The Answer Is in the Questions

This is a guest post by Erika McGrath.

I do not have all the answers. Or should I say, I do not have all the right answers. Maybe there’s no one with the right answers? Ahh, yes. That’s it. Nobody has all the right answers.

I am days away from beginning principal photography on Half Life, my first go at directing a narrative. And just in case I forgot that I was making an independent film, the universe was able to drum up two significant and totally unrelated events in the past 48 hours just to remind me. First, one of our crew members was arrested. Second, we were sold down the river when our equipment rental house completely backed out on the production. While getting arrested is no barrel of laughs, being three days from getting the first shot off and suddenly having no equipment lined up has been the real catastrophe. Just to put any producer who might be reading this at ease, the tough got going and in less than eight hours we were able to set up accounts with three new vendors, adjust our insurance, secure all the equipment we needed, and lay out a new travel plan.

That said, I find myself back inside a truth I came to know several years ago, which is, the best and most important thing you could do in any given situation is listen with vigilance and ask all of the right questions. However, more often than not, I find myself pursuing the right answers—the clear and exact opposite of said lesson I fought so hard to learn. Solving problems, finding solutions, fixing anything, making everything OKAY—all seems to be in the “Answer” business, don’t ya think? Well, not really. No answer will fit just right until all the questions have been tested. The answer is in the questions.

We find Gary, the lead character in Half Life, in a similar position–pursuing a path toward something he can’t quite get a grip on and along the way he is thrown up and down and then straight into living his way through all the questions. This is an experience commonly referred to as “being tested.” At the beginning of the film, Gary seems content; everything in his life is pretty peachy. Little by little, he starts to see fractures from his past, new ones creeping in, each one unto itself not so damaging, but all together, they break his world wide open. Now, Gary is standing in the middle of a wide open pile of broken pieces, staring at it saying, “What the hell? Where was the wrong turn? How do I put it all back together and make it work again? Is there a different way to do this? A better way? A truer way?” Well, my advice to Gary—Go climb a tree.

There are many different ways to climb a tree. As a kid, I took every chance I had to get up in one of those beasts. The thing to remember as you climb, no matter which way you take them on, each branch and each step will have its own set of challenges and its own set of consequences. Standing around staring up into the leafy green unknown, trying to figure out which combination of challenges and consequences will be the least damaging or difficult, just keeps you on the ground. You’ll never get anywhere by trying to figure it all out before you start. And, as my grandmother always reminded me, if you stand there looking up at the sky with your mouth hanging open, a sharp shootin’ bird will probably come along and poop in it.

Some of you might be saying, “Girl, get real. Clearly you’re up in a tree right now and too far off the ground to see what is really happening.” Okay sure… you might be right. But I’ll say this, the tree I’m climbing is an ancient oak and its roots are deeper in the ground than any of us probably ever will be. The tree will let you know what you need to know; you’ll feel it every time the wind blows. Yes, the climb is dangerous and scary—at times you’ll feel lost and unsure of your next move, your feet will slip, your hands will lose grip, you’ll get a few cuts and take a few knocks. But, if you keep your head up and remember what you’re there for, listening for signals each step of the way, you’ll find what you need and you’ll make your way to peer out over the tippy, uneasy top. What that looks like? Well, I don’t know; I imagine it looks different for everybody. I’ll let you know when I get there. And if I do, you’ll see it in Half Life.

To come out of this analogy and into real tactics, the message I want to share with you here is that the answers are relative and none of them are stopping points. Every answer you land on will still contain questions, whether or not you acknowledge them, that will lead you to your next step. The experience of making a movie is bigger than the sum of its parts. As a director, I think we have to accept that the film is bigger than us; most everything is beyond your control after a certain point. At that turn, it’s our job to listen to the film and let it become what it wants to be. The right questions are your guideposts. They will save you in times of reeling panic and maybe keep you from passing out. My wise assistant director, Chi Laughlin, reminds me daily, “Whatever your movie needs will happen… just maybe not the way you expected.” And that brings me to the last piece of advice I’ll bother you with—Nobody can make a movie alone. So, I say, gather around people who will work hard, tell truths, make you laugh, dance a little—And listen.


Erika McGrath is currently developing her first feature length picture and is in production for her short film Half Life, which  was successfully crowd funded on Seed&Spark this summer. When not making movies, she is also an active dog lover, motorcycle rider and pie enthusiast. Born and raised in Ohio, McGrath now resides in New York City.

‘How to Lose Your Virginity’ or: How We Need to Rethink Sex

How to Lose Your Virginity promo.
 
Written by Leigh Kolb
If you talk to a feminist for a significant amount of time, you’re going to hear about virginity–specifically the value placed on women’s virginity in our culture and the persistent virgin/whore dichotomy that places women in an impossible sexual bind (and not the good kind).
The 2013 documentary How to Lose Your Virginity follows filmmaker Therese Shechter’s reflections on her own “loss” of her virginity in her early 20s. Her first-person narrative gives way to interviews with experts and sexual novices interspersed with historical tidbits and definitions.
Shechter features excellent interviews with feminist heavy hitters–Joycelyn Elders, Scarleteen founder Heather Corinna, Shelby Knox, Jessica Valenti, Hanne Blank, Sady Doyle of Tiger Beatdown, and love and relationship coach Abiola Abrams, among others. Shechter speaks to numerous young people about their perceptions of virginity and sex–including those who claimed/reclaimed virginity or actively shunned it. She talks to the president of Harvard’s chastity club and she goes on location with the co-founder of the “Barely Legal” porn series, Erica McLean.
How to Lose Your Virginity poignantly points out that in our culture, if you are a woman and have sex, you’re doomed, and if you don’t have sex, there’s something wrong with you.
Shechter covers all of her bases, and leaves no sexual stone unturned.
I pressed play to watch How to Lose Your Virginity thinking that I didn’t have that much to learn. I think/write/teach about these issues a lot. However, I  was captivated throughout the entire film. Shechter tackles what we know–virginity mythology, hymen obsessions, queer definitions of virginity, purity balls and the virgin-whore dichotomy–and takes it all a step further, researching and delving into others’ stories and history.
A crew member of Barely Legal shows the white panties that the virginal “first-timers” wear during shoots. The female owner and director points out that her films are about the “first memorable time that you [as a young woman] liked the person.” 

 

My favorite part of this film is that it is upbeat from start to finish. There’s no anger, there’s no judgment. I don’t want to riff on the “angry feminist” stereotype, but I know I tend to get pretty worked up and, well, angry when I talk about our culture’s toxic obsession with female sexuality and expectations of virginity. Shechter’s ability to teach, dismantle, expose and explore is remarkable. The audience is left with newfound knowledge with which they can criticize myths of virginity in our culture. However, the audience is also left with respect for everyone’s stories–those who are remaining virgins (no matter their personal definition), those who don’t and those who have no idea what it all even means. When a documentary can do that, it succeeds in a big way.

 

The phrase “purity balls” will never not make me giggle.

Throughout How to Lose Your Virginity, Shechter establishes common ground and values every individual’s experience, criticizing only the cultural myths that make us feel fear and shame about our sexuality. Even when she tackles pornography and purity balls, she does so with respect and cultural criticism, not disdain.

She wishes that it wasn’t called “losing your virginity,” but instead making your sexual “debut,” and that sexual experiences are a series of first times that create our sexual history. In her peppy, happy narration, she asks us to not think about losing virginity, but instead losing the mythology about virginity that’s controlling how we think about sex.
Now that is something worth losing.
Shechter, who got engaged during filming, tries on wedding dresses and comments on the fantasy and recent history of a white-clad virginal bride. She jokes and laughs with the store attendants, but shows us that the fantasy has gone on long enough.

