Bitch Flicks – Page 213 – The radical notion that women like good movies

‘Friends With Kids’: When Harry Co-Parented With Sally…

Still from Friends With Kids. [source]

I’ve been excited to see Friends With Kids since Megan Kearns first wrote about it for Bitch Flicks last March. What a cast! A female writer/director! A romcom with a genuinely new and interesting premise!

I finally got the chance to watch Friends With Kids on a long flight this week, and I tremendously enjoyed watching it, but still found myself wanting more. As Megan expressed in her subsequent review of the film, Friends With Kids falls short of being a “feminist extravaganza” and ultimately isn’t too dissimilar from your standard romantic comedy. I was constantly reminded of When Harry Met Sally… a film that Friends With Kids echoes not only thematically (testing the limits of men and women in platonic relationships) but also structurally (following its characters over the course of several years of their lives) and tonally (witty comedy striped with serious relationship pathos).

Writer/Director/Producer Jennifer Westfeldt also stars as Julie, whose life seems pretty great even though she’s been unlucky in love (one of the most refreshing things about this movie is how it portrays singledom as Not The End Of The World even for a woman who ultimately does want a committed relationship). Her best friend is Jason (Adam Scott, as though that guy needed any more crush points), who favors brief dalliances with large-breasted women to actual relationships. Julie and Jason function as an ersatz couple in their circle of paired-off friends (Maya Rudolph and Chris O’Dowd as the stable and happy partners Leslie and Alex, and Kristen Wiig and Jon Hamm as the more tumultuous pair Missy and Ben). After the rest of the gang starts having children, Jason and Jules surprise everyone by deciding to have a kid together. They both want children and do not want to wait to find “their people” to do so, especially given the negative effects on romantic relationships they’ve seen having children can bring. As best friends, they have a lifelong love and commitment to each other making them suitable co-parents, without having to sacrifice passion or romance to the demands of child rearing.

My disappointment with Friends With Kids is that it doesn’t really explore the promise of that premise. Jules and Jason’s child-rearing arrangement works seemingly effortlessly, and the film fails to really express why. When the movie needs to inject some conflict, Friends With Kids retreats to the well-worn issue of whether a woman and a man can enjoy a truly platonic relationship. Only when romantic drama is thrown into the mix does the pair struggle to divide their time with and responsibilities to their son, which seems to support the wisdom of Jason and Jules’ original arrangement, but in reality nullifies their alternative parenting scheme by suggesting that close male/female friendships are always a pretense ultimately giving way to romance.

Which means that in the end, Friends With Kids doesn’t have that much to say about alternative family structures, which is terribly disappointing. Lip service is paid to gay couples raising children, and a few divorced straight couples with kids appear on the sidelines, but their struggles aren’t really explored. So when our heroes end up as yet another “traditional” family by film’s end, it’s quite the let-down to my feminist hopes for the film.

That said, like with When Harry Met Sally…, my id was tickled to see these two characters find love with each other, even though I still long for a movie that explores a male-female friendship that is genuinely platonic. Jason and Jules were so believable as best friends (I particularly got a kick out of their go-to conversation starter: making the other person choose between two hypothetical causes of death) and initially so believable as people not attracted to each other (their baby-making sex scene was so hilariously awkward I couldn’t help but laugh out loud even though I was watching it on a personal headset with earphones on a crowded airplane) that I was quite surprised when Friends With Kids took the old-fashioned turns it did.

Friends With Kids is still eminently watchable: smart, funny, and really phenomenally cast and acted (this is a movie where even Megan Fox is well-cast!). Given that I like watching even bad romantic comedies, it feels unfair and greedy to emphasize my disappointment with what is a really, really good one, just for not being exactly the kind of movie I wanted it to be.

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer currently living in Cape Town, South Africa. She would choose death by shark over death by alligator.

‘Friends With Kids’: When Harry Co-Parented With Sally…

Still from Friends With Kids. [source]

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer currently living in Cape Town, South Africa. She would choose death by shark over death by alligator.

Futurama’s Fanservice

By Myrna Waldron

Spoiler warning: Full summary of episodes from the currently airing Season 7.

Trigger warning: Very brief reference to rape.

From “Into The Wild Green Yonder,” Amy & Leela talking.

Is it possible to still love something when you’re completely annoyed by it?

This is how I feel about Futurama right now. I’ve been a fan of it since its premiere in 1999 (as I spent most of my preteen and teen years with a healthy obsession with The Simpsons). As my affection for The Simpsons waned, Futurama replaced it as my favourite TV show. And there’s a lot to love – the series affectionately parodies a wide array of science fiction staples, the mood varies from slapstick comedy, to tragedy, to overwhelming wonder, and the writers and actors are some of the most talented and intelligent working in television today.

The two main female characters, Turanga Leela and Amy Wong, are one of the main reasons I love the show so much. They are good examples of those mythical strong female characters you’ve all heard about, Leela especially. They combine several seemingly contradictory traits, resulting in a multi-faceted characterization.

Leela is one of those rare combinations of toughness and vulnerability, since her personality combines a short, sometimes violent temper, with tremendous internal insecurity. In situations where the cast is in trouble, Leela is always the one who reacts first, and she is usually the one who is the voice of reason (especially if her only allies are the dimwitted Fry and the immoral Bender). Her insecurity especially links to her heritage – as a mutant whose only mutation is a single eye in the centre of her forehead, she doesn’t truly belong with her mutant parents, nor with the “normal” humans.

Amy is a Chinese-American heiress, and is one of the few Asian characters I’ve seen represented on television ANYWHERE. She is sometimes shallow and promiscuous and has a tendency to constantly use the 30th century equivalent of slang, but she also holds a Ph.D in Applied Physics, establishing an Elle-Woods-in-Legally-Blonde-like contrast between the stereotype of a bimbo and incredible intelligence. She and Leela also share the trait that they don’t take any of the crap that their male co-workers sometimes throw at them.

But I have a problem.

From “Zapp Dingbat,” Munda, Leela, Fry and Bender.

After Futurama was un-cancelled and began airing new episodes on Comedy Central, the tone of the show changed. The show never shied away from risque jokes, but I have noticed that the general content of the show has become, as TV Tropes might say, “Hotter and Sexier.” To give one example, the second episode of the 6th season, “In-A-Gadda-De-Leela,” has some fanservice that severely undermines character development. In that episode, an out-of-control satellite forces Zapp Brannigan and Leela to have sex in order to save the planet. (It…makes a bit more sense in context) At this point in the series, Leela and Fry have finally become a couple, so this scene struck me as a rather blatant attempt to get Leela to have sex with Zapp again despite her significant character development. There are other earlier examples of Amy/Leela fanservice as well, such as them making out in “Bender’s Game” and a scene from “Jurassic Bark” of them wrestling in tiny spandex leotards. It gets pretty tiring.

The 7th season, which is currently airing, has two episodes with fanservice that I have a particular issue with. In “Zapp Dingbat,” Leela’s parents divorce and her mother Munda starts dating Zapp Brannigan. Since Leela believes Zapp is only using her mother to get to her, she resents their relationship tremendously. She tries everything she can think of to break them up, but they only flaunt their relationship even more in response. Eventually, Leela tries to seduce Zapp. She invites him to her apartment for dinner, and when he arrives, she’s shown dancing around a stripper pole in a negligee. This scene infuriated me – not only is the fanservicey attempt at showing Leela acting like a stripper extremely blatant, it contradicts Leela’s previously established loathing for Zapp and her regrets over their brief affair. Her actions are also indicative of selfish betrayal, which is also out of character for her. At no point does she recognize that her seduction attempt would constitute cheating on Fry, apparently all she’s thinking about is getting Zapp to cheat on her mother. I was also offended that of all the “sexy” acts of fanservice Leela could have been depicted as doing, they went for stripping, which is a tremendously misogynistic industry.

