I thought a lot about why Jackson created Tauriel. He’s already messing with the events, chronology, and mythology of the books, so why didn’t he just change the gender of a handful of major characters to make them into women? Why couldn’t we have a female dwarf or two? Why couldn’t the last remaining “skin-changer” the bear-man Beorn have been a woman? Or the Brown Wizard Radagast have been a lady forest foraging force of nature? Answer: Because none of those characters have the potential to be love interests. Instead, Jackson created a throw-away character that he could shape into a love object. I am so tired of seeing women have to give up their identity, their goals, their independence, and their power for love.
Spoiler Alert
My fellow Bitch Flicks writer Rachel Redfern recently posted a review of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug that was insightful, and I agree with most of her points. She touches on the discomfort surrounding creating a whole new major character for the film in the form of Tauriel played by the athletic Evangeline Lilly. As a purist, I was certainly uncomfortable with the idea. I got over it. I had to admit that without Tauriel, a brilliantly capable captain of the guard for the Mirkwood elves, the film would be a dwarvish sausagefest. Redfern also highlights the ick-factor in the love triangle in which Tauriel gets enmeshed. The important thing that I’d like to add to our Bitch Flicks conversation about The Desolation of Smaug is that the representation of Tauriel brings into sharp focus the primary purpose of women within the world of Middle Earth: to be love objects for male characters.
For some context, let’s take a look at the only other two women who have a character arc in all of Middle Earth. First, there’s Éowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan.
Éowyn is a fierce warrior who longs for the freedom men are afforded.
Éowyn had the biggest role of any of the women in J.R.R. Tolkien‘s beloved fantasy novel series The Lord of the Rings. The books themselves as well as the films actually chronicle her regret at not having the freedom to fight to defend her people and win honor and glory in battle as men are allowed to do. Éowyn (in both the books and films) single-handedly takes down one of the Nine, a Nazgûl, a Ringwraith. She faces off against the debilitating terror it exudes, and she wins. That is so hardcorely badass. She was hands-down my favorite character in the books.
Éowyn & Faramir gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.
The twist is that Aragorn then has to save her life from the poison of the Ringwraith, and Faramir, the second son of the Steward of Gondor (and Boromir’s little brother), saves her life again by showing her how to love…i.e. how to be a woman. The fire goes out of Éowyn when she settles down and learns her place as the consort of Faramir. All her dreams of being considered an equal to men, of standing side-by-side men on a battlefield and commanding respect goes out the window because, apparently, all women really want and are good for is love and marriage.
Then we have Arwen, the daughter of Elrond and elvish princess of Rivendell. Director Peter Jackson takes a lot of liberties with this character in the film version of The Lord of the Rings. He generally made Arwen more visible (I think she’s only in two scenes in the books) and more active in that she saves Frodo from death at the hands of the Nine, which seemed cool at first, but with the introduction of the similar character of Tauriel in The Desolation of Smaug, this whole healing trope gave me pause. In The Fellowship of the Ring, Arwen uses herbs and elvish magic to heal Frodo from the poisonous wound he took from a Morgul-blade, offering up her immortality in prayer for his life.
“What Grace is given me, let it pass to him.” – Arwen
Tauriel abandons her quest to destroy the orc infestation at their source, and she also abandons Legolas, her friend of 600 years, to perform a similar healing rite on a dwarf she’s known for a couple of days. What could be more important than friendship? More important than the personal quest that she defied her sovereign to follow? Hmm…
Jackson also plays up the tragic love story between Arwen and Aragorn to a nauseating level, making her life tied to the fate of the quest to destroy the ring. This renders her helpless and in need of saving after he’d already built her up as an elvish warrior with mad healing abilities. Arwen is divested of her prowess as well as her immortality for love. In the end, she’s simply a prize for Aragorn to claim at the end of his journey because her story is completely suspended until the dudes can rescue her…Sleeping Beauty style.
Arwen & Aragorn get all lovey-dovey.
This brings us to Tauriel. I’m glad she was included in the storyline of The Desolation of Smaug. She’s an elegant, fierce, and brilliant warrior.
Fierce Tauriel in the heat of battle.
She’s strong, defiant, and makes her own choices.
Tauriel faces off against her elvish king.
I’m glad that Peter Jackson recognized that having a movie with no women in it is absolutely absurd.
Tauriel ready to let loose an arrow.
BUT. There it is, the big but. But Jackson, like so many other male storytellers, can’t imagine a path for Tauriel that doesn’t include love. Tauriel is the love object of two male characters creating a noxious love triangle, and she, like Arwen and Éowyn, must sacrifice everything for that love.
I thought a lot about why Jackson created Tauriel. He’s already messing with the events, chronology, and mythology of the books, so why didn’t he just change the gender of a handful of major characters to make them into women? Why couldn’t we have a female dwarf or two? Why couldn’t the last remaining “skin-changer” the bear-man Beorn have been a woman? Or the Brown Wizard Radagast have been a lady forest foraging force of nature? Answer: Because none of those characters have the potential to be love interests. Instead, Jackson created a throw-away character that he could shape into a love object. I am so tired of seeing women have to give up their identity, their goals, their independence, and their power for love. And why is female love synonymous with sacrifice?
Drawing of proud, strong Tauriel.
I can’t say how Jackson will tie it all up in his conclusion to the ridiculously drawn out trilogy of The Hobbit. Who knows? Maybe he’ll end the series with Tauriel having been instrumental, self-actualized, and above the pressures of our pitiful contemporary love culture that insists all a woman needs is love to be whole. Based on his current trajectory and track record, though, it’s not looking so hot. Sigh. It doesn’t look like a good day to be a woman on Middle Earth.
—————— 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.
There is an empowerment to seeing women use their bodies to intently serve their character’s purpose. There is honest recognition of the female form in all of its glory and trust in the actress, director, or writer to create that honesty. There is also a young little lady, up way past her bedtime, copying your every move as you high-kick your way into Saturday night.
Molly Shannon on SNL as Mary Katherine Gallagher
This is a guest post by Jessie Jolles and Tracy Soren.
When Molly Shannon threw herself into a pile of chairs as Mary Katherine Gallagher on Saturday Night Live, funny girls whose parents let them stay up past 11:30 p.m. were, from that point on, changed. Cheri Oteri as a Spartan Cheerleader, kicking her legs up high during an uncomfortable routine, or Ana Gasteyer, stiff but still dancing as Bobbi Moughan-Culp, one part of the trying-to-be-hip-music teacher duo, were telling us our bodies are for us.