 

How to Lose Your Virginity is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”
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Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

 

Our Stories: ‘Babylon Sisters’

Writer Pearl Cleage and Filmmaker Ayoka Chenzira
This guest post by Yvonna Russell previously appeared at The Huffington Post and is cross-posted with permission.

New York Times bestselling author (What Looks like Crazy on an Ordinary Day, Some Things I Never Thought I’d Do) and playwright (Blues for an Alabama Sky, Flyin West) Pearl Cleage has teamed up with filmmaker (Alma’s Rainbow) Ayoka Chenzira to produce the feature film adaptation of Pearl Cleage’s novel, Babylon Sisters.
Single mother Catherine Sanderson has her hands full with her job helping immigrants and a college-bound daughter, Phoebe. But when news journalist Burghardt Johnson blows into town, she finds her world turned upside down. Catherine, impassioned, asks, 
I wondered if it was possible to be in love with a man and develop a vocabulary free of the responses that make every conversation a minefield of hurt feelings, half-truths, and dashed expectations.

Not only do they have history, BJ enlists her help in a story on a female slavery ring operating in Atlanta. Pearl Cleage fans agree with director Chenzira: 
I love the flaws in the romance — it’s so human. The romantic leads have personal struggles but also understand that they are also fighting for something greater than themselves. Rarely do we see this in American cinema.

The story casts light on the fight against human sex trafficking. USA Today reported, “According to the U.S. Department of Justice, human trafficking has become the second fastest growing criminal industry — just behind drug trafficking — with children accounting for roughly half of all victims.” Atlanta Fox 5 reporter Tacoma Perry uncovered, “Atlanta is a hub for human trafficking — where sex or labor is forced, and it’s not just a city problem.” Chenzira echoes the condition of modern-day slavery in Metro Atlanta exposed in the plot by the lead characters Catherine and BJ:
Babylon Sisters honors the everyday heroes in the fight. There are people dedicated to rescuing those who are being exploited, abused and held captive by modern day slavery, and despite their own personal struggles they manage to make a crippling impact on sex trafficking … Atlanta is one of the largest sex trafficking cities in the country, and Babylon Sisters is centered in metro Atlanta — this brings a focused light in exposing this international criminal activity by unearthing the real tragedies taking place under our noses.

The film project has a platform on Junto Box Films. Junto Box Films, the brainchild of Oscar winner for Best Actor (The Last King of Scotland), director (Waiting to Exhale) and producer (Fruitvale Station) Forest Whittaker has established a social media platform to fund, produce and distribute films. Chenzira chose Junto Box Films over other crowdfunding platforms because,

The Junto Box platform allows people to support Babylon Sisters from the development process by signing up to follow, rate, and share the project through social media. Substantial support translates into a real chance of being green lit and fully funded through Junto Box Films. Junto Box allows supporters of Babylon Sisters to hear why Pearl and I decided to collaborate. It also allows them to hear from notable people about their support of this project through video. From the legendary Susan Taylor who served as editor-in-chief of Essence Magazine for twenty seven years and who is considered one of the most influential African-American women, to Broadway stage and film director Kenny Leon who produced Pearl’s plays. Junto Box uses a democratic process that gives people a voice to determine the success of a film about people with little or no voice. It is important for women in the film community to come together to tell the stories of women who donʼt have a voice.

The film project Babylon Sisters deserves our support for a master storyteller’s passionate and compelling voice on the inhumane issue of human trafficking today.


Follow Yvonna Russell on Twitter: www.twitter.com/StilettoFilms.

‘The Grey Area: Feminism Behind Bars’ Explores Transformative Feminism in Prison

The Grey Area: Feminism Behind Bars promotional still.
 
Written by Leigh Kolb
 
With the success of the memoir-turned-Netflix-TV series Orange is the New Black, the feminist blogosphere has been abuzz with commentary and analysis. Besides looking at the show as an artifact within a vacuum, many feminists are taking this opportunity to think about incarceration–especially in the case of female prisoners. While the show is entertaining, the reality behind the fiction transcends one privileged woman’s memoir.
The 2012 documentary The Grey Area: Feminism Behind Bars examines the lives of a group of women in a maximum security prison in Mitchellville, Iowa. Filmmaker Noga Ashkenazi was part of Grinnell College’s Liberal Arts in Prison program in 2009 (her senior year).
Ashkenazi said,

“I wanted to make a documentary about my experience there because I had a feeling that teaching a feminism class at the women’s prison would be a good framework to talk about women’s issues in the criminal justice system in general and to bring the stories of these women to the public through this film.”

So she gathered footage, edited it, got funding, and released the film. And The Grey Area provides an excellent framework for discussing the oft-ignored issues surrounding incarcerated women.
The film opens with sobering facts: the number of incarcerated women in the US has grown 800 percent in the last three decades. Two-thirds of the women in prison are there for nonviolent crimes. Eighty percent of incarcerated women have a history of being victims of sexual assault and/or domestic abuse.
The documentary was filmed at the Iowa Correctional Institute for Women.
The Grey Area presents the stories of inmates–their whole stories, not just their rap sheets–cut with interviews with prison officials and social workers and commentary from the three young female college students who are conducting the Grinnell course on feminism to the prisoners.
The interviews with and footage of the incarcerated women are incredibly moving. The nature of their crimes highlighted the title of the film–there are so many gray areas, yet our prison system only has settings for black and white. Toward the end of the film, the prison warden herself said that about 20 percent of the prisoners actually need to be there (she says the rest aren’t violent or a danger to their communities).
The way the women respond to the weekly classes on feminism (with topics such as motherhood, bodies, sexual assault and privilege) is poignant and insightful. When the class wraps up, the women are asked about the impact of feminism. They eagerly claim the title of feminist, and respond with comments on how talking about feminism has “empowered” them. More than one says that being in prison helped her identify as a feminist because she learned she didn’t need to depend on a man. One says, “Our lives are posters for what not living in a feminist society can do.”
These women’s stories were highlighted throughout the documentary.
The Grey Area isn’t simply a snapshot of the college course on feminism. While the college students have insightful things to say, the real excellence in this film lies within the prisoners’ stories and the professionals’ commentary. Ashkenazi did an excellent job of gathering and editing footage to create and sustain suspense and elicit an emotional response from her audience. The parole hearings and anxious hopes for commutations were nerve-wracking and sometimes heartbreaking. The follow-ups with the inmates are uplifting and devastating.
Toward the end of the film, you learn how many commutations Iowa’s governors have granted in the last 30 years, and you feel as if you’ve been punched in the stomach.
The Grey Area tackles a subject that we all too often ignore and forces us to face the fact that justice is neither blind nor black and white. Cycles of abuse, sexual assault, poverty, objectification and social injustice are all feminist issues, and are all under a microscope in America’s prison systems. It’s our job now to have the conversations and work to effect change. Documentaries like The Grey Area provide a clear, in-depth context for having conversations beyond what happened on this season of Orange is the New Black.
The Grey Area: Feminism Behind Bars is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”
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Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

Female Sexuality is the Real Horror in ‘Womb’

Womb poster
Written by Erin Tatum.

Today, I wanted to talk about a little film called Womb. It’s not very well known – Doctor Who fans will recognize it as one of Matt Smith‘s leading roles before his TARDIS fame. The film presents a fascinating introspective on the ethics of cloning while at the same time highlighting the difficulty of differentiating types of love, putting an oddly poignant spin on the sci-fi genre. Above all else, I enjoy director Benedek Fliegauf’s unabashed aggressiveness in deconstructing everything we romanticize about childhood and then punching us in the throat with our own sentimentality.

The symbolism of this fetus is going to get exponentially creepier.