From “The Butterjunk Effect,” Amy and Leela flying in their skimpy battle costumes.

This trend of using the female characters for fanservice continues into the next episode, “The Butterjunk Effect.” In it, Leela and Amy join a “Butterfly Derby” league, which involves scantily clad female gladiators wearing giant butterfly wings. I bet I don’t even have to point out the fanservice here. Predictably, Leela and Amy wear very little once they become regular participants in this derby. They are easily defeated, and it is revealed their more powerful opponents drink “Nectar,” which acts similarly to steroids. The pair become addicted to the Nectar, and become violent and incredibly muscular. In fact, they become almost masculine, leading to some rather sexist jokes surrounding how they’re no longer acting like traditionally feminine women, and there are indications that Fry and Kif are losing attraction to them because of the masculinization. I suppose this is a parody of how steroids have a side effect of creating too much testosterone. At any rate, Leela and Amy run out of Nectar, and travel to the planet where it was sourced. Fry gets sprayed with a giant butterfly pheromone, which irresistibly arouse both Leela and Amy due to their Nectar addiction. Never mind that he’s already got one hot girlfriend, let’s have Fry fool around with the other hot girl too! …Again! I won’t even get into this episode’s running joke about women’s supposed cattiess to each other.

As you might guess, I’m pretty disgusted with how the female characters are being treated now. These plot developments and sexualized/objectified visuals are not indicative of the show that I love. It isn’t right that only the female characters are sexy, while every time a male character is naked or horny, it’s played for laughs. I suspected that this is because there aren’t any women on staff, only (presumably) heterosexual males. When I was looking up the information on these episodes, I decided to find out how many female writers/directors have been involved with Futurama. According to Wikipedia, not including season 7, there are a grand total of three female writers, Kristin Gore, Heather Lombard, and Maiya Williams, who are credited only one episode each. I know it’s typical for screenwriters to be mostly male, but that’s just pathetic.

Leela and Amy wrestling in leotards. Objectification of women? Surely you jest.

What I feel like is that episodes like “Zapp Dingbat” and “The Butterjunk Effect” set a rather dangerous precedent. The show hasn’t jumped the shark yet, but it’s strapped on the waterskis. If I were to show episodes like these to a non-fan, especially a female one, I doubt they’d gain much interest in the series. How did the same show go from “Robot learns he is not immortal and achieves a new understanding of how precious and finite life is” to “Women wear sexy leotards and butterfly wings while having airborne battles, then get addicted to steroids?” This downhill slope reminds me of what happened to Matt Groening’s other show, The Simpsons. The decline of The Simpsons is a topic that has been argued about many times, but the most common complaints include character derailment (Homer stopped being a well-meaning but foolish husband/father and became an overly impulsive and selfish asshole), fanservice (The Marge-gets-breast-implants episode, anyone?), and stupid, offensive and unrealistic plots (Homer gets raped by a panda). I am one of many Simpsons fans who had to give up watching the series, as it became unrecognizable from the groundbreaking and brilliant satire that I loved. It’s by now a cliche to prematurely predit the doom of a television series, but I don’t want to see the same downhill spiral from Futurama.

I doubt anyone involved with Futurama production is going to read this, but enough already. I don’t theoretically have a problem with risque jokes or sexy/erotic situations, but there is a difference between depicting sexuality, and exploiting and objectifying women for a presumed heterosexual male audience. Heterosexual women aren’t the only ones sick of this stuff. Judging from brief Twitter conversations I’ve had, some LGBT women don’t care for fanservice either, especially when it goes beyond subtle expressions of sexuality.

I like to joke that I believe in equal opportunity exploitation. If they’re not going to ever depict the male characters as sexy, then they need to stop with the fanservice of the female characters. It’s dragging down the entire show to exclusively objectify normally well-developed female characters. And they need to hire some women writers and directors. Math & science jokes, and science fiction in general, are not male-exclusive fields. I still want to continue to love Futurama. When the show is at its best, such as episodes like “The Late Philip J. Fry”, it’s one of the greatest shows on television. But stuff like a stripper Leela and butterfly gladiators bring down the entire series. Honestly…if things don’t get better, Futurama is going to end up just like The Simpsons.

Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

Quote of the Day: Emma Stone Points Out Sexist Double Standards in Media

Emma Stone in Teen Vogue, August 2012; photographed by Josh Olins

It’s no surprise sexism permeates the media. Women are constantly judged and praised for their beauty and appearance. Not their merit, intellect or accomplishments. This incessant importance on women’s appearances over their talent reduces us to objects.

As I perused my Pinterest feed last week, I came across a picture courtesy of Upworthy of Emma Stone calling out sexism. Could it be? Is Stone a secret feminist?? I had to investigate.

In its August 2012 issue, Teen Vogue conducted a joint interview with Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield to promote The Amazing Spider-Man (Sidebar, do we really need a Spider-Man reboot?? How about a Wonder Woman or Catwoman film first…ugh). After the interviewer inquired, “Emma, I have to ask about your hair color,” Stone talked about how she preferred being a blonde because it’s the hair color she possessed as a child. But then here’s where things get awesome.

Emma Stone: But people do always ask that. They ask who is my style icon, what’s the one thing that I can’t leave my house without. I’m always like, “My clothes!” I can pretty much leave without anything.It’s fine as long as I’m not naked.

Andrew Garfield: I don’t get asked that—

Emma Stone:You get asked interesting, poignant questions because you are a boy.

Teen Vogue: It’s sexism.

Emma Stone: It is sexism.

Women and men getting asked different questions strictly based on their gender? Yep, it sure is sexism.

I already knew Stone was pretty fab. In addition to her hilarious public appearances at the Emmys and the Oscars, she’s a funny and talented actor. The same woman who convinced her parents to let her move to Hollywood with a power point presentation seizes the moment to point out sexist gender disparities in the media. What makes her astute comment even better? She calls out sexism in a fashion magazine…for young women.

At first glance, it seems to make sense fashion and beauty magazines would ask celebs questions belonging to the realm of fashion, hair, cosmetics, diet and exercise. I mean that’s their job, right? So why do I care that Stone — or any celeb — is constantly asked about her hair color or her style icon? What’s the big deal?

The media constantly dissects, critiques and polices women’s bodies. Men don’t face the same bombardment of scrutiny. This sexist double standard perpetuates the notion that men lead while women serve as objects of beauty.

As much as I love clothes, fashion and beauty magazines can wreak havoc on women’s and girls’ self-esteem and body image. According to Miss Representation, “3 out of 4 teen girls feel depressed, guilty and shameful after spending 3 minutes leafing through a fashion magazine.” But beauty and diet questions aren’t merely relegated to fashion and fitness magazines. Mainstream media outlets obsessively ask women these questions too.

