The Descendants: Review in Conversation

The Descendants (2011)

Amber’s Take:

 

I went into The Descendants knowing only: George Clooney, land inheritance, and Hawaii. Had I even taken the time to visit IMDb and read the one-line synopsis (“A land baron tries to re-connect with his two daughters after his wife suffers a boating accident.”), I would have known a major plot element, and I might’ve been better prepared for it — and not as successfully manipulated.
The Descendants is a tricky film. You know the kind: you’re completely engrossed while watching (and I confess to being near tears for most of the film, blindsided by the emotional devastation of the situation), but once the spell of the theatre is broken, you wonder how the movie you watched is getting such astonishing praise.
The King family and their land.
That’s not to say The Descendants doesn’t have admirable elements. The film is visually stunning and offers viewers a pleasant surprise: a portrait of Hawaii (two islands specifically: Kaua’i and O’ahu) — a state of beauty and contradictions, extreme wealth and poverty, and a complicated history. Usually the Hawaiian Islands appear in film only as a vacation destination. Here, it’s something else. Not only is the setting the site of plenty of human drama, but it’s also a character in itself–similar to the role played by California’s Santa Ynez Valley in director Alexander Payne’s previous film, Sideways.
The film is also full of excellent performances, including George Clooney as Matt King, Shaliene Woodley as 17-year-old Alexandra, and newcomer Amara Miller as Scottie. I was shocked that Clooney didn’t win the Oscar for his performance, especially considering he’d already won eight awards for the role–including the Golden Globe–and is nominated for at least thirteen more (the film has been nominated for a whopping 65 awards). The relationships between the characters are easy and believable, even if Matt’s character suffers from the “unable to look past Actor George Clooney” problem. Alexandra is rare and refreshing teenage girl, and Woodley does a tremendous job with the role and with her character’s uneasy relationship with her parents. 
The film’s biggest problem, a fundamental mistake that I can only see as entirely unacceptable, and possibly rendering the film an utter failure (are my thoughts on the mistake clear?) is this: the character of Elizabeth King. Other than a flash of actor Patricia Hastie joyously water skiing at the beginning of the film, Elizabeth spends the rest of the film in a hospital bed, wasting away until her death. That in and of itself is not the problem; Elizabeth’s physical presence is deeply unsettling, and the details of her medical condition (the clenched hands, the life-support equipment, and the gaunt face really got to me) are rendered with disturbing realism.
But Elizabeth’s presence and all this detail comes at a price to the story: with continual reminders of the tragedy, Matt King is basically forgiven all of his transgressions and unlikable characteristics. He’s unbelievably wealthy (not particularly sympathetic in the midst of a recession) and yet a penny pincher, he’s been a terrible father and husband, and the biggest dilemma in his life is how to divide up the massive wealth his family inherited amongst his not-as-attractive cousins.
Further, Elizabeth is an example of the sexist “Women in Refrigerators” trope. Anita Sarkeesian explains how this trope plays out in comics, television, and films:

Writers are using the Women in Refrigerators trope to literally trade a female character’s life for the benefit of a male character’s story arc.

Elizabeth’s tragic accident is the catalyst for Matt’s existential crisis…and nothing more.
Megan’s Take:
For me, I left the theatre thinking it was kind of meh. Yes, it was visually beautiful, I mean it’s Hawai’i, of course it’ll be gorgeous! And I loved the use of Hawai’ian music. But I didn’t really see what all the hype was about…except for the two daughters’ performances, especially Shailene Woodley as Matt’s rebellious (although what 17-year-old isn’t?) daughter Alex.
Shailene Woodley as Alexandra King
Absolutely outstanding, Alex stole every scene. The underwater scene blew me away. After Matt tells Alex that her mother isn’t just sick but dying, she sinks below the surface of the pool, weeping underwater…simply brilliant. Alex evoked so much pain and agony through her facial expressions and her body language, without ever uttering a word. She collapsed onto herself as her world began to crumble. Then she pushes against the pain and rage. For me, that heart-wrenching scene is hands down the best in the film.
I also found it really interesting that Alex realizes that she fights with her mother so vehemently yet she’s exactly like her mother. She rebels against authority and constraints, just like her mother. But Alex also resents her mother for cheating on her father. Mother-daughter relationships are so rarely depicted accurately on-screen. It would have been great if we could have seen more of their relationship in flashbacks. Alex appears to be the moral compass of the film. She has a zero bullshit meter and nothing gets past her. Even at such a young age, she’s like a parent to her father, telling him about the infidelity and advising him on how to handle her little sister Scottie (Amara Miller).
My favorite parts were the ones with Alex or Scottie or the two together. I loved when Scottie tosses the lawn chairs in the pool as Matt talks on the phone. There were a couple other humorous, and at times bittersweet, moments, like when Matt says, “Paradise? Paradise can go fuck itself,” Matt running in flip flops, and when Scottie calls Alex a “motherless whore” (not a huge fan of using the word “whore” but her delivery was flawless) and she accusingly points to Alex after Matt asks her where she learned to talk like that. But the film squanders these rare moments.
I would have preferred if the movie focused on the two sisters and their perspectives. Supposedly (as I haven’t read the book), Payne drastically reduced Scottie’s role from the book as he said he wasn’t interested in her character, wanting to explore Alex’s story. Sadly, the film isn’t really about either sister.
I felt like that was The Descendants’ problem. It never focused on what I wanted it to focus on (as if I’m the only audience that matters…ha!). The film glosses over issues of wealth/class and race/ethnicity, never really exploring these crucial societal themes. Additionally, a massive gender problem plagues the film.
Amber, it’s so interesting you mention Elizabeth and the “women in refrigerators” trope. I hadn’t even really thought about it while watching. But you’re totally right. It disturbed me how the film tried to dismantle her perfection. Elizabeth’s father tells Matt she was a perfect wife to him, not knowing about Elizabeth’s infidelity as the audience does. Her friends talk about her with such reverence as being fun and fearless. And of course no one is perfect. But I kept getting the feeling that the whole point of Elizabeth’s infidelity was to somehow excuse Matt’s bad behavior as an absentee husband and father (“I’m the backup parent, the understudy.”) Like well, see…he wasn’t that bad. At least he didn’t cheat on her like she did to him.
That’s what pissed me off about the film: its perspective and commentary on women. Matt bemoans, “What is it about me that makes women in my life want to destroy themselves?” As if the women in his life aren’t struggling with their own demons…it’s all how it affects him.
George Clooney as Matt King
Taking the “women in refrigerators” trope one step further, Jill Dolan at The Feminist Spectator talked about how dead or dying women facilitate men’s “self knowledge and redemption” as in the recent films The Ides of March and The Descendants. Even in her death, it isn’t really about Elizabeth. Or her grieving daughters, or friends, or family. It only matters how it impacts her husband, another role in which Clooney plays a man facing an emotional mid-life crisis.
It’s clear director Alexander Payne didn’t want to focus on the women in the film. I know it’s Clooney, and I love him. But it still irritated me that the movie ultimately revolves around him. I know, I know…big surprise. Another movie, an Oscar contender no less, revolving around an upper class white dude.
I think The Descendants would have been so much more interesting if told from Alex’s or Scottie’s perspective. But heaven forbid Hollywood focuses on the female characters.
So, Amber…what are your thoughts on the film’s gender roles and the interactions between the female characters? What do you think about the film’s statement on fatherhood and the relationship between fathers and daughters?
Amber’s Take:
I think Stephanie Brown does an excellent job discussing fatherhood in her Oscar review for this site. The movie’s two fathers (three if you count Brian Speer) are, in some ways, mirror images of each other: neither is particularly involved in family life, and neither seems to know his spouse or children well. Though I haven’t quite figured out what to make of Elizabeth’s mother’s absence-by-Alzheimer’s, the fact that one adult woman was fridged and another imprisoned by dementia shows at best real disinterest in women’s relationships (and hostility at worst). Perhaps the relationship between the two daughters was sidelined for similar ideological purposes.
Regardless of what we might want the movie to be about, or focus more heavily on, we’re stuck with the hero coming to terms with being a father and making what are perhaps the first serious decisions in his life: embracing his family and role as father, and keeping the land inheritance in the family (you could just say he kicks the can down the road, avoiding a decision, too). However, I think you’re spot on when you say the film couldn’t figure out what it was about (it’s not just you!).
Judy Greer as Julie Speer
I think that it’s a film that wants to be about many serious things, all while not bumming us out too much with its weight and seriousness. In this turn toward comedy–perhaps to avoid Terms of Endearment qualities, a comparison I never considered before reading Brown’s analysis–we see the subjects of inheritance, the accidental nature of being born into certain families, and ethnicity diminished, and we also see the women diminished. Not just in Elizabeth, or her mother, or the relationship between the two girls, but also in a minor character: Julie Speer (played by Judy Greer). There are two moments with this character that have stuck with me in the weeks since I saw the film. The first was the strange and unsettling forced kiss from Matt, a message from him about her husband’s infidelity and an outlet for his anger, the latter of which felt all about violation and…property. The second is the moment in the hospital when Julie first encountered the woman who had fallen in love with her husband. The film didn’t allow her an earnest confrontation; the moment was turned comedic by Matt interrupting–essentially denying her the kind of catharsis she might’ve needed. What makes this moment particularly egregious is that Matt, immediately after, was permitted a sincere, emotional, cathartic moment with her.
At almost every turn in the film, a woman was not permitted full autonomy. Except for Alex, who was permitted to be a full, complex character. What does it mean for a teenage girl to be the moral center of a story–of this specific story? I haven’t figured it out yet, but it surely doesn’t make up for the indifference and hostility toward the other women.
Megan’s Take:
I completely agree with you that having a female as the moral compass or center of the story definitely doesn’t negate the message of hostility to women. It’s a common theme as films often bestow strength and autonomy to teen female characters, as if they’re not comfortable with adult women possessing strength and wielding power.
I also agree with you about Julie Speer. I too was annoyed and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was surrounded by men using her: her unfaithful husband Brian and Matt King and his invasive kiss. While it was incredibly uncomfortable to watch her scream at the woman who caused her pain, ripping away that opportunity felt equally cruel.
Alex is the only female character allowed autonomy. But all of the women in the film must control their emotions and behavior. Alex possesses the most freedom as she speaks her mind freely. But she must rein in her drinking/partying and hide her pain and anger, crying underwater. Scottie must stop taking pictures and saying inappropriate things to people. Matt forces her to talk to her mother to grieve. Julie must control her emotions. Elizabeth is not only chastised but vilified in absentia for her reckless actions of drinking and infidelity.
The patriarch, Matt King
While the women have their actions and emotions policed, none of the men do. Elizabeth’s father punches Alex’s friend Sid. Sid makes ridiculous comments and is ultimately rewarded by Matt coming to him for advice on his daughters. Brian Speer is fearful when he meets Matt, but it doesn’t seem like he faces any real consequences for his actions. Matt King does have to “grow up” and finally act like a father. But he’s free to behave however he chooses, following the man who had an affair with his wife, grieve however he chooses, choosing whether or not to retain his family’s land. Matt tells his daughters, even Julie how to grieve.
What message does it send that women, both as children and as adults, must stifle their emotions and urges?
Tying all the pieces of the film together – the women denied their autonomy, erasure of discussions on race and class, revolving around a male protagonist – it reinforces white patriarchy. Not patriarchy in the sense of fatherhood but rather male privilege and female oppression. Yes, Matt King evolves into a more loving and attentive father, a bittersweet transformation. Yet I can’t help but feel the underlying theme implies men can do whatever they want, be whomever they choose, while women should not only listen to the needs and heeding of men, they are punished if they don’t.
 