First of all, the setting and cinematography is breathtakingly gorgeous in the most depressing way possible. The characters are constantly surrounded by haunting, saturated bleakness. This proves to be an effective backdrop for the ensuing emotional turmoil while underscoring the overarching question of morality that plagues the main character, Rebecca. The opening voice over is Rebecca’s exhausted yet serene affirmation that “it’s over now” and that her presumably dead lover has left her with a final parting blessing of pregnancy. If you haven’t looked up an overview of the plot, you are probably thinking that this is going to be a powerful romantic drama that ends in the tragedy of death mixed with the hope of the baby’s promise for the future. You’d be about a quarter right. It’s about to get all Freudian up in here.

Savor the wholesomeness while you can.

We begin by watching the blossoming childhood romance between Rebecca and her neighbor, Tommy. They are inseparable, spending all day playing together and developing little rituals unique to their friendship. Everything seems perfect until Rebecca announces that she and her mother are moving to Japan. Tommy awkwardly kisses Rebecca and she runs embarrassed out of the room. It’s genuine and heartfelt enough to make me almost forget my annoyance that we force heterosexuality on children by romanticizing the hell out of every opposite sex friendship, but I’ll let it slide because damn these kids are adorable. Later, he tells her that he has a plan to rescue her in the morning before she leaves. Alas, Tommy fails to show up and Rebecca leaves without saying goodbye. 

The one appropriate instance of romantic chemistry in this film.

After completing university, Rebecca returns to her original home in England. Of course, her secret primary motivation is to find Tommy, who just happens to live in the exact same place because apparently childhood defines your entire existence. Tommy dumps his current girlfriend like a sack of hot potatoes the second Rebecca finds him and the two attempt to pick up their relationship where they left off, except now with hormones and stuff. They briefly kiss, but Rebecca puts the brakes on, telling him it feels weird. Oh honey, if only you knew. She insists on accompanying Tommy to protest the opening of a national park filled with cloned animals. While they’re driving, Rebecca suddenly announces that she really has to pee. Tommy pulls the car over so that Rebecca can pee in a bush. He decides to exit the car for some reason and is promptly struck and killed by another car, marking the only time in cinematic history that a full bladder has served as the catalyst for the entirety of a film’s central dramatic plot.

Not yolo? Oh no.

Rebecca feels responsible for Tommy’s death and tells his grieving parents that they can totally bring him back because Rebecca plans to impregnate herself with his clone! Tommy’s mom is rightfully appalled, but Tommy’s dad is just like “Whatever, you do you.” This is the part where this film starts making your skin crawl. It’s really sweet and noble and you know Rebecca is willing to put herself through the inevitable confusion out of love for Tommy. However, it’s shortsighted and selfish and adds a whole new stratosphere to the definition of pedophilia, because it’s obvious that on some level, Rebecca chooses to bring Tommy back out of regret that they never consummated their relationship. Carrying a fetus with the subconscious intention of having sex with that future person somewhere down the line is a part of the id that I never want to think about. That said, this decision marks an important shift in how Rebecca’s sexuality is perceived. She declares herself to be a literal vehicle of perversion. From here on out, her desires are marked as obsessive, predatory, and unnatural, which is a striking contrast to when her innocence and devotion to Tommy was celebrated within the sanctity of revived childhood romance just a few weeks ago.
Just casually huffing my son’s preteen pheromones nbd.

Tommy’s parents decide that watching the clone version of Tommy grow up would be too painful and move away, leaving Rebecca to raise him on her own. She decides to tell her son that his father is the original Tommy, who died in a car accident before he was born. We jump forward to where cloned Tommy is the same age as the original Tommy was when he and Rebecca first met. Rebecca’s affections toward him are thus a bit too intimate – stroking his face a little too long, deeply inhaling the scent of his skin, sitting naked with him in the bathtub even though Tommy is clearly too old to need assistance. Eva Green, the actress who plays older Rebecca, does a great job of representing the bizarre fusion of the butterflies from your first crush with more physical adult desires. These scenes just left me wondering how on earth they explained this dynamic to the child actor. “Okay, you’re going to be in love with a girl your age and then come back later as a cloned version of your character, only now you don’t know that your former girlfriend is actually your mom. She still has a wildly inappropriate crush on you, but just act oblivious until it becomes relevant to the plot again.” I know that sometimes a film crew won’t explain darker themes to child actors to protect them, but surely they had to give him a heads up about this. I would be concerned if I were 11 and the 20-something actress playing my mom was sensuously smelling my neck.

Mother and child reunion…bow chicka wow wow.