At a press conference for The Avengers a few months ago, Scarlett Johansson exhibited her exasperation at the way the media treats women differently than men. Johansson’s co-star Robert Downey Jr. received a lengthy, “interesting and existential question” about Iron Man’s growth and maturity, which would have allowed him to talk about his inspiration, motivation and talent. What question did this same reporter ask Johansson? She was asked about what food she ate…another sexist diet question.

A reporter for Extra also interrogated Johansson about the underwear she wore under her svelte Black Widow suit and Anne Hathaway about her diet and exercise regimen to fit into the slinky Catwoman costume — while he asked their male co-stars about the films and their characters.

The media treats men as complex, introspective artists while simultaneously reducing women to objects, only interrogating them about their hair color, clothing, diet, and fitness regimens. The message is clear: women’s talent and intellect don’t really matter. Only their outer beauty and thinness matters.

In the past few months, the media has egregiously objectified female Olympic athletes, bodysnarked Ashley Judd’s allegedly “puffy” face, spewed a sexist backlash against Girls and Lena Dunham’s weight, and deemed Jennifer Lawrence’s body too fat and not “hungry enough” to play Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games.

Thankfully, we’ve also witnessed Ashley Judd, Meryl Streep, Zoe Saldana, Scarlett Johansson, Anne Hathaway (in an albeit subtle way), Sarah Polley, Rashida Jones and now Emma Stone calling out sexism — objectification, body policing and double standards — in the media and Hollywood. Teens have also started speaking out with petitions against Seventeen and Teen Vogue to cease photoshopping and increase images of diversity. We need more people — women and men — denouncing misogyny and sexism. Only then can we hope to attain equality.

Hollywood, like the rest of society, is far from gender equitable. Female actors earn far less than their male colleagues. Only 33% of speaking roles belong to women. Women write only 10% and direct a mere 7% of the 250 top grossing domestic films. We don’t see nearly enough complex women on-screen as too many films revolve around white dudes. All of these abysmal stats coinciding with the media’s rampant objectification, misogyny and sexism strip women and girls of their power.

With Teen Vogue’s huge readership, who knows…maybe young women will read Stone’s interview, see the discussion of sexism and start questioning the gender disparities in the media’s depiction of women. Maybe Stone’s comment will help catalyze change. Hey, a woman can dream.

‘Yo Bitch’: The Complicated Feminism of Breaking Bad

The cast of Breaking Bad

Warning: Spoilers Ahead

Season five of Breaking Bad began with the unraveling of Gus Fring’s drug operation, which had served as a puppeteer for most of the cast during the preceding seasons. The second episode, “Madrigal,” is named for the German parent company of Fring’s Los Pollos Hermanos. While the business of fast food and methamphetamine is set firmly in a modern era–especially feeding off the addictions of desperate Americans–the term “madrigal” brings to mind centuries’ old songs, performed by multiple voices singing in harmony. We can expect Breaking Bad to be as artfully and tightly constructed as a traditional madrigal. This season, however, the voices won’t just be men’s.

For the majority of Breaking Bad’s critically acclaimed run on AMC thus far, the female characters have mostly served as annoyances and scapegoats for the audience. The hatred for Skyler White, especially, is palpable and vicious.

Her husband, Walt, the ultimate modern anti-hero, has had the audience in his corner from the moment he was diagnosed with cancer. It doesn’t matter how many young women he watches choke to death in their own vomit. It doesn’t matter how many children he tries to poison. Nobody on Facebook wants him dead.

In the last two episodes of season five, however, women have come to the forefront of making or breaking the plans of the great male trinity of Walt, Jesse, and Mike. The men in the series have done what they wanted (or felt they needed to do), and have been clawing for, and getting, power as they go. The women, however, have had to navigate the systems around them to go forward in their lives. Skyler frantically establishes control over her life, and Lydia (a Madrigal executive who was part of Fring’s team) eventually allows the trinity to continue making meth.

Lydia, one of Fring’s former associates, takes the reins in the new meth operation.

Skyler has clearly reached a breaking point in her new, seemingly settled life with her dangerous husband. She doesn’t want her children in the home in order to protect them. In episode four, she dutifully makes Walt a birthday dinner, and sits down to eat with him, Marie (who has received her share of “annoying wife” eye-rolls), and Hank. She is clearly detached and disoriented. Hank and Marie credit her infidelity–which Walt told them is at the root of all of their problems–with her despondence. She gets up and wanders towards the pool, slowly stepping in. She submerges herself, and when she doesn’t return to the surface, Walt saves her (although one might wonder if he would have without an audience). The image of a trapped, miserable wife drowning herself is nothing new–it’s the ultimate representation of suffocation. Because she certainly seems unstable, Hank and Marie agree to take the kids for the time being. She has won this battle.

Skyler attempts to drown, and succeeds in having her children removed from their home.

After floating in the watery depths with Skyler, the audience is jerked to an electric grid operated by Lydia. Two women, juxtaposing water and electricity, a deadly combination.

In episode five, Lydia is the driving force behind the train heist that allows the men to procure the methylamine that is necessary for their product. Her power and knowledge from serving as an executive allows them to move their business forward. Lydia proves herself time and again (stemming from a desire to protect herself for her child), even though her nervous energy makes the audience clench.

The series started with Walt’s crisis of masculinity, in terms of how he could “protect” his family from the cost of his chemotherapy and his paltry income. He was the wage-earner in the household, and had a son and a baby on the way. He began cooking meth to protect his family, and we loved him for it.

As Skyler has moved from a clueless wife, to an accomplice, to Walt’s antagonist, she has had the goal of protecting her family every step of the way. She orchestrated the money-laundering car wash, she has saved Walt, and she saved a former boss–and herself and Walt–from the IRS (for now, at least). And we hated her for it.

Skyler did everything in her power to keep the IRS away from her professional and personal business.

Lydia, who is willing to kill to keep herself and her history safe, is only working with the men in order to protect her child. When Mike had a gun to her head (after she’d put a hit out on him), she begged him to kill her and make sure her young daughter found her body so she wouldn’t think she’d abandoned her. Mike has a change of heart, or perhaps he simply realizes she’s the source of methylamine they need. Before she proves herself as helpful to their cause, Mike says, “I gave her a pass; this is what I get for being sexist.”She proves herself invaluable, in part by saving them from taking GPS-outfitted methylamine.

Lydia points out the GPS device to Jesse. The men suspect she planted it, but she ended up saving them.

These passing comments and the clear symbolism of female repression and underlying power make it clear that Breaking Bad isn’t simply a tour de force of masculinity. The negative reactions to the female characters reveal misogyny in the audience, not in the series. The fact that we are exhilarated by men plotting and killing, and are nervous or annoyed when the female characters attempt to navigate their lives tells us more about ourselves than the characters.

This season–the first half of the final season, which is set to air next summer–is poised to be decided by women.

Walt’s hubris has completely removed him from being a loving father or anything but an abusive husband. His growing god complex probably can’t end well, and the audience is becoming more and more OK with that. Walt is a twenty-first century Macbeth.

Skyler, while beyond her breaking point, has gotten her way for now and the children are out of the house. The cards are in her hands more than Walt is comfortable with. She will keep risking herself for her children, and waiting. “For what?” Walt asks. “For the cancer to come back,” she says.

Without Lydia, the men are without their “ocean” of methylamine. She–like the ocean–is a feminine life-giver, and is orchestrating her moves to protect her daughter (from “group homes” if she herself was sent to prison). She has control.