Amber Leab is a Co-Founder and Contributing Editor to Bitch Flicks. 
 
Megan Kearns is a Bitch Flicks Contributor and Founder of Opinioness of the World.
 

Head wtch in charge: Revisiting The Witches

     Since the premiere of NBC’s new musical comedy, Smash (think: Glee for adults that are embarrassed to admit that they watch Glee), interest has been renewed in the legendary actor Anjelica Huston. While Huston boasts a laundry list of screen credits, including a handful of Emmys and an Academy Award win for Prizzi’s Honor, the least attention of all has been given to her worthwhile portrayal of the High Witch in the 1990 film adaptation of Roald Dahl’s The Witches.
   
     The film centers around the parallel lives of Helga Eveshim (Mai Zetterling) and her recently-orphaned grandson, Luke Eveshim (Jasen Fischer). Each night before bed, Luke begs to hear a story about witches. “Real witches dress in ordinary clothes and look very much like ordinary women. They live in ordinary houses and they work in ordinary jobs[…]for all you know, a witch might be living right next door to you,” Helga tells him in foreshadowing. For a moment, she sounds a bit like Fred Phelps, warning his minions about the dangers of lesbians.

     Grandmother’s distaste is very much warranted, however. As a child, she witnessed the witches turn her close friend into a character in a painting, where she spent the rest of her days, aging along with the canvas.

     Bad news strikes the Eveshim family thrice within the first fifteen minutes of The Witches. Shortly after the car crash which kills Luke’s parents, Helga is diagnosed with diabetes and urged to go on a holiday. The two relatives travel to a majestic hotel in Cornwall, England. Their relaxing vacation soon turns anything but as Helga and Luke realize that witches from every corner of the globe are having their annual convention in the very same hotel!

     These are hardly JK Rowling’s witches. They have beady purple eyes, scabbing scalps, square toes, not to mention a gross distaste for children–so much, that kiddies give off the scent of “dog’s droppings” whenever they are near. These supernatural women have one mission, and one mission only: To eradicate the world of these sticky-fingered, no good nuisances.

     Huston’s character spends the majority of her time on-screen berating the common witches  for not doing more to reduce the world’s K-12 population. When a commoner protests, “We can’t possibly wipe out all of them!,” the High Witch effortlessly turns her to ash. She then unveils a tiny bottle containing 500 doses of a potion called Formula 86, which is designed to assist in the complete annihilation of children in a very thorough and gruesome manner.
“Vitches vork ONLY vith magic!” the High Witch asserts. Funny, so do btches.

While Huston’s High Witch may be no Professor McGonagall, she serves as an excellent prequel to Bellatrix LeStrange:

     Fortunately, Grandmother Helga has schooled young Luke on witches’ wiles. Between her vast knowledge and Luke’s big-eared eagerness two learn, the two have no choice: They must take on the High Witch and–without giving away too much–offer her a taste of her own medicine.

     While The Witches did not fare well in box offices 22 years ago, the film holds two unplanned titles: In addition to being the Swedish bombshell Mai Zetterling’s last film, it was also Jim Henson’s final production before his untimely death in May 1990. As someone who grew up squished between episodes of Sesame Street and the pages of Roald Dahl’s novels, I would’ve loved to see this collaboration continue. The puppetry and cosmetic effects used in The Witches are so uniquely Henson that it’s impossible to not reminisce on Labyrinth while watching the film.
     Mai Zetterling ultimately pushes the plot forward, and in true feminist fashion. She’s everything I would want to be as a grandmother, from the bone-chilling bedtime stories to adventurous holidays in England. She educates and guides Luke, passing the witch-burning torch onto him when she’s no longer able to carry it.

     Despite The Witches having a large group of women serving as a collective antagonist, the film passes the Bechdel Test with flying colors: There is more than one female character who has a conversation about something other than men (in this case, the extermination of children); and while the High Witch uses her powers for evil, she earns Bonus Bechdel Points (BBPs) in my book for holding her own for as long as possible with a large and often critical group of colleagues.
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While she doesn’t quite have the accent, Sarah Fonseca’s been known to accidently type ‘ya’ll’ in her articles. Thank g-d for copyeditors.

Sarah runs frantically between writing and feminist club meetings on her university’s campus. Fortunately, those two spheres collide more than one would think. She is heavily involved with National Organization for Women, Creative Writing Club, and Random Acts of Poetry at Georgia Southern University.


Sarah is a staff writer for Georgia Southern’s George-Anne newspaper, and occasionally contributes to other publications within the community. Her fiction has been published in The Q Review and recognized by the Harbuck Scholarship committee.


Sarah is currently applying for fellowship with Lambda Literary, and plans to present her paper entitled On the Queering of Hair at next year’s National Women’s Studies Association Conference. 


Call for Writers: Biopics/Documentaries About Women

March is Women’s History Month. In honor of that, we’ve decided to feature reviews of biopics and documentaries about women. Many biopics about women tend to focus on their relationships and love lives exclusively, in a way that biopics about men usually don’t. So, we’d love to read reviews that praise these films, but feel free to write about biopics and documentaries that seriously fail the women being depicted. (Check out Gabriella Acipella’s analysis of the Margaret Thatcher and Marilyn Monroe films for an example of this.) There are currently TWO Linda Lovelace biopics in the works, yet we rarely see biopics or documentaries about women who changed lives (and cultures) … and there are plenty of women who did.

