Best Actress Oscar Nominees: Meryl Streep and Michelle Williams

Of the Best Actress nominations at the Oscars this year, two stand apart from the rest. Not because of the skill of the actresses, but because they depict real-life figures. Through these portrayals much can be learned about the ways women are represented on screen: The Iron Lady starring Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher, and My Week with Marilyn with Michelle Williams playing Marilyn Monroe.
Characterisations in fiction can always be dismissed with a flippant “it’s only a story,” remark. However, both of these depictions come with the burden of hours of footage and innumerable documentary evidence to inform our perception of how “believable” and accurate the portrayals are. We can directly compare scenes from these films with original footage, and clearly see how both actresses must have studied relentlessly for their roles. Nevertheless, while the intention may have been to throw light onto the motivations and private psyches of these icons, the films have in fact revealed how far there is to go before female characters on screen are reflective of what women are really like.
Margaret Thatcher became the first (and so far, only) female Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.  One of the most controversial politicians of the twentieth century, she was loathed by much of the country when she was eventually ousted from her position by her own party. She is now 86 years old and suffers from Alzheimer’s.
Marilyn Monroe remains the greatest female film icon 50 years since her death at the age of 36. During her career she walked out on her contract with the most powerful studio in Hollywood to form her own production company in a bid to be taken seriously as an actress in an unprecedented move that foreshadowed the downfall of the studio system.
Meryl Streep and Margaret Thatcher
In The Iron Lady we are introduced to Baroness Thatcher as she is today – frail, widowed and in the grip of dementia. For the first 20 minutes of the film, her vulnerable position is made clear as she holds conversations with her long-deceased husband, and her care-worn daughter attempts to help her with simple daily tasks. The ravages of her devastating illness present a character so feeble and subjugated that it is impossible to feel anything but pity for the predicament she is in. From this starting point of total empathy, we are then invited to look back over her life in a series of flashbacks.
The ferocity of the woman’s ambition is tempered with reminders of her weakened state, as the film intersperses present day scenes of awkward dinner parties and domestic banality, between expositional recreations of famous public moments. Most fascinatingly, once the role of Thatcher has been assumed by Meryl Streep, her husband Denis, played with almost farcical humour by Jim Broadbent, is always shown at the age he was when he died; it is her memory of her dead husband that appears. His presence serves both as a reminder that it is the memories of an infirm woman we are seeing, and to emphasise her dependency on him (symbolically when she is being interviewed outside Downing St after having won the Election, Denis is shown in the background, standing on the doorstep of Number 10). 
Most troublingly however, is that so little time is spent showing the woman’s character. The well-known facts are retold economically – grocer’s daughter decides she will enter politics, bucking class and gender stereotypes, etc. Yet even her decision to run for Leader of the Opposition is a decision she is coerced and then fashioned into (by senior male colleagues). The time spent with her in private spaces is entirely set during the present time when she is deeply unwell, and is so heartrendingly sentimental that it lacks any insight into the complex sides of her personality.
At times during her tenure, Margaret Thatcher was despised by many, and revered by others, and it is the reasons for this that hold most interest. Yet even some of the most crucial and controversial points in her career (miners’ strikes, poll tax riots) are glossed over in montage footage. Her regrets and conflicts of conscience are briefly alluded to in confused nightmares during the present day, with no depiction of their effect on her at the time they were occurring. What is truly fascinating about a woman such as Margaret Thatcher, or any controversial political figure, is what the motivations were behind the controversies: how did she handle being so despised; what was her logic behind the audacious policies she initiated; what were those decisions were based on; how did the consequences of her decisions make her feel? The answers to these questions may not endear her to an audience, but they are vital to developing an understanding of her, and to giving a rounded portrait of the woman dubbed “The Iron Lady.” Central characters do not need to be likeable after all, but they should be believable.
Meryl Streep’s astonishing performance recreates with expertise Thatcher’s most famous public moments, her mannerisms, and speech. However, this interpretation does not deepen our understanding of the woman who led the UK into war with the Falklands, and remains the country’s longest serving Prime Minister to date.
By choosing to focus on the elderly Thatcher, The Iron Lady sanitises her by using domesticity. Her strength is simplified into stubbornness and her forthright opinions and brutally impersonal policies are diluted by the bantering affection she shares with her dead husband. The writer Abi Morgan has stated how it is the loss of power that she was most interested to depict, but as a viewer, it seems an opportunity has been missed.  Time and again women are depicted in ill health, tackling menial domestic chores, mourning loved ones, and being powerless. Margaret Thatcher was a truly fearless and defiant female character, uncompromisingly ambitious and divisive. It is an insight into the challenging aspects of her personality that this film had the potential to show. However, it seems there is no film language to portray these facets of a female character.  Strength, intelligence, charisma are denoted in relation to male counterparts, and it is only through the prism of her relationships with men that Thatcher is depicted – most obviously through her connection to her dead husband.
Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe
My Week with Marilyn, based on the bestselling book of the same name, recounts the experiences of “gofer” Colin Clark (the book’s author) during the filming of The Prince and The Showgirl. There is much to suggest that Colin Clark and Marilyn Monroe never even spoke, let alone ended up sharing a bed, and it is widely believed the book is entirely fictional, written along with many others to cash-in on Monroe’s legacy. However, regardless of the veracity of the book, it is interesting to look at the way the filmmakers have chosen to portray Monroe.
There is much anticipation built up in the opening scenes as excitement increases with the prospect of Marilyn Monroe arriving in England. She was the biggest movie star in the world at this time, and The Prince and The Showgirl was the first film to be made by her production company that she set up in defiance of the type-casting she received in Hollywood. As a naïve and star-struck young man, Colin is desperate to be involved with the production, and manages to secure a junior position as a gofer on the film.
The hoopla surrounding her arrival is depicted with startling accuracy when compared with the original footage, and Michelle Williams delivers a trademark “Monroe-ism” with flirtatious delight when asked if it is true that she sleeps in nothing but Chanel No 5: “As I am in England let’s say that I sleep in nothing but Yardley’s Lavender” she declares. It may be that a casual viewer would not notice that the portrayal of Marilyn Monroe is undermined from this very first sequence: however, the question is posed to her by Toby Jones, playing Arthur Jacobs, Monroe’s publicity man. The implication is that, far from coming up with her witticism spontaneously, she has been fed a line. Throughout her career, many who worked with Monroe remarked on her natural intelligence, comedic timing and incisive wit, and yet this cynical scene immediately suggests that is not the case.
As Colin finds himself indispensable to Marilyn Monroe during the course of the film’s shoot (cue to suspend disbelief) the pair take off around some of the UK’s beautiful countryside and historic sites. In the library of Windsor Castle, a wide-eyed Marilyn gasps, “Gee, I wish I could read this many books!” Such astonishingly naïve a line, it literally draws snorts of amusement at the woman’s ignorance, and is followed by, “Isn’t he the guy who painted the lady with the funny smile?” when presented with a Da Vinci etching. Yet Marilyn Monroe’s study of literature throughout her lifetime – she took up night-school classes at the beginning of her career instead of attending Hollywood parties – as well as her passion for renaissance art, are well documented in biographies. So the decision to disregard these facts, and to choose instead to exaggerate the “dumb blonde” image is no accident. No mention is even made of the fact that on this film she was a Producer, and therefore Laurence Olivier’s boss: this and their conflicting approaches to acting were reasons why their relationship on set was so fractured.
Marilyn Monroe
Although devastatingly insecure about her talent and notoriously late on set Marilyn Monroe was no victim – especially at this point in her career. Known to moments of rage, and fiercely passionate about her craft, the depiction of her as a weeping child-woman too frail to articulate her emotions is to undermine the complexity of an actress who has continued to captivate audiences five decades after her passing. That she would find solace in the arms of any young man that found himself captivated by her, is to assume not only her complete disregard for the new husband for whom she converted to Judaism to wed, but serves to perpetuate myths about her sexual promiscuity.
When looking at the characterisations of Marilyn Monroe and Margaret Thatcher in My Week with Marilyn and The Iron Lady it is crucial to remember that the way they have been portrayed is not by accident. Nor are these the only ways in which they could have been depicted, and neither should they be considered exact or entirely true. These characterisations have been constructed and depict women stripped of their complexity, strength, intelligence, wit, and dynamism: the very things that made them so successful and iconic. This inevitably raises questions about why.
Consistently the call comes for more interesting and diverse female characters in film, yet too often that means showing women who have been victimised and exploited. Even when historic figures have demonstrated extraordinary courage, making remarkable achievements in their lives, they are diminished when characterised on film. It is not because stories of amazing women do not exist, but the perspective their tales are told from. Perceptions of women as reactive and submissive stereotypes will remain in place when even the most extraordinary females are reduced to clichés, and it is up to producers, directors and writers to be fearless enough to show women as active participants in their own lives to ensure this is changed.  