The imagery of Walt, Mike, and Jesse as a holy trinity is becoming clear. Jesse as a Christ-figure is more evident than ever, in his sacrificing his relationships and fighting passionately for nonviolence. And much like traditional religion, men are worshipped while women are in the trenches, cooking and cleaning–literally and figuratively. We celebrate the men, and push aside the women. It’s becoming evident that we’re not supposed to be doing that.

The “trinity”

At the beginning of the last episode, a young boy, riding alone in the desert, picks up a tarantula and gently puts it in a jar, screwing the lid tight. This clear symbol of entrapment echoes what Skyler says to Walt later in the episode: “I’m not your wife–I’m your hostage.” While her character has clearly broken bad and is now breaking down, she is still entrapped by her husband’s–and now her own–crimes. The tarantula must shed its old skin to grow, as must Skyler.

That boy is killed at the end of the episode (as he’s witnessed the train heist), and one must wonder if his fate may represent Walt’s. The tarantula is still trapped after his captor is killed, just like Skyler, if her life is spared, will always be trapped by this life. Perhaps Walt, like Arachne, will be punished for his pride above all else. Or maybe Skyler, like Lady Macbeth, will keep unraveling out of fear and guilt, and that will lead to her downfall. One could also draw a comparison between the young boy and Jesse, suffering while trying to keep captive the beasts of others’ actions.

The tarantella (tarantula), an Italian folk dance originated hundreds of years ago, is identified by “frenzied” dancing. The mythology suggests that the dance cured spider bites by allowing the dancer to sweat out the poison. It’s a safe expectation that audiences will be seeing much frenzied dancing as Breaking Bad culminates its five-season run, and only a few of those dancers will be left standing.

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Leigh Kolb is an instructor at a community college in rural Missouri. She teaches composition, literature, and journalism courses. While working on her MFA in creative nonfiction writing, Leigh was the editor of a small-town newspaper. In her academic and professional life, she’s always gravitated toward the history and literature of the oppressed, and wants to see their stories properly inserted into our cultural dialogue. She believes that critically analyzing popular media is an important step in opening those conversations. Leigh lives on a small farm with her husband, dogs, cat and flock of chickens.

The Dark Side of ‘The Dark Knight Rises’

Warning: Spoilers ahead!!

So I’m writing this movie review with a lot of spoilers, because well, according to my Facebook newsfeed, everyone’s already seen it. But even if you have seen it already, you’re probably desperately longing for my insightful commentary of the film; I mean, how else will you know what to think of it?

No one here is going to deny that Christopher Nolan has managed to take the superhero movie to a whole other level: the characters have far more complexity, a hell of a lot less campy lines, and a darker, grittier setting than the more upbeat Marvel comics. Even the fight scenes in this Batman film had a visceral heaviness to them, with each punch sounding so thick and weighty, you could just feel the epic-ness pounding you from the screen.

My praise for Nolan as a filmmaker however comes mostly from his dealings with evil. Most directors have laughable Lokis (The Avengers) and shapeless Sinestros (The Green Lantern) whose overwrought motivations and plans for world domination just get more tiresome with every rendition. The genius behind Nolan’s villains is in how he makes them insidious by how fascinating we find them, exploring that ever-present possibility of the darker side of humanity is so psychologically interesting that we can’t turn away. For example, Heath Ledger’s Joker was infamously brilliant and is, I think, the best superhero villian, given that his motivation was just “wanting to watch the world burn,” and it felt so…seductive.

In a similar vein, Bane was inscrutable and intense; it wasn’t about some in-your-face world domination or strawman plot of blowing up the moon. Bane’s motivations are completely hidden until the last ten minutes of the movie. And that’s the draw. That’s why we keep watching. And in the last few minutes, when we learn that motivation, it was so simple, so seemingly counter to his character, that you couldn’t help but pity him. That motivation was of course love, and it was humanizing, equalizing even.

I feel a little bad bringing up the human fascination with darkness and villains in the aftermath of the tragic shootings in Aurora, Colorado, but as with anything, it has become a media event, one where we desperately want to know the motivation of the killer. As humans we seek that casualty in those we consider perverted and ill in an attempt to validate our own humanity.

Besides the characters, the plot eerily parallels the current economic climate in the United States, looking basically like the occupy movement on crack. Even the scene of Bane breaking into Wall Street (which felt evocative of Rage Against the Machines, “Sleep Now in the Fire” video) was a reminder of our economic vulnerabilities in the West. There is a sort of palpable fear that has started to seep into the world’s economic consciousness, asking “how long can this continue?” This fear, of course, fed by the constant bank scandals that I hear about on the news every morning, the lack of any kind of new budget, and the general disillusionment with the viability of our political leaders (in both parties). Nolan did an excellent job of tapping into that fear, highlighting the destruction that can come from one good hack job on Wall Street.

The class warfare depicted in the film, with it’s disturbing scenes of makeshift courts to punish the wealthy and French Revolution style executions, brought home the problematic images of what happens when poverty reaches it’s breaking point. I especially found the violence that was present to be very familiar, reminding me of A Tale of Two Cities or Les Miserable, both stories that demonstrate the intense hatred that was turned onto the ruling classes during the French Revolution.

The revolutionaries of this film literally destroyed the vestiges of wealth as they smashed pictures and pulled scared socialites out of their homes and yanked the fur coats off their backs. However, the film did have some subtler points on economy, most notably offered by the reluctant billionaire Bruce Wayne (who admittedly has experienced poverty in his travels) when he critiques the charity functions where thousands are spent on venues and food. A valid point, since the money spent on the charity function could probably just have been given to the charity in the first place. Similarly, Catwoman states that the “rich don’t even go broke like the rest of us,” disgusted that even without money, Wayne will be able to maintain his lifestyle.

The two women in the movie actually play an important role in the economics portrayed: Catwoman as a sort of liaison between the wealthy do-gooders and poor revolutionaries. She pretends wealth in order to achieve her thieving, but claims herself to be a woman of the people. Miranda as well comes from nothing and has managed to rise up in the ranks of the world, only intending to tear it down again. I found it interesting though, that both women seem to at first be a part of the upper classes, but instead, stand as symbols for those who are struggling (though neither seems to have a very positive way of dealing with their financial difficulties).

Ironically enough though, the movie seemed almost an affirmation of class status quo, since these revolutionaries were the bad guys, and the billionaire (granted now broke billionaire) was the one who had to save the day and reassert order. On the one hand, at the end, there were scenes of the orphan boys heading off to stay in mansions and the bravery of the policemen, working class heroes if you will. However, I felt that the film had a lot of potential to address economic disparity, but didn’t seem to come to any new resolution, just reasserted whatever economic platforms existed in the first place.

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

Welcome New Contributors!

You’ve probably noticed some wonderful new writers around here. They’ll each be writing weekly posts, so you’ll definitely want to check back here often to read their fabulous pieces. In case you missed any of their introductions last week, I’ve included excerpts below. Make sure to read their full bios to learn more about them–and then welcome them to the Bitch Flicks team!