Here’s a very, very brief list of biopics–many of which are terrible, ha, and include lots of singers and entertainers–to think about, but please propose your own ideas for film reviews–including reviews of documentaries about women, too.

Helen Mirren as Queen Elizabeth II in The Queen

Meryl Streep as Julia Child in Julie & Julia

Angela Bassett as Tina Turner in What’s Love Got to Do With It?

Julia Roberts as Erin Brockovich in Erin Brockovich

Marion Cotillard as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose

Reese Witherspoon as June Carter Cash in Walk the Line

Diana Ross as Billie Holiday in Lady Sings the Blues

Angelina Jolie as Gia Carangi in Gia

Faye Dunaway as Bonnie Parker in Bonnie and Clyde

Jennifer Lopez as Selena in Selena

Sissy Spacek as Loretta Lynn in Coal Miner’s Daughter

Charlize Theron as Aileen Wuornos in Monster

Halle Berry as Dorothy Dandridge in Introducing Dorothy Dandridge

———-

Here are a few basic guidelines for guest writers on our site:

–We like most of our pieces to be 1,000 – 2,000 words, preferably with some images and links.
–Please send your piece in the text of an email, including links to all images, no later than Friday, March 23rd.
–Include a 2-3 sentence bio for placement at the end of your piece.

Email us at btchflcks(at)gmail(dot)com if you’d like to contribute a review. We accept original pieces or cross-posts.

Women & Gender at the 2012 Indie Spirit Awards

(L-R): ‘Pariah’ Producer Nekisa Cooper & Writer/Director Dee Rees, winning John Cassavetes Award

So I groaned the moment I discovered Seth Rogen was hosting the Independent Spirit Awards, which aired last Saturday night on IFC. I mean, after his shitshow appearance at the Golden Globes, making that sexual harassment comment to Kate Beckinsale on-stage, I’m all set with him. When announcer director John Waters (yep, you read that right) said he had “an erection just saying his name,” I thought for sure the show would be a sexist bonanza. Luckily, the Spirit Awards were fairly free of sexism and some interesting gender commentaries emerged.

In Rogen’s opening monologue, he humorously deemed actor Michael Shannon “looking creepy” (ha!) but also went on a “dick” tirade dissecting Michael Fassbender’s full frontal nudity in Shame. Rogen talked about how awards shows unveiled director Brett Ratner’s racism and bigotry, all while criticizing the Grammys for exalting a domestic violence abuser. He said:
“I honestly bet though Ratner really wishes he was organizing the Grammys because they seem much more forgiving than the Oscars altogether. Seriously, you say a few hateful things they don’t let you within a few hundred yards of the Oscars. You could literally beat the shit out of a nominee they ask you to perform twice at the Grammys.”

Now, I love, love, love celebs condemning domestic violence abusers like Chris Brown (keep it up Miranda Lambert!). But I’m all set with DV jokes. However, Rogen’s joke was more of a commentary on the utter ridiculousness of the Grammys glorifying Chris Brown (who mind you, is still on probation for another fucking 2 years! Ugh) rather than exploiting survivors.
There were some other great moments in the show, including presenters Kirsten Dunst and Jonah Hill who were surprisingly silly and funny together (hmmm…did somebody have a few too many cocktails??). But my fave quote of the night came when Rogen talked about his love of Albert Nobbs and Glenn Close’s “fucking awesome” performance:
“They say there’s no good roles left for women. Which is bullshit, there is. You just have to play a man.”

An astute observation on the glaring gender disparity in film.

(L-R): Best Supporting Female & Male Winners Shailene Woodley (‘The Descendants’) & Christopher Plummer (‘Beginners’)

In the Best Supporting Female category, the roles consist of a mother of a cancer-stricken son (Angelica Huston, 50/50), a woman living as a man (Janet McTeer, Albert Nobbs), a stay-at-home mother whose husband is struggling with demons (Jessica Chastain, Take Shelter), a transgender woman whose father has returned from prison (Harmony Santana, Gun Hill Road), and a young woman whose mother is dying (Shailene Woodley, The Descendants). Both McTeer and winner Woodley gave phenomenal performances.
Of the Best Female Lead nominees, all of the roles featured were in female-focused films. The characters comprise a “poverty stricken” single mother (Lauren Ambrose, Think of Me), a girl who escapes a cult (Elizabeth Olsen, Martha Marcy May Marlene), a religious woman bonding with her husband’s illegitimate son (Natural Selection), Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams, My Week with Marilyn), and a young lesbian African-American woman exploring her sexuality and finding her identity (Adepero Oduye, Pariah). Sadly, Oduye was the only woman of color nominated in this category.

Best Female Lead Winner Michelle Williams (‘My Week with Marilyn’)

When Michelle Williams won, in her endearing acceptance speech, she talked about being an outcast and finding acceptance. She said:


“I first came to the Independent Spirit Awards 10 years ago and I wore my own clothes which were not very good. And I cut my own hair which was also not very good. I remember, I still remember the feeling in this room, unlike others, that was okay. Possibly even preferred. And what I thought then, and still feel now, it’s because this is a room filled with misfits, outcasts, loners, dreamers, mumblers, delinquents, dropouts, just like me!

“I want to say thank you for supporting me and welcoming me and making me feel at home in this room and in this community all the way back then and now, when the only thing that I own that I’m wearing is my dignity.”

Now, I can’t really picture Williams an outcast or delinquent. But I liked that she talked about individuality and acceptance, as well as a commentary on beauty.
So the nominated performances embodied interesting, complex female characters. But what about the screenplays and films nominated? Did they boast women behind the scenes or female-focused films?
In the Best First Feature category, only 1 film, the strangely intriguing and tragic Another Earth featured a female writer or director (actress Britt Marling co-wrote and co-produced). But 3 of the 5 nominees revolved around female protagonists (Another Earth, Martha Marcy May Marlene, Natural Selection). Yet none of these won. As Molly McCaffrey tweeted:
“Margin Call, a movie about a bunch of Wall Street d-bags, beats Another Earth, a movie about a complicated woman #SHOCKING.”

I couldn’t agree more.
Despite illusions that Hollywood is oh so liberal, films usually depict white, straight characters and couples. But several films nominated for Spirit Award contained LGBTQ themes: Pariah, Beginners, Gun Hill Road, In the Family, Circumstance and the documentary We Were Here. Christopher Plummer won Best Supporting Male for his touching performance as a father coming out of the closet at 75 in Beginners and Harmony Santana became the first trans actress to be nominated for a major Hollywood award.
The Oscars completely overlooked THE best film of 2011, Pariah, an exquisitely beautiful film about a young lesbian woman of color asserting her identity. Thankfully, the Spirit Awards didn’t. Awarded to films with budgets of $500,000 or less, Pariah won the John Cassavetes Award! WOO HOO!!! What’s interesting about this category is that it boasted two nominees written and directed by women with plots focusing on lesbians of color (Pariah, Circumstance). Writer/director Dee Rees made me laugh when she said:
“Any Saturday where you get to wear a sparkly hoodie and drink two whiskeys before noon is fucking awesome.”

Right on! Then she thanked the amazing Adepero Oduye and the other Pariah actors:
“It’s about performance above all else.”

Pariah Producer Nekisa Cooper talked at the Athena Film Festival about the importance of supporting “women in front of the camera and behind the camera” because there aren’t enough women in film. Winning the Cassavetes Award, she said:
“It took a village to make this film.”

Aside from Pariah and the gender designated acting categories, where are the women?
Of the Best Screenplay nominees, all were written by men with movies all revolving around men. At least The Artist had Peppy Miller and Best Screenplay winner The Descendants (based on Kaui Hart Hemmings’ novel) had sisters Alex and Scottie. But even those 2 films still revolved around men. Of the Best First Screenplay nominees, only 1 woman, Britt Marling as co-writer (Another Earth), was nominated. But Will Reiser won for 50/50 won.
Sadly, none of the Best Director nominees were women. Even amongst the Best Documentary nominees, only 1 had a female director (Daniele Anastasion, General Butt Naked) and documentaries usually boast more female filmmakers.
The absolute best part of the night was lady duo Garfunkel and Oates. “Comedy folk singers” Riki Lindhome (Garfunkel) and Kate Micucci (Oates) gave a “morbidly funny” tribute to each of the 5 Best Feature nominees. They summed up all of the nominees with:
“You’ve got the spirit of murders, coma, cancer, schizophrenia, cancer, suicide, independence and dreams.”