My confusion was rather explicitly cleared up soon enough, when a playful mother-son wrestling match quickly progresses into a steamy moment of sexually charged flirting. Tommy pins Rebecca to the ground, forcefully straddling her. With an impish grin on his face, he breathlessly declares, “I could do whatever I want with you,” and there’s a little too much pleasure and excitement in his triumphant tone. The cataclysm of taboos makes this scene the most significant of the film in terms of social commentary on sexuality. For all of the times we want to pathologize Rebecca’s desires as the source of the problem, this exchange very much implicates Tommy in that deviance. The binary between childhood innocence and adult depravity is not as polarized as we’d like to think. Children can be sexual too, a cringe-inducing reality that society desperately tries to bury by creating strict scripts of innocence and chastity for childhood romance, immortalized by Hallmark cards and Hummel figurines.
Beyond making a case for the existence of children’s sexuality, Tommy’s actions also indicate that his desires may be a bit sadistic, only further shattering the haven of pre-pubescence. He clearly enjoys dominating Rebecca, tauntingly putting his face inches from hers knowing full well, even if only subconsciously, that they’re both in the heat of the moment and teetering on some level of sexual release. Again, we’re talking about 11-year-old Tommy. I also think that this is one of those moments that’s supposed to minimize the incest factor by implying that cloned Tommy has some sort of unconscious ESP link to the memories and feelings of original Tommy, but that small scrap of comfort is totally obliterated by the fact that you’re witnessing a completely consensual erotic moment between an adult and a child. Rebecca gasps, “Go ahead,” but the two are interrupted by Tommy’s friend calling his name. Tommy deliberately lets his face hover above Rebecca’s for a few more seconds, seemingly relishing her helplessness and obvious desperation. If you don’t think Tommy is now complicit in whatever freaky dynamic is going on here, you’re delusional. I found myself wishing that he would kiss her just to break the tension and then immediately wanted to drink myself to death for even letting the thought cross my mind. He reluctantly stands up and walks over to his friend, leaving Rebecca sprawled out in the sand and looking uncomfortably close to orgasm.
Genetic engineering: a proven birthday ruiner.
Rumors about Tommy being a clone isolate him from his friends because their mothers don’t want them to be associated with a “copy.” No one shows up for Tommy’s birthday party. The whole idea of clones as a metaphor for any oppressed minority that experiences overt discrimination might be more effective if the main character hadn’t gestated her boyfriend’s clone with the primary purpose of acting out her repressed childhood sexual urges, but at least it’s a valiant attempt. Tommy’s bewilderment at his sudden outcast status does pull at your heartstrings. Conveniently, Tommy’s new lack of social life means that Rebecca will be his only support system growing up. I’m sure that will only make their relationship healthier! Ah, there’s nothing like an incestuous dystopia to carry you through those troubled teen years.
This is awkward enough without the Freudian possessiveness.
Just in case you weren’t horrified enough yet, the unresolved sexual tension between Tommy and Rebecca is about to skyrocket off the Richter scale. Like his mother, Tommy returns to his childhood home, now the same age as when the original Tommy died. Unhappily for Rebecca, he arrives with his girlfriend, Monica, in tow. Rebecca mopes around the house, taking every opportunity to be jealous and pouty. She seems particularly disillusioned when she goes to wake Tommy, only to discover Monica in bed with him and connect the dots that they probably had sex the night before. The implication is that Rebecca has been single and celibate ever since the original Tommy died. On one hand, our sympathy leans toward her because she has sacrificed everything for Tommy and it’s a sad juxtaposition to watch her plateau in loneliness while Tommy’s life is filled with friends and opportunities.
Rebecca sulking over Monica’s failed olive branch pastries.
Still, here Rebecca’s motives start to acquire a distinctly vindictive, bitter undertone that erodes her original justification of everlasting love and devotion. She’s pissed that her relationship with clone Tommy hasn’t magically replicated into her romance with original Tommy, but she forgets that they’re different people and Tommy has no obligation to simply pick up the life of his original where it left off. Plus, her warped nostalgia creates impossibly high expectations on several counts, considering she never told him the truth and she should have anticipated that Tommy isn’t supposed to want to have sex with his own mother. Womb has a weird tendency to humanize incest in ways that make you feel dirty for even contemplating the scenario enough to formulate an opinion.
Giving new meaning to the phrase “sexy fishnets.”
Rebecca’s hostility toward Monica creates tension in Tommy’s relationship with Monica. Monica senses the growing distance between them and tries to keep their relationship alive with lots of flirting and sex, much to Rebecca’s chagrin. Despite Monica’s best efforts, everything falls apart when yet another play fight derails into not-so-subtle passion, culminating in Tommy shoving his head under Rebecca’s shirt. Monica has been watching them and realizes that they both look a little too aroused for family fun, prompting her to storm off. Tommy once again lets his face linger near Rebecca’s before chasing after Monica, giving her a particularly intense Stare of Rediscovered Lust with Inevitably Dramatic Consequences. That Tommy sure knows how to leave a lady wanting more. It’s a shame he only seems to be at the top of this game when he’s fighting off oedipal sexual urges.
This moment is too sad for a witty caption.
The last screw of Rebecca’s fantasy comes loose when Tommy runs into the original Tommy’s mother, feeling an eerie familiarity with her. He can no longer stand Rebecca’s silence and demands concrete answers about his genealogy. Rebecca caves and shows him old footage of the original Tommy protesting. He berates Rebecca for lying to him his whole life. It’s all quite heartbreaking and raw and I had to crank down my sound because Matt Smith’s anguish is so visceral it’s terrifying. The subtext that was once relegated to awkward pauses and unspoken taboos rapidly shifts to fear. Tommy rapes Rebecca and it’s brutally carnal, especially when compared to his naively bewildered romantic interactions as the Doctor (skip to the 2:15 mark and marvel at the sheer volume of flailing). The experience is filled with tears and anger and is so very obviously the opposite of everything Rebecca has been dreaming of for the past two decades.
I’m sure he’s off to more dismal horizons.
Tommy departs quietly and alone soon after the incident. The viewer knows that he impregnated Rebecca. The ultimate consensus of the film seems to be Rebecca making peace with the pain that both Tommys have caused her because now she will have Tommy’s child, which is implied to be the fulfillment she was searching for all along. This bittersweet romanticism appears to gloss over the fact that clone Tommy is a rapist, but I guess that puts us back at sum zero in terms of morality judgments. Rebecca was punished throughout the film for allowing her sexuality to transcend even the laws of mortality. Womb might be insinuating that female desire is the root of all evil, but then again, no one else walks away squeaky clean either.

Bisexuality in ‘Orange is the New Black’

Written by Robin Hitchcock

Orange is the New Black
Orange is the New Black has more buzz than an apiary this summer, and with good reason: it’s funny, emotionally affecting, intensely watchable, and as a Netflix original series, suited to an immensely satisfying weekend binge-watch. But on top of all that, OitNB offers a lot to talk about beyond “Did you watch Orange is the New Black yet? It’s so great!”
It’s actually kind of a shame that Orange is the New Black is so revolutionary and fresh. The show has gotten a lot of attention and praise for the character Sophia, a black trans woman, portrayed by black trans woman Laverne Cox (and her twin bother M. Lamar in flashbacks, in some truly fortuitous casting). I wish that kind of representation didn’t seem so revolutionary and fresh, but honestly, it is still revolutionary and fresh merely for there to be a show mostly about women, much less one like OitNB that does its best to reflect womanhood as anything but monolithic and directly addresses race, class and sexuality. 
Laverne Cox as Sophia
Of course, the central and point-of-view character, Piper Chapman, is a privileged white woman–a Smith graduate whose mother is telling everyone she’s volunteering in Africa as an alibi for her 15 months in Federal Prison. Orange is the New Black does its best to address, challenge, and sometimes mock Piper’s privilege (she compares her prison-issue shoes to TOMS), but it can be frustrating that she is the focus while the audience has to wait many episodes for the serious treatment and backstories of some of the most compelling characters of color. 
And it is fitting that the most interesting thing about Piper is her bisexuality, which is the one dimension she isn’t at the top of the hierarchy. Again, it shouldn’t be so fresh and unusual to have a bisexual main character, but it is. And Orange is the New Black doesn’t just use Piper’s sexuality as a representation token or an opportunity for hot girl-on-girl prison action, but as an actual platform to explore the complexities of sexual identity. 
Larry (Jason Biggs) and Piper (Taylor Schilling)
Piper enters prison engaged to a man, who had previously known nothing of Piper’s same-sex relationship with a drug trafficker ten years prior. Piper, her fiance Larry, and her future in-laws are all too happy to brush off that history as a long-passed phase. Larry only becomes nervous about Piper cheating on him in prison when he learns her ex-girlfriend Alex is also incarcerated there. She has to lecture him on the Kinsey Scale to point out that the presence of Alex isn’t going to “turn her gay.” When Piper (spoiler alert) does have sex with and fall for Alex again, it doesn’t make her fall out of love with Larry, defying the common portrayal of bisexuality involving some kind of toggle switch.
Piper and Alex (Laura Prepon)
Orange is the New Black also side-steps the trope of Piper only being “gay for” one person. In a flashback sequence Piper tells her best friend Polly, “I like hot girls. I like hot boys. What can I say? I’m shallow.” [That’s also an absurdly simplistic representation of bisexuality, but absurd simplicity is fairly honest to Piper’s character.]
Piper’s sexuality is as hard for Alex to accept as it is for Larry, though. When their relationship hits the rocks, Alex angrily says she broke her rule number one: “never fall in love with a straight girl.” Alex bonds with Nicky, another lesbian inmate who had been having sex with another “straight” girl engaged to a man. Seeing these characters express frustration with bisexual characters’ ability to “opt-out” and enjoy heterosexual privileges puts Orange is the New Black‘s simple “Kinsey scale”/”I like hot people” depiction of bisexuality back into a realistically complicated and often painful context of negotiating sexualities. 
Discussing Piper’s rekindled affair with Alex, Larry says to her brother Cal, “Is she gay now?” Cal says, “I’m going to go ahead and guess that one of the issues here is your need to say that a person is exactly anything.”

His issue and everyone else’s, Cal.

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, and that is not a WASP-y cover story for a prison stint. 

‘The Lifeguard’: A Female Anti-Hero on the Cusp of 30

The Lifeguard movie poster.
 