Myrna Waldron: I am a lifelong film enthusiast, but my particular passion is animation. (I like live action television too, but I’m fairly picky) Since a young age I have obsessively consumed animation in all forms, whether they be slapstick cartoons like Looney Tunes or abstract experiments like Begone Dull Care. I am particularly interested in American animation (Chuck Jones is my hero), but I have some interest in Canadian (particularly the short films distributed by the National Film Board of Canada) and Japanese animation (mostly from the 90s) as well. It is a pet peeve of mine when people refer to animation as a genre rather than a medium, or, even worse, to assume that all animation is for children – so don’t do it! 😉 [click here to read more about Myrna]

Lady T: If I can describe my approach to feminism in one sentence, it would be this: “There’s always room for improvement.” Occasionally, I blog about media that really grates my cheese, but I’m more likely to criticize and analyze works of media that I really love and admire. I like the female characters on The Vampire Diaries, but I think the show’s portrayal of its black characters leaves a lot to be desired. I love the late, great George Carlin for many reasons, particularly his stand-up about abortion and grammar, but I don’t agree with his opinions on rape jokes. Most works of art that I love have some problematic aspects and I think it’s worthwhile and necessary to analyze our favorite things. [click here to read more about Lady T]

Robin Hitchcock: I’ve been a movie lover since I was a young teen, when my dad instituted “Movie Camp” in our house to fill in the gaps in my cultural heritage. I’ve been a feminist since longer than I can remember. I have a small amount of formal gender studies training in the form of a certificate in Women’s Studies from my alma mater the University of Pittsburgh (2006), but that department was so small they couldn’t even offer a minor in Women’s Studies, much less a major degree concentration. I also have a J.D. from the University of Pittsburgh (2010), but I do not practice as a lawyer. I am always trying to learn more and strengthen my feminist muscles. I find it more or less impossible to see a movie and not want to write about it. Even when I really hate a movie, I still tend to enjoy watching it, thinking about it, and writing about it. [click here to read more about Robin]

Erin Fenner: I love cult films, “bad movies” and directors who try their damndest to say something new in a different way. I love black and white, foreign and Cannes Film Festival. I get excited by trying-to-be-subtle symbolism and am a sucker for allegory. I value the filmmakers who push a feminist agenda, and even those who willingly ignore politics but still manage to convey a message that is keenly relevant. Not to say that I don’t like blockbusters and Oscar nodding. Explosions and played-out sensuality don’t titillate me, but I am fascinated by the process, the message and am obsessed with the mistakes. [To be clear, my notion of “liking” or “loving” something is often interchangeable with most people’s notion of “morbid fascination.”] [click here to read more about Erin]

Max Thornton: I am a third culture kid who grew up in the USA, Kenya, and Great Britain. I am a trans* queer person who gets angry a lot. I am a grad student in theology, which I define broadly as the processes by which people create meaning in their lives, and my especial interest is the interrelationship of politics, culture, and religion.

I love film, books, and sci-fi in any medium, and I have an especial passion for television. My favorite show of all time is Mystery Science Theater 3000; my favorite show currently airing is Community; the list of shows I love is ever expanding with series both new and new-to-me, but among my very favorites are Adventure Time, Archer, Arrested Development, Breaking Bad, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Farscape, Firefly, Freaks and Geeks, The League of Gentlemen, Parks and Recreation, Phineas and Ferb, Pushing Daisies, Spaced, The Thick Of It, Venture Bros, and Wonderfalls. [click here to read more about Max]

Rachel Redfern: While I grew up in California and still consider it home, I’ve moved around a bit since then; currently, I live in South Korea where I teach English and stuff myself with Kimchi and Toblerone bars and watch way too much TV. My tastes extend into the realm of the eclectic and some of my favorites are Arrested Development, Castle, pretty much anything by HBO but specifically True Blood and Game of Thrones (ditto for BBC), and loads of old shows, Star Trek, I Dream of Jeannie, Murder She Wrote, Northern Exposure, most of which are campy and nostalgic (who else loves the original Doctor Who?). [click here to read more about Rachel]

Leigh Kolb: It was only after graduating college and working in the real world (where one male boss actually told me women’s lib was a bad idea) that I realized feminism needed to be a part of my life. I opened my eyes and saw a world of gendered roles and expectations–from the media to the workplace–and I didn’t like it. I embraced the f-word.

My love for pop culture, analysis, argument and feminism created the person at this keyboard. I’ve learned to bring notebooks with me to the movies, keep one handy in the living room when we watch TV, and keep my eyes and ears open constantly to connect representations of gender roles in the media to our culture. [click here to read more about Leigh]

For F—‘s Sake, Watch ‘The Thick Of It’

The fourteen episodes of Armando Iannucci’s brilliant BBC show The Thick Of It appeared on Hulu a couple of weeks ago, and the upcoming fourth season will stream there as well. I am having a bafflingly hard time convincing even my most devoted Anglophile friends to watch it. Maybe the pace and intensity are off-putting: it’s a show that demands your full, rapt attention to decipher its rapid-fire dialogue (and British accents, if that’s a difficulty for you). Maybe the unrelenting cynicism is discouraging for my starry-eyed friends (I know a LOT of Aaron Sorkin devotees). Maybe the Westminster setting is daunting to Americans who assume that familiarity with the ins and outs of UK politics is a prerequisite, when in reality all a non-Brit would miss are throwaway jokes about odds and ends of British culture (Mark Kermode’s flappy hands, anyone?). Whatever it is that’s giving people pause, I wish they’d overcome it, because this is a really, really good TV show.

As a cynical comedy about the relationship between a hapless government minister and a Machiavellian civil servant, The Thick Of It is naturally a spiritual successor to excellent 1980s sitcom Yes Minister– but it is a very 21st-century successor. The archly satirical wit of Yes Minister isn’t wholly absent from from The Thick Of It, but it is rather overshadowed by, well, the gloriously colorful and endlessly creative obscenity. A viewer conducting even the most casual compare-and-contrast of the two series will notice two interesting trends:

1. Twenty-first-century Westminster is no less white than 1980s Westminster. This, unfortunately, is a reflection of reality: people of color currently comprise 4% of MPs (a figure that was significantly lower when The Thick Of It began in 2005), and Parliament’s own website admits that even though “[t]he House of Commons is more reflective of the population it represents than ever before […] it remains the case that more than 400 MPs, 62% of the total, are white men aged over 40.”

2. There is a far wider variety of accents, and a hell of a lot more swearing, in the newer show. This is something that cannot be explained without a brief discussion of the deeply complex question of class in British politics, so please bear with me. UK politics has always been an old boys’ club. The traditional track to Westminster runs through a private school, ideally Eton, and a top-tier university, ideally Oxbridge. That same Parliament webpage notes that over a quarter of current MPs went to Oxbridge, and over a third went to private schools. This is vastly disproportionate to the general population – but it is an improvement over the past. In 1982 Yes Minister could include lengthy rants about Greek and Latin quotations and jokes mocking a minister who attended the LSE; one suspects that that simply wouldn’t fly today.

The delicate subtleties of regional accents in the UK are far beyond my capacity to explain; suffice it to say that, first, regional accents are historically the marker of a working-class background, and, second, they are much more acceptable in politics and media today than they were 30 years ago. There is, then, a more or less explicit class dynamic at play in The Thick Of It between the RP-accented ministers and the very Scottish Peter Capaldi, who stars as very terrifying government spin doctor Malcolm Tucker.

Good God this man is terrifying.