As women, we are told we are meek and frail; we should be smaller, thinner, and able to fit in a spoonful of sugar so a man can put us in his coffee and swallow us down. There’s nothing new here that we are saying. I believe there’s an Upworthy post on your Facebook that’s exhibiting the notion right now (as they should be!). How many times have you watched a film or TV show where the woman is in some well-shaven, acrobatic position for the male gaze. So for us, Jessie Jolles and Tracy Soren, comedians and creators of the web series, DIBS, we enjoy nothing more than a woman allowing herself to transform her body for the sake of a well-earned laugh.
We should point out that we met in an improv class at the Upright Citizens Brigade and were improvisers before we decided to create something on camera. We are now on all-lady improv team named Gulf Oil, kickin’ ass, takin’ names, getting suggestions. This past weekend, we had a show where Tracy ended up with a bruised knee and Jessie actually flew across the stage in an all out physical improv fight. We had a blast! There is something very interesting that happens though when you are a woman very physical in your comedy… the audience becomes your collective mother. They are laughing BECAUSE WE ARE FUNNY (right?!) sure, but there is also a gasp of breath as if our lady bodies will disintegrate into Tinkerbell’s fairy dust. It is sometimes a shock to them when we get down and dirty on a down and dirty theatre floor in the East Village. We are guilty of this reaction too, I’m sure. I mean, boobs hurt when they are sliding across the ground but in improv, you can’t think, you just do. And that’s how we want to see filmmakers treat ladies when they are making funnies or not. Because the question really is: what would the character’s body actually do in this moment?
Tracy and Jesse “being physical” on the set of DIBS
Now that we are writing and preparing for the Season 2 of DIBS, we know the characters Joey and Emily deeply and we are excited to use the entire range of our physical comedy to get the laugh. But this doesn’t only apply to comedy of course. We want to see filmmakers and content creators let female actresses and female characters use their true range. Indie films and content respond to this more so then mainstream media (again, nothing new here). Imagine what it takes to decide you want to be an actress or a creator and go for your dream; the skin is already tough, we don’t need our character to be one-dimensional in their physical abilities. Of course, if the character calls for a delicateness then I’m sure the actress playing her can master delicate. But we women can take it! Molly Shannon threw herself into a bunch of fold-out chairs, than she made a movie doing it. Trust us to know our abilities.
The physicality of women cannot be spoken about without the sexualization and oppression of women’s bodies in media which is of course cyclical. They tell us our bodies are supposed to look like x (x can be thin, hairless, light-skinned, small, etc…). We think our bodies are supposed look one way so we then make our bodies look like that and people go, ah yes, that’s what women look like or what women want to look like so we will put out another film/ad/show/beer bottle representing women as x. So then our female characters are widely represented as x. But then there’s that special moment when we see Maya Rudolph shit her pants in a wedding dress on the street in Bridesmaids and it’s amazing, hysterical, and women go “See! That’s what America needs!”
There is an empowerment to seeing women use their bodies to serve intently serve their character’s purpose. There is honest recognition of the female form in all of its glory and trust in the actress, director, or writer to create that honesty. There is also a young little lady, up way past her bedtime, copying your every move as you high-kick your way into Saturday night. So audiences, filmmakers, friends, families, dentists, healthcare workers, Bugs Bunny, let’s let women get down already. We promise, you’ll laugh.
Jessie Jolles and Tracy Soren make up the comedic duo, Soren & Jolles. They are in pre-production for the second season of their web series DIBS and are crowdfunding here on Seed & Spark! They both study at the Upright Citizens Brigade and are on a wonderful improv team, Gulf Oil.
I have a thing for creepy/taboo relationships in fiction. All I had to hear was “baby obsession” and I was sold on The Truth About Emanuel. I’m also familiar with Kaya Scodelario from her Skins years and I was curious to find out if she had range beyond troubled teen queen. On that front I was a bit underwhelmed. Thankfully, the true focus of the story extended far beyond her.
I have a thing for creepy/taboo relationships in fiction. All I had to hear was “baby obsession” and I was sold on The Truth About Emanuel. I’m also familiar with Kaya Scodelario from her Skins years and I was curious to find out if she had range beyond troubled teen queen. On that front I was a bit underwhelmed. Thankfully, the true focus of the story extended far beyond her.
Emanuel reflects on her tragic origins.
Scodelario plays 17-year-old Emmanuel, a jaded teen disillusioned by the death of her mother during her birth, resulting in perennial survivor’s guilt that always seems to crop up around her birthday. Guess what time of year it is! In her opening internal monologue, she describes how the doctor brought her back to life with “the same rhythmic motions he had used to jerk himself off that morning.” This is a nit picky thing, but I’m so sick of sexual omniscience and perversity being a marker of worldliness or psychopathic tendencies in teens. Psychology and sexuality do tend to go hand in hand (no pun intended), but did we really need such an irrelevant detail? Also, since when can you evoke suspected obscure third-party masturbation as a metaphor for your own sadness? She literally says “he came and I came… back to life.” That just sounds unsanitary. Was he masturbating and performing CPR on an infant at the same time?
Anyway, Emmanuel’s life is turned upside down by the arrival of her new neighbor Linda (Jessica Biel) and her baby daughter Chloe. Before that, we get a nice preview of the forthcoming dysfunction as Emanuel bizarrely accuses her stepmother Janice (Frances O’Connor) of thinking she’s a lesbian and passively aggressively insinuates that she has had sexual dreams about Janice. As someone who relishes queer undertones, even I have to say I was baffled by the repeated references to Emanuel’s supposed sexual ambiguity. Same-sex desire seems to exist to fan the flames of anxiety around the unfulfilled Oedipal complex. More on that later.
Linda is affectionate towards Emanuel.
Linda is simultaneously evasive about Chloe, trusting Emanuel to be in the house alone with her despite never introducing the two. Linda and Emanuel bond one-on-one and it’s intentionally left unclear whether Emanuel is substituting her as a mother figure or developing romantic interest. The plot synopsis also piles on by pointing out the physical similarities between Linda and Emanuel’s late mother. Yes, because if I were mourning my dead mother and feeling responsible for her death, obviously the only logical way to cope with things would be to lust after her doppleganger. I’m fascinated by the thematic exploration of incest as arguably one of the deepest social taboos, but I’m really not feeling this compulsive equation of parental grief in itself to depraved Freudian sexual confusion.
Flakes on a Train – Emanuel and Claude.
