DV8 Film Festival Reminds Us That Filmmaking Is Fun

The homemade, DIY, guerilla feeling of this screening party fit the theme of the festival: every film shown was made over the course of 48 hours on either MiniDV or Super 8 film, using only in-camera editing. The result was a collection of films that filled the gap in so many film school and indie filmmaker spaces: a festival that celebrated the fun of filmmaking and visual storytelling as opposed to technical perfection.

“DV8 Logo” Photo courtesy of DV8 Film Festival

This is a guest post written by Alex Hanson.


It was a Friday night in Brooklyn. A small paper ticket granted me entrance to Roll Gate Studio, a space where the only permanent fixture was a small half pipe in a corner. A gaggle of twenty-somethings filed in, occupying metal fold-out chairs that faced a blank white wall. In the back, a young woman turned a projector onto that blank wall, illuminating it with the logo for the DV8 Film Festival, and subsequently, the festival screening itself. The homemade, DIY, guerilla feeling of this screening party fit the theme of the festival: every film shown was made over the course of 48 hours on either MiniDV or Super 8 film, using only in-camera editing. The result was a collection of films that filled the gap in so many film school and indie filmmaker spaces: a festival that celebrated the fun of filmmaking and visual storytelling as opposed to technical perfection.

This June marked the second year of the DV8 Film Festival, whose participating filmmakers are mostly students and young independent filmmakers in the New York City area. The festival co-founders, Gaby Granda and Rebecca Shapass, come from this creative pool. They met a couple of years ago as students of NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts Film and Television program.

“We worked together as Teaching Assistants at the NYU Production Center which is essentially the equipment rental center for NYU film students,” Rebecca says. “There, we checked film equipment and packed rooms of gear for student shoots.” The two became friends after working together at the production center and on crews for student films.

DV8 founders Rebecca and Gaby at the 2016 screening event. Photo by Alex Hanson

Tisch is widely regarded as a highly prestigious film school: in 2015, The Hollywood Reporter ranked it the second best film school in the United States. Because of its fantastic reputation and prime location in the center of Manhattan, Tisch attracts applicants who are already passionate, experienced, and ambitious. Most Tisch students strive to make films that appear technically professional above all else in order to separate themselves from other student filmmakers. While this creates a body of students who are often inspired and thrilled by their classmates’ work, it can also foster a draining sense of competition among peers. Gaby and Rebecca were both feeling this pressure when they created DV8.

On film school, Gaby says, “I think when most people go to school for any of the arts, they find themselves competing with their peers, as well as themselves to make the best stuff possible, which is a good thing because it raises the level of everyone’s work for the most part. However, I think this becomes detrimental when students start to make work that they know will please an audience instead of trying something new, or when they don’t make anything at all due to the pressure. Since film is such a high stakes medium, which requires a lot of time and money, this is especially likely to occur in film school.” When editing her first big short, Gaby found herself stuck in a creative rut due to this competitive pressure she was feeling. She wanted to find a way to tap into the fun she had as a child making films with her cousins, when filmmaking was a raw result of a creative urge, not a calculated, budgeted, edited masterpiece.

Gaby reached out to Rebecca, who had been creating MiniDV films for both aesthetic purposes and as a rebellion against what Rebecca calls “the production value/expensive camera craze that infiltrates much of the filmmaking amongst student and independent filmmakers.” Together they came up with the DV8 Film Festival, whose title combines the mediums it would feature: MiniDV and Super 8.

The event is comprised of a shooting weekend, in which participants must shoot their films in the specified formats using only in-camera editing. Their shorts must show a newspaper date to prove they shot during the allotted time. In 2015, DV8 resulted in eleven films, three of which were Super 8. This year, they had eighteen submissions, including seven Super 8 films.

Photo: “Totems” Image credit: Totems, courtesy of DV8 Film Festival.

The films screened at this year’s festival prove how important it is to return to the childhood feeling of wanting to make something and then just doing it: immediately, crudely, and honestly. The shorts ranged from fictional narratives to illustrated poems and pieces that blurred the line between personal essay and documentary. Each short has a subtle surreal quality, partly due to the visual texture that MiniDV and Super 8 create, partly due to the significant amount of handheld and not-quite-in-focus shots, and largely due to the clear unhinging of these young filmmakers from any creative inhibitions. While shooting an entire short in sequence over the course of 48 hours may initially seem restrictive, the variety of themes, concepts, and emotional peaks signified the creative freedom from which these shorts emerged.

Totems is a personal short in which a young man, Colton France, explains the significance behind the objects he typically carries around with him. The entire film consists of one shot, in which the camera is on a tripod facing straight down toward broken mirror pieces scattered on the floor. Colton showcases his “totems” by holding them over the shards, his own face reflected above them. This framing is visually engaging almost to the point of being hypnotic, creating a surreal take on what would normally be a vlog-like concept.

Image credit: "Fire," courtesy of DV8 Film Festival.

Another short, titled only by the fire emoji (“?”), tells the silly story of an all-female music group that stalks and chases a record producer in order to make him listen to their demo. The story takes a turn for the absolutely ridiculous when the record producer, trapped by the girls at a street corner surrounded by heavy traffic, is replaced by a monkey stuffed animal and thrown into the intersection — signifying that the record producer got run over. This dream logic (show man, show stuffed animal in his place, therefore this stuffed animal is the man) is both funny and honest — it’s the way we might tell a story if we were joking around with a friend.

Red Balloon #3 is an on-screen experiment: How many different ways can we examine a red balloon lit only by a streetlight? A minimalist rhythmic song plays in the background as the shots explore the nuances — or lack of — of this lonely red balloon. While balloons are simple, Red Balloon #3 manages to make this one feel majestic. It’s as if we discover not only this balloon for the first time, but film, or even light.

Image credit: 'Slow Media,' courtesy of DV8 Film Festival.

Slow Media is a film collage comprised of sole filmmaker Babs Laco’s narration of two passages from Claire L. Evans’s essay collection High Frontiers, and images and clips themed around recent technology. Babs says of Slow Media: “There are many threads of technology from the past ten years present in my film, which is as long as I’ve been working with film and video. For example, at one point I’m using a DV camera to record my MacBook screen, but I choose to only show images from the mid-2000s on the screen. I love technology, and I love using it to enhance my work.”

Of the DV8 Film Festival, Babs says, “DV8 is awesome because it’s so accessible. Everyone at NYU wants to constantly create, but we are used to the model of enrolling in a production class, refining a script, spending months on pre-production, and spending money on camera and location, so by the time we get to post-production, the film is sometimes lost in translation. It’s an amazing process, but it’s easy to get caught up in the producing and forget that we can still create without a huge budget and fancy graphics. DV8 is an opportunity to depart from that.”

The DV8 Film Festival departs from the competitive nature of film school in not just production, but the viewing stage as well. At the 2016 DV8 screening, the welcoming atmosphere and honest films had the audience of mostly young filmmakers doing what is sometimes hard for young filmmakers to do — just sit and enjoy watching films. This audience laughed, gasped, and was entirely captivated by these honest shorts made by their peers. There was no comparing films, no sense of competition, and no need for showing off. Filmmaking is fun, and that’s what it reminded us.


Image of DV8 Film Festival Co-Founders Rebecca and Gaby: Photo by Alex Hanson. All other images courtesy of DV8 Film Festival.


Alex Hanson is a New York-based writer and the founding editor-in-chief of HERpothesis, a website and zine that showcases work by creative young women in STEAM. You can find her on Twitter @AlexHanson1316.

The Lois Lane ‘Batman v Superman’ Doesn’t Think You Can Handle

Lois Lane represents a more achievable kind of strength for us mere mortals. Tenacity, self-reliance, and quick wits – these are the weapons of choice for the archetypal career woman bent on “having it all.” … Any writer that reduces Lois Lane down to little more than human Kryptonite thoroughly misrepresents her rich 75-year history as an important pop cultural icon to women.

'Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice'

This guest post written by Hannah Collins originally appeared at Fanny Pack. It is cross-posted with permission.


Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice may have been a disappointment to many, but I think most comic book fans – and feminists – can agree that Gal Gadot’s strong performance as Wonder Woman was a much-needed bright spot. It’s a shame, then, that the film’s other significant female character – intrepid reporter Lois Lane (Amy Adams) – doesn’t get the same treatment. Though she plays a fairly significant part in advancing the story, and enjoys some (weird) bath-time fun with Clark Kent (Henry Cavill), that’s pretty much all she’s there for – little more than a plot device, a shoulder to cry on, and even worse, a constant distraction to Earth’s greatest hero.

This may seem like a trivial complaint but as someone who fell in love with comic books before feminism, Lois Lane – along with Wonder Woman, Catwoman and Storm – was instrumental in shaping my understanding of what it meant to be a woman in a man’s world. And in a world filled with Gods, magic, time-travel and President Luthor, you’ve got to be one heck of a dame.

Here’s why The Daily Planet’s ace reporter is far more than just Superman’s victimized girlfriend.

A Damsel Not in Distress

Megara in 'Hercules'

The ‘woman in peril’ theme is one that has unfortunately persisted throughout literature and pop culture, from ancient Greek maidens like Andromeda and her hero Perseus, right the way through to Princess Zelda and her hero Link in Nintendo’s Legend of Zelda. It’s no surprise then that the Superhero genre – the modern-day equivalent to Perseus – has also been oversaturated by the damsel/hero dynamic.

Superman is the world’s first Superhero and Lois Lane his eternal damsel in distress. No matter how many Pulitzers she wins or oranges she juices at her Daily Planet desk in her personal war on cigarettes, that core underpinning will never change. But throughout her 75-year history, her determination to fight this definition has never waned.

‘Superman’s Girl Friend, Lois Lane’ #85

From her solo comic title, Superman’s Girl Friend, Lois Lane (1954-1974) to her top billing in TV’s Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman’(1993-97), and recent YA novel series Fallout by Gwenda Bond, Lois has proven that she is not only a superior journalist to Clark Kent and Superman’s equal partner, but can carry a story on her own. More often than not, when Lois finds herself in need of rescue from the Big Man in Blue, it’s from a sticky situation of her own making. Rather than wait around to be scooped up by a dragon like a hapless medieval maiden, Lois seeks out trouble in the name of journalism.