Malcolm is the core of the show, and he is a wonder to behold. In creating Malcolm Tucker, Iannucci seems to have drawn from both his own Scottish heritage and from the well of “terrifying Scot” archetypes that populate the British imagination: from Wallace bellowing “FREEDOM!” to Miss Jean Brodie to Professor McGonagall to the monstrous Manda in Alan Warner’s The Stars In The Bright Sky (get a copy; you’ll thank me later), echoed in US pop culture through figures like Groundskeeper Willie and Shrek. An explosive hurricane of Caledonian fury, Malcolm tears through Westminster, bullying, threatening, effing, blinding, and occasionally punching anyone unfortunate enough to oppose his will. He’s the kind of villain who’s an absolute joy to hate, reveling in his own evil machinations and spouting quotable profanity like it’s going out of style.

Not that the other characters lack for memorable quotes. The writing for this show reminds me of Oscar Wilde (in a potty-mouthed, 21st-century kind of way): all the characters essentially speak with exactly the same voice, but it’s such a very funny voice that nobody really minds. And, of course, a great strength of this style is that the women characters sound as though they were written to be characters first, women second. Our culture is swimming in female characters who sounds as if they were written by someone who, at best, has never actually interacted with a woman, and, at worst, genuinely believes women to be a completely different species than human beings. Armando Iannucci’s women are not like this at all, and it’s depressing how refreshing that is.

In my opinion, The Thick Of It only really hits its stride with the introduction of Rebecca Front as Nicola Murray, MP, in the third season. (The first two were only three episodes each, so she’s still in more than half the series.) This was a matter of necessity, owing to Chris Langham’s ignominious fall from public grace, but it gives the show a dynamic it really needs. When Langham’s Hugh Abbott was the hapless minister struggling to hang onto his job in the face of mockery from special advisers Glen and Ollie and relentless terrorism from Malcolm, the cast was just toohomogeneous. Nicola has to deal with not only the pressures Hugh faced as an overworked, underprepared, perpetually outgunned minister trying desperately to be relevant; but she also has to cope with the specific challenges of being a woman in a profession that is still 78% male-dominated. Dubbed a “glummy mummy” by the press, Nicola is caught in the damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t position of the woman in the high-pressure job – expected to prioritize her work while simultaneously being the World’s Greatest Mother, in a way that men are simply never expected to do. Being at the nexus of such impossible expectations never overwhelms Nicola’s character or turns her into a straw person of any kind, but it is a constant presence in the dynamic of her interactions with others, to the point that even the ferocious Malcolm appears to have a little sympathy for her.

Poor Nicola.

Iannucci seems to have recognized how interesting this dynamic is, and attempted to replicate it this year in his HBO show Veep, starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus as a (once again) hapless vice president. Veep is an intriguing attempt to transplant the magic of The Thick Of It to a US context (foreshadowed to some extent in the transatlantic hijinks of 2009 alternate-universe spin-off film In The Loop), but I’m not yet convinced that it’s a fully successful one. For one thing, the US televisual landscape is so prudish that, even on HBO, the swears don’t roll off tongues as organically as on British TV. For another, the lack of a truly nefarious Malcolm Tucker figure, while an understandable artistic choice to create distance from The Thick Of It, in my opinion undermines the show’s cohesiveness. And I question the wisdom of choosing to piss away a potentially really interesting pregnancy subplot offscreen.

My reservations notwithstanding, I will be watching Veep‘s second season, because it’s pretty funny, and because I trust Armando Iannucci. But I’m much more excited for The Thick Of It season four, and it would be nice if the rest of America cared too.

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Max Thornton is a grad student who doesn’t really like pronouns but won’t object to either ey/em or he/him. Too British for the US and too American for the UK, Max currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area but dreams of London and New York. Max likes theology, intersectional feminism, and pop culture, and blogs about these things at Gay Christian Geek.

Bitch Flicks Weekly Picks

Megan‘s Picks:

Olympic Women Succeed, But Is It Really Fair Play? by via Adios Barbie

NBC’s Bizarre Attempt to Turn Female Olympians Into Eye Candy by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

Sexism, Racism and Swimming at the London 2012 Olympics by Sarah Keenan via Racialicious

Round Table: Julie Delpy, Ava DuVernay and Leslye Headland on Directing by Nicole Sperling via Los Angeles Times

The LA Times Talks to Three Women Directors – Where Is the Female Equivalent of Woody Allen? by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood

‘Boston Herald’ vs. Elizabeth Warren: ‘The Nation’ Asks, Will Sexism Win or Lose? by Michelle Kinsey Bruns via Women’s Media Center

Read the Definitive Meryl Matrix by Eliot Glazer via Vulture

Street Harassment Fuels a Viral Documentary by Holly Kearl via Ms. Magazine Blog

#NotBuyingIt: Newsweek’s “Best Places to Eat” Cover by via Miss Representation

‘Breaking Bad’s Skyler White and the Difficulty of Leaving Abusers by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

The Director of the “Greatest” Movie of All Time Was a Sexual Harasser by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood

GET IT, GIRL: Emma Stone Calls Out Sexism in the Media, Could Not Be More Awesome While Doing So by Kaye Toal via Upworthy

Weekly Feminist Film Question: Who Are Your Favorite Amazing Female Characters in Film and TV?

‬Hey film lovers! It’s time for this week’s feminist film question. Who are your favorite amazing women in film and television? Here’s what you said:

Sidney Prescott (Jennifer Garner) in Alias

Lt. Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in Alien, Aliens, Alien 3, Alien: Resurrection

Margo Channing (Bette Davis) in All About Eve

Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone) in The Amazing Spider-Man

Kara “Starbuck” Thrace (Katee Sackhoff) in Battlestar Galactica

Violet (Jennifer Tilly) in Bound

Jane Craig (Holly Hunter) in Broadcast News

Detective Kate Beckett (Stana Katic), Dr. Lanie Parish (Tamala Jones), Alexis Castle (Molly Quinn), Martha Rodgers (Susan Sullivan) in Castle

Britta Perry (Gillian Jacobs) in Community

Olive Penderghast (Emma Stone) in Easy A

Pa’u Zotoh Zhaan (Virginia Hey) in Farscape

Zoe Washburne (Gina Torres) in Firefly and Serenity

Annie MacDuggan Paradis (Diane Keaton), Brenda Morelli Cushman (Bette Midler) and Elise Elliot Atchison (Goldie Hawn) in The First Wives Club

Mia Williams (Katie Jarvis) in Fish Tank

Lisbeth Salander (Noomi Rapace / Rooney Mara) in Girl with the Dragon Tattoo / The Millennium Trilogy

Dorothy Zbornak (Bea Arthur) in The Golden Girls

Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh) in Gone with the Wind

Kalinda Sharma (Archie Panjabi) in The Good Wife

Dr. Christina Yang (Sandra Oh) and Dr. Miranda Bailey (Chandra Wilson) in Grey’s Anatomy

Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) in Harry Potter

Carrie Mathison (Claire Danes) in Homeland

Peggy Olson (Elisabeth Moss) and Joan Harris (Christina Hendricks) in Mad Men

Alike (Adepero Oduye) in Pariah

Leslie Knope (Amy Poehler) in Parks and Recreation

Lizzie Bennett (Keira Knightley / Greer Garson) in Pride and Prejudice

San (Yuriko Ishida / Claire Danes) in Princess Mononoke

Alice (Milla Jovovich) in Resident Evil

Sailor Uranus (Megumi Ogata / Sarah Lafleur) in Sailor Moon

Olivia Pope (Kerry Washington) in Scandal

Ruth Fisher (Frances Conroy) in Six Feet Under

Chihiro Ogino (Daveigh Chase) in Spirited Away

Uhura (Nichelle Nichols / Zoe Saldana) in Star Trek

Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton / Lena Headey) in The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles

Tara Thornton (Rutina Wesley) and Pam (Kristen Bauer van Straten) in True Blood

Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman) in V for Vendetta

Nancy Botwin (Mary Louise-Parker) in Weeds

C.J. Cregg (Allison Janney) in The West Wing

Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland) in The Wizard of Oz

Xena (Lucy Lawless) in Xena: Warrior Princess

Agent Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) in The X-Files

Who are your fave female film and TV characters? Tell us in the comments!