To take some of the heat off the lesbian pseudo-incest, Emanuel has a boyfriend Claude (Aneurin Barnard) that she meets commuting on the train. It’s kind of a random place to have a romance and it screams try hard indie. The love interest aspect of this film in terms of Claude feels disjointed and doesn’t really add anything to the narrative, except to shore up Emanuel’s otherwise shaky heterosexuality. Clyde and Linda both spend a lot of time babbling reverent nonsense at Emanuel about her introverted mysteriousness to insist that the audience should continue to find her intriguing with very little character development. 21-year-old Scodelario has been stirring the rapidly cooling embers of stock manic pixie dream girl tropes (with the particularly offputting caveat of emotional unavailability) since she was 14, so the aloof informed attractiveness shtick is boring on a film-specific level and in the scope of her entire opus.
Linda cuddles her baby.
Something isn’t right about the baby from day one. Linda is initially reluctant to allow Emanuel to see Chloe and Emanuel frequently hallucinates ocean sounds or even rising water when near the nursery. We later learn this is an allusion to the peaceful swimming dream her mother had before starting fatal labor. It’s like a psychosis roulette! Emanuel soon discovers that “Chloe” is actually a lifelike doll, strangely contradicting a photograph she found earlier of Linda and her estranged husband holding a real baby. This is where a lot of critics checked out. The doll revelation is made 30 minutes in and the pacing of the remaining hour is admittedly clunky. If you can’t get past the LOL reflex of “I can’t believe they’re treating the doll like a real person,” this probably isn’t the film for you because everything after that becomes unbearably campy. And frankly, I think the impulse to treat things deemed inauthentic as laughable or not human exemplifies the callous ideology that the film is warning against. When viewed as a commentary on loss and mental illness, the story becomes poignant and heartbreaking.
Emanuel becomes increasingly preoccupied with tending to Chloe.
Emanuel reacts to the doll with horror and disgust. Curiously, she stops short of questioning Linda, although she is mortified by and actively tries to thwart Linda’s attempts to introduce Chloe to the neighbors. Emanuel shrouds herself in secrecy as she and Linda develop a routine, caring for Chloe as if she were a normal infant. Her willingness to indulge Linda’s fantasy, perhaps a signal of her own dwindling sanity, increases as her infatuation with Linda intensifies. The parallel grieving metaphor here isn’t subtle. Emanuel always wondered what life would be like if her mom lived instead of her and she finds an unsettling possibility in Linda, surprisingly augmenting her guilt. By the same token, Linda states several times that she wants Chloe to grow up to be like Emanuel and sees Emanuel and Chloe as sisters, indicating that she perceives Emanuel as her child in a roundabout way. Emanuel appears to start independently believing in the realness of Chloe as she becomes more determined for her and Linda to rebuild their fractured families together, a shift cemented by her choosing to feed Chloe an actual bottle of milk when they are home alone.
Still, the lesbian element always remains forced back onto the periphery, for reasons I don’t understand. Emanuel’s stepmom even privately warns Linda that Emanuel might make a move because she didn’t have a mom and is therefore confused. Way to play on every gay stereotype ever. She awkwardly tries to confirm that Linda is straight and Linda hesitates for a second before we cut to the next scene. We get all of these cat-and-mouse subtextual moments throughout, but the weirdest thing is that none of it goes anywhere. Emanuel and Linda never act on their sexual tension, but it’s never denied or put to rest either. I question why that dynamic was included in the first place. Queer desire is demonized as facilitating incest and nothing more, which is extremely and almost needlessly unfortunate given the lack of narrative relevance.
Oh, and Janice (the stepmom) confides to Linda that she’s infertile and that’s part of the reason for her uneasiness with Emanuel. No one in this movie can have a positive relationship to childbirth.
Linda becomes distraught upon realizing that the doll isn’t actually Chloe.
Things take an abrupt nosedive when Linda agrees to go on a date with Emanuel’s coworker, Arthur. Afterwards, she ignores Emanuel’s protests and excitedly suggests Arthur take a peek at the sleeping baby. He quickly points out that it’s a doll, shattering Linda’s carefully constructed bubble. She recognizes the baby as fake for the first time and immediately flies into a panic, demanding that Emanuel tell her Chloe’s true location and accusing her of stealing Chloe. I find it hard to believe that someone as delusional as Linda would snap back to reality the second someone brought up the tiniest shred of rational doubt, but Biel’s acting is phenomenal in this scene. Most intriguingly of all, Emanuel protectively cradles Chloe as both Arthur and Linda berate the doll as a lie, suggesting that she’s just as far gone if not more so than Linda.
Chloe comes to life at last.
Arthur drags Linda away and Emanuel curls up on the floor with the doll, suddenly finding herself swimming underwater. Emanuel’s mom appears in the distance and Chloe comes to life. The two of them swim away together, leaving Emanuel alone. After Emmanuel passes out and wakes up in the hospital, Linda’s husband explains that the doll was the culmination of Linda’s mental breakdown following the death of their infant daughter. Motherhood is just so healthy. Linda is sent to a mental institution.
Linda and Emanuel lay together calmly in the graveyard.
Undeterred, Emanuel enlists the help of her boyfriend to break Linda out. She tells Linda that Chloe isn’t okay, but she shouldn’t worry because Chloe is with her mom now. Together, they bury the doll on top of Emanuel’s mom’s grave and gaze at the stars together, their broken pasts now finally at peace.
The Screen Actors Guild and Golden Globe nominations are out. The 2013 Awards Season is underway. Whether you are an awards junkie like me or one of those weirdly mature and reasonable people who find the whole thing crass, Awards Season can present some challenges to feminist movie lovers.
They’re heeeeeeere!
The Screen Actors Guild and Golden Globe nominations are out. The 2013 Awards Season is under way. Whether you are an awards junkie like me or one of those weirdly mature and reasonable people who find the whole thing crass, Awards Season can present some challenges to feminist movie lovers. Sometimes your faves don’t get nominations, sometimes movies you can’t stand get tons of attention, and then there’s the general head scratchers, like what does the Hollywood Foreign Press Association think “comedy” means? Here’s some strategies for enduring the miles of red carpet that lay ahead:
SAG and Golden Globe nominee Lupita Nyong’o
Focus on the wins, not the losses. Instead of thinking about how sad I am that Naomie Harris seems to be getting lost in this year’s statuette shuffle, I’d rather think about how great it is that Lupita Nyong’o is a front-runner. Sure, I wish The Heat got some play in the Globes noms (why separate out comedy if not to recognize films like this?), but hooray for Julie Delpy and Greta Gerwig’s nominations! Look on the bright side of the podium.
Barbra Streisand winning Best Actress
Revisit the Good Stuff from the past. The Academy has a database of transcribed Oscar Acceptance speeches, many of which are accompanied by video. 1968’s Best Actress 1-2 punch of “It’s a tie!” and “Hello, gorgeous.” Halle Berry powering through the emotional overload of her historic win to honor the legacy of black women in film! Emma Thompson talking about visiting Jane Austen’s grave to “talk about the grosses.” You can lose an afternoon (or ten) to reading and watching these, and you can SEARCH BY KEYWORD.