Lois also starred in her own newspaper strip, ‘Lois Lane, Girl Reporter’, 1943-44.

Even better is when – thanks to a mix of her “military brat” upbringing and some Kryptonian martial arts – sometimes she gets to even save herself.

[youtube_sc url=”https://youtu.be/5Q8SkwskHPM”]


Because Women Are Strong as Hell

30 Rock_Lois Lane

Ever since William Moulton Marston blessed us our first feminist superwoman, Wonder Woman, the Superhero genre has been filled with gutsy, gladiatorial women. But whilst these goddesses represent a masculinized ideal of brute force, Lois Lane represents a more achievable kind of strength for us mere mortals. Tenacity, self-reliance, and quick wits – these are the weapons of choice for the archetypal career woman bent on “having it all.”

But Lois Lane’s fierceness didn’t just grow from the necessity to reflect the changing role of women in society; creators Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel embedded it within her character from the very start. Her personality was borrowed from fast-talking fictional reporter (and owner of The Most 1930s Name Ever) ‘Torchy Blane’ who starred in a series of Warner Bros. films in the 1930s. Her tagline was ‘The Lady Bloodhound with a Nose For News!’ and she was one of the few positive examples of career-driven women on American cinema screens at the time that rivaled – or bested – her male equivalents.

Teri Hatcher as Lois Lane in ‘Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman.’

Also woven into Lois’ DNA was real-life pioneering journalist and inventor Nellie Bly. Not only did Bly famously travel the world in a record-breaking 72 days, but also she feigned mental illness in order to write an exposé on life inside a mental institution – redefining investigative journalism and making the rest of us feel desperately lazy.

From Meg in Disney’s Hercules to Spider-Man’s Mary-Jane Watson, every “feisty” damsel worth her salt owes a debt of gratitude to Lois.

Lois Isn’t Holding Out for a Hero

‘Superman’s Girl Friend, Lois Lane’ #121

Saying that Lois and Clark are one of your favorite couples in fiction is kind tantamount to saying the same about Romeo and Juliet. In other words, woefully mainstream. But as much as I really do believe they deserve a place amongst literature’s greatest love stories, Lois has proven many times that she can function perfectly well without her fated other half, as the panel above illustrates.

This was exemplified on-screen recently in the much-maligned Superman Returns (2006). Picking up after Superman II (1980), the film starts with Superman (Brandon Routh) returning to Earth after a 5-year absence to find that Lois (Kate Bosworth) has not only moved on to someone else, but also raised a son with him.

Superman Returns

Inevitably as the story progresses, Lois finds that her feelings for the Man of Steel are not as buried as she’d thought, and I’m sure the abandoned sequel planned for 2009 would have seen my favorite reporting duo back together. Nonetheless, I was still impressed that rather than pull a ‘Bella Swan’ and throw herself off of a cliff in a fit of angsty despair, Lois Lane wipes away her tears, wins her damn Pulitzer, finds another great guy, raises a child, and foils Lex Luthor’s dastardly plans.

Because not even Earth’s strongest hero can break her that easily.

Keep Lois Out of the Refrigerator

‘Superman Annual’ #2

Despite her development over the years into a competent and important player in the DC Universe’s canon of heroines, too many landmark stand-alone stories in Superman’s history hinge not on the strength of Lois Lane, but on her death. Kingdom ComeSuperman: KalFlashpoint, and Injustice: Gods Among Us all sacrifice Lois (in some pretty fucked up ways) simply to motivate Superman to lose his shit. And judging from the teasers nestled in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, we may be in danger of seeing one of these stories on screen soon.

This is a variant of the ‘Damsel in Distress’ trope known as ‘Women in Refrigerators,’ coined by comics writer Gail Simone to “describe the trend of female comic book characters who are routinely brutalized or killed-off as a plot device designed to move the male character’s story arc forward.” (The term originates from Green Lantern #54, in which Green Lantern discovers his murdered girlfriend’s body in his fridge.)

'Man of Steel'

Look, I get it. Superman only has two weaknesses: Kryptonite and Lois Lane. (Well, three weaknesses if you include his susceptibility to magic.) Same goes for practically every other superhero trying to balance saving the planet with getting laid. It’s a character-building shortcut that’s become inherent to the genre. But the problem with this is that while the male character (and they are nearly always male by default) benefits from this dynamic by having his big, brooding ego balanced with a touch of human emotion, the female character gains nothing other than bearing the weight of the inevitable choice he will have to make between her life and the lives of others. What does it tell you about the value of a female character if she adds more to the narrative in death than in life? Plus, this constant stream of stories that use violence against women as a plot device harmfully perpetuates the real-world stereotype of women as helpless victims and men as their patriarchal saviors.

Any writer that reduces Lois Lane down to little more than human Kryptonite thoroughly misrepresents her rich 75-year history as an important pop cultural icon to women. I can only wait and hope that Snyder’s future Justice League movies treat her a little better than just a sacrificial lamb with a reporter’s badge. In the immortal words of Kate Beaton (of Hark, a Vagrant fame): “If Lois isn’t super rad all the time, then I don’t even want to hear about it.”


See also at Bitch Flicks: The Women of ‘Man of Steel’ and the Toxicity of Hyper-Masculinity; ‘Man of Steel’: Wonderful Women, Super Masculinity


Hannah Collins is a London-born writer and illustrator fascinated by the intersection between pop/visual culture and feminism. Her interest in the movement grew during her time studying Fine Art & Creative Writing at Lancaster University where she discovered writers and artists such as Laura Mulvey, Orlan, Marina Abramovic and Donna Haraway, who opened her eyes to the huge significance – often detrimentally – that the artifice of gender plays in our culture and society. In particular, Haraway’s Cyberfeminist Manifesto linking gender to science fiction had such an impact on her that she constructed the bulk of her dissertation around it. On the blogging scene, Hannah has attracted over 1 million readers to her blog on gender representation in pop culture. By day, she is currently a freelance illustrator for children’s books and comics, and by night (and any other available hour) she contributes to the Cosmic Anvil and Fanny Pack blogs, as well as her own.

Women-Directed Films at the East End Film Festival in the UK

We love to highlight and showcase the work of women filmmakers here at Bitch Flicks. Here are all 17 of the women-directed films you should check out at the 2016 East End Film Festival in London.

We love to highlight and showcase the work of women filmmakers here at Bitch Flicks. If you’re in the London area, here are 17 narrative and documentary films directed by women that you should check out at the East End Film Festival.

One of the UK’s largest film festivals,” the East End Film Festival runs from June 23rd through July 1st. Their mission “is to discover, support, and exhibit pioneering work by global and local independent filmmakers, and to introduce viewers to innovative and challenging cinematic experiences.” Here are all of the women-directed films screening at the festival.


Adult Life Skills

Adult Life Skills
Director: Rachel Tunnard
June 24, 6:30pm | Hackney Picturehouse

“This witty, moving debut finds Anna (a career-best Jodie Whittaker) hiding out in her mum’s garden shed. Making hilarious home movies, her isolation is a coping mechanism in the face of grief. But her family, friends and the rebellious child next door won’t let her cut herself off forever. A hilarious, heartfelt ode to moving on from Rachel Tunnard, an important new voice in British film, this won the Nora Ephron Prize at the Tribeca Film Festival.”


Sonita

Sonita
Director: Rokhsareh Ghaemmaghami
June 25, 4:00pm | Genesis Cinema

“A story of conservative society, furious rhymes and mic drops, Rokhsareh Ghaem Maghami’s extraordinary film follows Sonita Alizadeh, a young female Afghan refugee living in Iran, who rejects an arranged marriage in order to pursue a life making rap music. Standing up to conservative traditions and challenging assumptions, her dream of emulating Rihanna goes down like a lead balloon with her mother. But this self-possessed would be pop star isn’t going to let that stop her.”


Love Is Thicker Than Water

Love Is Thicker Than Water
Directors: Emily Harris and Ate de Jong
June 25, 6:30pm | Rich Mix

“Taking its cue from Romeo and Juliet, Love Is Thicker Than Water is a tale of lovers from different sides of the tracks. Vida comes from a well to do London family, whereas Arthur is a bike messenger from a working-class Welsh mining town. Utterly in love, their relationship is nevertheless tested when their wildly different families and social circles collide, leading them to question whether they are truly meant to be together. A sensitive, quirky tale of romance interspersed with lovely animated sequences, this collaboration between Emily Harris (Paragraph, EEFF 2015) and Ate de Jong (Drop Dead Fred), is a touching take on romantic love and whether it can trump familial bonds.”


Half Way

Half Way
Director: Daisy-May Hudson
June 26, 1:00pm | Rich Mix

Half Way chronicles the life of a normal family living in Epping forced into homelessness after being evicted from their house, going from one hostel to another as they wait for a new home from the council, during Britain’s exploding housing crisis. Filmed over a period of a year by the eldest daughter of the family, this immersive documentary is a powerful personal story and a moving insight into the struggles and the Kafkian experience of dealing with the merciless housing bureaucracy that thousands of families in Britain are fighting against today.”


Motherland

Motherland
Director: Senem Tüzen
June 26, 3:45pm | Rio Cinema

“Nesrin flees her job, her home and her crumbling marriage, leaving Istanbul for the plains of Anatolia to finally realise her dream of becoming a writer. But when her conservative, unstable mother arrives in the village, her idyllic vision of her new existence begins to crumble. As the walls close in, and the parental relationship becomes increasingly unhinged, her mother gets closer to the religiously conservative neighbours, and it’s all going to come to a nasty head. A terrifically wrought, potent metaphor for the schisms of modern Turkey.”