Gabriella Apicella is a feminist writer and tutor living in London, England. She has a degree in Film and Media from Birkbeck College, University of London, is on the board of Script Development organisation Euroscript, and in 2010 co-founded the UnderWire Festival that aims to recognise the raw filmmaking talent of women. Her writing features women in the central roles, and she has been commissioned to write short films, experimental theatre and prose for independent directors and artists. 

Indie Spirit John Cassavetes Award Nominee Review: Bellflower

Bellflower (2011)
This is a guest post from Deirdre Crimmins.
On the surface Bellflower seems very much like a film made by men, for men. Staring director Evan Glodell, and shot on homemade cameras, the film begins by following Woodrow (Glodell) and his buddy Aiden as they build flame throwers from scratch to outfit their imaginary post-apocalyptic gang “Mother Medusa.” But while watching the film, the stereotypical “dude” exterior quickly wilts away and you are left watching an original, intimate portrayal of a love gone wrong; a love gone, horrifically, violently, and very engagingly wrong. The film ultimately defies gender constraints by showing complex characters that are developed much more than in a typical Hollywood film.
While the film starts by focusing its attention on Woodrow and Aiden’s weapon building, it is not actually about that. The film is actually about Woodrow and Milly. Woodrow first meets Milly at a local bar, where they are both casually hanging with their friends. When the bar introduces a cricket eating competition, both Woodrow and Milly flirt their way up on stage, chomp on those disgusting bugs, and end up in each other’s hearts. The next night they go on their first official date, which they spontaneously turn into a road trip from southern California to a Texas greasy spoon for barbeque. They seem like the perfect match. Both are young, impulsive, pretty hipsters, who are witty, sarcastic, and they enjoy completely launching themselves into the depths of an instant relationship with no reservations.
Milly and Woodrow
The problem comes when these two love birds attempt to settle down and turn their whirlwind romance into a stable, domestic relationship. Milly prophetically warns Woodrow that she is often the one who hurts the other person when in a relationship, but through his rose-colored glasses Woodrow doesn’t believe her. Woodrow becomes smothering, and Milly’s knee jerk reaction is cheating on him, and, ultimately choosing her previous free-spirited lifestyle over Woodrow’s stifling affection. After their heated break-up, an accident leaves Woodrow in the hospital with plenty of time to recover and wallow in his self-pity.
Here is where the ingenuity of Bellflower really begins to take shape. While a different film might follow Woodrow’s plotting to get back at Milly or, more optimistically, try to win her back, these scenarios do not happen here. Woodrow tries to pour himself back in to his work (after all, that car with built-in flamethrowers isn’t going to assemble itself), and even tries to date a friend, Courtney, who has been throwing herself at him. But none of it works, and he cannot get over Milly. He seems to snap suddenly, and wants revenge. Milly is ready for him, and after his attack, she engages with him in an ever-escalating sequence of vengeance. Both Milly and Woodward become monsters: they are unpredictable, and are hell-bent on permanently damaging each other. The film takes a decided turn from romance, to horror, along with buckets of blood, and bodies piling up.
A turn from romance to horror.
This sharp turn in tone is what makes Bellflower memorable. It is impulsive, and does not follow the typical conventions of narrative cinema. However, what makes the film successful in this execution is the extensive character development.
All of the characters in the film are complete, flawed, and at times vulnerable. We get a rare insight into the heart-to-hearts between Aiden and Woodrow. We also can see the internal conflict in Milly as she is torn between being tied down to a man she clearly loves, and the love of her independent life. Both the women and the men are portrayed as actual people, and not single-dimensional caricatures. 
Additionally, the treatment of both women and men in respect to their gender portrayals is like a breath of fresh air. Though Aiden and Woodrow spend their time doing typically masculine activities in their workshop, they are doing it because they are unnaturally obsessed with Mad Max, and not because they are acting the part of manly men. And while in their shop, they are usually talking about the machines themselves, and occasionally Milly. As a woman in the audience who thinks flamethrowers are pretty bad-ass too, I am not alienated, or made to feel voyeuristic for peering into their world, because Glodell is not creating any reason for me to think that women would be unwelcome here. If you share their love for post-apocalyptic armament, then you are at home here too. 
Milly herself is most decidedly a feminine woman, but the flaws in her character are just single elements that make up the larger web of her personality. When you know very little about a character aside from their flaws (think an evil Disney queen), it is easy for the audience to boil their negative aspects down to their demographics, rather than them as individuals. (For example, the evil queen in Snow White essentially communicates that all older women are evil and will punish people for being younger and more feminine than they are. That read of the queen’s character seems one dimensional, because the character of the queen is in fact one dimensional.)  But when the audience is presented with multifaceted character, as Milly is presented, it is impossible to boil her down to an archetype. Milly is a woman scorned, but she is so much more than that. She is a fun loving free spirit, and a cricket eater, and a road trip enthusiast, too. If Hollywood made more of an effort to make these complex characters available for actresses, we would all benefit.
The one caveat to the glowing review of Bellflower’s equitable gender representation is the character of Courtney. She clings to Woodrow, is obviously jealous of Milly, and it is ultimately this obsession that leads to her demise. Courtney is one of the minor characters in the film, and I can only hope that were she given more screen time, she would have been additionally fleshed out and her character would have been more nuanced. Glodell has shown how well he can construct a character, but he needs to work on making even his minor characters avoid stereotypical gender pitfalls.
By showing the complexity of emotions, and human interaction, Glodell takes what could have been a simple revenge flick and makes it a film that sticks with you for some time.

