfriend, and meet another unsuitable mate. The somewhat harsh look of the film–it was shot on digital video–gives it a naturalistic, immediate feel as well. Coffey, however, marries the everyday with the incongruous and wacky. His satirical comedy is not without incongruous and bizarre images and moments. We are, after all, talking about Hollywood. This self-reflexive tale, most crucially,provides insightful and sympathetic insights into the professional and personal lives of female performers. Sometimes realistic and sometimes surreal, they are, for the most part, telling and convincing.
Ellie Parker, 2005
Ellie Parker offers a knowing, humorous take on Hollywood. The routines, processes, and lifestyle of its performers–male and female–are mocked but the film never satirises the professional anxieties and ambitions of Hollywood actresses in a punishing, misogynistic fashion. Ellie is considerably self-conscious, self-absorbed, and kind of nutty, but this is unsurprising, if not pardonable, as her psyche and spirit have been impacted by countless frustrations and disappointments. Really, God knows what it’s like to be constantly appraised and objectified at work. Ellie explains to her therapist that “pleasing people” has been a particular problem all her life. Hollywood also, of course, encourages self-estrangement. Ellie feels disconnected in the city: “You can’t be yourself because you’re always being judged.” In conversation with her best friend Sam (Rebecca Rigg), she observes, “I don’t know who I am.” Sam, for her part, steals stuff from chic stores and lies about her sense memory examples in acting class. The women may be somewhat unhinged and self-regarding–they are products of Hollywood too–but it is the city’s men who come across as particularly deluded, narcissistic, and foolish in Ellie Parker. Along with the cheating, dopey boyfriend and the “cinematographer” suitor who invents a twin brother to cover his lies, we have Ellie’s surgically improved, philandering agent (Chevy Chase) and a pretentious peroxide blond filmmaker who gives the actress the precious call back.
Hanging out with Sam
Coffey’s portrayal of Ellie is candid and benevolent at heart. The constant bullshit refrain that she delivers at auditions–“I love the script”–should be understood as an endearing, thinly veiled plea. The insecurities of female performers regarding industry ageism are quite eloquently articulated too. “I remember when the future was a promise. Now it’s a threat,” Ellie says to Sam. Coffey also satirizes the breath-taking stupidity, sexism and mediocrity of Hollywood story-telling. Ellie and Sam’s scripts are crammed with both silly and offensive female characters and impossible story-lines.
Having a smoke
There’s a driving scene in Ellie Parker that amusingly encapsulates the life of the aspiring Hollywood actress. Singing along to Blondie en route to yet another audition for yet another crap movie, Ellie negotiates traffic, applies make-up, changes clothes and shoes, takes calls on her cell, does vocalization exercises and gets into character. In her best New York accent, she screams, “I sucked your cock, I sucked Vinnie’s cock, I sucked them all.” Ellie is trying for the part of a “junkie whore” mob girlfriend in a movie called The Cruel City. She has, of course, no illusions about the future masterpiece. “It’s a piece of shit, anyway. But, you know, it’s a good part,” she reasons.
Perfecting her craft
Fitting, of course, for a Hollywood-set movie, the car scene serves as a vivid illustration of her personal and professional commitments and pressures. Ellie’s life is a juggling act and, as she tells Sam at one point, it can also be likened to “a big rehearsal for something bigger.” Playfully self-reflexive, the scene also idiosyncratically and magnificently showcases Watts’s exceptional versatility. It is, moreover, one of the most entertaining examples of multi-tasking in movie history.
Preparing for an audition
Ellie Parker does not deliver a darkly funny view of Hollywood. Nor is it a politically charged critique of the industry’s often degrading treatment of actresses. The satirical comedy does, however, recognize the specific stresses and anxieties of female performers as well as acknowledge that Hollywood’s story-tellers do not generally serve women well. The story should not be dismissed as a navel-gazing insider joke. A funny, observant movie about movies, featuring a fantastic performance by a gifted actress well-acquainted with both disappointment and opportunity, Ellie Parker very much deserves a second look.
Films like ‘Llewyn Davis’ make me particularly grateful for documentaries. Sini Anderson’s ‘The Punk Singer’ (disclaimer: I know Anderson slightly and produced one of her shows when she was with Sister Spit in the ’90s) is all about music and politics: feminism and women, while focusing on one person, Kathleen Hanna, formerly of the bands Bikini Kill, Le Tigre and current front-woman of The Julie Ruin.
Oscar Isaac as Llewyn Davis
Inside Llewyn Davismade many critics’ top ten lists this year, and a lot of people are rooting for the film this awards season. I’m not one of them. I see enough movies that one more about a white guy (Oscar Isaac, who plays the eponymous role, is Latino, but the script makes sure to establish the character is white) who is also an “asshole” as Carey Mulligan (unrecognizable in long, black, Beatnik hair and bangs: she plays fellow folksinger Jean) hisses throughout the film, should not faze me. The songs and their performances are as pretty and forgettable as the presence of Justin Timberlake, again foisted on an indifferent movie-going public, this time playing Jean’s husband and musical partner Jim. So why did this film piss me off so much?
Llewyn Davis and most of the folk performers he sees and interacts with are white guys (Mulligan is one of two women we see onstage. Davis heckles the second.) We see two people of color in the film: an African American man, who is asked to clean up shit in a nursing home (really) and an Asian American woman who is the butt of the joke at a dinner party. In most mainstream films we’ve become so inured to seeing the world through white-guy (asshole or not) eyes that we’ve mistaken their stories for the “true” and “real” stories of the time. But in 1961, when the film takes place, the rising superstar on the folk coffeehouse scene was a young Latina named Joan Baez, whose own fame gave a boost to the career of her-then boyfriend Bob Dylan (whose character has a cameo appearance toward the end of the film).
Baez wasn’t an anomaly. Martin Luther King called Odetta “the queen of American folk music” when she, along with Baez, played at The March On Washington in 1963. The following song is from a live album Odetta recorded in Carnegie Hall just before the time the events of the film take place.