 
Written by Leigh Kolb
 
There’s something about 30.
When I turned 30 last summer, a switch went off inside of me–I was restless, searching and stuck deep in nostalgic thoughts, wanting to be 19 again. I was ruminating about this with my husband and he interjected, “I have indigestion.” I stared at him, and reminded him that I was having an existential crisis. “Hey, you’re dealing with 30,” he said. “I’m dealing with 31.”
I know that my experience is not special or unusual (another 30 realization–my life is really fucking normal, even though I’ve always thought otherwise), and a plethora of films support that theory. The latest film in the catalog of this kind of life crisis (oh, I guess it has a ridiculous name–the “thrisis”) is The Lifeguard, which was written and directed by Liz W. Garcia.
Leigh London (Kristen Bell) is an Associated Press reporter in New York City, and she’s having an affair with her betrothed boss. She covers a story on a tiger that was kept captive in a city apartment and died–and something clicked. She clearly sees herself as this tiger, locked up and trapped, and needs to get out.
She heads back to her hometown in Connecticut to stay with her parents. “I need some time out of my life,” she explains. Leigh–who was always a high-achiever (she was valedictorian)–decides to work as a lifeguard for the summer, just like she did when she was a teenager.
I normally don’t like to bring myself into film reviews, but there are some things you need to know. I was a mild high-achiever in high school and felt unfulfilled with my first jobs out of college, which were in journalism. I was a lifeguard in high school and college. In my scriptwriting course in graduate school, I pitched my final full-length semi-autobiographical screenplay as “like Garden State, but with a female protagonist” (“not enough action,” grumbled my professor). See above, in re: “thrisis.”
My name is Leigh.
I felt like there was a lot riding on this film for me.
Overall, The Lifeguard didn’t disappoint. Well, it didn’t disappoint me. It’s been getting largely unfavorable reviews, most of which echo the idea that this story has been overdone. But most stories have been overdone, and with a plot like this, there’s good reason–this moment in life is full of crises and tensions and people can relate to it.
“I’m the fucking lifeguard, motherfuckers.”
While there are a few minor questionable plot points and it sometimes feels like a first feature independent film (which it is), I was struck by the realistic portrayal of a life hanging in the balance between adulthood and the ache for youth.
Even the moments that felt unbelievable or clunky–well, that’s part of it. That’s part of trying to figure things out.
The filmography and soundtrack were lovely, and the actors were excellent. Leigh’s best friends–Todd (Martin Starr) and Mel (Mamie Gummer)–have lives that appear to be put together, but aren’t really. Todd is coming to terms with his sexuality, and Mel is a vice principal at their alma mater and she and her husband are trying to get pregnant, unsuccessfully. Each character is dealing with a unique but totally normal crisis.
Leigh is self-destructive throughout her journey to herself, and her friends come along for the ride. They smoke cigarettes and pot, buy beer for minors, and at one point, Leigh almost fails to see a struggling child in the pool because she’s stuck in a fantasy. Here’s the female anti-hero that we are always looking for (perhaps that’s why the mostly male reviewers were put off?).
The most destructive decision Leigh makes, though, is engaging in a sexual relationship with a teenager. In attempting to reclaim her youth, she also attempts to revise her virginal teenage experience. While on paper this seems like a dealbreaker, Garcia’s writing and direction made it–dare I say–work? The scenes are uncomfortable and incredibly sexy. They feel different than normal sex scenes, largely because of the focus on Leigh’s satisfaction.
We know it’s wrong. We know it’s destructive. But we are along for the ride, just like Leigh.
Leigh attempts to guide Jason (David Lambert) into better life choices. Their relationship is disturbing, sexy, destructive and strangely realistic.
It’s hard not to draw a parallel between The Lifeguard and The To Do List (The Lifeguard is like its much darker older sister). For the Type-A protagonists, their roles at a swimming pool allow them to be in control yet vulnerable and unclothed. The setting is important, because as female lifeguards, they experience power and vulnerability all at once. The position and pool are also seasonal and fleeting–just like youth. There’s something temporary about being a lifeguard. Leigh is trying to use that position, seeping with nostalgia, to gain something permanent.

In The To Do List, Brandy says, “Teenagers don’t have regrets–that’s for your 30s.” Leigh is trying desperately to hold on before her 30s hit.

Night-swimming in the pool–Leigh is caught between rules and control and wildness.
The Lifeguard delivers a female anti-hero and realistic struggles that women of a certain age face. The film doesn’t, as some reviewers suggest, sink. It goes into the deep end, treads water and gets out of the pool–just like most of us do.
The Lifeguard is available on iTunes and Video on Demand; on August 30, it will play in select theaters.

Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

Alice Morgan and the Luther Effect: More Female Villains, Please

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Ruth Wilson as Alice Morgan and Indris Elba as John Luther in BBC’s Luther

 

This guest post by Lauren C. Byrd previously appeared at her Web site and is cross-posted with permission.
With all of the summer tent pole movies premiering, there’s been outcry from audiences (and critics) for the studios to make superhero movies with a woman as the lead. Wonder Woman, understandably, tops this oft-cited list.
While wondering where else in our pop culture there are a lack of female characters—the answer, sadly, is everywhere—something struck me upon viewing the third season of BBC’s Luther.
There was something missing this season. It was harder to get invested in the characters and storylines, even though Idris Elba as Luther is charming and troubled as ever.
The thing missing was: Alice Morgan. In the first series premiere, Alice (Ruth Wilson) commits the perfect crime: the murder of her parents. DCI John Luther, a brilliant detective, who knows criminals’ minds as well as he knows his own, engages in a game of wits with the deliciously evil Alice. Their intriguing relationship becomes the through-line of the first series, tying Luther and Alice together, even as he solves other crimes and deals with his marriage falling apart.
Even with the glut of crime dramas now on television, several of which have female detectives as a lead (The Bridge, The Killing, The Fall), none features a woman committing crimes. All of these series involve women as victims of crimes perpetuated by men.
Maybe it seems a weird question to posit, in a day and age when women are not equally represented in Hollywood, in the boardroom, or in Congress, to ask why there aren’t more female villains on our screens.
One common argument for more parts for women is women make up 51% of the population, yet in last year’s top 100 grossing films, only held 29% of the speaking parts.
Out of homicide offenders (from 1980-2008), only 10.5% were women. White females of all ages had the lowest offending rates of any racial or age group, according to the U.S. Department of Justice’s study of homicide trends.
So maybe choosing to have male villains over female is something Hollywood actually got right? You could look at it that way. But isn’t the point to have more equality when it comes to every part of the industry (acting, directing, writing, producing, etc)? If there are well-written female superheroes, there should be well-written female villains.

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Glenn Close as Alex in Fatal Attraction
Female villains are difficult to portray without easily falling into trope territory. Female “baddies” tip over easily into emotionally unstable women—often stalkers–like Alex in Fatal Attraction (coincidentally, a role that earned Glenn Close an Academy Award nomination). Women are often thought to commit crimes motivated by emotion rather than with a purely evil intent. Interestingly, in criminological and sociological studies, gender in regard to crime has largely been ignored. Until recently, the extent of female deviance has been marginalized. According to sociology professor Frances Heidensohn, one of the first to study female criminology, one reason for this is because female crime has been dealt with by mostly men, from policework to legislators.
But back to fictional female villains. Even as far back as fairy tales, evil women were often portrayed as obsessive. In Grimm Brothers’ Snow White, Snow White’s step-mother, the Evil Queen, is vindictive and obsessed with being the most beautiful in the land. According to John Hanson Saunders’ book The Evolution of Snow White, when Walt Disney started to develop the fairy tale into an animated film, early concepts characterized her as “fat, batty, cartoon type, self-satisfied.” Walt Disney was not satisfied with this concept and spent time further developing the character. He saw her as a cross between Lady Macbeth and the Big Bad Wolf and wanted her to be stately and beautiful
For a character that is obsessed with her appearance, it is rather ironic that she would choose to temporarily relinquish her beauty when she transforms into the Evil Witch—also referred to as the Old Hag—undertaking an ugly demeanor in order to poison Snow White. In 2003, the Queen (Queen Grimhilde) was named by the American Film Institute as one of the 50 Best Movie Villains.