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Each week we tweet a new question and then post your answers on our site each Friday! To participate, just follow us on Twitter at @BitchFlicks and use the Twitter hashtag ‪#feministfilm.

David Lynch’s "Good" Guy vs. Bad Guy in ‘Blue Velvet’

The director David Lynch likes playing with dichotomies. His director’s fetish is portraying opposite worlds that coexist. He carries us from happy-go-lucky settings to dark depths with embarrassingly sincere dialogue, awkward props and too-blunt-to-be-ignored sound design. When writing about Lynch one must incorporate phrases like “seedy underbelly” and “seemingly pleasant.”

While a world of starkly presented binaries is a great place to explore gender roles, this does not always appeal to audiences and critics.

Roger Ebert, for instance, was not pleased with Lynch’s Blue Velvet. He was particularly disturbed by how Lynch presented the character of a woman experiencing abuse. He felt that the contrast between the absurd and evil lent a disingenuous tone to scenes in the film that should have been poignant.

“Either this material is funny, in which case you don’t take advantage of your stars, or it isn’t funny, in which case it shouldn’t have so much campy and adolescent dialogue along with a really powerful sexual scene,” Ebert said in his review of the film.

Blue Velvet movie poster

His argument is a thoughtful one, but it doesn’t fairly represent the message of the film. It doesn’t look like Lynch is trying to be screwy. He’s not trying to make us laugh at the pain others. Instead it seems he is trying to evoke deep sympathy for the foolish-but-kind characters who use “campy and adolescent dialogue.” If Lynch is manipulating the viewer, it is to turn our cynical snark against us and make us respond empathetically.

Lynch is not a master of a feminist message – and while there are good intentions between each line – we are hung up in prescribed roles and never released. His frustration isn’t with the constructs that create a violent world, but simply with the violence itself.

Blue Velvet, released in 1986, is a surreal noir film about a college boy, Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan), who returns to his cheery suburban hometown to tend to an ailing father. He gets mixed up in the dark and violent aspects of his town after discovering a de-bodied ear. He enters this world at his own volition because of his almost-innocent voyeurism. Jeffrey comes by this dubiously ethical curiosity honestly when his friend and romantic interest Sandy (Laura Dern) says, “I don’t know if you’re a detective or a pervert.”

His inappropriate cliché-of-choice response: “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

This is directed at the audience as well. But, we don’t get much of an answer. Lynch portrays Jeffrey as a well-meaning voyeur. But, clearly (and rightfully so), that’s not a culturally accepted characteristic in heroes. Jeffrey treats the discovered ear as if it was an exciting clue instead of evidence to severe criminality. His watching of the following events satiates a selfish desire – however well-meaning.

Through Sandy’s help (her father is the local detective) Jeffrey finds that the ear is somehow connected to a local singer, Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini). He decides his next step is to break into Dorothy’s apartment to find more clues.

What Jeffrey encounters is ultimately a brutal scene. His detective adventure swiftly plunges into twisted horror. He doesn’t panic, though, but just takes it in.

Dorothy first finds Jeffrey hiding in her closet and assumes – reasonably – that he was spying on her undressing. She turns the male gaze back on him by making him undress. This is not a moment of female empowerment – nor is it really the living-out of a male fantasy. Instead it is the disturbing result of naïve curiosity clashing with Dorothy’s own sexual dysfunction and delusion. She is masochistic. But Jeffrey views his subsequent sexual interaction with her as an expression of his caring for her. This mismatch in attitudes makes for clumsy moments with troubling demonstrations of affection. Jeffrey never consents to undressing, so their initial meeting and introduction to their sexual relationship is even more unsettling.

Kyle MacLachlan and Isabella Rossellini in Blue Velvet

After this brief encounter, we meet Frank (Dennis Hopper). He knocks on the door and Dorothy rushes Jeffrey into the closet. Frank threatens, abuses and manipulates Dorothy. He has kidnapped her husband and child as a way force her to be sexually compliant. Jeffrey watches as Frank slaps, pokes and mounts Dorothy.

Jeffrey regularly visits Dorothy after the first night, and while maintaining a boyish tone and outward sweetness, ends up slapping Dorothy somewhat in response to her request. It’s “somewhat” because while she begs him to hit her, he doesn’t seem to do so because she asks, but because he is angry at her asking. Because he spends his nights in the ugly side of the world, he has taken on hateful aspects of it. He has seen Frank’s violence and has unwillingly absorbed it. It the morning, as he wakes up in his childhood bed, Jeffrey cries remorsefully. The evil he saw in Frank had changed him.

Frank is the hyper-violent and dominating side of masculinity. Dorothy was forced to be a submissive woman, broken and tormented by being used as a sexual object. Jeffrey and Sandy instead fit into gender roles in a sunny and nostalgic way. Jeffrey is Hardy Boys curious; amiable, but also direct and flirty. Sandy is kind, demure and willing to play a support role to her male lead. They meet their dark and brutal alternatives in Dorothy and Frank.

A particularly controversial scene takes place when Sandy meets Dorothy. Sandy and Jeffrey return from a date and stumble upon Dorothy walking slowly through the neighborhood – arms outstretched – naked. She has bruises on her body and her face is blank. Sandy’s old boyfriend, who had been jealously chasing the couple, retreats and begins apologizing as Dorothy collapses in Jeffrey’s arms.

Ebert said about this scene: “[Lynch] asked Isabella Rossellini to be undressed and humiliated on the screen as few actresses ever have been, certainly in non-porno roles… That’s painful for me to see a woman treated like that and I want to know that if I’m feeling that pain it’s for a reason that the movie has other than to simply cause pain to her.”

He said that because of the “smarmy” dialogue, it was unfair to include such provocative scenes.

Ebert had a point in that provocative imagery should not be used simply for shock value. But, juxtaposing hilarity and tragedy does not necessarily trivialize violence. When using violence and sex, directors should be wary of gratuity and insensitivity. But, this scene forced us into awareness. We can’t choose a tragedy one day and a comedy on the other in Lynch’s world (or the real one). We can’t chose nostalgic gender roles one day, and violent destructive the other. We have to accept that these things feed into each other. We have to address the destructive aspects.

While Lynch isn’t necessarily challenging prescribed roles, he is challenging our perception of them and the resulting violence. He forces us to acknowledge the ugly side. And then also presents us with surprisingly poignant absurdity. The campiness in Blue Velvet isn’t cruel, but touching. These worlds do coexist and it is funny and heartbreaking and beautiful and ugly.