In a year that has seen a breakthrough of African American directors making films about African Americans, some prominent Black writers have expressed discomfort with the stream of movies that show Black people being tortured and killed instead of just living their lives. Editing people of color out of a history, like that of Greenwich Village folk scene in the 1960s, in which they had a prominent role, but were neither tortured nor killed, does not help this problem.
I don’t expect strict historical accuracy from a period film, but I would like it to at least resemble the place and time it depicts– and in more than just its album covers, clothes and hazy, smoke-filled interiors. As the adage about musical theater goes, “the audience doesn’t go out humming the scenery.” The absence in the film of performers of color belies the history of folk music in New York City, where in the decades before the sixties, performers like Josh White and Lead Belly popularized the genre.
Those performers didn’t just introduce the songs to the public, they directly influenced the performers who came after them: Pete Seeger gave credit to Lead Belly for his guitar playing style, which he then taught on record to fledgling folkies. Dave Van Ronk, whose posthumously published autobiography provides the loose basis for the script also cited gospel and blues as his musical inspiration. That influence is apparent in Van Ronk’s songs, which are a world away from the whiter-than white, radio-ready music we hear in the film. Oscar Isaac, who was a musician before he was an actor (he sings and plays well and has a striking screen presence in spite of the script) has said in interviews that his own style is more blues-influenced but that the filmmakers (and the music producer of the film, T Bone Burnett, who previously worked with the Coen brothers on the hit soundtrack for O Brother, Where Art Thou) wanted the music to take a different direction.
Perhaps in part because of the African American influence even white folk performers from the coffeehouse scene were outspoken supporters of civil rights and other “progressive” (at the time) causes. The March On Washington featured not just Baez and Odetta, but Bob Dylan and Peter, Paul and Mary. The civil rights movement for many young people (including, most famously, Dylan and Baez) led to the antiwar movement, which then, for many women, led to the feminist movement. Perhaps the most infuriating thing about Inside Llewyn Davis ishow rabidly (and anachronistically) apolitical it is. Because Black people barely exist in its universe, no one concerns themselves with civil rights. Even though one of the folk performers is a soldier in uniform who hitchhikes from his base every weekend to perform in the coffeehouses (the character is based on singer-songwriter Tom Paxton), no one (except that character himself) is antiwar.
The song from the film most likely to stay with audience members (for better or worse) is “Please Mr. Kennedy” in which the singer pleads that he doesn’t want to go “to outer space”. The song it’s based on is a doo-wop record released in 1962 in which the singer asks that Kennedy not send him to Vietnam.
In its portrayal of the women on the folk scene, the film borders on science fiction. Jean tells Llewyn that she would like to have a baby with Jim and move to the suburbs when any number of women, (like Joyce Johnson and Hettie Jones) who were in Greenwich Village at the time have written in detail that they (and the other women they knew) went to Greenwich Village to escape conventional, suburban family life. Had the Coen brothers bothered to read any accounts from women who had abortions when the procedure was still against the law, they would, as Van Ronk’s ex-wife Terri Thal’s excellent counterpoint notes, not have portrayed abortion as a matter-of-fact sideline for a licensed OB-GYN with a nice, clean, airy office and waiting room. As if the film weren’t dismissive enough of women performers, the script also posits that Jean has to fuck a sleazy club owner to get a gig, which Thal calls bullshit and I call misogyny– since it presents as fact the oldest dismissal of any woman’s accomplishments: “She slept her way to the top.”
Films like Llewyn Davis make me particularly grateful for documentaries. Sini Anderson’s The Punk Singer (disclaimer: I know Anderson slightly and produced one of her shows when she was with Sister Spit in the ’90s) is all about music and politics: feminism and women, while focusing on one person, Kathleen Hanna, formerly of the bands Bikini Kill, Le Tigre and current front-woman of The Julie Ruin.
Kathleen Hanna
The film spotlights the neglected history of the Riot Grrrl movement through Hanna’s trajectory. We see through interviews and video of live performances, what Hanna’s music meant to her fans (the best of these interviews are with other musicians like Corin Tucker of Sleater-Kinney and Beastie Boy Adam Horovitz, Hanna’s husband, who gushes about her work in the way every artist wants her partner to) and to the culture. As someone who was not eighteen when Bikini Kill were on the scene I never saw them live, but the clips in the film are electrifying. Hanna is every bit the badass the fans remember, whether she is singing and dancing her way across the stage wearing a skimpy top and “Slut” written across her abdomen or when she commands rowdy young men in the audience (or as she calls them “fuckers”) to stand in the back so women can be safe in the front (or even sit on the stage to escape harm). At that time post-punk shows were an excellent place to get a head-injury: I remember the band L7 had to stop playing and the house lights in the club went up while we in the audience waited for an ambulance to come for someone who fell (or was hit) while crowd-surfing.
Hanna in the earliest days of Bikini Kill
Every movement likes to think of itself as completely original, and Riot Grrrl is no different, but I would have liked to see and hear more about Hanna’s feminist musical influences and antecedents. I was eighteen during the first wave of post-punk bands and remember well that many of them (and the original punk bands) included women: Siouxsie Sioux, Poly Styrene, Penelope Houston, Pauline Black, hell, even the Go-Go’s started as a punk band. And some of those artists were unequivocal feminists: Styrene said she would shave her head if one more journalist called her a “sex symbol” and then followed through. The post punk Au Pairs were singing about feminist issues a good decade before the Riot Grrrl scene.
Hanna wrote compellingly about Styrene when she died and what I missed most in the film was Hanna’s voice as a writer (rather than an interview subject). Hanna began as a spoken-word artist, so maybe she wouldn’t have been listening to most of the music I’ve listed, though she must have heard, and was perhaps influenced by that other spoken-word artist turned singer: Patti Smith.