 Adorbs, quirky, hilarious…just watch. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.
What Garfunkel and Oates didn’t mention is that you could also sum up all the movies like this…men. All the Best Feature nominees revolved around male characters or were told from a male protagonist’s perspective. Now, I really liked Best Feature winner The Artist. I loved that Peppy Miller (Bernice Bejo) was never rescued…she was the harbinger of her own success and destiny. And of course I adored Uggie the Dog (cute overload!). But even The Artist still ultimately revolved around George Valentin…a man’s dreams, a man’s failures, a man’s perspective.
Announcer John Waters ended the Spirit Awards with this command:
“Now go out there and make your damn movie!”

I love this rousing call to action…that anyone can and should follow their dream of making movies. It got me thinking that more women need to create films. They need to write, direct, film, produce and act. Women need to flood the studios with their creations. But the cynic in me couldn’t help but wonder, what’s the point if the films made by women aren’t even making it to theatres and not being awarded with accolades?
I was happy to see the Spirit Awards weren’t bogged down by sexism. But I erroneously assumed they would award more ladies in film, in front of and behind the camera.  I just wish more women, other than the gendered categories, and female-focused films had won. Hollywood, even amongst indie circles, keeps perpetuating the dude machine.

Guest Writer Wednesday: Melancholia, Take 2

Justine as Ophelia? from Melancholia (2011)
This is a guest post from Hannah Reck.

“All say, ‘How hard it is that we have to die’—a strange complaint to come from people who have had to live.” –Mark Twain 

As a mother of a 3-year-old, I don’t get out much, and, on my evenings off, I’d rather lie on the couch and watch something mindless. Sad, but true. A friend asked me to meet her at the town’s indie film theater and I knew nothing about the film I was going to see, not even the name…or director. I am not well-versed in Lars Von Trier’s work; though, I did try to watch Dancer in the Dark and couldn’t make it through. The film we saw is obviously Melancholia. I’d never even seen a trailer for this film and I left the theater thinking, “how could you ever make a trailer for THAT?!?” Afterward, I watched the official trailer and thought it simplified what was so moving about this film. Yes, it’s about the end of the world, but it’s so much more than that. 
Ultimately, Melancholia is about the human condition and how we handle the deep emotion we feel and our personal definition of crisis. The film centers on the relationship between two sisters, who react differently to life’s challenges, and in this case they deal with life’s biggest challenge: death. Not only a single death, but death of everything, which is, I don’t know, kind of heavy. Justine, played brilliantly by Kirsten Dunst, is a near-debilitated depressive who forms a strange relationship to the approaching planet Melancholia. Claire, (Charlotte Gainbourg) is the other sister, very much the antithesis of Justine. For one, she’s sane and copes with life according to the rules of society; employing the niceties by which we all try to abide. Justine doesn’t. Even at her wedding, she rejects the ritual and falls into a deep depression after her mother’s toast. Their mother Gaby, a cutting and steely woman, is played by Charlotte Rampling (always brilliant), and their father Dexter, a bumbling, well-meaning drunk, by John Hurt (sometimes brilliant). Claire, it seems, has helped her sister cope with her depression throughout her entire life. Despite Justine’s episodes, Claire plans an extremely lavish wedding for her sister in the home she shares with her husband (Kiefer Sutherland) and her son, Leo (Cameron Spurr). Their home screams Gothic Romanticism, and could easily be the set of a British period drama with a brooding Byronic hero gazing down from the window. Justine is that hero…Byron-esque heroine? 
Justine, Leo, and Claire
Melancholia possesses qualities of romanticism, which Merriam-Webster defines as: a predilection for melancholy, and Wiki describes as “strong emotion as an authentic source of aesthetic experience [with] emphasis on such emotions as trepidation, horror and terror and awe—especially that which is experienced in confronting the sublimity of untamed nature and its picturesque qualities.” Where Melancholia is concerned, this is an exact description. Though I didn’t grab this Romantic connection immediately, the painting by Casper David Friedrich (most famously associated with Romanticism), Wonderer above the Sea and Fog, reminds me of the film in so many ways. The cinematography possesses the same overcast and pallid blueness that creates the moodiness in Friedrich’s painting. Justine, the main character, is seen looking out onto the vastness of the sea, the glorious grounds and into the infinity that is the sky: the sublime. 
Casper David Friedrich’s Wonderer above the Sea and Fog
Melancholia, the planet, is surely sublime. No has before, or will again, experience the super-planet’s awesomeness and the inhabitants of Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia have days to wonder about the vastness of our galaxy and how small we actually are in relation. 
Von Trier admits he did not set out to make a Romantic film, but it became one over time. He uses Robert Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde as the haunting theme for the film. When I’ve re-viewed parts of the film the music triggers a physical emotion, because I felt a real connection to the melancholic aspects. Everyone suffers from some degree of depression and I felt an almost-sigh of relief that depression of this magnitude was shown so intimately in a motion picture. I was able to sympathize with Justine’s condition, despite her selfishness. That’s not to say that she isn’t a strange character that could be called crazy. Melancholia takes an almost supernatural turn as Justine becomes Melancholia’s advocate and justifies its course toward earth. “I know things,” she says, “the earth is evil. We don’t need to grieve for it. Nobody will miss it.” Claire is baffled, “How do you know?” “Because, I know things,” Justine says, “And when I say we’re alone, we’re alone. Life is only on earth, and not for long.” It’s a creepy scene, but somehow you believe it without knowing why. Also, she moon-bathes nude (Melancholia-bathes) in a spot just off the property, which is Dunst’s second nude scene. Some people moon-bathe because it’s supposed to revitalize you and give you energy, and Justine’s visit to this spot is the one time she looks truly happy, excited even—I would go as far as sexually excited. Gazing up at the new sight of Melancholia, she softly caresses her skin as though she’s looking into her lover’s eyes and she smiles. Perhaps, she wants to die so badly, that this is the answer to her prayers…? 
Claire, distraught, as any person with something to lose, grieves for her son who will never grow up. Though this is the main motivation behind her upset, I found her mothering abilities lacking in their final days. As Melancholia enters their atmosphere on their last day, her son falls asleep because they are losing oxygen. She lays him down in his bed and leaves the room to talk with Justine. As a mother, I found this strange. What if he died? What if he was breathlessly calling for her? It disturbed me. Also, when she finally realizes that Melancholia will indeed hit, she goes to find John, who has taken all the pills she has prepared to softly lull her family into death’s arms. She finds him dead, in their stable, and her reaction is strange. She feels sad (okay) and dwells next to him, almost forgiving what he’s done, and remains there for what seems like an eternity. Yes, it would be upsetting to find your husband dead, but come on—he’s left you (and your child) to meet the end alone. He’s a coward, like most of the men in the film, and this illustrates that Von Trier seems to empathize much more with the women in the film. They are written as the source of power when it really counts. 
Pieter Bruegel’s Hunters in the Snow
Melancholia is divided into three parts: the introduction, “Justine,” and “Claire.” The intro is a sequence of slow-motion scenes and still images that lasts for 8 (long) minutes, the gist of which is a strange synopsis of the film’s action; however, some of the images never actually play out. The audience sees a dirty, dead-eyed, close-up of Justine in the yard looking into the abyss, while birds fall silently (dead) from the sky. We see her teaching Leo how to sharpen stick with a knife, for the magic cave she’s promised to build. The stills look a bit like she’s teaching him to hunt, which seems connected to Bruegel’s painting, Hunters in the Snow. Not only does this work illustrate the vastness of nature, it shows (like the Romantics) the micro and macro of the landscape (and the hunter’s sticks like the ones they prepare). This image repeats in the film and is the third frame in the opening; first the still painting and then it begins to slowly burn. Pretty sad really, to think of–All. Art. Gone. Every masterpiece, gone in an instant— this, oddly, made me saddest of all. Also in the intro, (never actually seen) Claire in utter panic, running with Leo as her legs sink into the ground. Half of the images are of Justine, Leo and Claire in wedding attire, at the ready, with a grand, gothic estate behind them. Oh, and Melancholia crashing (slowly) into the earth—and it’s truly beautiful. 
Claire running with Leo
Justine and Claire could be viewed as one person, because their roles completely reverse by the end of the film, illustrating that we all possess the same characteristics but utilize them at different times. Hate to say it, but (some) depressives are quite good in a crisis. They can put their immediate problems aside and deal with much larger themes (yes, I’m saying me). Justine is a wreck in “Justine,” and Claire appears stable (while John is still alive), but in “Claire,” she falls completely apart and Justine is very strong. Leo calls Justine “Auntie Dealbreaker” in “Justine,” when she keeps wandering off from her wedding reception and breaks her deal with John to smile, be happy, and go through with the wedding she’s promised will make her happy (at the wedding that he’s paying for). Leo calls her “Auntie Steelbreaker” in “Claire” because she’s so tough she could break steel? I think “Justine” demonstrates Justine’s deterioration (possible pre-grieving her death) that is brought on by Melancholia’s relationship to the earth. Though this is (oddly) never discussed in the film, she falls apart as Melancholia begins its “death dance,” and reenergizes when it lines up to hit us directly. Much to John’s chagrin, Claire finds a diagram, on the internet, illustrating the orbital “death dance” Melancholia will take (it comes close, moves away and then comes back and hits). 
Melancholia approaches
The men of Melancholia run away and are dismissive of women’s emotion. Justine’s father leaves on her wedding night (even though she begs him to stay); he seemingly cannot deal with her melt-down (and is also self-centered). Her new husband, Michael (played by Alexander Skarsgard), leaves when she won’t consummate their marriage (seemed hasty). Her boss (Stellan Skarsgard, Alexander’s dad, by the way) throws a royal fit when she won’t deliver the tagline he’s forced his nephew, Tim (Brady Corbet), to hound her about all night. She quits her job, as a high-powered ad exec, and (our only moment of true clarity about Justine’s past) pinpoints, with cutting accuracy, why she despises his vapid character and profession. He throws a raucous tantrum (plate-throwing) and leaves. John is completely dismissive of Justine’s feelings/depression (somewhat founded, she is pretty self-absorbed) and his wife’s relentless support; but moreover, he completely trivializes her fear of Melancholia. Instead of facing death with her and admitting he is wrong, he kills himself and leaves his wife and son to suffer a horrible, fiery death. Von Trier wrote these characters, and while he may not have intended for the men to come off as cowardly weaklings, they do. 
Finally, here’s my big issue with the film: clarity. Did Von Trier purposefully remain ambiguous? Yeah, probably. Okay, what was Justine like before? She has bridesmaids, but never talks to them. She has a fiancé, who was really excited about marrying her—and they seem really in love, so she can’t have always been this bad. She has a career, as a high-powered ad executive that her boss says, “is the best in the business.” Wouldn’t that require a certain degree of responsibility? I needed more here. How are we to believe that she could hold a job and have friends if she’s a fucking unapologetic wreck all the time? AND—no one remarks that she’s behaving differently—is she worse than normal? Is old Justine at it again…? Yes, on her wedding night her sister says, “we talked about this, no episodes tonight,” but people seem to believe in her. Michael gives the sweetest speech about his love and devotion to making her happy. I’m not being sappy here; his toast to her is a really fine piece of acting. 
Overall, a provoking film that forces you to think about the character’s point-of-view. Von Trier is a controversial character himself; he is eccentric and admittedly made this film about his own depression. Possibly fueled by the whole 2012 phenomenon, I’d say he’s made (so far) the most beautiful and compelling film about the end of the world. 
Melancholia approaches Earth
Hannah Reck is a professional undergrad who has gained a lot of knowledge in a variety fields: Acting, Musical Theater, Women’s Studies, English, and Secondary education from Ithaca College, CCM and the University of Cincinnati. She’s taken time off to marry, have a baby and a kidney transplant.