Deirdre Crimmins lives in Boston with her husband and two black cats. She wrote her Master’s thesis on George Romero and works too much.


Best Documentary Oscar Nominee: Pina

Pina: Feminism in Motion
This is a guest post from Ren Jender.
When I’m at the movies all the usual filters come down: I cry in response to the most manipulative scenes—and even more embarrassingly at coming attractions for films I would never dream of seeing. Fellow moviegoers hear my loud laugh even when the filmmaker doesn’t seem to be in on the joke. I rarely talk back to films (except to the really terrible ones), but near the beginning of Pina, Wim Wenders’ great, 3-D exploration of the late choreographer and dancer Pina Bausch’s work, a long line of dancers trudged toward the camera enacting in unison a series of gestures a woman had explained were a tribute to the changing of the seasons. The dancers slowly made their way along a sheer curtain that bisected the screen and ended somewhere in the audience’s lap. As the dancers stepped forward, trance-like, they seemed to enter the room: the empty seats in front of the stage in the film blended into the empty seats in the first few rows of the movie theater. I couldn’t help myself: I said to the screen, “Cool!”
The rest of Pina never quite equals the wonder of that moment, but it does capture, in original and striking ways, the beauty and mystery of Bausch’s work by bringing us right inside of it. Fred Astaire probably wouldn’t have approved but watching this company of dancers captured separately and up close, with their arms held out to us beseechingly, is nearly as different from watching dance onstage—or dancers filmed as it they were onstage, from a respectful distance, as trying to ice-skate is different from watching figure skaters on TV.
In “The Rite of Spring,” traces of the fresh dirt we see raked onto the stage before the piece begins become visible on the women’s thin, light-colored slip dresses and anguished faces as they offer themselves one-by-one to the group of shirtless male dancers—before running away at the last minute. The last woman dancer to offer herself doesn’t run, but the terror in her eyes and her quaking body—that seems to anticipate the male dancer will soon literally drag her through the dirt—reminded me of the unabashed purity of emotion found in silent films.
Pina isn’t silent, but long stretches pass without words. Intermittent scenes feature members of the company sharing a few memories of Pina herself. Wenders has captured each dancer alone in close-up silently looking at the camera while he or she, in voice over, talks in his or her native language—Korean, Portuguese, Croatian, Russian, Spanish and French as well as German. “You’re just going to have to get crazier,” one woman recalls Pina counseling her, but the film offers no more deep, detailed explanation and analysis of the work, no behind-the-scenes peek or even dances presented in their entirety. Pina is less like a traditional, chatty, dance documentary (of which Frederick Wiseman’s 2010 La Danse is one example) than it is like Koyaanisqatsi, which, with its time-lapsed segments set to a score by Philip Glass, also set a mood where words were superfluous.
Bausch started her company in the early 70s and the sexual politics in her work is unmistakable, not just in “The Rite of Spring,” but in most of the dances shown in the film. A group of younger men put their hands on a withdrawn middle-aged woman. They grab not just at her breasts but also at her hand—to kiss it—and take turns stroking her nose and chin as if she were a very young child. In “Dance Hall” the men in the company reach to grope the women while the women cringe, try to escape and bat errant hands away, a familiar scenario, even though the men are seated and the women stand against the opposite wall.

A man in “Café Müller” tries to force a couple into a Hollywood-style, romantic embrace, repositioning their bodies each time the woman falls to the floor from her partner’s hands, even though their pose has a progressively shorter duration each time the man tries to re-orchestrate it.
But the dances have their light moments as well: a woman in a short, red dress runs across a row of chairs, giving a sweet cry of relief, “Oooooh” as she knocks each one down. She brings to life the idea an older dancer expresses: that being in Bausch’s company is a chance to play as children play—for the rest of one’s life.
In another sequence, slender Azusa Seyama (“extremely thin” like “young” is not, we see, the given for dancers in Bausch’s company as it would be in most of the rest of the dance world) poses and grimaces alongside an impressive set of muscular arms only to pull away and reveal the male dancer flexing behind her. He then puts her arm over his shoulder and launches her into the air, whirling her around and around, an amusement park ride most of us will never get the chance to board.

We see women dancers repeatedly climb seated, male dancers as if lightly dancing up steps. The women end by poking the men’s chests with their toes—and the men smile at them throughout. In this era when so many people make grim trips to the gym part of their weekly routine, seeing beautiful bodies that are toned and sculpted to perform feats of wonder instead of just to look good is a revelation.
Although Bausch’s life’s work and her company of dancers are the focus of the film, Wim Wenders’ inventive yet unobtrusive direction and the work of his team of cinematographers, Alain Derobe, Helene Louvart and Jorg Widmer, provides the gilt frame around the portrait: sweeping crane shots, gorgeous colors and lighting effects that I hadn’t thought possible in 3-D. Color is particularly important in Bausch’s work: the bright pink of the dress first worn by an adolescent girl, then a grown woman then an elderly woman (each standing still in the middle of a line of her peers) in “Dance Hall” stuck with me long after I had left the theater, like seeing the shadow of the sun when one closes one’s eyes to a clear sky. Much of Pina has stayed with me in the same way. In a year when the Oscars have shown so little respect for women, barely nominating them outside of gender-specific categories, Pina—which is nominated for “Best Documentary Feature”—is a film well worth rooting for. 
Trailer:


Ren Jender is a writer/performer/producer based in Boston who occasionally projects “radical” phrases on the sides of buildings.