The film includes a video of a feminist community meeting Bikini Kill holds when they move from Olympia, Washington to Washington D.C. and we see the only two Black women (besides a gratuitous inclusion of a Rebecca Walker Third Wave feminism clip) in the film, which reminds us that the problems white feminists have in making room for Black women and intersectionality have been with us for a while now.
I was a fan of the band Hanna formed after Bikini Kill broke up, Le Tigre, and Hanna’s description of their songs as music they would make if “everything were great” rings true. I saw them live very early on, when Sadie Benning was still part of the trio, before JD Samson joined: the film never mentions Benning, even though she was a founding member. Hanna had a long intro to one of the songs that instead of being the embarrassing ramble I expected was a sweet story about the neighbors who made her feel safe during her troubled childhood. Perhaps Hanna’s between-song patter is how she keeps in touch with her spoken-word roots.
I also wish the film addressed Le Tigre’s participation in The Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival, which many in the queer community and beyond have boycotted for years because the Fest excludes trans women. The band members’ silence on the issue isn’t consistent with their message of inclusion.
After years of chronic illness Hanna has started another band The Julie Ruin (whom we see perform in the last scene of the film). They just released a new record, and even though it’s front-woman is now 45, their songs are some of the best things I’ve heard on college radio. Viva The Punk Singer !
There’s been some uproar, some talk, some criticism, and a lot of excitement about the return of ‘Girls.’ Lena Dunham’s insanely successful show (which for a show about a unsuccessful 20-something girl, strangely leaves me feeling even more unsuccessful as a 20-something girl who doesn’t have my own HBO show), while receiving fairly universal acclaim, has also been the recipient of some harsh criticism: where is the show’s diversity? And why is Dunham always naked?
There’s been some uproar, some talk, some criticism, and a lot of excitement about the return of Girls. Lena Dunham’s insanely successful show (which for a show about a unsuccessful 20-something girl, strangely leaves me feeling even more unsuccessful as a 20-something girl who doesn’t have my own HBO show), while receiving fairly universal acclaim, has also been the recipient of some harsh criticism: where is the show’s diversity? And why is Dunham always naked?
To be fair, both are valuable observations of the darkly comedic show; if you’re going to spend a lot of time naked on screen, what are the reasons? And, for a show about the millennial experience in New York City, why does the show only have white people?
First, for the commentators on the amount of nudity in Girls, I disagree; Dunham’s instances of sex (much like Masters of Sex) appear as way to further the character development, rather than give the audience “sexy times.” Jessa going down on another woman in the second episode, “Truth or Dare,” didn’t feel pandering or exploiting like most “girl on girl” sex scenes are; instead, if felt like an exposure of Jessa using sexuality, along with another person, in order to fulfill her own interest. Or as the Los Angeles Times said, “Dunham is forcing us to reconsider what bodies we value and why. It isn’t just nudity. It’s revolutionary.”
Second, there have been a lot of shows about white women in New York City, so yes, I think it’s time for change. Hopefully in the near future HBO and other prominent networks will expand into more varied character territory. Also, I think Dunham’s been fairly aware of the criticism leveled at the popular show and in her words, “We need to talk about diversifying the world of television. We are trying to continue to do it in ways that are genuine, natural, intelligent, but we heard all of that and really felt it deeply.” I feel it’s too Dunham’s credit as a writer that she “diversify” Girls in a way that flows naturally from the story.
More importantly though, Jessica Williams of The Daily Show glory will have a few spots in Girls season 3 (there’s no way this can turn out badly), and had some amazing thoughts on the situation: “It’s her art and it’s her voice. It’s not her responsibility to write from my experience.” I suggest you read it for yourself, since she says it so much better than I ever could.
“A little nepotiz” noticed by internet meme people.
There’s also been that nepotism controversy with Dunham, which could be true, but oh well. So Dunham made a TV show with her friends, does it make it any less well-done? Are the children of famous people destined to live a life away from ambition just because their parents were famous? No, (but to be fair, let’s be honest, the saying “it’s not what you know, it’s who you know” is a thing for a reason).
Now, on to the show.
Girls has a more sitcom feeling this year, moving past a lot of the darkness that characterized season two: Hannah’s OCD behavior, Marnie’s failure at everything, and Jessa’s inexplicable disappearance. Season three wraps all those issues up nicely and quickly picks the show up and runs along (though whether a good choice to keep the show moving, or losing key plot and character moments remains to be seen).
Surprisingly, Adam and Hannah’s relationship seems to have mellowed and Adam is by turns deeply disturbing and charming, though more charming than disturbing; which is good since I found his odd rape references in season one really problematic.
But the first few episodes raise some good questions for the audience: what seem to be the most prominent themes of season three? Jessa’s storyline seems to have been built up this year, which I hope for more of as Jessa’s bluntness is, hands down, one of the best things on the show.
As to Marnie, will she find her way out of the wilderness? I especially liked the quick scene of Marnie waiting for the bus in the ‘burbs, a quick moment to show us the alienation that she feels from the city and her former life.
Also, since when was Adam a love guru? Giving impossibly bad advice about making immediate connections with people and “Just knowing that they’re right for you” seems a little off, cause, you know, love at first sight and overwhelming feelings of immediate love were never a bad idea.
One thing to note this season though, is how Dunham has changed as a director. Three years of experience in directing with a first-rate network (HBO) have obviously enhanced the ways that she’s expressing scenes. Dunham and the Girls crew seem much more willing to invest in longer shots and monologue, interjected with quicker moments of character exposition, i.e.: Marnie waiting for the bus, Jessa on her older friend’s bed with a disarmingly sincere smile, Hannah curled up in the leaves listening to This American Life.
Everyone is either bored or geekin’ out. Sort of like real life.
This season seem to be picking up quickly in the arena of gender commentary, most notably in the way that women interact with each other, and the way that women are seen as interacting with each other. Early on Adam voices his opinion on how women behave, saying, “Women get stuck in this vortex of guilt and jealousy with each other that keep them from seeing situations clearly.”