The Lure

The Lure
Director: Agnieszka Smoczynska
June 26, 4:00pm | Hackney Picturehouse

“The year’s best (only?) horror mermaid musical, this utterly unique debut is an alluring fairy tale about two sisters who emerge from the sea, and head straight for a Warsaw nightclub. Embracing their new life as cabaret stars, their symbiosis is threatened when one of them falls for a dashing musician, and they may have to return to the sea, or suffer bloody consequences. A brilliantly entertaining, wacky maiden effort, with killer tunes. ”


Mariam

Mariam
Director: Faiza Ambah
June 27 6:30pm | Genesis Cinema

“Saudi Arabian journalist Faiza Ambah’s debut film is a poignant insight into the issues facing a young Muslim woman growing up in a Western country. It’s 2004 in France and a new law has recently been passed banning religious symbols in schools, including the hijab. For Mariam, a young teenager who has recently begun wearing the veil after returning from pilgrimage in Mecca with her grandmother, this means an agonising and unfair choice between continuing her studies and retaining an important part of her religious identity. Pressure from her father to conform to French law and attention from a young boy who admires her determination complicates this situation further. Will she continue to resist external pressures and in so doing put her education at risk, or find a way to please authority whilst staying true to herself?”


My Feral Heart

My Feral Heart
Director: Jane Gull
June 28, 6:30pm | Genesis Cinema

“Luke, an independent young man with Down’s syndrome, is grieving the loss of his elderly mother when he is forced to move into a care home. Initially despondent about his new home, his spirits are soon raised when he finds a way to sneak out and explore the local countryside. And when he meets a girl in need of his help, his desire to connect and protect another person gives him a new lease of life. A moving story of the importance of embracing life and people, featuring a brilliant turn from newcomer Steven Brandon.”


National Bird

National Bird
Director: Sonia Kennebeck
June 28, 6:30pm | Hackney Picturehouse

“The people damaged by helping to conduct America’s drone war speak out in National Bird, a disturbing new documentary executive produced by Wim Wenders and Errol Morris. Heather, Daniel and Lisa are former operatives in the U.S. Air Force’s predator programme. Having previously conducted America’s unmanned war before turning whistle-blower, all are suffering from various levels of trauma, government surveillance, and the outright threat of jail. Director Sonia Kennebeck’s film tracks their stories as they battle PTSD, legal trouble and, in one case, an eye opening trip to Afghanistan. What emerges is a disturbing portrait of a nation detached from what it means to protect its citizens, or other people’s. And in its drone footage sweeping over the landscapes of America, its warnings for the future are only too clear.”


Los Punks: We Are All We Have

Los Punks: We Are All We Have
Director: Angela Boatwright
June 29, 7:00pm | Genesis Cinema

“Take a trip into the backyards of South Central and East Los Angeles in Los Punks: an intimate documentary exploring a homegrown DIY community of bands, skaters and resolute togetherness. Angela Boatwright’s debut finds a scene four-decades old, but in rude health; uniting young people who often feel unwelcome in the ‘mainstream,’ providing a fruitful breeding ground for Latino punk and a conscious, active community, often in the face of poverty and violence.”


And Then I Was French

And Then I Was French
Director: Claire Leona Apps
June 29, 9:00pm | Genesis Cinema

“A thriller about a young woman’s journey of self-discovery, that takes a dangerous direction as she struggles to escape the agony of unrequited love. Cara is a massage student, tucked away in the heart of the English countryside. When charismatic American Jay joins her class, Cara is instantly smitten, despite her best friend’s reservations. Jay is under the influence of his egotistical brother Matt and is swallowed into a world of parties and beautiful people in East London; when he meets the gorgeous Parisian Natasha, he is convinced it is love. When news reaches Cara, it triggers a transformation to become beautiful and sophisticated, just like the French. But are her intentions towards Jay still pure?”


Strike a Pose

Strike a Pose
Directors: Ester Gould and Reijer Zwaan
June 30, 6:30pm | Rio Cinema

“When seven young male dancers were plucked from the New York drag-ball scene to appear in Madonna’s ‘Vogue’ music video, they never could have envisaged what life had in store for them. Embarking on the 1990 Blonde Ambition Tour, they would become global icons for the gay community, making vogueing a global phenomenon and forming a kind of surrogate family with the Queen of Pop, as seen in the movie In Bed with Madonna (1991). Revisiting their stories 25 years on, Strike a Pose is open, emotional retelling of the highs of fame and stardom, and the hardships of dealing with the fall once it’s all over.”


As I Open My Eyes

As I Open My Eyes
Director: Leyla Bouzid
June 30, 8:45pm | Rich Mix

“Tunisia in the months leading up to the Jasmine Revolution provides the backdrop to As I Open My Eyes, a tale of rebellious youth and rock n’ roll. Eighteen year old Farah is being pressured to become a doctor by her family. But what she really wants is to sing in her band, get drunk with her friends and experience the dramas of life in Tunis’ underground music scene. Described as the best fictional film yet made about the Arab Spring, Leyla Bouzid’s debut is a humane portrait of the counterculture in a conservative society, with incredible songs and serious heart.”


The Blue Wave

The Blue Wave
Directors: Zeynep Dadak and Merve Kayan
July 2, 1:30pm | Rio Cinema

“Zeynep Dadak and Merve Kayan impressive debut sees Deniz return from holiday to the provincial city of Balıkesir, immediately falling back into her old life, gossiping with her friends, caring for her rebellious younger sister, and crushing on high school heartthrob Kaya and guidance counselor Ferat. A perfectly realised view of the impulsive seachanges of hormonal teenage life, where both nothing and everything happens all at once, and million miles from the Turkey seen in most festival exports.”


Credible Likeable Superstar Role Model

Credible Likeable Superstar Role Model
Director: Rebecca Brand
July 2, 1:30pm | Hackney Picturehouse

“A self-described ‘pop-u-mentary’, Credible Likeable Superstar Role Model follows lauded performance artist Bryony Kimmings and her 10-year old niece Taylor as they collaborate on Kimmings’ latest show, an attempt to battle against the hypersexualised world of pop music. As they do so, Bryony and Taylor solidify their bond, travel the world, pique the attention of the press, and try to create an alternative popstar for the Tween generation. An inspiring story of togetherness and creativity.”


Undocument

Undocument
Directors: Amin Bakhshian and Kyla Simone Bruce
July 2, 8:30pm | Rich Mix

“The story of a journey across three continents, this incredibly personal drama bears witness to the complex daily dilemmas faced by illegal immigrants. Following a variety of women attempting to give their children a better future away from the hardships of their homeland, this crowdfunded film was shot in Iran, Greece and London, with much of the film taking place in the East End. The human face of a politicised issue, about people, not numbers.”


Golden Dawn: A Personal Affair

Golden Dawn: A Personal Affair
Director: Angelique Kourounis
July 3, 5:30pm | Rich Mix

“‘My partner is a Jew, my son gay, my other son an anarchist and I am a left-wing feminist. The only question in case Golden Dawn comes to power is, which wagon are we going to ride.’ So begins a journalist’s trawl through the depths of Greece’s neo-Nazi party, their extraordinary rise and how so many Greeks have been won over by their cause. A delve into the mind of the Nazi next door.”


‘Carnival of Souls’ and the Mysteries of the Insubordinate Woman

What is so terribly “weird and unnatural” … about Mary? While writer/director Herk Harvey and writer John Clifford may not have intended to make Mary a subversive woman, she certainly was in a few ways. … Keep in mind, her actions and her situation are supposed to be terrifying. Only because she was presumed to be dead could she act in ways “unfit” for a woman. Uncoupled, hardhearted, curt, and curious.

Carnival of Souls

This guest post written by Marlana Eck originally appeared at Awaiting Moderation. It is cross-posted with permission. | Spoilers ahead.


I’ve been watching 1962’s Carnival of Souls recurrently with rapt attention since I was a teen. My stepdad had a DVD box set which included Carnival along with The Last Man on Earth and House on Haunted Hill.

Notice the representative art work for both The Last Man on Earth and House on Haunted Hill. The Last Man on Earth, for instance, shows Vincent Price in the background with a decidedly active and intelligent glare. In the fore, we see the negative space of a woman’s spirit with her fully illustrated, sexualized body helplessly laid out on the margin credits.

House on Haunted Hill poster and The Last Man on Earth poster

In the art work for House on Haunted Hill, we see a woman in a yellow dress hanging in a noose situated in the middle of the film advertisement, and in the bottom left corner we see the severed head of a woman held by Vincent Price.

In both posters, Price is the master of his universe.

Now I love me some Vincent Price. However, looking critically, I see the limited agency of the female figures in the representative art work as a snippet of larger culture. Horror calls to mind the repressed, the subconscious. It is fascinating that the art of both of these film posters show sacrificial women. As Pierre Bourdieu sums up in “Cultural Reproduction and Social Reproduction”: structures reproduce themselves, and these posters show us how female bodies are treated within the context of our culture.

There were several promotional film posters used for Carnival of Souls, but the one on the boxed set was the commissioned illustration which showed a woman (Mary Henry as we learn, played by Candace Hilligoss) with the straps of her white top falling off (pretty sure half nipple hanging out) and leg out almost up to her hip, centered. On the left-hand bottom corner there is the “floating head” of “The Man” (as he is billed in the credits) styled after the main terrorizing apparition in Carnival, played by the film’s director, Herk Harvey.

Carnival of Souls poster

As I go on in my interpretation, I hear a 1989 interview with the film’s writer, John Clifford, echoing in my mind. In an endearing Midwestern twang he said, “We just wanted to make a horror movie with some pizzazz.” Herk Harvey implied people have granted the film more meaning than they originally intended. I am aware, then, that perhaps the subversive tenants of the film were not intentionally engineered and may have been subliminal on the part of the creators.

The film begins with a cryptic portrayal of misogyny: a car full of men challenge a car full of women to a drag race, which was quite popular in our nation’s history post WWII as it emphasized a leisurely freedom loving and equally destructive America.

The men run the women off the road as we fear most of them have plunged to their death.

After the crash, the police question one of the men who challenged the car of women to the drag race. He lies and says “It wasn’t our fault. We were the first ones on the bridge, coming along, following the track, and they wanted to get around us I guess and they lost control and they dropped off…”

A crowd of select townspeople watch as the police fish for the missing car. This scene is riveting, if only for the audience of onlookers being 100% men, young and old.