Make up your own awards. Naomie Harris is definitely gonna win a Robsie this year. And Jennifer Lawrence might not even be nominated for American Hustle, but she will be winning the award for Outstanding Achievement in GiF-ableness. Does this sound too bizarre to you? Keep in mind the Hollywood Foreign Press is only around 90 people. If you REALLY want legitimacy, hook up with 89 like-minded people to bestow accolades on your faves. You can probably get ten times that in fifteen minutes on Tumblr.
Rob Lowe and Snow White’s infamous duet at the 61st Academy Awards ceremony
Revel in the silly parts. Every year, cultural commentators toss around that “these awards are just a circus of self-congratulation” yarn. And you, savvy Bitch Flicks reader, know this isn’t true, that nominations and wins mean more money to the studios and mean new career opportunities for the talent. And that we’ve assigned huge cultural meaning to the Oscars which can’t be undone with a snap of the fingers. But save that potentially grim reality check for March.
For now, ignore the real-world implications. Focus on the office pool, the theme menus, the drinking games. Have a contest to see who can provide the creepiest answer to “Who are you wearing?” (“My enemies.”) Put a marshmallow in your mouth for every famous person on the In Memorium reel you didn’t know had died. Live Tweet with abandon. THEN you can roll your eyes at how a bunch more undeserving white guys won awards for unoriginal movies (if that does again happen! This could be the year it all goes right!).
The Dream Team
And remember: we’ve got Tina and Amy bringing their magic to the Globes again and Ellen DeGeneres hosting the Oscars. The boob songs are going to be so much more tasteful and funny this year!
———————–
Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who will happily stay up all night to watch these awards shows when they air.
Philomena is based on the true story of Philomena Lee, an Irish woman who got pregnant as a teenager and was relegated to a convent where she was forced to perform grueling manual labor before her young son was sold to an adoptive US family. Fifty years later, Philomena works with a washed-up ex-journalist to find her son while he uncovers the dark truth behind her son’s adoption and the church’s betrayal. Overall, I’d say this is a feminist film that tries to expose oppressive gender roles that linger on today and allows its heroine, played by the exquisite Dame Judi Dench, to be her own person: a woman who makes her own decisions and mistakes while remaining irrepressibly full of humor and love.
I wouldn’t exactly characterize Stephen Frears much-praised film Philomena as a comedy. I’d describe it as more of a dramatized exposé of the corruption of the Irish Catholic church with moments of levity that give a desolate story warmth and humanity. Philomena is based on the true story of Philomena Lee, an Irish woman who got pregnant as a teenager and was relegated to a convent where she was forced to perform grueling manual labor before her young son was sold to an adoptive US family. Fifty years later, Philomena works with a washed-up ex-journalist to find her son while he uncovers the dark truth behind her son’s adoption and the church’s betrayal. Overall, I’d say this is a feminist film that tries to expose oppressive gender roles that linger on today and allows its heroine, played by the exquisite Dame Judi Dench, to be her own person: a woman who makes her own decisions and mistakes while remaining irrepressibly full of humor and love.
Philomena is in the business of critiquing institutions; specifically: religion, gender, class, and media. The interactions between ex-journalist Martin and Philomena highlight class disparity. Sometimes the exposure is subtle. Martin flies to the convent while Philomena drives with her daughter. Philomena is giddy at the prospect of free champagne on the flight to America as well as the complimentary grand breakfast buffet and the posh hotel room. She doesn’t “get” Martin’s sense of humor or cultural references, and she reads romance formula fiction, never guessing at the “formula” obvious in all her books. These moments are designed to make the audience chuckle at the sweetness of Philomena’s naivete while underscoring her lack of privilege, education, and wealth.
Philomena feels like royalty for riding on the airport transport service.
Other times, the class disparity is stark and painful. Philomena realizes she could never have given her son the opportunities and lifestyle he enjoyed as a result of his adoption. Martin is, on occasion, cruel to her because the things that excite her are old hat for him; he’s jaded and has come to expect a life of comfort and privilege. He also mocks Philomena for her faith, insinuating that her class status is why she believes in a higher power (because he is too learned and intellectual to believe in anything). The movie shows that though Martin is more worldly, wealthier, and better educated than Philomena, he doesn’t enjoy life the way that she does. She refuses to be bitter or angry like he is. He begins to understand and accept the fact that Philomena needs him, with his connections and his status as an upper-crusty white man, to find out the truth about her son.
Martin rebuffs Philomena & her excitement about an omelet station
Philomena‘s religion and gender critique go hand-in-hand. Religion judges and punishes young women (some as young as 14) for giving in to “carnal” desires that they haven’t been educated about to even understand the potential consequences. The film also highlights forced labor along with constant recriminations to show how religious forces incite fear, shame, and blame that Philomena and countless others carry for over 50 years. Philomena experiences a particular guilt because she enjoyed the sexual encounter that led to her pregnancy. The church teaches that female bodies and female pleasure are sinful, and many of the nuns are revealed to be bitter and vengeful, a perfect example of patriarchy-complicit female figures of authority. There is no discussion of the culpability of the male cohorts whose sperm was a necessary part of the baby-making equation. Sound familiar? The religious right continues this mentality with its abstinence-only education while heaping stigma galore onto young women who become trapped in pregnancy, insisting that the female body is a breeding ground for impurity and that all the fault lies within the woman, who is, in many cases, forced to suffer all the consequences.
Young, inexperienced Philomena at the fair.
The kicker is that “female sin” is big business for the church in Philomena. The convent forces young women to “pay off” their debt/sin by working ungodly hours (pun intended) in the convent, and then they illegally sell the babies to the US for a great deal of money. The church destroys evidence and refuses to help families reunite even after 50 years of separation. The film claims that this was in part due to a continued resentment and desire to punish the sins of the young mothers, but it’s perhaps more true that the church is covering its tracks. Here, the church, a religious institution, takes advantage of the weak, the helpless, the poor, and the disenfranchised. Here, the church, targets women in particular using the notion of female sin to solidify their dogma and to reinforce their power (financial in this case). The exploitation of women by religious institutions is not new and continues today, as female reproductive rights are leveraged to cause divisiveness and to reinforce the power of political groups, religious groups, and the patriarchy.
The real-life Anthony with a nun before he was sold.