Also, Amy Schumer was there with a weird bit about pregnancy that was terrifying, awkward, hilarious, and probably everything you’ve ever wanted to say to an ex.
Unexpectedly, people seem to be over the Marnie storyline and are instead focusing on Shoshanna, a character viewed as sort of trivial, but who is growing up and into herself by exploring her sexuality after losing her virginity (raise your hand if you’ve been there), while also juggling school and remaining inordinately optimistic about her post-graduation options (oh my god, it’s me).
I can’t wait to see Shoshanna next season when she’s looking for a job.
But, hands down, the best line of the two-episode premier, proving that the show has a few laughs ahead, comes from the indomitable Hannah Horvath: “This rocking chair is so pointed it’s just not giving me any room to express myself.”
One Direction is, first and foremost, a product. And yet I think the consumption of 1D by fans demonstrates that young women are not completely manipulable by corporatocracy, but rather comprise a powerful grassroots movement capable of taking what they are fed and reappropriating it on their own terms, often in ways that defy the design of the corporate media producers.
L-R: Louis, Niall, Liam, Zayn, Harry
As feminist critics, we get very frustrated by the constant cultural devaluing of media aimed primarily at girls. It goes farther than just a lot of people saying, “Twilightsucks,” because Twilight does suck, but it’s not always clear if people are making a legitimate critique. Are they saying, “Twilight is poorly written and full of problematic assumptions and messages,” or are they saying, “Ew, it has a female creator, a female protagonist, and a predominantly female fanbase”?
Even the former can contribute to the cultural devaluing of girl stuff. I’ve read literally dozens of feminist critiques of Twilight, some of them very detailed and very thoughtful; but I just don’t see an equivalent barrage of critique leveled at, say, Transformers(which could be considered the masculine-coded equivalent of Twilight). Of course the reason for this is that Twilight, being “for girls,” is more interesting from a feminist standpoint than Transformers and offers a richer vein of potential for feminist analysis; but the upshot is a net contribution to the vastly greater cultural scrutiny of products for girls than of products for boys.
One solution is to quit scrutinizing stuff for girls so closely, but if we do that we lose valuable feminist analysis. Another is to start scrutinizing stuff for boys with the same critical eye, but Jesus Christ, have you seen a Michael Bay Transformers movie? Nobody should be subjected to that. Perhaps the correct counterbalance to feminist critique of bad stuff for girls is the feminist championing of good stuff for girls.
Caveat: when I say “for girls” or “for boys,” I am not being prescriptive. I’m a 24-year-old man writing publicly about my love of One Direction. I do not believe that any book, movie, music, TV show, article of clothing, color, website, philosophy, job, hobby, interest, or anything else is inherently “for girls” or “for boys.” I use the terms advisedly, to refer to the demographic towards which a product is primarily marketed and the demographic that comprises the majority of its consumers (which are not always the same demographic).
Let’s get the unavoidable critiques out the way first. One Direction is the product of a cynical capitalist empire and when you buy your 1D concert tickets (assuming you can – they’re way outside the grad student price range) you are lining the pockets of Simon Cowell and perpetuating the manufacturing of lowest-common-denominator entertainment where artistic merit is firmly subjugated to the concern of profit margins. The band is designed as a hegemonic artifact servicing the production of heteropatriarchal capitalist values: five cute but non-threatening boys for barely-adolescent girls to swoon over and spend their (parents’) money on.
One Direction is, first and foremost, a product. And yet I think the consumption of 1D by fans demonstrates that young women are not completely manipulable by corporatocracy, but rather comprise a powerful grassroots movement capable of taking what they are fed and reappropriating it on their own terms, often in ways that defy the design of the corporate media producers.
Fan participation is key to how 1D is consumed by its fans. Fanfiction platforms are abuzz with works about 1D, some of it even officially endorsed, and there’s even an iPhone app specifically for 1D fanfiction. Even the lead animator for Archer has gotten in on the action. Of course, it would be remiss of me to talk about 1D fandom without mentioning the Larry shippers – the people who want Louis and Harry to be in a relationship. Obsessive shipping of real people is damn creepy, and when the shippers try to bend reality to their will it gets a little horrifying. But I think for the most part, barring the tinhat fringe, it’s not the “real people” that many shippers are interested in. It’s “Harry” and “Louis,” the public personae, who are by design not real people. The artifice is part of the point. The fantasy of fan participation is the way in which fans, mostly young women, can reclaim agency by writing themselves and their desire into the corporate product they are fed.
Like this one.
The movie One Direction: This Is Us is just one part of the 1D package. It’s a bit of fluff comprising ninety minutes of concert footage and squeaky-clean depictions of the 1D lads being Nice Boys. As an official production, it naturally doesn’t address fan reappropriations, but there’s the kernel of something interesting there. The boys repeatedly thank their fans, claim to have the best fans in the world, say they would be nowhere without the fans. On the one hand this is kind of true, but on the other hand they are a manufactured group who started on a reality TV show and are in the pocket of the most powerful mogul in pop music. The fans may have made the band, but the media empire made the fans.
This is why I think it’s so important to see the fans reacting in ways the media empire couldn’t predict or endorse. These fans are an extremely powerful force, sometimes for ill, sometimes for good, and that cannot be ignored.