Yet, hours later as the women’s car is exhumed, there is one woman who just won’t die: Candace Hilligoss’s character, Mary Henry. She famously trudges up from the mud, seemingly unharmed. We are unclear how long she was underwater, how she survived, or if she is even really alive (this is a horror flick, after all). It is this iconic picture that starts us off.

Mary could easily represent a critique of wartime post-traumatic stress disorder; Herk Harvey was a veteran himself opting out of the Navy and going into theater after his service in WWII.

Mary tries to resume her life, but irritates others with her insouciance.

Hilligoss trained with Lee Strasberg (in New York City where her cohort included Marilyn Monroe). Carnival of Souls was one of her only forays into film, she was mainly a stage actress. Hilligoss has a keen sense for the macabre, an edginess that I find so badass. This is part of her supposed supernaturalness.

In one of the first scenes where we learn more about Mary’s life, we observe she is a talented organist who has decided to take a job out in Utah. The priest says goodbye to her and tells her the ole, “If you’re ever in town again, stop by.” Not one for niceties, Mary says, “I don’t know if I’m ever coming back.” After she walks out the priest confides in one of his bros, “I don’t know about that girl [sic]…a few days ago she survived an accident. You’d think she’d feel a little something like humbleness or gratitude.”

A looming thought is: so, Mary is walking about “dead.” What does it mean to be a “living” woman?

What is so terribly “weird and unnatural” (to use the verbiage from one of Carnival of Soul’s promotional taglines) about Mary? The film investigates metaphysical uncertainties in the mind of this young church organist. Does she have a soul? Why doesn’t she connect with others the way she is supposed to?

Carnival of Souls

Partly, I think Mary is simply a byproduct of all that was negative about the boom of consumer culture in the 1950s and 60s. The dissonance Mary displays can be attributed to the confusion of women not being as liberated as they thought they’d be by “going to work.” She is continually haunted by “The Man,” a ghoul who represents all she will become (dead, laborer).

When she spurns the advances of her voyeur housemate, John, (a classic “I’M JUST A NICE GUY!”) who frequently watches her bathing and dressing, she then deals with being “the bitch.” Interestingly, she doesn’t reject John on the basis of religious protestation (as maybe you’d think was her orientation as a church organist). She says, “The church is just a place of business.” This is quintessential Mary Henry. She tells John (essentially), “K, you have to leave now, I want to go shopping.” It is only during this time in the film do we see her look as if she is in love as she swoons. But it’s love for shopping, not John.

Carnival of Souls

There are several scenes in the film where she is in public places and people don’t see her at all. She feels invisible, alienated. The ghouls, her subconscious fears, always see her though, especially “The Man.”

One of these scenes is in a department store. She goes in to try on a dress in a chipper mood. All of a sudden there are dreamy glitch squiggles on the screen and Mary snaps back into her post-accident self. She panics and runs out of the dressing room screaming that no one sees her. No one really sees her. I feel you, Mary.

Mary talks to a male analyst who tells her everything she’s been experiencing has been her imagination. Yes, she may have PTSD, but we know there is something else going on with Mary, and so does she.

Carnival of Souls

The amount of mansplaining Mary has to face in this film is incredible. Candace Hilligoss’s exquisite portrayal of resistance and apathy inspires me to do Mystery Science Theater style voiceovers of key scenes. For instance her supervisor, the priest, says, “But, my dear, you cannot live in isolation from the human race,” to which Mary, in my head, responds, “WATCH ME, G.”

It’s also fun to caption her with postmodern endearments, like “Dafuq?” in the photo below.

Carnival of Souls

While Harvey and Clifford may not have intended to make Mary a subversive woman, she certainly was in a few ways. Much like Jill Lepore does in The Secret History of Wonder Woman, I look at Harvey and Clifford’s work of male gaze through my female gaze. Unlike William Marston’s Wonder Woman, Mary Henry was never meant to be a hero of this story. Keep in mind, her actions and her situation are supposed to be terrifying. Only because she was presumed to be dead could she act in ways “unfit” for a woman.

Uncoupled, hardhearted, curt, and curious. Many have compared the story of Carnival of Souls to Ambrose Bierce’s short story “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” where the protagonist, Confederate soldier Farquhar, imagines the noose around his neck at his execution does not kill him and he instead escapes by swimming upstream to find his wife and children. This fantasy of being able to escape pending actions of justice is similar to Mary’s conundrum.

Carnival of Souls

Mary is not able to live out her fantasy of embodying the detachment she feels as a “real life” experience. What traumas may she have faced while alive? We are introduced to a variety of scenarios, all of which many woman deal with regularly: leering, mansplaining, male-based research and psychoanalysis, accusations of “hysteria,” spiritual guilt. In the final shot of the film, we notice the car is exhumed once more, and Mary is still inside of it, dead, unable to work through her traumas as a living, insubordinate woman.


Marlana Eck is a scholar, writer, and educator from Easton, Pennsylvania. Her writing has appeared in The Chronicle of Higher Education, Raging Chicken Press,Hybrid Pedagogy, San Diego Free Press, Cultured Vultures, Lehigh Valley Vanguard, and Rag Queen Periodical. At the latter two publications she serves as director. In her free time she enjoys horticulture and overestimating the efficacy of her dance moves in the living room mirror. Follow her on Twitter at @marlanaesquire.

The Strange Case of the Hidden Female Director

What links the following films? ‘City of God,’ ‘Turbo Kid,’ ‘Slumdog Millionaire,’ ‘The Act of Killing’ and ‘Moomins on the Riviera.’ They all have women directors in their directorial teams. … Why did many of us think the movies were directed by men? If they received awards recognition, why were the men the only ones awarded?

Girl with camera via Pixabay

This guest post written by Bethany Ainsworth-Coles is an edited version of a post that originally appeared at Tonight We Are Dinosaurs. It is cross-posted with permission.


What links the following films?

City of God, Turbo Kid, Slumdog Millionaire, The Act of Killing and Moomins on the Riviera. Got it? They all have women directors in their directorial teams. This leads to some big questions. Why didn’t we know these female directors were on the team? Why did many of us think the movies were directed by men? If they received awards recognition, why were the men the only ones awarded? Can these films be considered for the #52FilmsByWomen challenge? What happened to these women directors and why were they forgotten?

To answer these questions I needed to write more questions.

Of our original list of films, we need to split them into two sections.

Hidden Female Director movies

Team 1:

  • Slumdog Millionaire directed by Danny Boyle and co-directed by Loveleen Tandan
  • The Act of Killing directed by Joshua Oppenheimer, co-directed by Christine Cynn, and co-directed by Anonymous
  • City of God directed by Fernando Meirelles and co-directed by Kátia Lund
  • Moomins in the Riviera directed by Xavier Picard and co-directed by Hanna Hemillä.

 

But then we are left with just Turbo Kid and I wanted the categories to be even. So let’s add a few more titles to Team 2.

Hidden Female Director movies 2

Team 2:

  • Turbo Kid directed by RKSS (François Simard, Anouk Whisell, and Yoann-Karl Whisell). RKSS is the super funky cool name of radical directorial cool cats Road Kill Super Stars.
  • Little Miss Sunshine directed by Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris
  • Ruby Sparks directed by Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris
  • Nim’s Island directed by Jennifer Flackett and Mark Levin

 

Now with this in place we can start working this out.

So what’s the difference between the films in Team 1 and Team 2?

Co-Directors vs Teams.

Team 1 you may notice uses co-directors instead of directorial teams. Often this is due to eligibility in festivals, competitions, and associations. The Directors Guild of America (DGA) will not allow more than one director to direct a film as they have a one director per film policy. However, there are some notable exceptions for a “bona fide team,” including the Coen’s, Wachowski’s, and Valerie Faris & Jonathan Dayton, who we will get to later. The DGA also makes exceptions for “multi-storied” films and multilingual films. This DGA’s policy led to Robert Rodriguez dropping out of the DGA to make Sin City as they would not make an exception and allow co-directing credits for Frank Miller due to lack of experience.

Notably, the DGA does not recognize co-directors. At all. Sometimes filmmakers get around this by putting the co-director somewhere else in the credits as well and giving them another title, such as a producer. As mentioned earlier, the rule is sometimes let through for teams but not very often.

The Academy Awards also do not recognize co-directors with regards to award nominations.

What does that mean for the co-directors?

Mostly this means that people don’t know about them. Although sometimes, certain awards and competitions do give them recognition, such as the AFI Audience Award and Washington DC Area Film Critics Association who gave recognition to both Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund for City of God. Sadly, these awards and competitions that recognize co-directors are few and far between. Meirelles went on to make The Constant Gardner and Blindness. Lund directed some TV, including the series (fdp) and City of Men (where she once again collaborated with Meirelles). She is only just back to filmmaking; this time with new documentary Miratus.

Okay, so you’ve talked about Lund. Where are the other women co-directors now? Do they have other movies that I can support?

Loveleen Tandan, the co-director of Slumdog Millionaire, was awarded alongside Danny Boyle with the New York Film Critics Online Award for Best Director. Currently on her IMDB page, there are no new credits since Slumdog Millionaire other than a Thanks in short film The Road Home from 2010.

The Act of Killing co-director Christine Cynn collaborated again with Joshua Oppenheimer on The Look of Silence, this time as an additional Camera and she was credited with a Very Special Thanks. Cynn recently directed and co-produced the upcoming documentary Shooting Ourselves.

Hanna Hemillä was credited not just as co-director (and sometimes director) but as a writer and producer of Moomins on the Riviera. She has quite the catalog of work, especially as a producer, and undoubtedly she will continue to make more films.

So can we count Team 1 and Team 2 movies for the #52FilmsByWomen challenge?

I’d argue yes. These films are directed by a woman. There may be a man on the directorial team but I don’t think that should take away from the women directors’ work. I think it’s very important to give them recognition for the work they did, especially as many organizations won’t. So tell people, write about them. Don’t forget the female co-directors and teams and find others that have been forgotten and if you like the movie sing their praises and follow their career!