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Charlize Theron as serial killer Aileen Wuornos in Monster
The transformation of the Queen into an “Old Hag” speaks to other frequent characterizations of female villains by Hollywood. They must either be ugly, sometimes old women, or they must be beautiful sirens. In 2003’s Monster, a film based on the life of serial killer Aileen Wuornos, Charlize Theron was cast to play Wuornos. Much of the discussion about the film circled around the choice of Theron, a statuesque model turned actress, as the lead. Rather than discussing the merits of her acting, many simply wondered how it was possible to make such a beautiful woman ugly. Theron won an Academy Award for Best Actress for the role.
On the flip side of old crones and hags, Hollywood uses beauty and the sexualization of women to make them acceptable as villains, most often as femme fatales. The most notable example of this in Hollywood is the use of these characters in film noir, but the archetype dates back to Greek and Roman myths, as well as Biblical figures. A femme fatale is described as a mysterious or seductive woman, who uses her wiles to capture men and lead them into dangerous situations.

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Example of the Femme Fatale
Luther‘s Alice Morgan has a bit of femme fatale in her. “Kiss me, kill me, something…” she tells him in the first season. She flirts with Luther, has red hair and large lips and eyes, but her attraction and fascination with John Luther centers around his intelligence. He deals with London’s criminal minds every day, yet still believes there’s good and love in the world. This baffles Alice. A child prodigy, she enrolled in Oxford at the age of 13 and holds a Ph.D in astrophysics, studying dark matter distribution.
After the murder of her parents, Luther is questioning Alice and discovers she’s a psychopath through her lack of empathy. She doesn’t yawn when he yawns, a telling sign to Luther. However, he is unable to prove she committed the murders and moves on to other cases.
The relationship between Luther and Alice is so well-drawn and complex because it is not simply a protagonist vs. antagonist relationship. Alice is a foil for Luther and becomes a trusted friend, despite her psychopathic and narcissistic tendencies. While DCI Luther is on the right side of evil from society’s point of view, sometimes he uses questionable methods to get what he needs to solve a case.

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Alice Morgan, a villain in Luther
An increase of female villains in film and television always edges on a slippery slope, as it may lead to characters embodying common tropes and archetypes. Even if there were more female villains, it doesn’t mean they would be as carefully developed and well-written as Alice Morgan.
But just as there are those asking for superheroines, there are actors asking to play the villain. “I would like to play a villainess in some great big action movie. That would be really fun,” actress Allison Janney said during the press tour for The Help.
Wouldn’t it be great if Wonder Woman was up against an evil female mastermind? And if the film was directed by a woman?

Lauren C. Byrd is a former post-production minion, but prefers to spend her days analyzing television and film. She studied film and television at Syracuse University and writes a blog, Love Her, Love Her Shoes, about under-appreciated women in film, television, and theater. She is currently working on an academic essay about Kathryn Bigelow & the controversy surrounding Zero Dark Thirty.

Documentary Explores the ‘Forbidden Voices’ of Three Female Bloggers

Forbidden Voices movie poster.


Written by Leigh Kolb

In repressive societies, voices of dissent are dangerous to the regime, and are stifled as quickly as possible. The documentary Forbidden Voices, by filmmaker Barbara Miller, weaves together the struggles of three female bloggers who have done tremendous work against the governments that have tried, sometimes successfully (but only temporarily), to silence them. 





Yoani Sanchez


Yoani Sanchez, Cuba
Yoani Sanchez’s blog has been censored by the state. She has been beaten by police. She says, “I live in fear.” But she keeps writing. She has been profiled as one of Time magazine’s 100 most influential people and toward the beginning of the film, she’s unwrapping and lovingly sniffing her brand new book, Cuba Libre. Sanchez is featured in Forbidden Voices as a prominent Cuban blogger. She not only spends her time writing and covertly updating her blog, but she also holds blogging workshops for other writers and is a human rights activist (the film focuses on her work for a specific political prisoner who is on a hunger strike). 
Sanchez’s parts of the film–since she is still active in her country–are powerful and disturbing. The recording of her being beaten by police is played and there is footage of protests and state-sanctioned counter-protesters. While Sanchez is not safe–she knows her phone is tapped and constantly feels like she’s in danger–she keeps working. She says that she does so for her son, so she can answer him when he asks, “Mom, what did you do to help change things?”
Farnaz Seifi
Farnaz Seifi, Iran
When Farnaz Seifi started her blog in 2003, the Iranian government had little to do with censoring the blogosphere. Six months after she and a few other women started blogging about women’s issues in Iran, the censorship and arrests began. 
In the film, Seifi explains how the Iranian revolution caused women to lose all of their rights. She cites the legal case that if a man’s genitals were to be hurt in a car accident, there’s more money awarded to him than if a woman is killed in a car accident. 
Seifi says that she was drawn to blogging because “You can be the media yourself.” Shortly after, the government started filtering the word “women” and access to the women’s rights activists’ blogs was denied. Feminist groups held peaceful protests, and police responded with brutality (the film has footage). Seifi was arrested, and she now lives in exile and works with Reporters Without Borders. When she is featured in Forbidden Voices, it’s clear that she aches for her family and for making change in her home country. She, against her desires to have her name out there, blogs anonymously to protect her family. Seifi speaks of the “cyber war” and that at this point it is a “cyber army vs. the government.” Online activism and social media have been a central focus during the uprisings in the Middle East, and Seifi’s interests in writing about the abuses of women’s rights have helped keep the momentum going. 
Zeng Jinyan
Zeng Jinyan, China
Zeng Jinyan has used blogs and Twitter to speak out against human rights abuses in China. Her activism has resulted in house arrest (which is shown in the film). Her husband was imprisoned for over three years for his AIDS/human rights activism, and she and their new baby were kept in an apartment. But she continued to write. 
In the film, she says, “I’m desperate. I don’t know what to do.” She is continually shadowed by agents (in one chilling scene, they repeatedly try to block her from moving forward on the sidewalk). Their apartment was searched, phones and computers were confiscated and their internet was shut off. She argues that their freedom of speech is protected by the Chinese constitution, but it’s being ignored. Jinyan explains the “great firewall of China,” the cyber police, and the fact that many people don’t even know about Tiananmen Square. “Everything resembles Orwell’s 1984,” she says. She focuses on how cruel the house arrest is for her daughter, who is growing up with an imprisoned father and no access to parks. Jinyan says, “My keyboard now is the only thing that helps me bear my sorrow and indignation.”
Forbidden Voices is a compelling and deeply disturbing documentary that makes those of us who freely sit at our laptops and type realize how much we take for granted, and how powerful these women’s voices are in their repressive societies (and how threatening that power is, which is evident in the fact that they are continually threatened and silenced). The end of the documentary points out that there are thousands of Internet activists in jail right now. This wave of courageous blogging, especially at the hands of women like Sanchez, Seifi and Jinyan, is a threat to patriarchal, repressive regimes. May their voices stay strong. 


Forbidden Voices is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”


Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

‘Salma’: The Poetry of Repression and Seclusion

Salmai movie poster.


Written by Leigh Kolb


In the village of Thuvarankurichi in rural India, young Muslim girls are locked away once they start their periods. While their early years are filled with school and play, once puberty hits, they are taken away from the outside world and relegated to the confines of their family homes until they are married (which often happens soon after menses).

Salma was one of those girls. The internationally acclaimed documentary Salma explores her return back to the village after she has, despite innumerable odds, become an accomplished poet and politician.
Her determination is highlighted throughout the film, and no amount of dramatization is needed to convey the depths of despair for the women in this culture and the odds that were–and still are–against Salma.

Interviews with family members show how conflicted many of them are about Salma’s success. Her father says, “She’s a good girl, but she’s too clever.” Her aunt says also that Salma has always been “clever,” although she was also always “disobedient.” The women around her have poignant observations on what it means to be a woman in their society, but are unsure how to change it.