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Erin Fenner grew up in small-town Idaho where she took solace in cult cinema. Her burgeoning feminist ideals didn’t dampen her enjoyment in viewing even the most obviously gender-norm-dependent films, but created another angle of intrigue. She went to the University of Idaho where she nabbed a Journalism degree. There she was a student blogger, radio show producer and self-described feminist activist. Now she lives in Portland, Oregon, and works remotely for the reproductive rights organization Trust Women where she writes about the state of pro-choice politics for their blog. She also says she is a poet, but refuses to publish, perform or share lest someone offer constructive critiques.

‘The Dark Knight Rises’s Catwoman: a (Shhh!) with a Heart of Gold

Anne Hathaway as Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises [source]

While The Dark Knight Rises has had a more mixed reception than Christopher Nolan’s previous two entries in his Batman trilogy, everyone, even President Obama, can agree that Anne Hathaway’s Catwoman was the best thing about the movie. Slate’s Alyssa Rosenberg calls her, “the best Catwoman ever to grace the big screen.”

And I loved her too. The Dark Knight Rises‘s Selina Kyle is smart, sexy, and complex in her morality: the trinity of characteristics that unites all incarnations of Catwoman. The other details of Selina and her alter-ego Catwoman shift constantly (a fate common to comic book characters). She’s been an amnesiac flight attendant abuse victim (in the Gold and Silver Age comics in which she first appeared), a wealthy socialite who burgles for the thrill of the hunt (how she was portrayed in my introduction to the character, Batman: The Animated Series), a meek secretary transformed into a badass vigilante after her apparent murder by her powerful boss (in Batman Returns), and, well, whatever Halle Berry was reduced to doing with the character (who, just to be clear, was not Selina Kyle, but rather Patience Phillips, and I will waste no more words on a character and film that is best forgotten). As Rosenberg puts it in her Slate piece, “Catwoman has, in the past, been a rich well for explorations of female trauma.”

So it was inevitable that Selina Kyle be portrayed as a sex worker, at least once Frank Miller got his hands on her. Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy has always been transparently inspired by Miller’s seminal comics Batman: Year One and The Dark Knight Returns. The former series first introduced Selina Kyle as prostitute:

Sex worker Selina Kyle in panels from Frank Miller’s Batman: Year One [source]

And over the next twenty years or so of DC comics, the prostitute origin story would be hinted at, overtly dropped, slyly repackaged, forgotten, and popped back in at the whims of various comic book writers. Brian Cronin provides a thorough overview of the waxing and waning of this storyline in his Abandoned An’ Forsaked column. When it was announced that Hathaway had been cast as Selina Kyle in The Dark Knight Rises, speculation went wild regarding which Catwoman we’d get.

As it should be, The Dark Knight Rises offers a unique take on the character. And it stays cagey about her life’s details and origin story. But watching the film, I inferred that they were incorporating the sex worker background for the character. On the ride home from the theater I mentioned it to my husband, who is not a comic book reader, and he was bewildered how I had gotten that impression.

[SPOILERS for The Dark Knight Rises FORTHWITH]

As a comic book fan, I came in with the expectation that this movie’s version of Selina Kyle might be a sex worker. Because I knew Selina Kyle had been portrayed as one, most notably by Frank Miller, whose work has been so influential on the trilogy. So when Anne Hathaway’s Kyle seduces and absconds with a Congressperson (to provide herself with cover when she makes an illicit exchange, we discover) I figured she was doing this in the course of her business.

As that deal goes down, another character is introduced: Selina’s friend, played by Juno Temple, and according to IMDb named “Jen.” I don’t recall her being addressed by name in the film, but as soon as I saw her I thought to myself, “Oh, hey, it’s Holly Robinson!”

Holly Robinson as drawn by Cameron Stewart in Catwoman Secret Files [source]

Holly Robinson was created by Frank Miller in Batman: Year One, a fellow sex worker living with Selina Kyle. The appearance of that character, even though they’ve given her another name, signaled to me this character was meant to be in line with Miller’s Selina Kyle, a sex worker.

There’s also an offhand reference to Kyle living in “Old Town,” which I’ve never encountered in Batman comics (although there are many thousands I’ve never read, so maybe I am missing something) but which instantly called to mind the prostitute-run red light district of another Frank Miller comic, Sin City.

Selina Kyle’s primary motivation throughout The Dark Knight Rises is acquisition of the “Clean Slate,” a bit of technology that will erase her record, even her very existence, from the world’s databases, allowing her to escape an unspecified past where “she did what she had to do to survive.” Her past could be anything. It could merely be the thieving she’s clearly so adept at. But Kyle very pointedly shows no shame about her burgling, wearing Martha Wayne’s stolen string of pearls while dancing with Bruce at a gala, for example. It stands to reason there is something else she is running away from.

If you accept that The Dark Knight Rises‘s Kyle has a past or present as a sex worker, unfortunately the dynamic character seems much less innovative and much more like yet another iteration of the trope of the Hooker with the Heart of Gold.

The stock character of the Hooker with a Heart of Gold is problematic, even from a sex-work-positive feminist perspective, because the trope itself is not sex work positive. These characters are meant to be interesting because they are good “inside” even though they do “bad” things. The viewer is allowed to be titillated by the character’s occupation without needing to feel as though they condone it. And because hookers with hearts of gold are so often “saved” by men, it plays to a variety of male fantasies beyond women as commodities: that women need them; that women are “correctable.” The trope also reinforces traditional gender roles by masculinizing work for pay, often giving the hookers with hearts of gold tough, emotionally cool exteriors on the job (like men!) that when cracked (by a man!) show their soft, compassionate, womanly true self.

As we have with Selina Kyle in The Dark Knight Rises, who steals and betrays and displays a general disdain for everyone she speaks with in the first half of the movie (other than Holly Robinson’s stand-in). But somehow Batman cracks that ice, first getting Selina Kyle to display emotional vulnerability, and finally inspiring Catwoman to heroically help save the same Gotham she’d been keen to abandon after helping it fall to anarchy. When we spot her casually dining with Bruce Wayne in Florence at film’s end, it’s easy to imagine she’s given up her criminal ways: another soiled dove lifted to grace by a good man.

Anne Hathaway as Catwoman, in hero-mode on the Bat Pod. [source]

Even though I just wrote it, I find this summary of The Dark Knight Rises‘s arc for Selina Kyle overly reductive, and Anne Hathaway’s phenomenal performance in the role nuanced and charismatic enough that it elevates the material. Which is why I don’t so much object that The Dark Knight Rises invokes the trope of the Hooker with a Heart of Gold, I just mind that it does so covertly. It weakens the film’s ability to twist the trope and present a feminist take on it, and wastes an opportunity to give the world an iconic, heroic, feminist character who does or did sex work.

So it doesn’t bother me that The Dark Knight Rises possibly included sex work in the character background of its Catwoman, but it bothers me that they didn’t commit to it. The film signals dog whistles to comic book fans and enable the character and movie to enjoy all the male-id-pleasing benefits of the Hooker With a Heart of Gold trope, without actually having to go to all the trouble of crafting a modern and respectable portrayal of the sex industry in a major summer blockbuster. It’s lazy, even cowardly, and Catwoman, Anne Hathaway, and us movie-watchers all deserved better.

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer currently living in Cape Town, South Africa. She had to take the long way home for weeks while The Dark Knight Rises filmed in her neighborhood in Pittsburgh.