Recommended reading:
Why Not Quit the Director’s Guild? by Daniel Engber at Slate
What the Hell is a Co-Director Anyway? by Melissa Silverstein at The Huffington Post
And the Winner Isn’t… by Alex Bellos at The Guardian
DGA page 14 Section 1-301. Definition of Employees Recognised

*Thank you to Disqus user Dodo for the inspiration behind this post.


Bethany Ainsworth-Coles is a writer from England who enjoys overanalyzing things and watching movies. She can be found over at her blog Tonight We Are Dinosaurs or on Twitter @wierdbuthatsok.

‘Hooligan Sparrow’ Touches on Topics of Fame and Notoriety in Activism

The documentary, from director Nanfu Wang, follows Chinese activist Ye Haiyan (aka Hooligan Sparrow) as she protests the lack of prosecution in a child sexual abuse case and suffers retaliatory harassment, surveillance, and imprisonment. … ‘Hooligan Sparrow’ is, both intentionally and unintentionally, about the legends that activists build for themselves.

Hooligan Sparrow

Written by Katherine Murray. | Hooligan Sparrow is screening at the Human Rights Watch Film Festival.

[Trigger warning: discussion of rape and sexual assault]


There’s a lot going on in Hooligan Sparrow. The documentary, from director Nanfu Wang, follows Chinese activist Ye Haiyan (aka Hooligan Sparrow) as she protests the lack of prosecution in a child sexual abuse case and suffers retaliatory harassment, surveillance, and imprisonment. The film is full of scenes where strangers who may be plain-clothes police officers threaten to break Wang’s camera, or where the footage shows her running feet, the ground, or the stairs while people shout threatening things in the background. She breathlessly explains to us that she’s had to go into hiding, that she can’t use any form of travel requiring an ID or credit card and that her friends have warned her that the police are asking questions about her.

The issues that Sparrow and her associates (including lawyer Wang Yu, who has been indefinitely detained as of the film’s release), protest are important and well-explained. Sparrow first came to prominence when she began protesting the criminalization of sex work through a stunt where she publically declared that she would prostitute herself for free. In the film, she protests a high-profile sexual abuse case, in which a school principal allegedly abducted several of his female students and forced them to have sex with government officials. After first denying that any sex took place, the defence begins to argue that the girls accepted money in exchange for sex, which would reduce the charge to child prostitution rather than rape, and carry a much lighter sentence. Sparrow and Yu explain that this is a common tactic in Chinese courts – to cover up rape by claiming it was prostitution instead.

Although their cause is just, Sparrow and Wang, who becomes increasingly involved in the action even as she documents it, also carry a certain cloud of ego and drama into their work. It’s the same cloud of ego and drama that follows many full-time activists all over the world, and there have been very few explorations of what it means. It’s entirely possible to both try to make the world a better place and like being the center of attention, but there’s definitely a tension that plays out between those two things.

For example, there’s a scene late in the film where Wang is finally able to interview the father of one of the sexual abuse victims. He reveals that he avoided engaging with them earlier because the only thing he knew about Sparrow was that she’d done a stunt where she said she’d have sex for free. It seems like he doesn’t know or understand what she was trying protest – the protest didn’t draw his attention to the dangers faced by sex workers due to criminalization; it just drew attention to Sparrow. And it actually made him less interested in seeing her as a potential ally, even though they were on the same side.

As Wang narrates the film, after the fact, she also seems to take a certain amount of pleasure in how people were always trying to shut down her film. I don’t doubt at all that she was scared when she was running from violent mobs, or thought she was about to be arrested and detained by the police. But it’s telling that the story, which is supposedly about the persecution that Sparrow is facing, is framed by an incident where someone wrestled Wang’s camera away from her. Definitely scary. Definitely uncool. Kind of throwing the attention on herself rather than either the sexual abuse trial or the activist she’s been profiling.

Hooligan Sparrow 2

Hooligan Sparrow is, both intentionally and unintentionally, about the legends that activists build for themselves. It’s about the notoriety that Sparrow receives, the unfair persecution, the harassment, the shunning – being left on the side of the road with her daughter and all their belongings – an incident that later becomes the subject of an art exhibit from Ai Weiwei. But it’s also about why she’s called Hooligan Sparrow. It’s about fame. It’s about glory. It’s about yelling really loud in front of a bunch of other people, and then congratulating yourself and kind of forgetting about it.

It’s not clear from the film whether Sparrow’s protest actually had much impact on the outcome of the trial – it’s not clear whether it made the victims feel supported; it’s not clear whether it changed anyone’s mind. I think it’s important for activists to publicly demonstrate that there are people who don’t agree with what’s going on, even if it doesn’t change anyone’s mind, but the film isn’t focused on whether Sparrow’s work has any impact on anyone else. It also doesn’t delve into the kind of investigative journalism that would uncover what’s happening in China’s rape and sexual assault trials, how systemic government corruption has become, or how the government (allegedly) tries to silence protesters.

On the flip side, the film also doesn’t fully commit to a narrative about Nanfu Wang’s journey as documentarian, even though she becomes a more and more active participant as the story goes on. There’s no strong sense of how this experience changed her, or what the role of gonzo journalism is in helping to bring freedom of speech and expression to China. There’s an interesting subplot in the film, where one of Sparrow’s followers seems to become interested in journalism after meeting Wang and takes up the mantle of “documenting the atrocities” on camera after she’s gone – it’s a subplot I would have like to have seen explored more.

I also wish the film had delved deeper into the subplot about how technology has made it harder for the government to make people disappear. The protesters in Hooligan Sparrow tape messages whenever they fear they’re about to be arrested, explaining that, if they die in custody it will not be because they killed themselves, imploring people to look for them if they go missing, and explaining how their disappearance may be linked to participation in political protests. It’s the same principle that led Ai Weiwei to tweet a photo of himself being arrested, and a form of action that may hold real promise for political change.

Wang’s adrenaline-fueled attempt to get through the summer without losing her camera makes for an engaging story, but it isn’t always clear that what she’s captured on the camera exposes new information or reveals the path to increased human rights in China.


Sparrow’s fellow activist, Wang Yu was arrested along with several other human rights lawyers in 2015 and, as of the film’s release, had been held without trial since. The filmmakers have set up a page with information on Wang Yu’s detention by Chinese authorities as well as suggestions for how to take action. Yu is also one of the women identified in the US government’s #freethe20 campaign.


Katherine Murray is a Toronto-based writer who yells about movies, TV and video games on her blog.

‘Ovarian Psycos’ Highlights the Reasons We Still Need to Take Back the Night

The Ovarian Psycos is a cycling club for women of color in East Lost Angeles that’s a lot like Take Back the Night. Its purpose is to build a sense of community between local women, but also to draw attention to the fact that women aren’t safe unless they travel in packs. … [Directed by Kate Trumbull-LaValle and Johanna Sokolowski] the film captures something true and beautiful about the power of grassroots organizing, and the idea that regular people can band together and try to create change.

Ovarian Psycos

Written by Katherine Murray. | Ovarian Psycos is screening at the Human Rights Watch Film Festival


A few years ago, I went to a Take Back the Night rally and experienced the joy of walking down a street after dark without feeling afraid. I’ve come to understand how that sounds weird to some men, but almost every woman I know, including me, has at least one story about trying to walk from point A to point B after sundown and being harassed by a stranger. Even in cases where the stranger didn’t do anything violent, we had no way of knowing whether or not he would. It’s not a good sign when someone starts chasing you and won’t back off when you tell him to leave you alone. It makes you scared, and it makes you angry. It makes you think, “Why don’t I have the right to walk two blocks in peace, without having to worry that you’re going to rape me or kill me?”

The Ovarian Psycos is a cycling club for women of color in East Lost Angeles that’s a lot like Take Back the Night. Its purpose is to build a sense of community between local women, but also to draw attention to the fact that women aren’t safe unless they travel in packs. The club hosts several different events, but the ones that get the most attention are the ones where women meet to ride through LA streets at night.

A new documentary from Kate Trumbull-LaValle and Johanna Sokolowski follows the club during a transition in leadership, when one of the founders, Xela, abruptly drops out. Although focus is split between three club members, Xela is arguably the principle character, and the filmmakers spend time uncovering her back story and motivations for starting the club. We learn that she experienced violence and abuse growing up, and felt alone with no one to confide in except a mother who rejected her feelings. Xela wants her daughter to feel like she’s part of a community, with other women in her life who she can turn to, so she started to Ovas, but it seems like engaging with violence against women on a regular basis stirs up memories that are, at times, overwhelming.

The other two members profiled in the film are Andi, who steps up as leader after Xela drops out, and Evie, a new recruit whose mother disapproves of her joining a bike club. Each of them struggles separately with how to make their families understand why this is important and how to make a difference in the community.

As events play out, it’s interesting to watch the internal dynamics of the club – the meetings where they make decisions about recruitment strategies and events are extremely democratic and sometimes emotionally charged – and the filmmakers do a good job of capturing the hard-to-articulate truth that we need to support and protect each other, and that being able to move freely through the streets is a right that’s been stolen from us.

Ovarian Psycos

Ovarian Psycos is structured so that we learn about the purpose and mission of the club before finding out how people on the street react to it, and it’s a little disappointing to learn that the group gets slammed with hateful, ignorant comments on a regular basis. The filmmakers interview a handful of people outside the club, some of whom are completely okay with a bike club for women of color, but they also find one man who works at a bike shop and manages to whitesplain why their club shouldn’t exist (it’s discrimination and not actually in the tradition of the Chicano movement). This is later challenged by a scene where Xela concisely explains intersectionality and how, as a woman of color, it’s hard to find a place in either white feminist or patriarchal Chicano contexts. And, while I’m bummed out that I wouldn’t be able to join this club, I can’t really argue with her logic about why it needs to exist.