Despite it all, Philomena remains a good-hearted person. She stands up to Martin when necessary, insisting that this is her story. She asserts that she’ll be the one who makes the decisions and that her reaction is her own, not his or a media that seeks only to capitalize on her tale of woe and exploit her for its own gain. She continues to love and accept her son regardless of the many things she learns about him that an old-fashioned religious person like herself could have found alienating. In the end, she forgives the convent, proving that she is the bigger person and more Christian than the nuns and religious institution that tormented her. While the circumstances of the film are tragic and devastating, Philomena’s doggedness, her bravery, and her journey have exposed wide-spread corruption and opened the door for other mothers to reunite with their long-lost children. Though she’s an ordinary woman without means, a fancy education, or influence, she stood up to a powerful institution steeped in centuries of history, and she said, “No more.” Philomena’s quest shows us that the personal is political and that one woman can make a difference in the the world.
Judi Dench sits with the real Philomena Lee.
—————— Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.
The addition of Evangeline Lilly (Lost) as Tauriel caused some concern among real LOTR fans, mostly because that character never existed in The Hobbit and no one wants to see a beloved a story messed with; but to be fair, if it wasn’t tinkered with and explored, then why go and see the film? You might as well just stay home and read the book then if you’re not interested on gaining a new perspective on the story.
Movie poster for The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug
The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug premiered on Friday, just in case you didn’t know. And while the film has pulled in $73.7 million and topped the box office this weekend, there have been some mixed reviews–it’s too long, too boring, too overdone, too much action, or it’s fun, it’s brilliant, it’s beautiful. The divisiveness is understandable. Tolkien is a necessary staple to any library and Jackson’s Lord of The Rings, really is a visually-stunning, incredibly acted epic series; in my re-watching of the films last week, I was struck with just how impressive the films still were, perhaps even more so now.
It makes sense that any spinoff of such a beloved and hefty series, could either be a magical dream true (hello, Stephen Colbert), or too much of a good thing.
And here, in this installment especially, there was bound to be naysayers. The addition of Evangeline Lilly (Lost) as Tauriel caused some concern among real LOTR fans, mostly because that character never existed in The Hobbit and no one wants to see a beloved a story messed with; but to be fair, if it wasn’t tinkered with and explored, then why go and see the film? You might as well just stay home and read the book then if you’re not interested on gaining a new perspective on the story. But as was the case with Game of Thrones (at least according to me, don’t get too angry), I thought that the TV show was better with some of the changes and additions to the story, especially in the fleshing out of Margery Tyrell and Shae, both of whom are far more fascinating and interesting in the show than they are in the book. Why couldn’t the same be true in The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug?
Amazingly hot, always awesome, Elves
Tauriel is a playful Captain of the Guard whose fighting skills rival that of the great CGI scenes for Legolas; except seriously though, Lilly actually used to teach archery at summer camp. Besides that, Lilly has a beautiful poise that really is perfect for a Tolkien Elf, and while I don’t speak it so I can’t be sure, her Elvish sounded fantastic. As Lilly is a staunch fan of Tolkien she was worried about adding in a new character, but in one of my favorite quotes from 2013, stated that, “I keep repeatedly telling people that in this day and age, to put nine hours of cinema entertainment in theaters for young girls to go and watch, and not have one female character for them to watch is subliminally telling them, ‘you don’t count.’ You’re not important, and you’re not pivotal to story.”
Which is exactly the attitude that is essential for progress to be made in the representations of women on film and television, and it’s amazing that Lilly was so invested in a larger goal that she was willing to tamper with one of her favorite stories. And she took even one step further; according to Lilly, she originally agreed to the part under one condition: “One condition, and they agreed to the condition, and that condition was in place for two years. The condition was I will not be involved in a love triangle. Right? Because any of you who are fans of Lost, I’ve had it up to here with love triangles.”
But then, that changed, and while Lilly, Jackson, and Phillipa Boyens (writer) all agreed that the love triangle just sort of arose naturally during filming, it was still a bit disappointing (despite Kili [Aiden Turner] being a remarkable rare mix of adorable sexiness). Twilight, Vampire Diaries, Hunger Games–all uber-famous features that are centered around a love triangle, and mostly, it’s just sort of getting old: there are others ways of portraying love than two fantastically handsome men drooling over an unreachable average woman.
An assortment of testosterone.
I agree with Jackson and Lilly in their decisions to bring in a female character and wish more could have been incorporated, because at it’s core, The Hobbit is just a hairy version of Band of Brothers with a lot of mountains. And in reality, after watching The Desolation of Smaug, I tried to dream up a female version of this film, and I wondered, what would it look like? How would those interactions have changed? And it was really difficult to imagine anyone producing a film about 15 very short women of vary levels of attractiveness, traveling through a forest to kill a dragon with their queen and bossy/optimistic sorceress in tow.
Generally in film, large group female interactions, with or without world-saving levels of adventure, tend to be characterized by passive-aggressive bitchiness. And I’m at a loss for any TV show, miniseries, or film, that has ever been about an all-female group trying to save the world, much less three four-hour films about said adventure.
In all seriousness, would you go to see that movie?
The reality is that when I started to write about women I wasn’t trying to defend them; I was actually trying to connect with them. I thought to myself, “if I can understand where you’re coming from, I will be less likely to judge you.” However, the moment you attempt to expand on such a controversial concept, such as gender, you will inevitably undergo a huge learning curve. Your opinions and your stances will change over time, and that’s okay.
Art by Ricardo Cabret
This is a guest post by Zoé Salicrup Junco.
Hello there. My name is Zoé Salicrup Junco. I’m a film director in-the-making, but more importantly, I’m a woman in-the-making. I have a funny feeling that both the former and especially the latter will be never-ending journeys… Hit me up if that’s not the case.
A couple of years ago, I wrote and directed a short film called GABI about women, sexuality, and my native island of Puerto Rico. Fortunately, the film had a great run in the 2012 and 2013 film festival circuit, having its international premiere at Clermont-Ferrand Film Festival, and its USA premiere at Tribeca Film Festival. Most recently, the short film joined the Seed&Spark family, as it was invited to screen in Christine Davila’s curated channel “Más American.” And at this very moment, I’m finishing up the feature-length script version of GABI.
The main concept behind both the short and the feature screenplays is to present a mid-thirties woman, who’s independent, financially stable, and is not in a hurry to settle down with a family. Oh, and she happens to enjoy sex openly (as in she’s not afraid to hide her sexual appetite). I particularly like her nickname because it’s neutral; it suits both male Gabriels and female Gabrielas. And as you might have already noticed, my character walks the very fine line between conventional male and female attributes.