2012 Oscar Nominations Roundup

The Oscars air this Sunday night on ABC.

Thanks to all who contributed reviews of this year’s Academy Award nominees!

Best Picture:
The Descendants reviewed by Stephanie Brown
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close reviewed by Jennifer Kiefer
The Help reviewed by elle
Hugo reviewed by Scott Mendelson
Midnight in Paris reviewed by Megan Kearns
Moneyball reviewed by Robin Hitchcock
The Tree of Life reviewed by Lesley Jenike
Best Documentary:
Hell and Back Again
If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front
Pina reviewed by Ren Jender
Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory
Undefeated

Best Actress:
Glenn Close in Albert Nobbs
Viola Davis in The Help
Meryl Streep in The Iron Lady reviewed by Gabriella Apicella
Michelle Williams in My Week With Marilyn reviewed by Danielle Winston
Best Supporting Actress:
Berenice Bejo in The Artist reviewed by Candice Frederick
Jessica Chastain in The Help
Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids reviewed by Janyce Denise Glasper
Janet McTeer in Albert Nobbs
Octavia Spencer in The Help

Best Original Screenplay:
The Artist
Bridesmaids
Margin Call reviewed by Jessica Pieklo
Midnight in Paris
A Separation

Best Adapted Screenplay:
The Descendants
Hugo
The Ides of March
Moneyball
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Be sure to join us on Twitter during the Oscars!

2012 Indie Spirit Nominations Roundup

The Indie Spirit Awards air this Saturday night on IFC.

A big thanks to all who contributed reviews of the Indie Spirit nominees.

Best Feature:
The Descendants reviewed by Stephanie Brown
The Artist reviewed by Candice Frederick
Take Shelter reviewed by Carrie Nelson
Drive reviewed by Leigh Kolb
Beginners reviewed by Megan Ryland
50/50 reviewed by Josh Ralske
Best First Feature:
In the Family
Margin Call reviewed by Jessica Pieklo
Natural Selection
Another Earth reviewed by Diana Fakhouri
Martha Marcy May Marlene reviewed by Carrie Nelson
Best International Film:
A Separation
Melancholia reviewed by Olivia Bernal
Shame reviewed by Clint Waters
The Kid with a Bike
Tyrannosaur

John Cassavetes Award:
Bellflower reviewed by Deirdre Crimmins
Circumstance
Hello Lonesome
Pariah reviewed by Carrie Nelson
The Dynamiter
Best Female Lead:
Elizabeth Olsen in Martha Marcy May Marlene
Lauren Ambrose in Think of Me
Rachael Harris in Natural Selection
Adepero Oduye in Pariah 

Best Supporting Female:
Jessica Chastain in Take Shelter
Janet McTeer in Albert Nobbs
Harmony Santana in Gun Hill Road
Anjelica Huston in 50/50
Best Director:
Michel Hazanavicius for The Artist
Jeff Nichols for Take Shelter
Nicolas Winding Refn for Drive
Alexander Payne for The Descendants
Mike Mills for Beginners
Best Screenplay:
Tom McCarthy for Win Win
Alexander Payne, Nat Faxon & Jim Rash for The Descendants
Michel Hazanavicius for The Artist
Joseph Cedar for Footnote
Mike Mills for Beginners
Best First Screenplay:
Patrick deWitt for Terri
Phil Johnston for Cedar Rapids
Mike Cahill & Brit Marling for Another Earth
Will Reiser for 50/50
J.C. Chandor for Margin Call
Best Documentary:
We Were Here
The Redemption of General Butt Naked
The Interrupters
Bill Cunningham New York
An African Election
Be sure to join us on Twitter during the Spirit Awards!