Indie Spirit Best Female Lead Nominee: Adepero Oduye in ‘Pariah’

In addition to Oduye’s Best Female Lead nomination, Pariah is also nominated for the Independent Spirit John Cassavetes Award. The film has received numerous other nominations and awards. 
This piece, by Carrie Nelson, first appeared at Bitch Flicks on January 25, 2012.

Alike (Adepero Oduye) in Pariah
I enjoyed many films in 2011. All of my favorite films of the year, however, were the ones that unnerved me with their honesty, sticking in my thoughts long after the end credits rolled. One of those films was Martha Marcy May Marlene, which I’ve already written about, and another was Pariah.
Pariah, in its simplest terms, is a lesbian coming-of-age story. Yet it is unlike any other lesbian coming-of-age story I have ever seen, largely because the film is not about a young woman’s initial discovery or self-acceptance of sexual identity. When we meet Alike (played masterfully by Adepero Oduye), she already is well aware of and comfortable with her sexual orientation. The film does not start from a place of Gay 101; there are no scenes where Alike expresses sexual confusion or the desire to be straight. It operates under the assumption that our heroine is out (at least to her friends and high school English teacher) and proud. 
Instead of a traditional coming out story, Alike’s journey is about finding her place within her community. At home, her mother (Kim Wayans) encourages her to dress femininely and act ladylike. (One of the most heartbreaking scenes in the film involves Alike’s discomfort wearing a pink blouse that her mother was so excited for her to try on.) Outside of home, her friend Laura (Pernell Walker) teaches her how to convincingly present as butch and suavely seduce femmes. Alike is able to navigate both worlds, but she does not feel fully comfortable in either of them. The film follows her as she shatters the assumptions others make about her and determines what she needs to do to be truly happy.

Indie Spirit Best Supporting Female Nominee: Shailene Woodley in ‘The Descendants’

Shailene Woodley as Alexandra King in The Descendants

This is a guest post from Martyna Przybysz.

WARNING: SPOILERS!
It’s almost disappointing to hear people discuss Payne’s new film The Descendants and not have them mention the absolute raw talent that Shailene Woodley is until much later in the conversation, almost in an ‘Oh yeah, she was great too!’ kind of manner. Because to me, she pretty much steals the show.
When we first meet her character, Alexandra King, the daughter of Matt (Clooney) and Elizabeth King (recently injured in a tragic boating accident), it ain’t a pretty picture. Shipped away to a boarding school for her misbehavior, Alex seems to be enjoying herself a bit too much. “Dad? My fucking dad is here!” she shouts drunkenly to a friend, and then turns to Matt with an almost condescending “What’s up dad? What’s happening?” However intrigued we may be, we get off on the wrong foot with her, and – to the horror of her father who’s now convinced that “all women in his life want to destroy themselves” – she initially falls into a cliché of a rebellious teenage girl.
But one would think that after three seasons of being Amy on The Secret Life of The American Teenager, playing a troubled adolescent was not a new territory for Shailene. And this is where one couldn’t be more wrong. I caught a few snippets of the show on YouTube, and despite wooden ensemble acting, and the whole thing being rather cringe-worthy, Shailene definitely demonstrates some charisma and talent already.
The comparison between Amy and Alex, however, doesn’t extend beyond both characters being teenagers. Alexandra King is nothing like a silly teenage girl – she’s feisty, uncompromising, and wise beyond her years, a young woman. As the film progresses she slowly but surely transforms into her dad’s biggest ally.

Alexandra (Woodley) with her father, Matt (Clooney)

The father-daughter relationship in The Descendants is far from simple. When setting off to get Alex home, Matt compares a family to an archipelago – “all part of the same whole, but still separate, and alone, and always drifting slowly apart.” This couldn’t be more accurate. The morning after the alcohol incident at the boarding school, resentment and disregard towards Matt emanate through Alex’s body language. She blames him for always being busy with work, and not paying enough attention to her. Later in the day, that accusation begins to have different connotations. It is Alex who breaks the news about her mother’s affair to her dad. She’s angry and upset with both of her parents. But the fact that she sides with Matt in her uncompromising approach to her mum’s betrayal is the first sign of her becoming a moral compass for the entire situation.

In the film’s opening monologue Clooney’s character claims that “he’s ready to be a real father now.” Shortly after Alex’s return it becomes apparent that he’s not only in need of her help with his younger tomboyish daughter Scottie, but he could also use some moral support himself. After a rocky start, Matt, Alex, Scottie, and Alex’s friend Sid set off on a journey, both literally and metaphorically. They go to Kaua’i in search of Elizabeth’s lover.
In one of my favorite scenes, before their trip, Alex, Sid and Matt are in the car, just having looked for Brian Speer’s house. Sid – however his presence is meant to be keeping Alex ‘in check’  –  is being goofy and annoying, and Matt cannot take it anymore, but is too resigned to do anything about it. This is when Alex leans towards the front seat, and says “Don’t forget that I know where he lives” – that moment very subtly starts a new dynamic in their father-daughter relationship.
From the beginning Alex is supportive of Matt wanting to find the guy, and not suggestive of what he should do, but she jumps at the opportunity of going to another island, “getting out of town,” to look for him. It is during that trip that Alex’s role in the family begins to shape. Walking beside Clooney’s character, Woodley is his feisty and mouthy voice of reason – she voices all that Matt cannot or is afraid to say. And she does that effortlessly, in an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ manner.

And then, the peak moment of the film – the encounter with her mother’s lover  –  puts Alex in the spotlight. It is now clear how much of a strong, independent woman she’s become. She is the one who has the last word on whether they will confront the guy, and orders Matt to “not be a pussy.” He welcomes that advice, as well as he does the other times when she comes to his rescue, with a quiet relief. It isn’t until the last moment before the confrontation when Matt feels guilty about involving his underage daughter in the whole situation. But Alex is already two steps ahead of him. After all, she is the one “who sucked him in, the one who knew.”