Of course, all the focus on the behavior of the fandom can obscure the basic fact that 1D are feelgood and fluffy. Even taking them at face value, they don’t on the whole have a bad message. In a pop milieu that elevates Robin Thicke, 1D are noticeable for their deference to female agency. Every song on their first album, and most of the songs on the subsequent two, are addressed to a non-specific (but usually female) “you.” They are all expressions of blisteringly sincere emotion within the completely artificial framework of the manufactured boy band talking to the generic listener, but the emotions are always gentle. There are the Sad Songs, where the singer (who is, it must be noted, never singular: the five lads divide up lines in all the songs) laments his deep, sincere, unrequited feelings for You; and there are the Happy Songs, where he/they rejoices in deep, sincere, requited love. The subtext of many of these Happy Songs is pretty explicitly sexual, but it’s always entirely reliant on Your – the implied young female listener’s – consent. Take one of my favorites, “Kiss You”:
Tell me girl if every time we touch
You get this kind of rush
Baby say yeah, yeah, yeah
If you don’t wanna take it slow
And you just wanna take me home
Baby say yeah, yeah, yeah
And let me kiss you
You’ll never convince me that this song is actually about kissing. Not only do the opening lines talk about “turn[ing] your love on,” that stuff about not taking it slow and taking the singer(s) home is language more usually associated with sex. Even if you accept the naivety of “kiss” at face value, though, rather than reading it as coy metonymy for sex, the song is explicitly about consent and communication. From the opening verse’s “Tell me how to turn your love on” to the chorus’ exhortation to “say yeah, yeah, yeah,” this whole song is about talking about what you want and making sure your partner is enthusiastically consenting before anything happens. Almost all of the songs, Happy or Sad, grant the (female) listener agency. The narrator lays his feelings bare, and You can prolong or end his misery or joy by reciprocating or not; but the decision is always Yours, and You are never coerced or ill-treated. “Blurred Lines” this is absolutely not.
Let’s get back to the gay shipping though. This Is Us doesn’t address it directly, but it takes care to show the lads’ uniquely close relationship with one another, in a way that’s surely grist to the shippers’ mill. There’s a certain queerness inherent to the homosocial structure of the boy band, noticeably in the collectivity: 1D don’t harmonize all the time, nor do they take turns on songs, but they share lines within the songs. Their songs seem to have a clear, singular narrator, but the five boys take turns being that narrator. The 1D collective addresses the (collectively-singular) listener. In some ways you’re being invited into a relationship with all five of these fellas, even though it is the done thing to have a favorite.
And Zayn is clearly the best.
I’m not saying that One Direction is a feminist triumph. It’s still a manufactured boy band, and as such it’s not reinventing the wheel, and the fandom can be absolutely vicious. But I think it’s about time we started giving young girls a little more credit for the way they consume the things they like.
Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. He’s not afraid of all the attention, he’s not afraid of running wild.
On Aug. 21, 2010, 14-year-old Laura Dekker sailed out of Den Osse, Netherlands for a two-year circumnavigation of the world, alone. By the time she finished her journey, on Jan. 21, 2012, at the age of only 16, Dekker would be the youngest person to ever sail solo around the world. Documentary ‘Maidentrip’ chronicles Laura’s voyage. It’s an emotional coming-of-age story, set as a love letter to the ocean and the transformative experience of encountering a larger world.
On Aug. 21, 2010, 14-year-old Laura Dekker sailed out of Den Osse, Netherlands for a two-year circumnavigation of the world, alone. By the time she finished her journey, on Jan. 21, 2012, at the age of only 16, Dekker would be the youngest person to ever sail solo around the world.
Following her journey was documentary filmmaker, Jillian Schlesinger; from film shot while meeting with Dekker at various points in the trip, and sea-voyage scenes filmed by Dekker’s hand-held camera, Schlesinger has produced an emotional coming-of-age story, set as a love letter to the ocean and the transformative experience of encountering a larger world.
Since there were two Bitch Flicks’ staff vying for the opportunity to review Maidentrip, which premieres Friday, Jan. 17, in New York City, writers Rachel Redfern and Megan Kearns teamed up to produce a special conversation-based review, sharing their reactions to the award-winning documentary.
Rachel: Well first of all, this movie was fantastic! It really hit me on a personal level, since I just returned for two years living abroad in South Korea, and I remember what it was like to really push myself outside of my comfort zone. Watching the changes that Laura goes through and her feelings of loneliness and wonder, it made me relive a lot of my own experiences. But after watching the film, I wanted to go on an adventure again, to leave and challenge myself. Which to me means that it’s a powerful and dynamic film, when it can force audiences to identify with the protagonist, evaluate their own emotions, and then motivate them.
Megan: Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!! I completely agree with you. I thought Maidentrip was fantastic too. The film really struck a chord with me on multiple levels. I thought it was incredible to be able to view her journey through her perspective, to see the world through her eyes. It’s rare for a film to show us a woman or girl’s perspective throughout. I was also impressed by her determination and resolve.
Megan: Laura wasn’t doing this for fame or notoriety or money, but that she had a dream as a child that she was determined to fulfill. That she wanted to go after something so passionately. I’ve always wanted to travel the world, but due to finances or school or work, I’ve never been able to travel as much I yearn to. So it was wonderful for her to seize the moment and just do it. I also loved that she didn’t like school because she didn’t like people telling her what to do!
Rachel: Yes, I was blown away by her maturity and how grounded she was, she’s obviously an incredibly mature and independent young woman
Megan: Yes! We need to see more independent young woman like Laura on-screen. It’s so fascinating how she was far more interested in exploring, meeting new people, trying new things, seeing new places.And how comfortable she was with herself and with being alone, yet when she met people, she had these deep connections.
Rachel: That speaks a lot to her personality I think, to be so comfortable disembarking from her boat at the age of 14 and wandering around a country by herself.
Megan: She rejected the narrative of what she’s “supposed to do.” And I love that. It was intriguing to see her journey. It was a moving love letter to travel and to sailing.
Rachel: I absolutely agree. In fact, I thought that the film did a beautiful job of showing the wonder and beauty of sailing, as well as the great community around sailing. The film also did a great job of showing how skilled Laura is as a sailor and her obvious love of sailing. I loved that Laura confesses that only Guppy, her boat, feels like home, but it could also be taken as a criticism of her home life and relationship with her parents
Megan: I also thought it was interesting when she says that true freedom is to not have attachments. It seems like Laura became increasingly comfortable on her own away from people. She seemed to crave solitude.