Now here’s the irony- I built a female character who was fully confident and in control of her life because something was preventing me from feeling that way. For a very long time I had voiced my opinion against machismo, and then one day I caught myself upholding those same values. Judging women became way more easier than understanding them. But the moment I became aware of the fact that I was guilty of my own double-standards everything changed.
The short film’s writing began and I strived to live vicariously through Gabi. I allowed myself to live free like her, but I also allowed myself to feel judged like her. I’m not going to lie- all the “hater” attention from other female characters was somewhat thrilling, but it did get to a point where it was plain hurtful, and even the most liberated woman would’ve felt humiliated and worst, alone. I empathized with my protagonist and I vowed to defend all women like her.
Then the feature screenplay came along, and I caught myself feeling uneasy again. I still empathized with Gabi, but I was also starting to understand other women, who perhaps would frown upon Gabi. Did this mean I was abandoning my Gabi ways? Was I switching sides?
Zoe Salicrup Junco (left) directs lead actress Dalia Davi (right)
A few days ago, the ultimate example of beauty and brains, Rashida Jones, published and online article, “Why is everyone getting naked? The Pornification of Everything.” If you haven’t read it, it’s kind of an open letter to the media and the public where she voices her frustration about the year 2013 being “the year of the very visible vagina.” She expands on a few tweets she made a while back lashing out at the pornification, or better yet, the over-pornification of certain pop-stars and how this movement has got to stop. To be fair, she clarifies that she loves sex and is in no way asking us to be prudes; she’s simply asking to tone it down. As you might suspect, Rashida received both support and heat for her blunt opinions. She admits she was shocked to hear other women call her a slut-shammer and a misogynist.
Her article serves as the prime example of the great divide, and the grand fault behind women’s liberation: we don’t appreciate it when our own kind seems to sway back and forth between gender-classified opposing point of views. The moment we sense inconsistency in one of our sisters’ stances we fear to be viewed as weak, and we shun our sister out the club. But is this shifting pendulum really a weakening factor among us?
Sure, I don’t know Rashida personally, but to put all of this into perspective, let’s just bounce around these general facts about her: she’s a well-educated woman, she’s in her mid-thirties, she’s financial independent (we can’t blame all of her success on Quincy Jones), she openly admits to being promiscuous for some time in her life, she’s been linked to multiple high-profile relationships, but hans’t settled down yet, and surprisingly, even this kind of modern, sexually liberated woman is saying- “Enough with sex! Let’s get to know women on a more profound level!”
And that’s where the funny feeling about the never-ending journey through womanhood kicks in. Let’s forget about the whole “setting an example for other women” fiasco for now, and actually ask ourselves: What does getting to know a woman on a more profound level really mean? What are women interested to learn about other women? And more excitingly, what will evoke us to open up with one another?
The reality is that when I started to write about women I wasn’t trying to defend them; I was actually trying to connect with them. I thought to myself, “if I can understand where you’re coming from, I will be less likely to judge you.” However, the moment you attempt to expand on such a controversial concept, such as gender, you will inevitably undergo a huge learning curve. Your opinions and your stances will change over time, and that’s okay.
Perhaps the shifting pendulum should be embraced, rather than feared. Instead of crucifying each other over failed expectations, why not raise awareness about the fact that being a woman is an ever-changing, never-ending journey?
Awareness may just guide us to openness: “Hey! I’m a woman too, I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing here. Maybe you, another woman, can teach me a thing or two?” Why not tackle the real blurred lines amongst each other with this kind of dialogue?
Zoé Salicrup Junco was born and raised in Puerto Rico. GABI is her thesis film from NYU film school, under the guidance of film director Susan Seidelman. In June 2012 Zoé became one of “The Independent” Magazine’s top 10 filmmakers to watch in 2012. She is currently writing the feature-length version of GABI. You can read more about her and her film at www.gabifilm.com.
Best Foreign Language Film “Blue Is The Warmest Color” (France)
“The Great Beauty” (Italy)
“The Hunt” (Denmark)
“The Past” (Iran)
“The Wind Rises” (Japan)
Best TV Miniseries or Movie “American Horror Story: Coven”
“Behind the Candelabra”
“Dancing on the Edge” “Top of the Lake”
“White Queen”
Best Performance by an Actress in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture Made for Television Helena Bonham Carter, “Burton and Taylor”
Rebecca Ferguson, “White Queen”
Jessica Lange, “American Horror Story: Coven”
Helen Mirren, “Phil Spector” Elisabeth Moss, “Top of the Lake”
Best Performance by an Actor in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture Made for Television
Matt Damon, “Behind the Candelbra”
Michael Douglas, “Behind the Candelabra”
Chiwetel Ejiofor, “Dancing on the Edge” Idris Elba, “Luther”
Al Pacino, “Phil Spector”
Best Supporting Actress in a Series, Mini-Series, or TV Movie
Jacqueline Bisset, “Dancing on the Edge”
Janet McTeer, “The White Queen” Hayden Panettiere, “Nashville”
Monica Potter, “Parenthood”
Sofia Vergara, “Modern Family”
There are precious few characters of color and particularly women of color on screen. Characters of color usually serve the primary function of helping white characters through dilemmas. If they are given their own plots, expect their storylines to be zany comic relief while the white characters deal with the serious business. …It’s 2013, so I say it’s about time that we allow women of color to shine in their own right without tacking on white ladies as a wink to ratings or as an apology, wouldn’t you agree?
There are precious few characters of color and particularly women of color on screen. Characters of color usually serve the primary function of helpingwhite characters through dilemmas. If they are given their own plots, expect their storylines to be zany comic relief while the white characters deal with the serious business. Orange Is the New Black is a big step in the right direction, but many have been quick to point out that although the women of color are delightfully nuanced and the white protagonist can be downright irritating, the show probably wouldn’t have gotten off the ground without an affluent white woman as the main character. It’s 2013, so I say it’s about time that we allow women of color to shine in their own right without tacking on white ladies as a wink to ratings or as an apology, wouldn’t you agree?
Ichabod Crane and Abbie Mills.
Fortunately, Sleepy Hollow is here to step up to the plate. Lt. Abbie Mills (Nicole Beharie) could easily go head-to-head with Olivia Pope as far as badass ladies of color. Mills finds herself teamed up with Ichabod Crane (Tom Mison), who is mysteriously resurrected nearly 250 years after his death in the Revolutionary War. Crane initially assumes that Abbie is a freed slave, but after a crash course in US history, comes to accept the cultural changes fairly well. Despite the potential for cross-generational discrimination across both racial and gendered lines, Crane values Abbie as a colleague from the very beginning. Of course, it’s questionable how realistic this adjustment is for someone of Crane’s era, pro-abolitionist or otherwise. Regardless, you can’t argue that the immediately established mutual respect isn’t refreshing. By sweeping the time skip under the rug in their relationship, both characters avoid being bogged down in politics. Crane and Abbie depend on each other to defend Sleepy Hollow from a host of ghoulish monsters in a series that merges elements of fantasy, drama, and buddy cop sitcom.