When Salma was removed from the outside world, relegated to a basement room with a small grate for a window, she was still desperate to learn and read. Groceries came wrapped in old newspapers, and she would dig them out of the trash so she had something to read. She was in despair over her situation, and she says the “anger was boiling inside me”–so she started writing poetry. Her poetry grew out of the intensity of the realization that her life was to “get married, have kids and die.”

Salma, a Tamil poet and politician.

She finally was forced to marry the man who had been chosen for her, and she tried to continue writing. She would keep a journal, and the journal would disappear. She would write on torn-up bits of paper and hide the paper and pens in boxes of sanitary napkins and under blouses–they would still disappear any time her husband found them. She finally discovered a place that she could hide her writing, and would smuggle it out to her mother, who would send them to a publisher.  
We are able to follow Salma’s rise to power through a window of her world, which still isn’t perfect. Her husband says that he’s accepted her gift, but he clearly harbors a great deal of anger and resentment–their relationship appears cold and distant. Salma seems exhausted and tired of fighting in many scenes, except when she has the opportunity to talk to young girls about their plans and futures. 
Salma consistently encourages girls to stay in school, and is most alive and exuberant when speaking to young women about their educations. Her heart clearly breaks as she watches other young girls get whisked out of school and into arranged marriages. She is working through her writing and through her leadership to empower and educate young women and has success in preventing child brides, but all too often, the traditional culture wins. 
One of the most poignant and difficult aspects of this film is the complexity of Salma’s family members. Her mother was both her captor and her rescuer–she took her out of school and locked her up, but also helped her get her poetry published. Salma’s husband is angry and for years destroyed her work, but he now supports her political and writing careers. It was difficult as a viewer to try and condemn her family, because each of them is portrayed as a complex human being with clear motivations. It’s incredibly powerful when, as a viewer, you are left with the heaviness of a complex reality.
Perhaps the most disturbing part of the film is hearing the next generation of men speak. Salma’s nephew doesn’t want his mother (Salma’s sister) going to the movies, and he’s critical of Salma’s choice not to wear a head scarf. He goes on and on about how burkas are women’s rights, and they should wear them for “men and society.” He doesn’t want his mother going to the cinema “for her own good,” and expresses disappointment in Salma. Salma’s sons, too, seem to disapprove of her and she says that being in the village turned them against her. 
While Salma’s successes and continued influences on women’s lives are powerful forces, the battle is not won. The film does a beautiful job showing that.

Salma still must confront resistance from her family and the next generation.

It’s also important to note that the practice of shutting girls away–literally and figuratively–upon puberty is not relegated to conservative Muslim cultures. In Salma, a young Hindu girl is shown getting married, stunned and sick-looking. In America, there is the Christian Patriarchy movement, which keeps girls in the home and away from higher education. While Salma captures the devastation of patriarchy in one little corner of the world, the ideals and practices are not confined to India by any stretch of the imagination.  
Filmmaker Kim Longinotto has spent her career highlighting the plight of oppressed women, and she does so in Salma with grace and precision. Salma doesn’t simply present the life of a Tamil poet; instead, it is a suspenseful unfolding of a complicated story without a wholly happy ending. Salma–the film and the poet–shows the great power and limitations of one woman who takes a stand against the confines of her environment. It’s a reminder of the great strides that still must be taken around the world for women’s equality. As Salma tirelessly points out, education is where it all must begin. And in a larger culture that has a history of keeping women from literacy and silencing their voices, this is an imperative step. 
Salma is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”


Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

10 Fascinating Female TV Characters Who Are Often Overlooked

Written by Rachel Redfern

As a spin-off from last week’s discussion about the female characters and the rise of the male anti-hero on TV, I thought that today I would point ten of the most interesting female characters on television within the past ten years (although I’m sure there are many more out there), many of whom are only side characters and might have been passed over.
Note, this is not about the most bad-ass female characters, or even the ones I would consider to be role models (though some are); this is about the most interesting female characters. Just as it can be limiting to find male characters as always the knight in shining armor, or the action hero superstar (hence the darker, more varied male characters on television), I think it can be the same for women since they are often placed into their own boxes.

So here it is, ten female characters that I find unique and fascinating, and unfortunately, often overlooked (please add any more you think of in the comments).

Katee Sackhoff as Starbuck in Battlestar Galactica
Starbuck (Katee Sackhoff)

Starbuck was a man in the original Battlestar Galactica series and Ronald Moore’s decision to revamp the character into a woman for the remake was pretty traumatic; Sackhoff even reported that she had death threats after the casting decision had been made. However, Starbuck quickly became a show favorite and with good reason. Starbuck is one of the most diverse female characters on TV, ever.

She smoked cigars and drank to excess, got into a lot of fights, struggled with commitment, but loved her husband and friends deeply. She was fearless and talented as a pilot, but conversely sensitive to music and painting because of her relationship with her absent father.

Moore gave her a pretty intense back story as well, showing the physical and mental abuse that her mother submitted her to as a child, and her struggles with pain, having children, and the intense developments her character was subjected to.

Robin Weigert as Calamity Jane and Kim Dickens as Joanie Stubbs in Deadwood
Calamity Jane (Robin Weigert) and Joanie Stubbs (Kim Dickens)

Deadwood has a few strong and interesting women, but Calamity Jane and Joanie Stubbs and their relationship have often been overlooked.

Robin Weigert was masterful as the blustering, loyal, drunk Calamity Jane, managing to display both bravado and a deep frailty. Weigert consistently portrayed Jane’s insecurities and sadness, effectively showing her as a sensitive and lonely outcast.

Joanie Stubbs (Kim Dickens) was an elegant whore who has spent her whole life under the physical and sexual control of men, first her father, then her unstable and dangerous boss, Cy Tolliver. But Joanie’s search for freedom and escape from her past life became very painful and difficult to survive and understand her own place in the Deadwood camp.

The fact that the two women, both on the fringes of acceptable society, both damaged and distraught, find each other and develop a strong friendship (with it growing into a possible romantic one) was a beautiful subplot for the show.

Julia Louis-Dreyfuss as Selina Meyer in Veep
Selina Meyer (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) 
Selina Meyer (Julia Louis Dreyfuss) from HBO’s Veep is intensely unlikable, and I love that. She’s selfish and oblivious, whiny and incompetent (the perfect politician) and treats her employees and staff horribly.

But there is something very important about such unrelatable and unlikable characters–not all women in the world are pleasant, but despite her flaws, Selina is a deeply human character in a competitive world.

Yunjin Kim as Sun Kwon in Lost
Sun Kwon (Yunjin Kim)

Sun, at least in the beginning of Lost, seemed to be a minor character, one whose sad smile and soft voice suggested a submissive and lackluster personality being pushed around by her husband. Of course, that wasn’t the case, and it became apparent through later episodes that she was a strong, intelligent, forceful character, willing to do what was needed in order to survive.

Sun’s character and backstory provided a fabulous look into how humans change, seeing her first as the sweet, naïve bride, then the angry, bitter woman desperate for her freedom, and finally as a strong survivor in later seasons.

Maggie Siff as Tara Knowles in Sons of Anarchy
Tara Knowles (Maggie Siff)

Gemma, the great matriarch of the Sons of Anarchy clan, often gets most of the attention, and she is an amazing character: strong, fierce, and dangerous. But I also find Tara, Jax’s wife, to be complicated and compelling character. As opposed to Gemma, whose whole life has been the motorcycle club, Tara is a respected young surgeon attempting to raise her children in a normalized environment.