Rachel: I was really struck by Laura’s development, as she came into herself and became a more private person–obviously not wanting to deal with other people, and loving the moments when she was just alone on her boat. That was one thing I loved about the film was that it was able to really show Laura’s changes; it’s fantastic to be able to see someone grow up in a two hour film.
Megan: Yes, me too! That typically only happens in the arc of a TV series. Not a two-hour movie. AND we typically only see coming-of-age stories with men/boys. Not women/girls.
Rachel: Yes, I found it refreshing! I was really stunned that Schlesinger was able to show so much or Laura’s self-assurance and confidence as the trip progresses. I just felt that it painted a whole and complete picture of an individual really coming of age. And, maybe a weird side note, but I love that we see Laura physically change (her face, she grows up, and dyes her hair).
Megan: That’s a fantastic point! I couldn’t believe that so much was shown, revealed…yet it felt so expansive and not rushed at all. The film really breathed. Although sometimes, with my short attention span, I wanted things to hurry up. But I was so glad that they didn’t. The film really unfolded beautifully. I really felt that I want on this emotional and physical journey with Laura. It’s as if her journey at sea was a physical manifestation of her moving through the liminal stages of childhood/adolescence and into adulthood.
Laura Dekker on the deck of “Guppy”
Rachel: What did you feel that you gained the most from the film?
Megan: I’m glad you asked! I think I’d have to say the most I gained was to stop wasting time or making excuses and go after what you want. To pursue your dreams, whatever they may be. To not give a shit about people’s opinions. To chart your own course. Sometimes we as adults get bogged down in our day-to-day duties and responsibilities. We forget what matters most to us. We put our dreams on the back burner.
What did you gain most from the film?
Rachel: Something similar to you I think; I gained a desire to travel/go abroad again. I guess that it reaffirmed my belief in the power of experiences to change us in really profound ways and the need to be proactive in our lives and really push and challenge ourselves. And challenging yourself can be so difficult, that it seems daunting and overwhelming sometimes. For instance, in the film, when speaking about a difficult time in her journey, her first few weeks alone on the first big ocean crossing, Laura said, “I just couldn’t get any food down, I just feel really strange.” I kept thinking about my own experiences living abroad, and how it can be so expanding, but also terrifying. But then, only a few minutes later, we see her crying as a group of dolphins play alongside her boat and she confesses to the camera how much they mean to her, as company, and as a reminder of the beauty of the world.
Rachel: Laura’s story is an intense one, and has garnered a lot of media attention. It’s great that they are recognizing the accomplishment of this incredible young woman. And in conjunction with that, it was interesting when Laura talked about the two other young woman who tried to do the “Not Stop Around The World” records: Jessica from Australia and Abby from America. Did you notice all three were women? I was curious, if there were also a lot of young men trying to do the same thing?
Megan: Yes, I DID notice that too!
Rachel: I think that it’s telling that there are brave young women so willing, and so focused on their goals, that they’re out there doing these kinds of things.
Megan: Perhaps there’s this notion of getting out there because society so often dictates to women what they can and can’t do. It’s a form of rebellion. A revolutionary act. Maybe even on a subconscious level?
Rachel: Interesting idea. What did you think of the cinematography of the movie? Especially since half of the film was hand-held footage from Laura herself?
Megan: I thought it was stunning, breathtaking. I really felt the majesty and beauty of nature. And I liked that the majority of the footage was shot by Laura. Sure, some of it was choppy. But I thought that added to its charm. It’s a little rough around the edges. But then the camera pans on this exquisite sunset. Seeing the waves crash against the boat in the storm, the dolphins swimming beside the boat. It made me feel like I was right there alongside her. Also, I thought the score was haunting and beautiful, punctuating the story perfectly.
Rachel: Yes, it made me feel more involved in the film, the traveling and the sailing with the camera rocking around; probably just one more reason that the movie was so powerful. I also thought it was a tribute to Jillian as a filmmaker that she was able to effectively use different elements of storytelling to accentuate Laura’s youth, and the fact that she is searching for herself, her place in the world, and her independence. Yet, all of this is couched within the framework of Laura’s love of sailing. I love how this film was able to speak to both of us on such a personal level, and really connected with us in our past experiences.
Laura Dekker and her home, “Guppy”
Megan: But now you’ve got me thinking… Documentary films are so tricky. Because I’m thinking of the film, framing it as a story, despite it being a true one. Documentaries always have a bias, a perspective that the filmmaker wants you to see. They’re manipulative. Not necessarily in a bad way, but they’re trying to make you see/feel something specific.
Rachel: I think that’s a great point. What perspective/bias do you think Jillian was trying to portray?
Megan: Hmmm…I think she was trying to convey a coming-of-age story. That here’s this incredibly brave, independent, mature, thoughtful young women. Setting out to achieve her dream but also discovering more about herself along the way. There’s this aura of anything is possible.
Rachel: I love that the film brought up Laura’s very conflicted relationship with the press, touching on the fact that the Dutch government tried to stop Laura’s journey, and even have her removed from her father’s custody, especially since Laura never wanted that kind of notoriety for her trip.
Megan: YES. But it’s so interesting that she has a film made about her, yet she values her privacy and doesn’t like journalists with their prying questions.
Rachel: I would be very interested to know how Julian (the director) was able to convince Laura and her father to participate in the project. As a little aside though…I did some research yesterday and found a few articles stating that Laura Dekker is not happy with the film and isn’t supporting it anymore. Which is a very interesting continuation of Laura’s distrust of the media.
Megan: Oh wow.
Rachel: But apparently Schlesinger (the director) has been fantastic about Laura’s refusal to support the film
“Jillian Schlesinger, to her credit, doesn’t seem to be taking Laura’s disapproval too personally. ‘We prefer to respect Laura’s privacy and to let her speak for herself on the matter as much or as little as she’d like to at this time.'”
Rachel: I suppose it would be hard for me to watch a story of my own life journey from kid into adult….To see my mistakes, even if it did end up in a positive place?