Jenny Mills.
Abbie is allowed to be her own person with her own strengths and flaws. She cares about Crane, but she doesn’t exist to prop him up. They are each other’s intellectual equals who rise and fall together, but they can and do frequently separate on their own adventures. Abbie also has an interesting character foil in her estranged sister Jenny (Lyndie Greenwood). The two girls were orphans in the foster system. One day, they were attacked by a monster in the woods. Abbie encourages Jenny to lie about what they saw, claiming to police that she couldn’t remember anything. Jenny tries to tell the truth and is consequently declared clinically insane and thrown in a mental hospital, while Abbie walks away unscathed before being taken under the wing of a (white male) police officer determined to keep her on the right track. The concept of the white savior certainly comes into play here. Why do white people get to determine who is worthy of redemption and who isn’t when it comes to troubled youth of color? Abbie struggles with her conscience and her position of privileged authority due to the fact that she indirectly caused her sister to rot away in an institution for being honest, which is a rather blunt commentary on the apathy of the state to the plight of the individual. It turns out that the cop had been helping both sisters in secret. Jenny is also 110% BAMF. She, Crane, and Abbie are the Holy Trinity of this show.
Katrina Crane: “No, I really am just a plot device!”
Don’t forget, we have to find a way to shoehorn white femininity in there somehow! Crane’s wife Katrina (Katia Winter) is a witch condemned to purgatory as punishment for casting the resurrection spell over Crane. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be a commentary on her power or lack thereof, but it’s definitely an odd narrative choice. She’s allegedly one of the main characters, so it’s weird that the others can only interact with her via dreams or near-death experiences. Additionally, it disconcerts me that Crane’s romance feels like a forced, clunky afterthought to the main action. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big proponent of prioritizing pretty much anything else over a love interest, but if you’re going to keep throwing it at the audience, at least make it convincing or enjoyable. Katrina seems to only exist to shout ominous prophecies at Crane before he regains consciousness. Without spoiling too much, the writers have gussied her up with some plot anvils to force viewers to remain invested in her. I’m not feeling it. She sits in the woods with a smoke machine while Crane runs around yelling her name and sweating. I don’t care and no amount of sudden revelations will make me care. Katrina is embarrassingly extraneous to the action.
Katrina’s absence leaves Abbie to share most of Crane’s emotionally intense moments. Katrina may be influencing things from afar, but the show makes it clear that Abbie is Crane’s true support system and partner. That’s probably the biggest difference between the two women. Katrina sits on the sidelines and Abbie gets shit done. Stereotypical idealized white femininity is delicate and dependent, with some subtle manipulation sometimes thrown in to avoid total passive sexism. In Sleepy Hollow, these traits appear to hinder her appeal instead of amplifying it. Rather than enhancing her enigma or desirability, the essential “whiteness” of Katrina’s characterization renders her a one-dimensional paper doll in a cast of charismatic heavyweights. I can’t complain too much in the end though, because she makes it possible for Abbie and Crane’s relationship to grow outside of the obligatory sexual tension.
Ichabbie 4eva?
With that said, Ichabod and Abbie (dubbed “Ichabbie”) have a sizable fan base that wants them together romantically. I’m torn – on one hand, I think it’s good to have models of strong male/female friendships where their development isn’t measured by whether or not they became a couple. On the other, Katrina has the personality of a shoebox and it’s becoming increasingly difficult not to read subtext into Abbie and Crane’s phenomenal chemistry. At least at this point, they can grow together independently of the romantic question. If the writers do decide to pursue that route, I hope it’s just a spontaneous move and not drawn out for the angst milking. Regardless of who Crane ends up with, I want Katrina to die or preferably turn out evil. Nothing against the actress, but I need her to stop pointlessly wasting screentime.
Amandla Stenburg as Macey Irving.
But wait, it gets even better! Amandla Stenberg (aka Rue from The Hunger Games) plays the police captain’s recently disabled daughter, Macey. Triple representation, fuck yeah! (Apart from the actress not being disabled in reality, but I guess we have to pick our battles.) She’s cute, sarcastic, and sassy. The writers seem to be veering towards the “having a disabled child destroyed my family and could ruin my life” angle for the captain, so fingers crossed that they’ll avoid that stereotype clusterfuck, especially given that they’ve resisted most other cliches. I’m cautiously optimistic.
To sum up, you should all be watching Sleepy Hollow.
Who doesn’t love Catwoman? She’s smart, sassy, independent, has her own moral code, and often outfoxes (or maybe outcats) Batman, one of the greatest superheroes of all time. Though I’d be hard-pressed to label her skin-tight, uber-revealing outfit as feminist, Catwoman is a famous sex symbol who uses her sexuality to her own advantage. The figure of Catwoman has gone through dozens of iterations over the years, which goes to show that this iconic figure is a potent anti-heroine or villainess who continues to appeal to audiences throughout the generations. Now I’m answering the question: which of is the most feminist representation?
The many faces of Catwoman
Spoiler Alert
Who doesn’t love Catwoman? She’s smart, sassy, independent, has her own moral code, and often outfoxes (or maybe outcats) Batman, one of the greatest superheroes of all time. Though I’d be hard-pressed to label her skin-tight, uber-revealing outfit as feminist, Catwoman is a famous sex symbol who uses her sexuality to her own advantage. The figure of Catwoman has gone through dozens of iterations over the years, which goes to show that this iconic figure is a potent anti-heroine or villainess who continues to appeal to audiences throughout the generations. I’ve done a bit of meditating on these incarnations and questioned which of them is the most feminist representation.
Illustrated
First, we’ve got her comic book origin as The Cat in 1940’s Batman #1.
Old school comic book Catwoman
That’s right. Catwoman was birthed alongside the legend of Batman himself. Unfortunately, her creator Bob Kane was a misogynist and sought to portray traits that he coded as feminine:
“I felt that women were more feline creatures and…cats are cool, detached, and unreliable…You always need to keep women at arm’s length. We don’t want anyone taking over our souls, and women have a habit of doing that. So there’s a love-resentment thing with women. I guess women will feel that I’m being chauvinistic to speak this way…”
All I have to say is, “You’re right, Bob: you are a chauvenist,” and, “ew.” That said, Catwoman was designed as an unattainable love interest that personified the aloof and perhaps vindictive qualities her creators saw within female sexuality. Her depiction is more about drumming up some sexual interest and excitement for Batman than creating a nuanced character.