Apart from trying to patch up a relationship with her dad, Alex has to look out for her younger sister, Scottie. It initially appears that she might not be setting the best example for her by teaching her swear words. But with her advice  –  however inappropriate it may be  –  Alex gets it right the first time. Like when she “advises” Scottie to keep away from a particular friend by saying that (the friend) “is a fucked-up hoe bag, and you need to stay away from her!” Vulgar? Maybe. But in Alex’s eyes it sends the message across, and puts Scottie in her place. And isn’t that what Matt needed when he sought Alex’s help with his younger daughter?
“Don’t spoil it for her” says Matt to Alex, when she’s pouring all of her accusations and blame out on Elizabeth. They now both need to protect Scottie, and Alex in an instant understands that she has to become more of a motherly figure. The only time that she allows herself to be really vulnerable is under the water, in the pool – releasing a silent cry at the news of her mother’s condition.

The final shape that Matt’s and Alex’s slowly maturing and re-developing bond takes is mostly visible towards the end of the film. During the goodbyes with Elizabeth, and then spreading her ashes in the Hawaiian waters, they come to a new level of understanding. They have now become equals, fully accepting of each other.

What intrigues me about Woodley’s character is her friendship with Sid. At the beginning of the film, Matt makes us aware of the fact that in her quest to self-destruction, Alex has a tendency to date older guys. And there comes Sid – a friend from school, slightly goofy, initially involved in the situation in order to ensure Alex stays “more civil.” He’s a nice addition to the ensemble, and brings much needed goofy-humor, but still, Alex whizzes through the entire situation solely on her two feet.
Apart from being a good looking long-legged siren, Alexandra King is a complex and multilayered character. She’s a feisty but intelligent and opinionated teenager, a self-assured and independent young woman, and last but not least – a compassionate and devoted adolescent daughter.
I have no clue how Shailene Woodley managed to stay in the shadows until now (because let’s face it, The Secret Life can hardly be counted), but it’s been said that she’d given “one of the toughest, smartest, most credible adolescent performances in recent memory” as Alexandra. Rawness and realness of her talent are visible throughout the film, and she definitely sets the bar high, both for herself, and other young actresses. If Alex King could say something to this, it would probably be ‘Fuck, yeah!’.

Martyna Przybysz is a Pole who resides in London, UK. She works in film production. This is her blog: http://martynaprzybysz.tumblr.com.

Oscar Best Picture Nominee: ‘Midnight in Paris’ and Its Woman Problem

Marion Cotillard and Owen Wilson in ‘Midnight in Paris’
I’ve never understood why people adore Woody Allen and lavish him with accolades. I’ve never liked his films. Nope, not even the adored Annie Hall, aside from the FABulous fashions donned by Diane Keaton. I know, I know…I’ve braced myself for the verbal lashings that will undoubtedly ensue. Besides his creepy penchant for dating and then marrying his daughter, I loathe the way Allen generally depicts women in his films. Yes, his movies make some interesting gender commentaries and contain phenomenal female actors (Diane Keaton, Meryl Streep, Patricia Clarkson, Penelope Cruz). But it irritates me that the myriad interesting and intelligent female characters in his movies seem to be punished for their strength or continually fall for the neurotic chump’s charm bullshit.

In Allen’s latest Oscar-nominated endeavor, Midnight in Paris, Gil Pender (Owen Wilson) is a successful Hollywood screenwriter struggling to write his first novel. He visits Paris with his constantly complaining fiancé Inez (Rachel McAdams), as he yearns to live amongst his literary idols in the Roaring Twenties. Gil discovers that at midnight, he is able to transport to 1920s Paris and hobnob with writers, musicians and painters. A love letter to Paris and artists, Midnight in Paris explores the dichotomy between illusions of nostalgia and pragmatically embracing the present.

Allen has a knack for evoking the visceral beauty of a city: NYC in Annie Hall and Manhattan, Barcelona in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Paris in Midnight in Paris. With lush cinematography, Allen capturesthe seductive allure and breathtaking romance of Paris. He also infuses the film with myriad authors and artists from the 1920s, a bibliophile’s dream. These delightful distractions almost made me forget (almost) that while an okay film, it’s certainly not a great one.

Now, I didn’t hate Midnight in Paris like my kick-ass colleague Stephanie. But I totally understand why she did because it royally pissed me off too. The portrayal of women in this film is fucking problematic.

Kathy Bates is fantastic as writer and art collector Gertrude Stein. Yet she’s highly underutilized, striving to make the most of her small role. Incredibly influential, we witness Stein’s Parisian salon which attracted talented writers, like Ernest Hemingway and Ezra Pound, whom she advised and mentored. After reviewing his manuscript, Gertrude bestows Gil with her wisdom: “We all fear death and question our place in the word. The artist’s job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence.” Aside from Gertrude, none of the female characters are either truly likeable, interesting or complex individuals.

Audacious Zelda Fitzgerald (Alison Pill, who tries her best to imbue her with charm), F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston)’s wife and a writer in her own right, diminishes her artistic talent by saying, “…and I realize I’ll never write a great lyric and my talent really lies in drinking.”

An “art groupie” muse, Adriana (Marion Cotillard) designs couture fashion and becomes the object of Gil’s affection, despite his fiancé. When Gertrude reads the first line of Gil’s book aloud, Adriana praises it saying she’s “hooked” and later calls his musings on the “City of Light” poetic. Enamored with her, they begin to spend their evenings talking and walking around Paris. Cotillard is a divine actor. But her character is beige and boring. Although I must admit I’m glad Adriana ultimately chooses her own path.

In addition to seeking Stein’s advice on his book, Gil turns to another woman, an art museum guide (Carla Bruni), for advice on being in love with two women at the same time. Oh, and he also flirts with 25-year-old Gabrielle (Léa Seydoux) (cause you know, that’s what middle-aged dudes do) who sells old records from the Jazz Age and shares his love of Paris in the rain.

Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdams in ‘Midnight in Paris’

But the worst female depiction – yeah, if you’ve seen the film, you know who I’m talking about – was Inez (Rachel McAdams). Inez complains about Paris’ charming bistros, getting wet in the rain, living outside the U.S. and Gil not purchasing $20,000 chairs. She undermines Gil’s talent in front of him to her friends saying, “He’s not sure he can write a novel.” Inez criticizes everything Gil says and does all while gushing over her crush, academic Paul (Michael Sheen), going so far as to shush Gil when he speaks in order to hear Paul’s pretentious diatribes. When Gil talks about Inez to others, he highlights her beauty (of course) and adds that she possesses a “sharp sense of humor.” Watching their relationship, it’s painfully obvious that there’s absolutely nothing keeping them together as the only thing they share is a mutual like of Indian food.