Megan: While of course Jillian edited the film and scored it, it’s still a majority of Laura’s footage which I think makes it different than most other documentaries. Perhaps this is naive, but I feel like it makes it a “purer” story. Truer to the source.
Rachel: Especially since it’s all Laura, there are no outside influences going on there.
Megan: You raise a great point about how hard it must be for Laura to watch this, to see her triumphs but also her mistakes, her pain and her growth. What do you think about the film’s commentary on the passage of time?
Rachel: Oh, great question! Because it does cover a full two years in only two hours, I think that it can sometimes be easy to forget just how long two years is, and they end up shortening six weeks at sea into five minutes of footage. Perhaps, whether intentional or not, the film really underscores memory of time, only choosing the parts we consider the most important or significant to remember, when in reality, there might be more to the story. Things that could have been important to someone else, but that we don’t always remember or see or hear about. What do you think that the film is saying about time?
Megan: I agree with you. Also, I thought it was interesting that Laura says, “After 30 days [at sea], time doesn’t exist any more. It was the best feeling…I made peace with it. I was just there, with nature.” That was really powerful. To slow down. To not obsess over the past or worry about the future, but to really live in the moment.
Megan: I know we already talked about the media. But I thought it was interesting and awful to see all the headlines and descriptions of Laura in the media before her voyage. That she was “crazy” and “unstable.” I wonder, would they have said the same thing about a boy her age?
Rachel: The horrific things people were saying about her! Do you remember that one person said, “I hope she sinks” And I just thought, “Really? I mean, really? You thought that was OK to say? Wishing for someone else’s death?!” I was shocked. Hmmm, I’m not sure that they would have, I think they would have been more willing to let him go ahead with the trip.
Megan: Yes, I remember her saying that! That’s disgusting. Why would you wish for someone’s death?! And the media would never say that about a boy. They might say reckless or impetuous or something like that. But not “crazy” or “unstable.”
Rachel: That is one thing I’ve noticed, as a traveler and a woman, People are ALWAYS telling me, “But do you feel safe?” “Don’t you think it would be better to travel with a group?” I think people definitely have this perception that women maybe shouldn’t be traveling alone, because it’s too dangerous, and because of this, many women stop themselves. And while yes, we can’t ignore that it can be more dangerous as a woman, I think it’s unfortunate that so many women stop themselves from opportunities, or are stopped by others, because of fear.
I love that Maidentrip is about a girl taking control of her life and doing what she needs to do.
Rachel: But all that said, would I allow my 14-year-daughter do what Laura did? Probably not. And I think it is a valid point, and one that is underscored by Laura’s own admissions, she didn’t have the best relationship with her parents, making her an incredibly self-assured and independent young woman
Though, I wonder, while I don’t think many 14-year-olds would be ready to leave their parents and go off into the world, history is full of people stepping up at that age and doing incredible things.
Megan: You raise a fantastic point. I wouldn’t let my daughter (if I had one) go on a trip alone at that age. Especially sailing, when there’s so much that can go wrong. But then I think, you can’t live your life in fear. I’m torn. But yes, her loving yet strained relationship with her parents had to have played a role.
Rachel: I think people are far more capable than we give them credit for and Maidentrip is definitely a testament to the human ability to adjust itself to its environment.
One thing, the sea is always thought of as a woman (as is mother nature), perhaps it’s significant that a girl who had a very sad relationship with her mother, would have this typically female symbol (the ocean) guiding her into womanhood.
Megan: YES! And boats are named after women. That definitely makes the film even more powerful on a symbolic gender level.
Rachel: Yes! It becomes an incredibly female film, centered in the female experience.
Megan: Yes, it illustrates Laura’s perseverance, determination and resolve. What a survivor. I also love when Laura says, “There were all these people who looked at me like it was impossible that I had come in with this weather. And then as I finally started to warm up again and to think straight, I realized that wow, that’s actually pretty badass.” Such a powerful declaration — her realization of her own power and agency. She’s not shy or humble or timid about it. She embraces it.
Rachel: It was definitely a moment of self-realization, for her to be able to see that in herself. How powerful for us, and the audience, especially when you think that “sailor” stories always seem to be male ones, (pirates, etc…).
Megan: You’re SO right! Almost all sailor stories — and survival stories in general — are told from a male perspective. Like All is Lost, Castaway, and Captain Phillips.
Rachel: Or Life of Pi and Liam Neesen’s The Grey.
Megan: That’s one of the reasons why I love Gravity. It’s important to see women survivors and explorers too.
Rachel: Yes! And I just thought, “I want more women to have that kind of experience!!!”
Megan: YES! Exactly!! I felt that too.
Rachel: Maybe that’s the true power/message of the film? Hopefully that it could make women (and men) realize that inner ability.
Megan: Laura will never stop searching, never stop being herself. I want every woman to recognize and embrace her inner strength and power.
Rachel Redfern is a Staff Writer at Bitch Flicks. She is a traveler and teacher who spent the last few years living in Asia. Now back in her native California, she focuses on writing about media, culture, and feminism. She writes for Policy Mic and tweets at @RachelRedfern2.
So bad men and flawed women are killed, and ultimately, the alpha male uses violence to save his woman-property (Sharon), the chaste mother, and the child. Pod People would be just another 80’s Spanish mockbuster if not for one glimmer of a redeeming female character: Trumpy’s mother. Compelling female monsters are rare; most tend to be some variation of the sexy flawed woman, the sexy vampire/succubus, or the sexy space woman. Trumpy’s mom doesn’t fit the sexy cliché.
I was born in the 80’s, and the 80’s are in me. When I hear that harem pants are back, I’m all like “XXL in gold lamé, please.” Watching a bad 80’s science fiction movie is like being born again: loud, frightening, painful, and (ultimately) so worth it. From Escape From New York to Robocop, cheesy 80’s movies have an essential optimism that often defies the best dark intentions of their screenwriters and production designers. Maybe this was due to subconscious anticipation of the “digital cinematography” revolution? Of course, 80’s movies also often contain a startling amount of misogyny, sexism, chauvinism, homophobia, and racism. This is unfortunate, but useful in its own way. Just as negative space is useful for defining an object, bad movies are useful for defining what a good movie isn’t. The Pod People is a negative space movie.