Oscar Best Picture Nominee: Hugo

Hugo (2011)

This cross-post from Scott Mendelson originally appeared at Mendelson’s Memos.
Hugo
2011
127 minutes
rated PG
Pardon my theoretical laziness, but I’m not in the mood to do a formal review for Martin Scorsese’s Hugo. And frankly, since I went in knowing almost nothing aside from the general time period and a few of the actors, I suppose I should do my readers the same courtesy. But know this: Martin Scorsese has crafted the most impressive and beautiful 3D you’ve ever seen in a live action film. Since the film somewhat revolves around the early days of cinema (it takes place in 1930s Paris), Scorsese uses 3D technology to create a dreamlike visual palette that attempts to replicate what it was like for the very first moviegoers, the ones who allegedly jumped out of the way of speeding trains and ducked when the train robber fired his pistol at the screen. There are times when this live-action feature feels like a living cartoon, and I experienced a kind of fever-dream sensation that I haven’t felt since Coraline. If ever there was a movie to justify that 3D ticket-price bump, this is it. 
As for the movie, it is a most curious sort of family film. It is certainly appropriate for children and its two main protagonists are indeed kids, but it also serves as a passionate plea to respect and preserve not just cinema, but all forms of art that enthrall and captivate audiences of all stripes. The film builds pretty slowly, with most of the first hour devoted to set-up and the friendship between its young stars (Asa Butterfield and Chloe Moretz). But if the first hour almost qualifies as ‘slow’, the pay off is more than worth it. Ironically, the film has more in common than you might think with The Muppets. Both films deal with nostalgia. But while The Muppets deals with how our generation clings to the entertainments of our past to deal with the disappointment of our present, Hugo presents characters who refuse to look back because it hurts too much to compare what was with what is. Both films build to (completely earned) stunningly powerful finales, and I’d argue that Hugo wins a point for actually ending on said high note instead of having a couple false endings.
That’s all you really need. Just know that Hugo is one of the best films of 2011, one of the best films Scorsese has made in the last twenty years, and easily a new high-water mark for 3D filmmaking. 
Grade: A-
Scott Mendelson is, by hobby, a freelance film critic/pundit who specializes in box office analysis. He blogs primarily at Mendelson’s Memos while syndicating at The Huffington Post and Valley Scene Magazine. He lives in Woodland Hills, CA with his wife and two young kids where he works in a field totally unrelated to his BA in Film Theory/Criticism from Wright State University.

Indie Spirit Best Feature Nominee: Take Shelter

Take Shelter (2011)

This is a review from Monthly Guest Contributor Carrie Nelson.
Writing about Take Shelter for a website like Bitch Flicks is a challenge. Certainly, I can write endlessly about why I loved Take Shelter. There is no doubt in my mind that it was the best film I saw in 2011. I loved the story, I loved the performances, I loved the cinematography and the overall aesthetics of the film, and I loved the fact that it genuinely surprised me with its suspense. But while Take Shelter addresses a wide range of dynamic themes – family, mental illness, standing up for one’s convictions – it is not an explicitly feminist film, nor is it a film that discusses gender issues overtly. As I think about the film from a feminist perspective, however, I realize more and more that the story is actually quite feminist, even if it doesn’t advertise itself as such or appear to be at first glance. 
In Take Shelter, Curtis LaForche (Michael Shannon, in a performance that should have garnered him a Best Actor Academy Award nomination) is a husband and a father, working as a construction worker in Ohio. He begins to have a series of nightmares about a storm, one that rains polluted water and causes people and animals to react manically. Fearing that his dreams are prophetic, Curtis decides to build a tornado shelter in his yard, in order to protect his family from the apocalyptic doom he senses is coming. Curtis’ actions cause stress in all of his relationships – familial, social and professional – because no one understands why the shelter construction is so important to him. Curtis does not know if his dreams represent a true impending natural disaster, or if they are actually symptomatic of mental illness, a condition he may be inheriting from his mother (Kathy Baker). Nevertheless, he is driven to build the shelter, and no one can deter him. 
The heart of Take Shelter is the relationship between Curtis, his wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain, continuing her string of break-out roles in 2011) and their daughter Hannah (Tova Stewart). In many ways, the LaForche family structure is traditional. After all, the entire film is about the lengths one is willing to go in order to protect one’s family. Curtis and Samantha are good, church-going parents who put their family before anything else. But within that traditional model, the gender roles are less defined. Both Curtis and Samantha work outside the home to provide for the family, Curtis as a construction worker and Samantha as an artisan who sells crafts at local markets. Both are committed to raising Hannah, participating equally in school functions and spending time with her at home. Both are strong and determined, taking the sanctity and safety of their family incredibly carefully. The household and family may be traditional, but labor is not divided on gendered lines and neither Curtis nor Samantha is defined within the family unit by gender norms. 
Samantha (Jessica Chastain) and Curtis (Michael Shannon)
The marriage of Curtis and Samantha is one of the most fascinating elements of the film. When their loving relationship is tested by Curtis’ increasingly erratic behavior, Samantha fears for his well-being, and for the well-being of herself and her daughter. But as worried as he makes her, and as little as she understands what he is experiencing, she stands by him. She doesn’t leave, and she doesn’t speak ill of him to others. She responds in a way that most loving spouses would. 
Often in movies, the drama is increased by the collapse of marriages and otherwise committed relationships. I’m not going to say that marriage is easy, or that marriages always work out – it isn’t and they don’t, and it’s good for the media to reflect that reality. But it’s also true that marriages do not just fall apart over one problem. I’ve often seen films about failed marriages that give me pause, because I don’t understand how a strong commitment could fall apart so easily in real life. Part of what I loved about Take Shelter is how believable the LaForche marriage was in this respect. Curtis and Samantha have their problems, but they work through them the way committed couples in real life do. It was refreshing to see an image like that on-screen – an image that I do not think is presented often enough. 
But this isn’t just a story of a woman who stands by her husband. It’s more complicated than that. In an interesting twist on traditional gender roles, it is Samantha who ultimately “saves” Curtis in Take Shelter. Without spoiling the film’s climax (a heart-wrenching, suspenseful scene which remains the best cinema I saw in all of 2011), it is important to note that Curtis only overcomes his nightmares with Samantha’s tough love. She doesn’t just support her husband through his struggles, she demands that he trust her and believe in her commitment to him, which is how he begins to rediscover his own strength. Without Samantha, Curtis may have completely lost sight of himself and his reality. It is she who grounds him and forces him, albeit kicking and screaming, to work with her, rather than against her out of fear or suspicion. Samantha and Curtis are able to protect and preserve their marriage, but it is Samantha who does the heavy lifting. She is no waif or pushover. She creates the marriage she wants to have and makes sure that nothing sabotages it, no matter what. 
In an article for Ms. Magazine Blog, Janell Hobson sums up the message of Take Shelter as such: 

Take Shelter asks us to put our faith back into our intuition (usually associated with women), to accept our maternal gifts (even as they veer off from patriarchal rationality), to listen to our inner voices when all others call us crazy and, most of us all, to surround ourselves with love. 

I couldn’t agree with Hobson more. Take Shelter is about many things, but the theme of familial love is particularly strong. Curtis and Samantha have their struggles, but they survive together, and that sends a vital message. Storms do come. People do become ill. But as long as we have strength in our own personal convictions and love for the people who love us, we will survive those struggles. Traditional as it may be, it’s an important message, one that I wish I saw more frequently in films. Take Shelter presented it honestly and powerfully. Here’s hoping that more films can do the same.

Carrie Nelson is a Staff Writer for Gender Across Borders and a Monthly Guest Contributor for Bitch Flicks. She works as a grant writer for an LGBT nonprofit organization in NYC.