Now, I don’t automatically have a problem with a villainous or unlikeable female character, especially since there are so many female roles in the film. In fact, I often lament how unlike men, women are not allowed to play unlikeable or unsympathetic characters. But I have a huge problem with the “nag” role. The cliché of women as “nags” permeates pop culture.

I also have a huge problem that the seemingly sole reason Inez was made so horribly despicable was to “allow” Gil to cheat on his fiancé. The audience would sympathize with Gil for kissing another woman, buying her trinkets, baring his soul to her and planning to sleep with her even though he was engaged because his fiancé was such a shrew. Oh that’s right, I forgot! It’s okay to cheat on someone as long as they’re an asshole.

Allen told Rachel McAdams that she should play this role as she should “want to play some bitchy parts” as they’re more interesting. Maybe. But not this part. I didn’t find her character interesting at all. Yes, McAdams tries her best with the material she’s given. But the character is one-dimensional and annoying, lacking any depth or complexity.

Midnight in Paris, like pretty much all of Allen’s films, lacks diversity. They’re a sea of white with no people of color anywhere in sight. Oh I take that back. There’s a black woman in a car that Gil gets in on his “way” to the 1920s, one shot of Josephine Baker (Sonia Rolland) dancing that lasts all of 30 seconds and a few black people watching her dance.

Along with race, sexual identities are also omitted. The film contains three famous lesbians: Gertrude Stein, Stein’s life partner Alice B. Toklas (Thérèse Bourou-Rubinsztein) and writer Djuna Barnes (Emmanuelle Uzan). Of all three, Gil only alludes to Djuna’s sexuality when he says she led when they danced together. So lesbianism is almost completely erased, paving the way for good ole’ heteronormativity.

The only overt gender commentary occurs when Ernest Hemingway (Corey Stoll) says, “Pablo Picasso thinks women are only to sleep with or to paint,” but he believes “a woman is equal to a man in courage.” Which is interesting since Allen is a person who in his personal life doesn’t always believe equality in relationships is desirable: “Sometimes equality in a relationship is great, sometimes inequality makes it work.” (???) Yeah, this explains a lot. He also has a penchant for younger women, in his movies and in reality, because younger women are more innocent, “before they get spoiled by the world.” Gag. 

This attitude that older women are less desirable as romantic partners seems to echo throughout the film, particularly in its ending. Don’t stay with the older (relatively speaking) jaded woman. Get with the young, innocent girl! While numerous women abound, everything in the film revolves around Gil, a stand-in for Woody Allen. Women are merely a buffet to be sampled – if one doesn’t work out, oh well, try another!
I’ll admit; the book lover in me was almost seduced. It felt like a light-hearted, whimsical, bibliophile remake of Purple Rose of Cairo. Instead of film characters leaping off-screen, novelists from the past reside in alongside the present. But there is no way in hell this should ever be nominated for a Best Picture or Director Oscar. It’s nothing more than an esthetically pleasing diversion.

I swear people nominated Midnight in Paris for so many awards because Hollywood is lazy. Rather than nominating ground-breaking, intelligent films like Pariah, The Whistleblower or Young Adult, this gets nominated because Allen is a famous, old, white male director. Good job, Hollywood. Way to keep perpetuating the dude machine.

The film suffers from a major woman problem. The women in the film are just as intelligent and talented as their male contemporaries. Gil turns to women for advice and guidance. Yet Allen reduces almost all of them to love interests and arm candy, nothing more than satellites to a dude.