You may be familiar with Pod People from the third season of Mystery Science Theatre 3000 (ep. 0303, really the best way to watch it). Originally released as Los Nuevos Extraterrestres in Spain in 1983, Pod People answers the question: what if E.T., but they’re a psychopath? Directed by Juan Piquer Simón and starring a smorgasbord of European actors, this movie is ranked #28 on IMDB’s Bottom 100 list.
The Pod People movie poster
The film open on several men (poachers, we learn hours and hours and hours later) driving into the woods to poach. A bright light streaks across the sky and crashes to Earth, prompting one of the men to investigate (on his own, of course). He finds a cave glowing with unholy red light; inside he finds a clutch of large eggs. Inexplicably offended, he proceeds to destroy them, but is slain by a POV monster before the last, portentous, egg can be smashed.
Tommy (Óscar Martín) is a child living in isolation in the forest with his subservient mother Molly (Concha Cuetos) and his curmudgeonly uncle, Bill (Manuel Pereiro). While out collecting bugs, he finds the cave and brings the surviving egg home. The egg hatches and overnight the spawn grows as large as Tommy. He names it “Trumpy” because it looks like an abbreviated elephant. Trumpy impresses Tommy with some bootleg E.T. stop-motion psychokinesis. Meanwhile, Rick (Ian Sera) and his so-called bandmates Brian (Emilio Linder), Kathy (Sara Palmer), Sharon (Nina Ferrer), and Tracy (Maria Albert) stop at Tommy’s house for help after honorary band member Lara (Susanna Bequer) is injured in a fall while running from Mother Monster.
Trumpy’s mom soon goes on to kill another poacher, as well as bandmates Brian and Tracy. Eventually, Trumpy’s mother sneaks into the house and kills Kathy while she’s taking a shower. Summoned by the screaming, Bill wounds Trumpy’s mom with a rifle. The remaining men pursue the alien as she retreats to the woods. Trumpy, hiding through all this, then reappears in the house, frightening Molly and Sharon . Molly tries to shoot Trumpy, but Tommy shields the alien while they exit out the back door. Molly and Sharon follow Tommy into the woods. Trumpy and his mother have a quick reunion before she is shot to death by Rick (at least she gets to kill Bill first). Trumpy recedes into the bush, and the survivors return to the cabin. The end.
Like I said, this was a bad movie. It featured poor lighting, creepy dubbing, questionable continuity, and jarring scene changes. I will say that it’s amazing the they were able to make Trumpy and his mother so damned creepy on such a low budget.
Trumpy
Unexpectedly, the movie actually passes the Bechdel test. Technically. Midway through, Tracy and Molly share a scene where they discuss cooking. However, since this dialogue occurs in the context of a conversation about attracting men, one might argue that it doesn’t count. Later, there is a short bit of dialogue where Sharon admonishes Kathy against taking a shower while a killer is on the loose (a good idea, it turned out).
Pod People is a trove of clichéd horror and alien movie tropes, and this certainly applies to the portrayals of the female characters. We see Molly, the subservient mother figure, focused entirely on caring for the Man, Uncle Bill (Her brother? Her late husband’s brother? Some guy? Thanks for the help, movie) or the Child, Tommy. Her chaste devotion keeps her upright through the last frame. By contrast, Lara the Slut/Rich Bitch is depicted as a grown woman with the mind of child, which makes the earnest delivery of her sex-focused dialogue extra creepy. She shows no guilt over insinuating herself into camping trip for the sole purpose of sexy times with Rick, even though she knows that Sharon (Rick’s girlfriend) will be there and is not about that polyamory life. Of course, as punishment for her entitlement and sluttery, Lara is the first of the bandmates to die.
Tracy is the Ugly Girl/Odd Duck. Unlike the other women, she is not paired up with a male character, and spends almost all of her screen time lamenting about how she can’t attract a man. She meets her end in the back of a motorhome, while Tommy looks on through a telescope. It was an unsettling scene to watch. Even the crew of the SOL note that Tracy’s death scene seems…rapey. After the screaming and gyrations subside, her lifeless body is thrown from the camper like so much trash. Kathy’s death, by way of an extraterrestrial POV variation on the Psycho-Shower scene, is less disturbing but leaves another young, female character just as dead.
Sharon survives. Throughout the movie she is little more than a prop, prone to arguing and alternatively pursued or spurned by Rick. If the first act, when she learns the Lara will be coming on the camping trip, there is a scene where Rick silences her protests by grabbing her upper arms with his meat hooks and forcible pulling her in for kiss. Simón probably this would come across as romantic, because women love to be sexually assaulted, right?
So bad men and flawed women are killed, and ultimately, the alpha male uses violence to save his woman-property (Sharon), the chaste mother, and the child. Pod People would be just another 80’s Spanish mockbuster if not for one glimmer of a redeeming female character: Trumpy’s mother. Compelling female monsters are rare; most tend to be some variation of the sexy flawed woman, the sexy vampire/succubus, or the sexy space woman. Trumpy’s mom doesn’t fit the sexy cliché. Understandably angry about the mindless murder of her unborn progeny, her initial attempts at contact with humanity are met with screams and violent gestures. It’s no wonder she lashes out. She’s a strikingly sympathetic character, and I found myself rooting for her to just nuke the whole planet from orbit. Maybe in the sequel, Pod Peoples?
Andé Morgan writes about culture, politics, race, and LGBTQ issues. Her perspective stems from a life spent always on the boundary: white and black, rich and poor, masculine and feminine. She takes shelter under the transgender umbrella.
Check out her blog, NoAccommodation, and tweets at @noaccommodation and @andemorgan.