The Descendants: Oscar Best Picture and Indie Spirit Best Feature Nominee

The Good Patriarch: The Descendants, directed by Alexander Payne

This is a guest post from Stephanie Brown. 
The Descendants is a movie about patriarchy, about husbandry and fatherhood as verb and action rather than noun and abstraction, about stewardship and responsibility. It implies that being a responsible and engaged and aware man is the key to being a responsible citizen and human being. It’s an important film that is very much of the current zeitgeist, but its ease and perfection and touches of comedy (very much like the persona of George Clooney himself) may mean that its depth is missed amid the excellent casting and the light touch of director Alexander Payne. The film is based on the book of the same name by Kaui Hart Hemmings, who was raised in Hawaii by her mother and step-father. 
In The Descendants, Clooney’s character, Matt King, is the key decision maker for his family’s trust. Their family has lived in Hawaii for generations, part native Hawaiian and part white. They own a large undeveloped tract of land on Kauai. As the movie begins the family is in the process of selling the land to a developer and the group is poised to profit handsomely. His many cousins, also heirs, are portrayed as decent people, “good guys” who like to drink and hang out: contemporary landed gentry, enjoying their wealth and comfort in paradise. As decision maker for the fate of the fortune for a whole slew of cousins/subjects scattered around the islands and mainland, Matt is aptly named “king,” and he is affable, fair and aims to please. At the same time his wife, Elizabeth, has been in a water skiing accident and is now in a coma. Like many fathers and husbands, he is not very involved in his children’s lives and doesn’t know them very well, and is not really that knowledgeable of his wife’s life either. Soon after he retrieves his older daughter from her private boarding school (she is drunk when he finds her) to return home with him, he discovers from her that his wife has been having an affair. The movie is about the slow unfolding of this secret that has been kept from him by friends and family, and the slow strengthening of his bond with his daughters, especially his oldest daughter, Alex, played by Shailene Woodley. It’s a great performance by Woodley, who is utterly believably as an intelligent and strong but betrayed and angry teenager. She alone knows the exact nature of both her parents’ flaws but is powerless to make them change. Instead she causes problems as school and acts bratty and disagreeable. She is also shown schooling her younger sister in teenage survival skills, and while her methods and language are crude, one knows that this is likely the only practical advice the younger daughter has gotten from anyone. The movie is taken up with a road trip of sorts, actually jaunts between islands and neighborhoods therein, with Alex, the younger daughter Scottie (Amara Miller), and Alex’s friend Sid (Nick Krause) providing the comic relief. Matt and Alex search for and find the man with whom Elizabeth has had an affair and end up awkwardly befriending him and his wife (Matthew Lillard and Judy Green) as they move toward the conclusion—to finalize the sale of the land, and to see if Elizabeth will live or die. 
Recent radio ads for The Descendants are comparing it to Terms of Endearment. I’m not sure Alexander Payne’s subtly crafted movies, Election, About Schmidt, and Sideways, while critical favorites, have become all-time-favorite-movie blockbusters in the way that Terms of Endearment has. I’m betting that the strategy of this comparison is to try to push it into the blockbuster box office realm. Will it ‘play in Peoria,” though? The Descendants does have an emotional death scene, where George Clooney says what is in his heart to his comatose and dying wife, but, like Payne’s other films, scenes such as this are restrained and Clooney’s soliloquy never veers into melodrama. By this point in the film, I didn’t like the wife and I was not sorry to see her die. I did not feel that the scene’s intention was to make me cry in an emotionally cathartic way. I don’t think the comparison between films works, and I think viewers who are expecting a Terms of Endearment will be disappointed. They may, however, see the powerful film that it is and come away awakened by its point of view. Think of the difference between Jack Nicholson in Terms of Endearment and Jack Nicholson in Payne’s About Schmidt. Schmidt’s character’s sad, reticent and somewhat baffled personality is naked and embarrassing to his daughter, and it’s a fine and restrained performance from Nicholson, who, like Clooney, is a masterful comedic actor. Both have elastic faces and trademark voices, and Payne’s direction keeps them true and honest in these depictions that move from comedic turns to profoundly honest portrayals of wounded American men. 
The Descendants has many facets, touching on wealth and its effects on people and the history of the islands of Hawaii themselves, among other things, but to my mind, the most interesting theme in the film is the examination of fatherhood and manhood that is revealed via the relationship of Elizabeth to her father, Scott Thorson, played with frank ferocity by Robert Forster. Like a God, like Thor, Mr. Thorson has thunderous opinions and never wavers in them. We also know that he is wrong and pigheaded and the kind of person who is impossible to live with. He is certain that his daughter was a perfect wife and mother and that her accident could have been prevented if only Matt had bought her a safer boat to use rather than have her rely on her friends’ boats. Like his daughter, Mr. Thorson’s wife is shown as non compos mentis. She is in the throes of dementia and unaware of her surroundings. I do not think this is a coincidence. The only way to endure a man like this is to retreat into silence and passivity symbolized here as states of dementia and coma. His wife never speaks but she smiles. Mr. Thorson is an archetype of a Korean War-era father, all manliness, certainty and uncomplicated self-assurance. He has indulged his daughter and rejected his son—and he is not fond of his son-in-law. It is also clear that Mr. Thorson does not even know his daughter beyond superficial platitudes that he can shout about her being a good wife, mother and athlete (that she might be too much of a risk taker is ignored). He extols that she was a faithful wife when she was not. His fulsome praise has probably inflated his daughter’s ego and created a monster. Mr. Thorson is the figure of a crippled manhood that can exist only by rejecting deep feelings and hard truths about people, a style of fathering that may extol specialness, but rejects complexity and imperfection. Matt resembles him, unfortunately, in his own benign neglect of his children. Matt, whose style is more graceful and contemporary than Thorson’s, is of the generation that seeks to be seen as a “good guy” like his cousins—happy to take a profit and enjoy life, happy to live as a detached “back- up” parent (as he calls himself) who can easily just not pay much attention and not see any pain and suffering his children are feeling. They live in paradise and are quite wealthy, after all. It would never occur to the cousins or Matt to preserve the land for future generations; it is seen as inevitable that it must be sold and profit shared today. Benign neglect. 
In the end, Matt decides not to sell the land but to preserve it. It is not a popular decision with the cousins. It is, however, the right decision. Matt uses his power for the first time and he risks not being popular, affable, or liked, and he is not. That is what it means to be a father and a steward and a patriarch, however. It means thinking about the future beyond current gain and comfort. It means thinking of future generations, accepting responsibility and using it reasonably and well. It means choosing not to be part of the rather dissolute landed gentry and not encouraging your children in this direction either. As I watched the film and saw him choose to preserve the land for future generations, it occurred to me that this decision would not have been believable if the film were released ten or twenty years ago. I don’t think I myself would have agreed with the decision. I would have thought, development is inevitable so why not let these decent people profit from it? But it has been released in a very different economic and social climate, where we are questioning the realities of profit and gain run amok. What is the result of all the wealth that we acquired and lost in the last twenty years? The culture tried to live like landed gentry. We exported our jobs and we exported our pollution in order to create our crap without regulations, and we sought to live like the cousins, expecting a good deal to come our way and to continue to come our way. The Descendants got me considering these truths. If one is a patriarch, one should accept it and be a responsible one. One should father and husband as a verb. And that goes the same for matriarchs and mothers and wives. If Mr. Thorson was our father, we need to wake up and pay attention and change the traits that resemble his. We need to be stewards of our families and of the earth for our descendants. 
I was talking to friends one night and I mentioned that I had seen this movie and Lars Von Trier’s movie Melancholia during the same weekend, and that I liked both of them. Von Trier gets at the gnawing dread that I think we all feel about the world being destroyed. I felt grateful that an artist had made this film, because it forced me to think about my own hopelessness in the face of that destruction. But I added that I felt that The Descendants was just as powerful of a film and just as profound, even if the tone is lighter. In the last scene, Matt and his two daughters are shown sitting on a couch together, eating ice cream and watching TV. We can hear the movie’s narrator, Morgan Freeman, and after a while one realizes that they’re watching March of the Penguins. As my husband pointed out to me as we walked out of the theater, the male penguin is the one who cradles the egg, who protects it and keeps it safe from danger until it hatches. Like the father who has learned to father in film.
Stephanie Brown is the author of two collections of poetry, Domestic Interior and Allegory of the Supermarket. She’s published work in American Poetry Review, Ploughshares and The Best American Poetry series. She was awarded an NEA Fellowship in 2001 and a Breadloaf Fellowship in 2009. She has taught at UC Irvine and the University of Redlands and is a regional branch manager for OC Public Libraries in southern California.

Oscar Best Picture Nominee: ‘Moneyball’