Indie Spirit Best Feature Nominee: Beginners

Beginners (2010)
This is a guest post from Megan Ryland.
(Does contain minor, vague spoilers)
Beginners introduces us to Oliver (Ewan McGregor), who is struggling to cope with the life and death of his father, while also attempting to fall in love. Told in memories that collide with the present day, the narrative moves forward and backward in time to reveal who and what has shaped Oliver’s life. 
After Oliver’s mother dies, his 75-year-old father Hal (Christopher Plummer) reveals that he is gay and proceeds to embrace an identity that he has been forced to conceal. Unfortunately, four years later Hal is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Oliver cares for his father until Hal’s death, after which Oliver can only mourn and care for his father’s dog, Arthur, who shares his grief. Three months after the funeral, Oliver meets Anna (Mélanie Laurent), a beautiful French actress. Despite their shared tendency to push others away, they enter a complicated relationship and try to determine if either one of them knows how to make it work.
The movie is written and directed by Mike Mills, who reportedly based the movie on his experiences with his own father. While dealing with heavy topics, the overall tone and trajectory of the movie is arguably optimistic. The narrative is at times whimsical or quirky, but it maintains a strong connection to real emotion that I found compelling. Ewan McGregor is fantastic as the centerpiece of this intelligent romantic comedy, but the entire cast sells the story. Mélanie Laurent, Christopher Plummer and Mary Page Keller create a rich world as supporting characters with their own stories.
From where I stand, Beginners is yet another movie about men and their lives, but I have a hard time faulting it for that. If it were not another drop in the enormous bucket of Stories About Men, I could find little to complain about. I would actually like to go over what I felt Beginners got right about its characterization of women and men.
First, I appreciated the fact that men took on caretaking as a main feature in the film. Oliver spends months trying to care for his father, and then months trying to grieve his passing, and that emotional journey is not often documented in popular media. We also see men gathered around a sick friend’s bed and men as hospice workers, all without special comment or congratulations. In the movie, nurturing and care are not determined to be the domain of women. In fact, women appeared in a wide variety of positions that aren’t necessarily limited by stereotypical expectations. There are women clients, artists, upper management, friends, doctors, and nurses. Essentially, women are a normal presence within the world created by the film and they display a variety of characteristics. That’s refreshing to see in a movie focused on a man’s story.
Mélanie Laurent as Anna
For example, Beginners could have put Anna (Mélanie Laurent) in the role of the girlfriend-as-therapist, but her position in the story is not dependent on her ability to be the caretaker for Oliver. In my opinion, Anna’s sympathy and understanding does not transform her into a tool to cope with Oliver’s grief over his father. She escapes being the empty vessel for Oliver’s emotions to pour into, thank goodness! She has her own issues to sort out and their interactions move far beyond simply dealing with Hal’s death. In fact, in coping with her own issues, Anna is not morally required by the narrative to be a caretaker for her depressed father either. She’s arguably not forced to lean on men to define her character’s role or trajectory, despite playing the romantic lead.
The relationship between Anna and Oliver was of great interest to me. Anna is rather unique in the depiction of her sexuality and sensuality. Although both Oliver and Anna pursue the relationship at different moments, Anna is initially often the sexual ‘aggressor’ with no feigned coy expressions. She is not ashamed when she invites a stranger to her hotel room, or when they do introductions the following morning. Importantly, this behaviour is not set up by the film to be seen as deviant or ‘troubled.’ The audience isn’t expected to see anything wrong with her establishing a relationship in this manner. Although the lack of judgment or slut shaming could be attributed to the relatively mature age of both Anna and Oliver, I still appreciate the normalization of Anna taking the lead in her own sexual and emotional satisfaction.
Arguably, Anna is also beautiful and sexy without being objectified by the camera. Shots linger on her face, not her bust, waist or behind. Maybe my standards are horribly low from watching mainstream television and movies, but this treatment impressed me. Even her brief, partial nudity is natural and the director avoids allowing the audience to leer at her as she changes clothes. For as much time as the couple spends in the bedroom, I am hard pressed to describe Anna’s figure in any detail. The relationship between Oliver and Anna is depicted as involving a great deal of sex, but her character is never simplified to her value in bed. In my opinion, her defining characteristics are her playfulness, her caring insight and her struggle with keeping people in her life – not her sexuality or hotness rating.
Although it could have easily been a Garden State for grown ups, Beginners refuses easy answers or simple characters. It also deftly avoids the pitfall of the Manic Pixy Dream Girl, as Anna is legitimately flawed, not just quirky (as seen in Elizabethtown and Garden State). Anna doesn’t know how to make the relationship work anymore than Oliver does. Their only saving grace is in trying at all. Unlike the typical Manic Pixy Dream Girl, Anna does not guide Oliver on an adventure where he finds himself; they are both in an adventure of a relationship, while Oliver is separately dealing with his grief. It’s not her responsibility to open his eyes to the beauty of life.
Mary Page Keller as Georgia
Oliver’s mother, Georgia, is the other woman in his life. Georgia is a striking figure who we see only in distant memories and who is played beautifully by Mary Page Keller. In a very limited number of scenes, Georgia leaves a lasting impression. For example, when Oliver remembers his father briefly kissing his mother before going to work, Georgia’s expression as Hal leaves her is profoundly moving. Oliver’s father is entirely absent in these memories, even when he kisses Georgia. The audience understands in that moment what their entire relationship was like, and what Oliver watched on a daily basis. Every time the kissing goodbye clip repeated, I was glued to Keller’s face. In barely a few minutes on screen, the nuance and complexity that we see from Georgia (Keller) is astounding. She married a gay man knowing he was gay, and yet hungers for the kind of emotion, connection and attention that she needs. He will never deliver it, but she never leaves him; they are together until her death. Even from her brief screen time, the audience understands Georgia as a complexly motivated character who adds depth to the story.
Fortunately, Georgia is not entirely defined by the roles of wife and mother, despite only being shown in the memories of her son. She is a woman who gave up a great deal and who existed outside the lives of her son and husband. For example, Georgia is described as having “handed in her Jewish badge” when Hal married her. While she is not as present as other characters, I believe that she is given dignity and complexity. She is not a Maternal Figure placeholder and she is not used as the scapegoat for Oliver’s intimacy issues, but she is not perfect either. Keller delivers an utterly human performance of a woman who wants to give happiness to her son, while barely maintaining the façade of happiness in her own life. This is a story that has been lived by many women in many ways.
Christopher Plummer as Hal
I would be remiss if I didn’t also discuss Hal. Christopher Plummer has been collecting Best Supporting Actor awards for the role (as of this writing, Wikipedia lists 5 received), and in my humble opinion, they are definitely earned. Plummer plays a loving and optimistic gay senior, which departs from typical depictions of young, promiscuous gay men in the media. Although not an entirely radical character, Hal is certainly a fresh representation of sexuality for two demographics, one often considered ‘non-sexual’ (seniors) and other considered ‘hyper sexual’ (gay men). Hal is often joyful, even while dying, and doesn’t express shame or regret for the compromises he has made. He does not simplify his life for his son or the audience, and he does not apologize for it. Both Oliver and the viewer are left to determine what it means to live and achieve happiness as Hal has. Again, Beginners provides complex characterization and depth of feeling.
What I really love about Beginners is that everyone is trying to find love and happiness, and everyone is having a hard go of it. Men, women, everyone is imperfect and trying so hard. The sincere efforts and genuine flaws make this a story about three-dimensional women and men who aren’t reduced to stereotypes or roles. No one attempts to save someone else (everyone is too busy with saving themselves) and the story doesn’t even become about Oliver using someone else to save himself. The only hope for finding happiness is trying to do it despite everything else.

Megan Ryland is currently completing her BA, focusing on politics, women and gender. She writes about feminism, body image, and media analysis on her blog, http://beautyvsbeast.wordpress.com. Starting in March 2012, she will also be helping to release the Hello City! Culture Cast, a Vancouver-based podcast that reviews movies, theatre, concerts and more.

Oscar Best Picture Nominee: ‘The Help’: Same Script, Different Cast

The Help is nominated for four Oscars (Best Picture, Best Actress (Viola Davis), and Best Supporting Actress (Jessica Chastain & Octavia Spencer), and has garnered numerous other nominations and awards.
This piece, by guest writer elle, first appeared at Bitch Flicks on October 5, 2011. 

The Help (2011)
A caveat: I have not seen The Help. I do not plan to see The Help, yet I feel pretty confident that I have The Help all figured out. If you don’t know about this film, please see this post. I’m going to ground my thoughts about The Help in two other documents I will link: Valerie Boyd’s review entitled, “‘The Help,’ a feel-good movie for white people” and “An Open Statement to the Fans of ‘The Help’” from the Association of Black Women Historians (ABWH). A brief description from Boyd:

“The Help”—the film adaptation of the best-selling novel by Atlanta author Kathryn Stockett—is a feel-good movie for a cowardly [wrt to the ways we deal (or don’t deal) with issues of race] nation. 

Despite its title, the film is not so much about the help—the black maids who kept many white Southern homes running before the civil rights movement gave them broader opportunities—as it is about the white women who employed and sometimes terrorized them. 

And there you have it, the problem at the heart of works like The Help that blossoms into myriad other problems—the centering of white women in a story that is supposed to be about women of color, the positioning of white women as saviors who give WoC voice. As my colleagues in the ABWH note:

Despite efforts to market the book and the film as a progressive story of triumph over racial injustice, The Help distorts, ignores, and trivializes the experiences of black domestic workers.