What’s frustrating, as ever, is the realization that some people have been able to live their whole lives without realizing that this is a problem. Either because they’ve always been able to walk from point A to point B, or because they’re used to the idea that men attack women like jackals whenever they find us alone. That isn’t a mindset that’s helping anyone – it reduces men to predatory animals and implies that there’s no way to make gender-based violence stop – but it’s the mindset you find whenever someone says, “Why do you need a bike club for women at all?”

Ovarian Psycos answers the question of why you need a bike club for women, and specifically, in East LA, why you need a bike club for women of color. One of the less-explored, but very interesting aspects of the club is that Xela and some of the other members seem to have a desire to reconnect with pre-colonial indigenous Mexican traditions. I’ll confess my own ignorance and say that it never occurred to me that would be an important part of Latinx identity, but it makes complete sense, and I would happily watch another documentary just about that.

All together, the film captures something true and beautiful about the power of grassroots organizing, and the idea that regular people can band together and try to create change. The frustration of being misunderstood and misrepresented in media is part of the package, but there is a real sense that these women have found something meaningful in this club and formed strong connections. They have the opportunity to be leaders, and it’s an opportunity that they created for themselves out of virtually nothing.

There are still people who’ll say, “How is riding your bike at night supposed to do anything for women’s rights?” but it does a lot if it reminds you what it feels like to be free, and how far we have to go before we get there.


Katherine Murray is a Toronto-based writer who yells about movies, TV and video games on her blog.

‘Inside the Chinese Closet’ Highlights the Need for Social Acceptance of LGBTQ People in China and Globally

Often, when we talk about LGBTQ rights, we focus on legal battles – criminalization, marriage equality, adoption, and civil rights – but Sophia Luvara’s new documentary reminds us that social acceptance and cultural attitudes are just as important. ‘Inside the Chinese Closet’ follows Andy and Cherry, a gay man and a lesbian woman who struggle to reconcile their desire to live truthfully with their families’ expectations of them.

ITCC-Andy_Karaoke

Written by Katherine Murray. | Inside the Chinese Closet is screening at the Human Rights Watch Film Festival

Editor’s note: We have used LGBTQ to be inclusive but the documentary only addresses the issues facing gay men and lesbian women.


Often, when we talk about LGBTQ rights, we focus on legal battles – criminalization, marriage equality, adoption, and civil rights – but Sophia Luvara’s new documentary reminds us that social acceptance and cultural attitudes are just as important. Inside the Chinese Closet follows Andy and Cherry, a gay man and a lesbian woman who struggle to reconcile their desire to live truthfully with their families’ expectations of them.

Andy spends time trying to arrange a “fake” heterosexual marriage for himself through an LGBTQ dating service designed for that purpose. When asked what he’s looking for in a fake wife, he says that he wants someone who can be a best friend and that, in the long run, they’ll have to have some kind of love between them if they’re going to live together and raise children. During his conversations with potential matches, they have business-like discussions about who will be expected to do what in the relationship, whether they’re willing to adopt or have children through artificial insemination, and what their parents will want from a potential son or daughter-in-law. In between these exchanges, Andy takes phone calls from his father, who urges him to work harder at finding a wife, and to make more demands of potential candidates.

Cherry is in the process of ending her own fake marriage, and feels pressure from her parents to adopt a child. In China, there’s no legal way for her to adopt as a single parent or as a lesbian woman or lesbian couple, and her mother and father propose an outlandish scheme to buy unwanted babies from the hospital. Cherry says that the only time her father beat her was when he found out she was gay, and we learn from her mother that the neighbors make her feel ashamed for having a child-free daughter. They also contemplate the practical problem of who will take care of Cherry when she’s older, if she doesn’t have any children.

While Chinese laws criminalizing same-sex relationships have relaxed in the past 15 years, and Andy and Cherry are each out to at least one of their parents as well as their friend groups, they struggle with pressure to live up to their parents’ expectations, and to lead their lives as they wish. Even though it’s legal to be LGBTQ now, heteronormative cultural expectations still pathologize and stigmatize queer people by creating the sense that they aren’t living up to their adult responsibilities. It feels like Andy and Cherry are treated and viewed as the Chinese equivalent of American adults who live in their parents’ basements playing video games all day, while their parents urge them to find a job. The question of marriage equality or adoption by LGBTQ couples is so far off the table in China that the only way for Andy and Cherry to start a family, as they’re expected to do as adults, is to pretend to be straight.

ITCC-Father_Cherry_Mother

Inside the Chinese Closet is an uneven film. The subject matter is interesting – and it certainly made me more aware of the nuances of LGBTQ identity in China – but it isn’t always clear why Luvara has chosen to follow these particular individuals. The press materials make it seem as if Andy’s major problem is finding a wife and Cherry’s major problem is finding a child, but it seems like the reverse is really true. As the film goes on, it seems as if Cherry is emotionally isolated, in love with a straight friend who doesn’t love her, and doesn’t actually want to have a child. Her struggle is in getting up the nerve to tell her mother to stop coming up with ridiculous schemes to buy a kid, because she doesn’t want one.

Andy, on the other hand, seems to really want a child. He blames it on his father when he discusses it with potential partners, but, from the way he talks, it sounds like he really would like to be a father. Andy’s biggest problem is that there’s no legal way for a gay man or gay couple to adopt a child in China – his dates with potential wives keep falling through, in part, because he’s afraid that they either won’t agree to have children, or will take the children when they break up with him or move abroad to live with a woman.

Many LGBTQ rights advocates in the U.S. and Canada would agree that the key changes in the last few decades have come not only from legislation but also from a growing acceptance in society of LGBTQ people. Homophobic hate groups have that right – we are promoting the message that it’s okay to be gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer, pansexual, asexual, genderqueer, etc.; having more and more people accept that message has allowed many LGBTQ people to live fuller, more authentic lives. Inside the Chinese Closet is a reminder that, without that kind of social change – which comes slowly, and takes a lot of work – having the legal right to exist is only a small step forward. Andy and Cherry are still blocked from participating in the traditions and social structures they want to be a part of – they’re bombarded with messages that they should have families, but excluded from the joy of building families of their own with the people they love.

Compulsory heterosexuality and heteronormativity are still alive and well, and LGBTQ people still face stigmatization, even in countries with marriage equality. But Luvara’s film shines a light on how heteronormativity operates in an era where gay and lesbian people have enough savvy and technology to arrange fake marriages and cross-border adoptions from the comfort of their own apartments. It makes me wonder whether that’s going to speed up the march of LGBTQ rights in China or slow it even more.


Katherine Murray is a Toronto-based writer who yells about movies, TV and video games on her blog.

‘Starless Dreams’ Offers an Intimate Look at Iran Through Its Juvenile Detention Centers

In ‘Starless Dreams,’ we learn about the lives of teenage girls inside Iran’s juvenile detention centers, but we also learn how director Mehrdad Oskouei attempts to change hearts and minds in his own country. It’s an attempt that’s packaged for his fellow citizens rather than foreigners and, watching the film as an outsider is a complicated, multilayered experience.

Starless Dreams

Written by Katherine Murray. | Starless Dreams is screening at the Human Rights Watch Film Festival.


You can learn a lot about a culture by listening to the way its inhabitants discuss their disagreements – what they do and don’t say; how they couch their arguments; which topics are tacitly understood to be out of bounds. In Starless Dreams, we learn about the lives of teenage girls inside Iran’s juvenile detention centers, but we also learn how director Mehrdad Oskouei attempts to change hearts and minds in his own country. It’s an attempt that’s packaged for his fellow citizens rather than foreigners and, watching the film as an outsider is a complicated, multilayered experience.

The documentary, which has won multiple awards since its release, including the Amnesty International Film Prize, follows a group of girls who live in a correctional center outside Tehran. For the most part, the girls who appear in Starless Dreams could just as well be living in many other parts of the world. The stories they tell are all too familiar – they come from poor families where there faced violence and substance abuse; they got into crime through their husbands or boyfriends; they were molested, raped, or assaulted at some point; their futures look bleak and “pain drips from the walls.”

The detention center is, in some ways, an oasis from a world they don’t want to return to. Living communally in a dormitory-style room, the girls Oskouei interviews laugh, sing, and build snowmen together. They comfort each other and bond over their shared experiences, good and bad. Most are afraid to go back to their families or back to the street when they’re finally released. All of them harbor a dark, painful story about how they got to this place.

One by one, they open up to Oskouei with incredible candor, revealing that the brave face they put on masks a terrible loneliness and pain. They regret what they’ve done and what’s happened to them – what they’ve become because of what’s happened to them – and they speak to the camera as if this is the first time anyone has asked how they feel. Based on what we hear, it may very well be.

Starless Dreams

Oskouei doesn’t interview the guards or correctional workers, but we occasionally hear them speak off-camera, or see them drift across the screen. In one scene, one of the girls who’s just been released, tells a female guard that she’s afraid to go outside and see her father – afraid of what he’ll do, afraid she’ll have to run away again, afraid she’ll get back into drugs. The guard tells her, in a frustrated, exasperated tone, that she’s no longer their responsibility, even if she kills herself.

It’s not a very nice thing to say, but it’s reflective of the way prison systems work in many countries, including Canada and the United States. Prisons aren’t built to address the social, systemic factors that lead people to commit crimes in the first place – they’re just meant to punish criminals and send them on their way. The transition plan we see in Starless Dreams could be described as “putting child abuse victims back in the hands of child abusers,” since the rules require that someone from the detainee’s family come to retrieve her. One of Oskouei’s subjects initially refuses to identify herself because she doesn’t want her family to find her again – she says that she ran away because her uncle molested her and that, when she told her mother, her mother called her a liar and beat her. When she eventually relents and the guards contact her family, an off-camera voice says, “I’ll tell them they have to be nice to you,” which is the kind of intervention that doesn’t help at all.

It’s clear that most of these girls need a social worker more than they need a detention center, but that’s not what the system is equipped to provide them. I understand the guards’ frustration – they can’t be everything to everyone; it’s not their job – but there’s something heartbreaking about the way these girls hope the adults in their lives will help them, only to be disappointed each time. There’s a sense in which Oskouei, who they call “Uncle Mehrdad,” may be the only adult to take a genuine interest in their welfare. While he’s doing important work with this documentary, he also packs up his camera and departs after a few weeks, leaving us with the question of what happens after.