Brad Pitt stars in Best Picture nominee Moneyball
This is a guest post from Robin Hitchcock.
I didn’t know until the end credits that Aaron Sorkin had a writing credit on Moneyball. This is good, because I semi-irrationally hate Aaron Sorkin, and I wouldn’t want that bias to have influenced my take on the film. I’m frankly astonished I made it through the movie without recognizing Sorkin’s handiwork given his very specific, very stilted style. I’m not sure if that is a credit to the acting, the directing, the influence of also-credited writer Steve Zallian’s earlier draft, an uncharacteristic bout of restraint on the part of Mr. Sorkin, or a combination thereof. Sure, the dialogue is sharp and clever, not so aggressively sharp and clever that you feel like you’re being stabbed in the throat with wit. The snazzy dialogue is more there to entertain the viewer, instead of demonstrate the genius of the writer, which is pretty much the opposite of how I usually feel about Sorkin’s work.
While I didn’t know about Sorkin’s contribution to the script when I watched Moneyball, I did know I’d be reviewing it for Bitch Flicks. So I watched with my feminist glasses freshly cleaned and firmly planted on my nose. Which was tricky, because this is not a movie about women. Professional baseball is about as much of a man’s world as you could ask for, plus there’s the whole “based on a true story” business to validate keeping all the major characters men.
Which is fine! There are stories, stories worth telling, that are just about men. [Likewise, there are stories worth telling that only involve women, but its hard to get Hollywood to bankroll those.] Telling a story about men in a men’s world isn’t inherently sexist. But I think it is fair to subject whatever scraps of portrayal of women we get in these male-dominated films to a slightly higher scrutiny.
Moneyball becomes pretty cringeworthy when you do that. The film has a runtime of 133 minutes, and by my rough count women “characters” are featured in slightly less than 8 of those minutes. That’s 6%. [This whole “math” thing is kind of a double-edged sword, eh, Moneyball?] In those 8 minutes we see three wives/mothers, two daughters, three markedly cheerful and helpful secretaries, and one bitchy sports reporter. Yep, that’s right, the only woman in the movie who isn’t in a family or subservient relationship to the male characters is established as pushy and mean in a scant ten lines of dialogue.
Casey, played by Kerris Dorsey
The only even remotely well-rounded female character is Billy Beane’s twelve-year-old daughter, Casey (Kerris Dorsey), and the character is only as well-rounded as a dented egg. She’s your standard shy-yet-precocious pre-teen on the brink of womanhood, a favorite stock character of lazy male writers. [See also First Daughter Lucy in Sorkin’s The American President]. Casey feels a bit shoe-horned into the movie, to soften Brad Pitt’s Billy Beane and give him some scenes where he’s not flipping tables or arranging complicated player trade deals, all the better to bait that sweet, sweet Oscar honey. The other reason for Casey’s character to exist is to provide an explanation of Beane’s decision to reject a lucrative offer from the Boston Red Sox to become the best-paid GM in the game. I have no idea if Real Life Billy Beane stayed in Oakland to be near his children (although this Sports Illustrated piece from the time suggests as much), but I am sadly reminded of Aaron Sorkin’s “but you guys remember Rooney Mara, right!?” defense against the feminist criticism of women in The Social Network. When you’re only including women in your story because they motivate the men in the story, it’s not enough to win you any points with feminists.
The other women in the film (aside from an entirely wasted Robin Wright as Beane’s ex-wife) are all presented as service-providers to men. On top of the cheerful secretaries, we also see one of the player’s wives bring out coffee for Beane and his associate when they invite themselves into her living room to recruit spurned former catcher Scott Hatteberg (Chris Pratt) to play first base, and quickly scoop up her and Scott’s young daughter when she toddles her way through this important meeting between the menfolk. I was so distracted by the antiquated gender dynamic playing out in that scene I had to watch it a second time to pay attention to the plot advancement.
Antiquated gender dynamics mar Moneyball
A later scene leads me to believe that the strange emphasis on women as helpmates was intentional, hopefully trying to say something about the old-fashioned hyper-masculine world of baseball. When Beane meets with Boston Red Sox owner John Henry (Arliss Howard), his cheerful and helpful secretary cheerfully and helpfully serves coffee, prompting this exchange.
Henry: You know, it’s her birthday, and I need to get her a present, but she’s usually the one that does that for me. So, do you have any ideas?
 
Beane: Uh, scarf.
 
Henry: You mean like wool?
 
Beane: No, I meant, uh, what women wear with, uh… decorative.
 
Henry: Where would I get something like that?
After which Beane cuts him off with something like, “I have no time for such frivolous lady issues! Let’s talk about serious matters of vital importance, like BASEBALL!” I believe this exchange is in the movie to highlight the strangeness of the general absence of women in this universe and subservient roles the few present women are in. At least, I hope that is what is going on, because otherwise I get the sinking suspicion that Sorkin wrote all these helper women in the movie as a deliberate fuck you to those who criticized the portrayal of women in The Social Network. Or worse yet, he thought by making all these helper women so markedly cheerful and polite, and by not having anyone snort coke off their bodies, that he was course-correcting. But that’s all wild speculation, given I don’t know the content of Sorkin’s contributions to the script.
Regardless, its inarguable that Moneyball does no favors for women in cinema. Aside from that, it’s a perfectly fine movie, not something I’d generally consider in the echelon of Best Picture nominees, but well worth watching nonetheless. All the same, I wish there were more movies with virtually all-female casts to counterbalance all the Moneyballs I’ve seen over my lifetime.
Robin Hitchcock has previously reviewed The Descent and Michael Clayton for Bitch Flicks. You can read her movie reviews at her blog HitchDied and other feminist pop culture commentary at her blog The Double R Diner.

Oscar Best Supporting Actress Nominee: Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids

Oscar nominee Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids

This is a guest post from Janyce Denise Glasper.

“I swear to God, that dolphin looked not at me, but into my soul, into my goddamn soul, Annie, and said, ‘I’m saving you, Megan.’”

Is that not charmingly poetic?
Does that not make one want to jump into the rivers of the deep to find unlikely redemption into the eyes of a playful circus mammal?
Bridesmaids, a hysterically entertaining R-rated anti-chick flick that has women front and center and men taking the backseat is just one teeny tiny pivotal step in right direction, has received two Academy Award nominations- Best Original Screenplay and a Best Supporting Actress nod for Melissa McCarthy.
For a comedian to be nominated in a comedic role is rare in Academy Award history and, if anything, McCarthy’s performance is extraordinarily insightful and altogether wonderful because she expresses an impressively varied range. From downright funny, to adorably charming, to unapologetically unladylike and to fearless poignancy.
Now the story is that Lillian is getting married to her “Dougie” and what better than to have a pack of rambunctious ladies up for a most diverse bridal party–Annie, the poor, creative-minded maid of honor/best friend; Helen, the skinny rich bitch who often steals Annie’s thunder; Becca, the chipper, saccharinely-sweet newlywed; Rita, the pissed off housewife cousin of Lillian; and at last Megan, Doug’s sister, a wisecracking badass-guts-no-glory kind of woman.
Melissa McCarthy as bridesmaid Megan
Introduced to Annie by a very busy Lillian, Megan is demurely dressed in a starched blouse, black slacks, unkempt pulled-back hair, and au naturale complexion. Pacing and somewhat twirling around the dance floor, Megan is an isolated figure, fruity beverage in hand, and seems a bit out of place in room of glamorously dressed people, but the pearl necklace and matching earrings give her that upper crust belonging.
A survivor of a cruise ship fall with pins in her legs, Megan speaks of being miraculously rescued by a heroic, telepathic dolphin, every bit of her words strongly emphasized in devout conviction.
Certainly not delusions derived from nearly drowned unconsciousness, McCarthy’s vividly animated performance makes the viewers simultaneously find humor and pity from an otherwise dangerous plight without using the over-played sarcastic or classic “dumb girl” approach. Resonating such brilliance and infectious wit, one cannot help but adore the spitfire the actress makes Megan to be.
Megan knows he’s really an air marshall
Short, stout, and proud of her sexual dominance, she has traits that others would find downright masculine.
For example, while boasting about Lillian’s potentially insufferable life with her brother, she also throws in an odd curveball idea of having a shower theme of “Fight Club,” thinking ganging up and beating up the bride an unexpected twist, which shocks and stuns the bridal band.
However, the part that electrifies to the core is the scene towards the end where McCarthy expels a reality about the negative connotations of bullying that cannot be ignored, expressing where such bravado and strength materialized, and a courage that is downright fascinating to watch.
It’s this speech that triggers the emotions:

No, this was not easy going up and down the halls. Okay? They used to try to blow me up. They threw firecrackers at my head. Fire crackers. I mean literally. I’m not saying that figuratively. I got firecrackers thrown at my head. They called me a freak. Do you think I let that break me? Think I went home to my mommy crying; ‘Oh, I don’t have any friends. Oh, Megan doesn’t have any friends.’ No, I did not. You know what I did? I pulled myself up. I studied really hard. I read every book in the library and now I work for the government. I have the highest possible security clearance.

She is not the best friend or closest pal to Annie, but is the one person who comes to visit the blond basket case, albeit with nine puppies in tow. Warm and rife with valiant wisdom, Megan’s thoughtful encouragement and lighthearted advice get Annie out of a depressing, self-inflicted funk.
Anti-rainbows, pink bows, and fluffy chatter, Megan, an imperfectly flawed champion female, is such a viable role of which McCarthy deserves praise and many accolades for she is a richly funny, captivating and beautiful scene stealer.

Janyce Denise Glasper is a writer/artist running two silly blogs of creative adventures called Sugarygingersnap and AfroVeganChick. She enjoys good female centric film, cute rubber duckies, chocolate covered everything (except bugs!), Days of Our Lives, and slaying nightly demons Buffy style in Dayton, Ohio.