But then she changes and starts to exhibit a darker side, a change that heralds in her own deep conflicts with her healing career but destructive personal life. In season five she takes a wrench to another woman for possibly endangering her husband; a few episodes later she’s performing delicate surgery on an infant.

Liza Weil as Paris Geller in Gilmore Girls
Paris Geller (Liza Weil)

Gilmore Girls is sometimes dismissed as being light entertainment, an opinion that does a disservice to a snappy show with amazing dialogue and clever, quirky characters.

One of these characters being of course, the hyper-intelligent, aggressive, irrepressible, intense Paris Geller. Originally, Paris was only intended for a few episodes in the first season, but quickly grew into a main character because of the unique perspective that her personality offered to the show.

Paris’ character, that of an elitist academic loaded with money, quick temper, and fast-talking, clever comebacks, can’t really be found in any other show. She was a mashup of brilliance and so many neuroses and problems that it’s almost overwhelming, but also funny and sad.

The truth is, women like her, passionate, intense and bossy, are often completely hated and overly stereotyped, whereas Gilmore Girls managed to present her as a lovable and competent women, albeit with a few idiosyncrasies.

Rutina Wesley as Tara Thornton in True Blood
Tara Thornton (Rutina Wesley)

Sookie gets all the attention in True Blood, both on- and off-screen. Which is a shame, because Tara Thornton, Sookie’s best friend from childhood is an angsty, wisecracking southern girl who always took the show to the next level.

Intelligent and well-read, but dealing with her mother’s alcoholism (and intense religiosity) and poverty, makes Tara full of emotional issues and anger, but also passionately loyal. Tara is astute and honest and not afraid to tell other characters when they’re being stupid. The world probably needs a lot more people like her.

Natalie Dormer as Margaery Tyrell in Game of Thrones
Margaery Tyrell (Natalie Dormer) 

The rich world of Game of Thrones has several noteworthy women–so many in fact, that some of the minor, but equally interesting female characters, can get passed over. For example, Margaery Tyrell (most prominent in the third and last season) is actually far more dynamic in the TV show than in the books, and much more unique.

Margaery is an incredible politician; she’s manipulative, cold, ambitious, charismatic and astute. I love how each action is carefully planned out, revealing a methodical and calculating nature, one that is far more dangerous than Cersei (I think) because of her ability to control her temper.

I love a good ambitious character; powerful women who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty fascinate me. In fact, I would argue that Margaery Tyrell is a born leader, one with an innate understanding of politics and power.

Vote for Margaery?

January Jones as Bretty Francis Draper in Mad Men
 
Betty Francis Draper (January Jones)

Mad Men’s women are incredibly varied, from sexy, confident Joan, to naïve, talented Peggy, but often pushed to the side is Don’s beautiful and bitter ex-wife. Mad Men’s portrayal of her obvious loneliness, and her (deserving) anger over Don’s behavior is incredibly sad, but also poignant.

Rather than sugarcoating her character and painting her as a distressed angel, Betty builds upon the difficulties that pushed her way, and her flawed decisions are thrown in with attempts to pull her life together.

Sometimes redemption is hard; so is pulling yourself out of cycles of pain and resentment. Betty is therefore complex and interesting, incredibly frail and static, but also unbending and aggressive in her life choices.

Nicolette Sheridan as Edit Britt in Desperate Housewives
Edie Britt (Nicolette Sheridan) 

Desperate Housewives‘ Edie is probably no one’s role model, and at first she seems like the perfect stereotype of a wealthy, self-absorbed, boy-crazy blonde. She sleeps with everyone, has multiple affairs, and has no qualms about manipulating people.

However, she was also hilarious, clever, and often incredibly honest and realistic. She made no bones about who she was or her actions, and more than once was the voice of reason.

And sometimes, there’s nothing wrong with being a little selfish.


Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and its intersection; however, she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

 

‘Europa Report’: For the Love of Sci-Fi

Europa Report Poster
Written by Amanda Rodriguez
Ecuadorian Sebastián Cordero’s Europa Report is a new kind of movie. The film centers around an unprecedented trip to one of Jupiter’s moons, Europa, based on evidence that the moon could perhaps support life. The movie does blend a documentary style with thriller, science fiction, and even horror genres in an interesting, gripping manner, but the narrative itself is differently constructed, which is what makes Europa Report such a unique pleasure to watch.  
Though not tremendously racially diverse (the male captain is Asian and one of the male mission control scientists is Black), the film treats its female characters not only as equals, but as elite scientists and essential components of perhaps the most important space exploration humans have ever undergone. 
We have three strong, smart, respected female characters. There’s Dr. Samantha Unger, portrayed by the talented Embeth Davidtz. Dr. Unger is the primary mission planner. Her on-the-ground/mission control perspective is the one that has the most narrative cohesiveness and authority. Europa One is her opus, and its success or failure along with the lives of its crew are her responsibility. 
Dr. Samantha Unger contemplates the loss of communication with Europa One.
Then there’s science officer Dr. Katya Petrovna played by Karolina Wydra. Dr. Petrovna has a background in marine biology, which is crucial considering the life that the crew seeks on Europa would be in the water beneath the moon’s ice-encrusted surface. She is not only excellent at her job, but she is compassionate, brave, and full of wonder as the first human being to set foot on Europa’s moon surface. That’s right, a woman takes the greatest leap in science and exploration for all mankind.
To ensure the success of the mission, Katya risks her life on the unstable icy and radiation-flooded surface to collect vital samples.
Lastly, there’s the ship’s pilot Rosa Dasque played by Anamaria Marinca. She is drawn to the glory of the mission: a true explorer, seeking out the unknown, desirous of stretching the boundaries of human knowledge and experience. She, too, is strong and self-sacrificing with an admirable rationality and sense of her place and scope within the universe. My favorite line in the movie is when Rosa says, “Compared to the breadth of knowledge yet to be known, what does your life actually matter?” Heavy shit, no?
In a way, Rosa is our Ripley on Europa One.
So, except for one scene in which Jim Corrigan (played by District 9‘s Sharlto Copley) sexistly jokes that the female crewmen weren’t allotted enough outfits and shoes, Europa Report takes its female characters quite seriously, giving their expertise, ideas, and opinions the respect they deserve, not only as women but as fellow explorers whose lives and knowledge are every bit as valuable as their male counterparts.
Europa One crew posing for its last picture all together.
This, however, isn’t where the film’s innovative approach ends. In fact, the non-issue of female worth and sexuality aboard this space vessel is actually a small part of the bigger picture that Europa Report is trying to foster. At first, I was surprised that the crew all gets along. Despite that we are given few personal details about the explorers, I still developed a sense of empathy towards them, but it’s important that our understanding of them develops almost entirely within the context of this mission. Though there is wonder, comradery, fear, loss, and chaos, this isn’t a story about human drama. The elements for that kind of drama are there, but they are intentionally underplayed. 
The point of the film is that this crew is doing something bigger than themselves, perhaps bigger than all of us. None of the crew ever forgets that, and we, as the audience, are never allowed to either. As they resign themselves to bad situations and make noble decisions, the film tells us that in the face of this  “cosmically astounding” experience and opportunity, they could do nothing else. It all comes back to Rosa’s words, “Compared to the breadth of knowledge yet to be known, what does your life actually matter?” The crew’s unity in its genuine quest for discovery simply for the sake of knowledge is inspiring, reminding us of the universe’s wonders beyond our human smallness and pettiness, beyond our current scope of understanding.
Katya’s breathtaking view of Jupiter from Europa’s moon surface.
I loved this movie. Europa Report‘s elegant cinematography and unique approach in the telling of a simple story are refreshing, intellectually interesting, and posit more about humanity than seems possible on the film’s surface. I can’t wait to watch it again.
***If your local theater isn’t showing Europa Report, it’s rentable on iTunes***