Starless Dreams

There’s a strange scene in the latter half of the film, where the girls are visited by an unidentified religious official. He leads them in prayer and then begins a discussion about “human rights.” We don’t see the whole discussion, but the girls ask him very politely – considering the circumstances – why it is that women have so few rights in Iran. He seems to respond by saying that we can’t do whatever we want in life and need to do what society expects of us. But the record scratch moment for me is when one of the girls, who’s been sentenced to death for killing her abusive father, asks why, if a child kills her father, the child is sentenced to death but, if a father kills his children, it isn’t even a crime.

Starless Dreams doesn’t explain or debate Sharia – or any part of Iran’s judicial system – directly. The problems faced by the girls Oskouei profiles seem – and on some levels, are – universal, but, for a foreign audience, there are occasional reminders that these universal experiences take place in a different social and political context. According to Amnesty International, Iran’s criminal justice system is a terrifying web of torture, mutilation, and execution – sometimes of minors – and women and minorities have few protections under law. Oskouei asked the government to let him make this documentary for seven years, and his stated aim is not to overthrow the judicial system, but to generate a greater feeling of compassion for the girls inside of it. This is how you couch an argument about the prison system in Iran.

One of the truths I’ve learned over the years is that you can’t change someone’s culture from the outside. You can’t do it without speaking the language – not just the literal, actual language of words and sentences and conjugations, but the tacit language; the language where you know how to talk about things within a certain political context. Mehrdad Oskouei speaks Persian better than I do, but I trust that he speaks Iran better than I do, too. Starless Dreams is a much more gentle, and gently melancholy film than I’d expect to see in this context, but maybe it’s the film we need. Maybe it’s one that will actually change the way Iranians see women and girls.

Starless Dreams is screening internationally as part of the Human Rights Watch Film Festival. If you miss the festival, this is a documentary to keep on your list in the upcoming months. It’s isn’t an easy thing to sit with, but it provides a rich entry point into some very complex questions about the state of human rights in Iran and the state of correctional systems internationally.


Katherine Murray is a Toronto-based writer who yells about movies, TV and video games on her blog.

Feminist Survivorship in ’10 Cloverfield Lane’

The protagonist Michelle immediately establishes herself as a survivor of domestic abuse as well as an impressive quick-thinker; she embraces her womanhood both as an essential act of character development and as a means to survive. … Tasha Robinson at ‘The Verge’ posits that the entire film is a metaphor for domestic abuse, as Michelle strategizes, endures, and eventually decides to keep on fighting.

10 Cloverfield Lane

This is a guest post written by Bill Ollayos. | Spoilers ahead. 

[Trigger warning: discussion of domestic abuse and violence]


Dan Trachtenberg’s 2016 directorial debut 10 Cloverfield Lane builds a claustrophobic, apocalyptic narrative from the survival tactics of its three main actors. Tense silences, enclosed spaces, and slow-building suspense artfully construct the piece produced by J. J. Abrams and Lindsey Weber. As the trio works to outlast a mysterious threat that has supposedly overtaken Earth, issues of power and gender simmer throughout the performances of this narrow cast. While I appreciate the overall compactness of the premise, I wonder what footholds exist for feminism in such an intentionally economic work. Can a film of majority male leads and an ensemble of white actors truly receive the “feminist” stamp of approval?

The recent deluge of superhero movies has furthered the critical discourse around sexist tropes in film, a discussion tied closely to the #OscarsSoWhite movement during the 2016 Academy Awards. While Hollywood’s handling of Black Widow throughout the Marvel Cinematic Universe continues to fuel and frustrate feminist scholars, 10 Cloverfield Lane strikes me as more akin to the feminism of Buffy Summers: authentic, gritty and unabashedly feminine. The protagonist Michelle immediately establishes herself as a survivor of domestic abuse as well as an impressive quick-thinker; she embraces her womanhood both as an essential act of character development and as a means to survive.

In 10 Cloverfield Lane, Mary Elizabeth Winstead stars as Michelle, a young woman fleeing from her fiancé, Ben. While distractedly driving away from their home, Michelle crashes her car and falls unconscious, awakening to find herself imprisoned in the underground bunker by Howard (played by John Goodman). Howard describes a global attack that overwhelmed their planet and how he brought Michelle to the bunker to keep her safe. The audience also meets Emmett (John Gallagher, Jr.), a simple yet endearing man who claims to have witnessed the attack before seeking shelter in Howard’s bunker. Michelle does not buy their tales of an alien invasion, instead believing that Howard ran her off the road and then kidnapped her. The audience watches as Michelle wrestles with her distrust of Howard, her uncertainty about the supposed annihilation of humankind, and her residual trauma from the relationship with her fiancé. Tasha Robinson at The Verge posits that the entire film is a metaphor for domestic abuse, as Michelle strategizes, endures, and eventually decides to keep on fighting.

10 Cloverfield Lane

And so enters the essential question – can we consider Michelle a feminist hero? Her feature film barely passes the Bechdel Test, stars only white actors, and was predominately written, directed, and produced by men. If we do accept Michelle’s portrayal of gender as feminist, then does 10 Cloverfield Lane land more solidly in the realm of “white feminism,” or should the narrowness of its premise exempt it from any broader expectations around diversity?

The first ten minutes of the film simultaneously establish Michelle’s victimhood and survivorship, a multifaceted identity that she builds over the next hour and a half. After Michelle tearfully packs her belongings into her car, we see her abandoned engagement ring and overhear a phone call from Ben. “Michelle, please don’t hang up,” he says, “Look, we had an argument, couples fight, that is no reason to just leave everything behind!” When Michelle awakens in Howard’s bunker with her broken leg chained to the wall, only moments pass before she starts using the metal rod holding her IV to reach for her cell phone. When Howard arrives to give her food and crutches, Michelle sharpens the tip of one crutch to a nasty point, starts a fire in the vent to draw Howard’s attention, and attacks him as soon as he enters the room. When Michelle is cornered, she thinks quickly and acts with the self-reliance of one accustomed to overcoming.

The audience is allowed to understand Michelle’s tenacity before the full breadth of her trauma is clear. After another of her escape attempts, she confides in Emmett about the cycle of abuse that permeates her life. “When my dad got that way,” she recalls in reference to a memory from her childhood, “my brother Collin was always there to take the worst of it for me.” In keeping with the tidy nature of the narrative, Michelle’s experiences with domestic abuse are only alluded to, as the script rarely strays from the apocalyptic circumstances of the film. Indeed, the word abuse is never even used throughout the entire movie, with focus instead staunchly placed on the question of an alien invasion and Howard’s possibly murderous tendencies. However, Ben’s references to a “fight” combined with Michelle’s traumatic memories indicate a history to her character beyond what is featured in this plot.

10 Cloverfield Lane

The tightness of the film prevents an in-depth exploration of Michelle’s past. However, her identity as a survivor of abuse still appears through more subtle methods. Howard himself serves to further the abuse metaphor, as his domineering behavior, sensitivity to perceived slights, and commitment to traditional gender roles all match with documented techniques of an abuser. He states that Michelle will “learn to like cooking” and cries, “No touching!” when Emmett grazes her elbow. Additionally, a series of dark clues planted around the bunker indicate that he may have murdered a young girl from Emmett’s class. Howard’s lumbering stance and propensity for aggressive outbursts exude chauvinistic masculinity. Drawing from her resourcefulness and familiarity with such abusive men, Michelle utilizes aspects of her femininity to ensure her own survival.

Michelle’s gender becomes an essential part of her attempts to survive both literally from the apocalyptic context of the film, as well as metaphorically from partner abuse. At her first meal in the bunker, wherein Howard sternly reminds them to “watch [their] language at table,” she hatches a plan to steal the master keys from his belt. She plays off her experiences with similarly abusive men and, anticipating Howard’s jealousy, begins flirting with Emmett during their meal. She giggles, her demeanor suddenly flirtatious, and caresses Emmett’s hand, triggering an immediate explosion from Howard. As he throws himself into her face, asserting his dominance over Michelle, she covertly pilfers his keys. In demonstrating her most salient identity factor, Michelle’s commitment to survival, she tactically uses gender to manipulate her environment and pursue her freedom.

Michelle’s performance of her femininity actually yields the ultimate escape plan. Howard’s regime of traditional gender roles included badgering Michelle to give him stitches, exemplifying the “angel in the house” stereotype of women who sew, heal, and enact other domestic duties. Michelle embraces certain aspects of this socialized regard for womanhood, proudly admitting to her interest in fashion design and spending much of her time in the bunker drawing sketches of apocalyptically chic attire. Once again merging her gender identity with her commitment to survival, she masterminds a plan to sew a biohazard suit that would allow her to enter the supposedly toxic atmosphere beyond the bunker.

10 Cloverfield Lane

The cinematography of the entire film is arguably bent on giving tools to Michelle. The camera rests on a shot of the shower curtain that she will weave into her biohazard suit. Within the first few frames of the film, we see the bottle of alcohol that she will eventually detonate within the belly of an alien beast during the final battle. 10 Cloverfield Lane builds Michelle into a survivor across several planes: as a woman, a victim of abuse, and an Earthling. In the very last scene of the film, Michelle overhears a radio broadcast asking anyone with combat experience to join the remaining human forces in Houston. The audience watches as she turns her now stolen car around and drives toward the meeting point. Her decision allows the many poles of her identity to intersect. By heading to Houston, she is keeping herself engaged with the alien invasion (a symbol for the daily struggle faced by women survivors of domestic violence even after they escape their houses) and bringing her proven survival skills to the aid of the less powerful.

I find Michelle’s cunning nature and decided embrace of femininity as markers of feminism within 10 Cloverfield Lane. Although she only speaks to another woman for several seconds (when neighbor Leslie appears at the door of the bunker and dies after Michelle does not let her in), I believe that the economy of the narrative, which is so critical to the artistry of the film, excuses the underrepresentation of women. I also argue that Michelle’s repeated performances of her gender endorse an overall positive regard for womanhood and, thus, allow me to consider her a feminist hero.