In her earliest incarnations, Catwoman is an attention-seeking naughty girl type.
Though I’m a bit of a comic book nerd who’s absolutely drawn to strong female characters, I’ve never been interested in reading any graphic novel Catwoman series. Her later depictions always struck me as a lot of tits and ass without substance, which I’m primarily basing on the cover art. Her sexuality is showcased to the extreme where it’s hard to imagine anything else beneath it. (If you’re a reader of Catwoman comics and feel differently, please set me straight in the comments!)
Those are some ridiculously large boobies.
I am, however, intrigued by her more recent, vicious comic book portrayals. Those have grit and make me curious about her.
Fierce Catwoman comic rendition
There are also multiple cartoon renderings of Catwoman that are more or less underwhelming. In Batman: The Animated Series, Catwoman does get to have layers in that she’s a jewel thief, an animal rights activist, and has her alter-ego as Selina Kyle, but her main role continues to be an elusive love interest for Batman as opposed to a compelling character.
Cartoon Catwoman
Television
Catwoman made her television debut on the Batman series in 1966. Julie Newmar performed perhaps the most memorable version of Catwoman. I was certainly smitten with her. She was lovely, imposing, and “diabolical” (as Batman would say). She was a lone woman who commanded a group of male thugs. Among the great supervillains of the TV Batman mythology, she was the only woman, and she certainly held her own.
The (in)famous Julie Newmar Catwoman
Lee Meriwether was chosen for the film version of the Batman TV show. She, too, was stunning and very similar in appearance to Julie Newmar. Meriwether’s Catwoman also had a faux-alter ego as Miss Kitka, Russian journalist designed to seduce and lure “Comrade Wayne” into supervillain coalition custody to elicit Batman’s rescue attempts. This may have been the first sustained disguise Catwoman ever put on. She was never Selina Kyle in the TV show, which left her somewhat one-dimensional, but none of the other supervillains really had alter egos either.
Lee Meriwether: claws out
The last Batman TV show Catwoman is the late, great Eartha Kitt. A magnetic personality who brought more flare to the role than any before, Kitt was the first Black woman to play Catwoman…and, I believe, the first Black woman to prominently feature on the show. Race and inclusivity were and continue to be issues that most media fail to properly address. Eartha Kitt’s Catwoman was much like Nichelle Nichols‘ Uhura on Star Trek: a pioneer, a weather vane showing that times were changing, and a kickass character to boot. If it had been gratifying in Season 1 & 2 to see a solitary woman ordering around a gang of male minions, then it was even more so in Season 3 to see a Black woman calling the shots.
No other Catwoman purred quite like Eartha Kitt
Film
We got to see another talented Black woman, Halle Berry, reprise the role in 2004’s Catwoman. Unfortunately, the flick was universally considered a turd that was really a vehicle to showcase/exploit an Academy Award winning actress’s body with the most revealing catsuit of all time (and that’s saying something). I could really push the envelope to suggest a feminist reading of the film’s beauty industry critique, as Berry’s Patience Phillips struggles to destroy the anti-aging cosmetic corporation that employs her because it is selling a faulty and harmful product, but the fact that her boss (the one who kills her thus turning her into Catwoman) is a woman (Sharon Stone, no less) takes a lot of the steam out of that argument.
Halle Berry’s uber-revealing Catwoman costume
We also have the most recent depiction of Catwoman in Christopher Nolan‘s third installment of his Batman trilogy: The Dark Knight Rises in 2012. Though I’ve never been a fan of Anne Hathaway, I was nonetheless generally impressed with her Catwoman performance. Hathaway’s Selina Kyle was strong, independent, clever, and had a righteous sense of class justice, and in spite of the catsuit, she wasn’t quite as sexualized as earlier film incarnations.
Anne Hathaway’s tech-heavy Catwoman
That said, Hathaway technically isn’t Catwoman. She doesn’t give herself that name nor is she dubbed with it by an opponent or ally. Contrary to the opinion of fellow reviewer Kelsea Stahler, I think taking the title away from her divests her of some of the power, prestige, and legacy that is inherent in her name. Though I did admire Anne Hathaway’s smart-and-ruthless-with-a-smattering-of-conscience characterization, this version of Catwoman ultimately fails my feminist expectations because she ends up with Bruce Wayne in the end. She runs away to France and allows him to domesticate her. Stripping Catwoman of her counter-culture independence and settling her down with a man is tantamount to de-clawing her.
I bet Bruce Wayne will have a hard time housebreaking her
No, in this reviewer’s humble-ish opinion, the most feminist depiction of Catwoman is Michelle Pfeiffer from Tim Burton’s 1992 Batman Returns. Though this Catwoman is oozing sex, she always has her own agenda and is crafty enough to DIY-style make her own iconic cat costume. Pfeiffer’s Selina Kyle is mentally unstable and has periodic breaks with reality, which is a realistic rendering of a woman suffering post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after being attacked and murdered by her boss.
Catwoman mounts Batman and licks his face
The end of Batman Returns has Batman stripping off his mask and asking Catwoman not to kill her boss, but to leave town and come away with him instead. This is the inverse of what happens in The Dark Knight Rises as Hathaway’s Kyle begs Batman to abandon Gotham and run away with her. Pfeiffer’s response as Catwoman is, “Bruce, I would love to live with you in your castle forever just like in a fairy tale. I just couldn’t live with myself, so don’t pretend this is a happy ending!” She then claws Batman’s face and kills her boss, using up all but one of her nine lives to do so. Now, I’m not all about killing or anything, but the point is that Selina Kyle rejects Batman’s idea of who she should be, what her moral code should be, and how she should heal. She acknowledges the appeal of the traditional “fairy tale” conclusion that ends her story with a man and love, but her need for independence and for self-actualization becomes too important for her to sacrifice by relying on romantic love to save her as she once would have before her transformation into Catwoman. Instead, her story continues on, and we can imagine all the possible paths she may have chosen for her life.
Catwoman lounges with Miss Kitty
All the Catwomen are hyper-sexualized and mysterious. All of them wield power over Batman and Gotham’s underworld. Though Pfeiffer’s Catwoman is my pick as the most feminist of all the iterations I’ve seen, she’s still problematic as are all her Cat sisters. I see the feminist strength and independence in her, but I also see the way sex is her weapon and that she mostly exists as a foil for Batman, a temptation and a lesson on what rampant desires can lead to. Maybe I’m more like Batman than I’d care to admit in that I, too, recognize the appeal of Catwoman as a mixed bag, and I, too, am drawn to her against my better judgement.
—————— 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.