However, I cannot express the same level of comfort when faced with the hegemonic Whiteness of the film. If we speak in terms of cinematic quizzes, though 10 Cloverfield Lane passes the Bechdel Test, it would certainly fail the DuVernay Test for its complete disregard for characters of color. 10 Cloverfield Lane is the second film in this franchise, and its predecessor Cloverfield undoubtedly features more actors of color. Cloverfield also takes place on a much larger scale (the streets of New York instead of an underground bunker), which allowed for the inclusion of more characters and the increase of racial diversity. While the premise of 10 Cloverfield Lane demanded fewer characters, I am not content with overlooking an all white cast. I also do not want to disparage the film with a label of “white feminism” – I wonder how a piece that so creatively handles gender in an intentionally tight script could have engaged race without losing the wonderful compactness. Besides casting people of color in the roles, of course.

I believe the character of Michelle to be a feminist hero. She renders a positive, complex portrayal of womanhood and survivorship. Roxanne Gay states in her 2014 book Bad Feminist that she “would rather be a bad feminist than no feminist at all.” Although the overall workings of 10 Cloverfield Lane deny intersectionality in feminism, I still want to appreciate the film for what it is: clever, suspenseful, and a smart testament to the trials of domestic abuse.


Bill Ollayos is a current Master’s student at the University of Massachusetts Amherst in the Translation Studies program. His research focuses on cultural power, gender studies, and critical race theory. Email him at william.ollayos@gmail.com for more information. 

‘Neighbors 2’ May Not Be Feminist in Name, But It’s Feminist in Nature

‘Neighbors 2’ doesn’t explicitly state that sororities are misogynist, but the goal of the alternative sorority (essentially an all-female share house, right?) at its center to create a space where the women can make their own fun outside of the patriarchy — that wants them to be well behaved and perform their sexuality for men — is feminist, whether the movie states it or not.

Neighbors 2

This guest post is written by Scarlett Harris.


Andi Zeisler, founder of Bitch magazine and author of the new book We Were Feminists Once, criticizes “choice feminism” in which every choice women make is deemed feminist. This could also be extended to Neighbors 2: Sorority Rising and movies that marginally pass the Bechdel test: they don’t openly hate women, therefore they’re feminist, right?

The premise of Neighbors 2 centers on a trio of rebellious female college students played by Chloë Grace Moretz, Kiersey Clemons, and Beanie Feldstein who start their own, party-hardy sorority in the formerly vacant mansion next door to Mac (Seth Rogen) and Kelly (Byrne) with the help of the original antagonist, Teddy (Zac Efron). Much is made of the Greek system allowing frat houses to host parties while sororities need to remain chaste, which doesn’t fit with the increasingly progressive notions of today’s teens and, particularly, Shelby (Moretz), Beth (Clemons) and Nora (Feldstein). They are skeeved out by the obvious attempts of fraternities and their members to get young women drunk enough to possibly sexually assault at parties, invoking memories of the University of Virginia’s rape scandal and The Hunting Ground, amongst many other instances of rape on campus. To attend these parties, they are pressured to wear skimpy outfits instead of the hoodies they’re more comfortable in. Their male dorm supervisor berates them for smoking weed in their dorm rooms and if they can’t do it there, they sure as hell wouldn’t be able to if they successfully rushed a traditional sorority.

Neighbors 2 doesn’t explicitly state that sororities are misogynist, but the goal of the alternative sorority (essentially an all-female share house, right?) at its center to create a space where the women can make their own fun outside of the patriarchy — that wants them to be well behaved and perform their sexuality for men — is feminist, whether the movie states it or not. Mac and Kelly frequently utter the word sexism and ponder how hard it is to navigate being a woman in the world as they realize (spoiler alert) that taking down the sorority is antithetical to how they want their daughters to grow up in a world that already treats them differently from men. In addition to Neighbors 2’s central premise, these plot points add more checks to the feminist column. Could Byrne’s encouragement of hiring women writers for the sequel be to thank? Possibly. Although it’s awful that co-writers Amanda Lund and Maria Blasucci, as well as other women writers who worked on the film, are not even credited.

Neighbors 2_2

Furthermore, feminist principles are evident in the newly crowned sorority Kappa Nu’s party themes, such as sad movie night in which they cry into their jumbo sized tubs of ice cream, feminist heroines including Oprah, Joan of Arc, and Hillary Clinton (both Senator and future President iterations), and a celebration in honor of Shelby’s impending virginity loss, commemorating the shedding of something many young women see as a burden these days as opposed to a gift or virtue.

Neighbors 2 acknowledges femme feminism and that some women enjoy putting a lot of effort into their appearance while Shelby and her besties prefer a more relaxed style.

There’s also a scene in which Shelby, Beth, Nora, and their friends are so distracted and turned on by a dancing, oiled up Zac Efron (and if you’re attracted to men, who could blame them?) that they allow the large amount of weed they’re selling in order to raise money for their sorority to be stolen. While the celebration of young women’s sexuality isn’t seen in a lot of comedies (more often young women are portrayed as sex objects, not subjects), one of the opening scenes in which Shelby reveals she’s a virgin did feel like an excuse to get a joke in about “everything but” being about eating out a guy’s butt instead of being truly revolutionary.

Neighbors 2_5

In that way, why make it about sexual experience at all? The above-mentioned dancing scene was enough to establish that young women are sexual beings but, crass and overt sex jokes take priority. I suppose it could also be seen to be an effort to show that women can be just as badly behaved as men (which isn’t necessarily a good thing), but surely the selling of weed, the trashing of their neighbors’ home, and the trapping of Mac, Kelly, and Teddy in order to protect their right to party is testament enough to that. (In an earlier scene Teddy’s bestie and roommate Pete explains to him that there is no legal right to party.)

Speaking of Teddy, Meg Watson at Australian pop culture website Junkee writes, in her review of the movie, of the covert discomfort with showing male affection exhibited by Mac and the gay acceptance shown in Pete’s engagement and subsequent wedding:

“This same-sex relationship is used as an integral part of the plot and is never once exploited for an uncomfortable #nohomo joke. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but for a Rogen/[Evan] Goldberg production (which regularly use gay sex as a punchline), it’s enormous. At one point Mac’s mild anxiety around male intimacy is even diffused on-screen as Teddy explicitly asks for a hug because he ‘needs to feel valued’. The laugh isn’t on Teddy’s over-sentimentality; instead it’s on Mac’s initial reluctance. The hug is good! They feel better! It’s silly guys don’t do it more!”

So, while movies have been made about far more feminist things than creating a new sorority — an archaic, hierarchical relic in itself — Neighbors 2 is important because it introduces a different audience to a topic they may not have thought about before or, like Teddy, have noticed rumblings of gender inequality but don’t have the language to discuss. The Neighbors franchise is still created by and for men but it’s important to give praise where it’s due, and Neighbors 2 tries with all its might to address sexism and misogyny, almost painstakingly.


Scarlett Harris is an Australian writer and blogger at The Scarlett Woman, where she muses about femin- and other -isms. You can follow her on Twitter @ScarlettEHarris.

Call for Writers: Ladies of the 1980s

There is a deep nostalgia for the 1980s, especially the pop culture of the decade. … Stories with iconic women at their heart flourished in the 80s (‘Working Girl,’ ‘Sixteen Candles,’ ‘The Legend of Billie Jean’). The emerging breed of action heroine born in the 70s came into her own in the 80s (Sarah Connor from ‘The Terminator,’ Ellen Ripley from ‘Aliens,’ Leia Organa of ‘Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back’).

Call-for-Writers-e13859437405011

Our theme week for June 2016 will be Ladies of the 1980s.

There is a deep nostalgia for the 1980s, especially the pop culture of the decade. The teen narrative reigned supreme. Tales of disaffected youth and romantic comedies were changed forever once John Hughes put his personal stamp on them in the 80s. The fashion of the era is still famous/infamous, known for hefty shoulder pads and big, stiff bangs. Stories with iconic women at their heart flourished in the 80s (Working Girl, Sixteen Candles, The Legend of Billie Jean). The emerging breed of action heroine born in the 70s came into her own in the 80s (Sarah Connor from The Terminator, Ellen Ripley from Aliens, Leia Organa of Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back).

The ladies of the 80s inspired self-identification in female audience members, from the oft-bespectacled Andie of Pretty in Pink who must make her own prom dress because she can’t afford to buy one to the androgynous car-fixing, drum-playing tomboy, Watts, who is overlooked by her best friend and love interest in Some Kind of Wonderful. Women in the 80s were allowed to be quirky, awkward, nerdy, and unsexualized, while still maintaining the lead role and/or the love interest role.

Television series Golden Girls, Murder, She Wrote, and Designing Women featured all-women casts and older women characters, as well as focused on women’s careers and female friendships. TV series The Cosby Show (now with a “tainted legacy” due to the rape/sexual assault survivors who have come forward accusing Bill Cosby) and A Different World featured a range of Black women characters.

What makes the ladies of the 1980s so iconic, so beloved, so well-remembered? Who are your favorite ladies of the 80s? Looking back with our 2016 lens, were things really so great for women in the 80s? Women in the 80s were usually love interests and even love objects (literally in Mannequin). While white women were frequently leads, women of color didn’t fare so well in the 80s, as they were often completely unrepresented or tokenized. Classic 80s films like Revenge of the Nerds and Sixteen Candles are now being critiqued for their racism and participation in rape culture.

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

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

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

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

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, June 24, 2016 by midnight Eastern Time.


Here are some possible topic ideas:

The Terminator

Jumpin’ Jack Flash

Full House

Aliens

The Cosby Show

Sixteen Candles

Mannequin

She-Ra: Princess of Power

The Secret of the Sword

A Different Image

The Breakfast Club

Punky Brewster

Drylongso

Heathers

The Legend of Billie Jean

Working Girl

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

The Women of Brewster Place

Teen Witch

Stakeout

Gleaming the Cube