I want to meld these critiques of The Help with my own critique of phenomena that make movies like this possible. My critique is rooted in who I am: My name is elle, and I am a granddaughter of The Help. And while I can never begin (and would never want) to imagine myself as the voice of black domestic workers, I can at least share some of their own words with you and tell you some places you can find more of their words and thoughts.

Guest Writer Wednesday: Going Broke Chasing Boys: Why Disney Ditched Princesses and Spent $300 Million on ‘John Carter’

This is a guest post from Scott Mendelson. Originally published at Mendelson’s Memos.
If you’ve seen the trailer for the upcoming John Carter, you know that not only does it not look like it cost $300 million, but it so painfully feels like a Mad Libs male-driven fantasy blockbuster that it borders on parody. It’s no secret that Disney thinks it has a boy problem. One of the reasons it bought Marvel two years ago was to build up a slate of boy-friendly franchises. And the last two years have seen an almost embarrassing attempt to fashion boy-friendly franchises (Prince of Persia, Tron: Legacy, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, I Am Number Four, Fright Night, and Real Steel), only half of which were even as successful as their alleged flop The Princess and the Frog (which obviously grossed ‘just’ $267 million on a $105 million budget because it starred a character with a vagina). We can only ponder the reasons why Disney decided to outright state that they were never going to make another fairy-tale princess cartoon again, even after Tangled became their most successful non-Pixar toon since The Lion King, but I’m pretty sure Disney won’t be making such statements about boy-centric fantasy franchises anytime soon.
Now we have John Carter, which allegedly cost $300 million (if not more). It’s being released in March, where only one film (to be fair, Disney’s Alice In Wonderland) has ever even grossed $300 million. Hell, in all of January-through April, there have been just five $200 million grossers (The Passion of the Christ, Alice In Wonderland, How to Train Your Dragon, 300, and Fast Five). So you have yet another film that basically has to shatter all records regarding its release date in order to merely break even. But that’s okay, thinks Disney, because John Carter is a manly science fiction spectacle so it is surely worth risking the bank. Disney is so desperate to not only chase the young male demos that is willing to risk alienating the young female demos that has netted it billions of dollars over the many decades. What they fail to realize is that the success of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise (especially the first three films) was rooted in telling a story that crossed gender lines. All-told, the original trilogy actually revolved around Keira Knightley’s character, and her journey from daughter of privilege to outlaw pirate. I Am Number Four is a perfect example of this clear misunderstanding. Disney and Dreamworks decided to cash in on Twilight by making a variation told from the point of view of the super-powered teen boy, a story which turned the ‘Bella’ character into just another stock love interest to be sidelined for the third act.
If you look at Disney’s future slate, with the arguable exception of Pixar’s Brave (the first Pixar film to feature a girl, a warrior princess no less), they have almost no female-driven movies between now and 2014. Oh wait, I’m sorry…they ARE releasing Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid in 3D over the next two years. My mistake. I may complain about the frenzy of upcoming live-action fairy tale adaptations, but at least those are big-budget movies centering around a female protagonist. It would seem that Disney, as a corporation, genuinely places less value on the female audience than the male audience. Money is money, and sweaty bills from girls should be just as green as bills from boys. Yet Disney apparently so disdains its core audience (young girls) that it not only has stopped chasing them (in the knowledge that they will buy princess merchandise anyway) but has risked untold millions on the most generic possible new franchise, with no star power and little to distinguish itself from a hundred other such films, purely because ‘it’s a boy movie’. In a way, Disney has become just like the Democratic Party, risking alienation of their base because they know that the young girls (and their parents) won’t really ever jump ship.
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.

Guest Writer Wednesday: The Sharp Skirts Want Tina Fey at SXSW

SXSW Interactive isn’t just about technology, where 90% male is still the norm. It’s also about influential media figures. Speakers like Anthony Bourdain and Tucker Max generate a lot of excitement, but we didn’t see any female equivalents and thought we’d like to even the playing field. Furthermore, in order for women to change media, we need to make media. Watching our producer/director Ellie and our videographer Mary edit the final product was inspiring enough; if this works, and we do get Tina Fey to speak at SXSW, it will simply be icing on the cake of what was already a fantastic experience. 
So, if you like the video and think Tina Fey is worth hearing from, please like/share/comment etc. – we actually have a contact who’s gotten it in front of Tina Fey’s business manager we figure the more views the better!
Amanda Krauss is the Sharp Skirts Knowledge Manager.

2012 NAACP Image Awards Nominations

The 43rd NAACP Image Awards air Friday, February 17th

In the midst of awards season, it’s easy to become overwhelmed with which awards are happening and when, and it’s easy to start thinking that the same movies/shows/actors/directors are being nominated for all the awards (for example, there are striking similarities between this year’s Academy and Independent Spirit Award major category nominees). 

However, the Image Awards offer a break from the monotony of many other mainstream awards shows–and, more importantly, they highlight the cultural contributions of people of color, who are so often pushed aside, ignored, or rendered practically invisible by Hollywood and mainstream entertainment complexes. The Image Awards celebrate: 

the outstanding achievements and performances of people of color in the arts (television, recording, literature, motion picture and writing & directing), as well as those individuals or groups who promote social justice through their creative endeavors.

One could look at this year’s list of Academy Awards nominees and think that there are very few people of color acting in films, and even fewer writing or directing–and when you specify women of color, the list gets even shorter (the women of The Help are this year’s exception that proves the rule). While there is truth in that statement, the Image Awards show us people who are making movies (and making television, and writing books), and they also show us how these contributions still aren’t as culturally valued. 
Here are some nominations from a few of the film categories (find a complete list on their website, including awards for Television, Recording, Literature, Motion Picture, and Writing & Directing).
Outstanding Motion Picture
Jumping the Broom
The First Grader
Tower Heist
Outstanding Actress in a Motion Picture
Adepero Oduye for Pariah
Emma Stone for The Help
Paula Patton for Jumping the Broom
Viola Davis for The Help
Zoë Saldana for Columbiana

Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Motion Picture
Bryce Dallas Howard for The Help
Cicely Tyson for The Help
Kim Wayans for Pariah
Maya Rudolph for Bridesmaids
Octavia Spencer for The Help
Outstanding Independent Motion Picture
I Will Follow
MOOZ-lum
Kinyarwanda
The First Grader
Outstanding Directing in a Motion Picture
Alrick Brown for Kinyarwanda
Angelina Jolie for In the Land of Blood and Honey
Dee Rees for Pariah
Salim Akil for Jumping the Broom
Tate Taylor for The Help

The 43rd NAACP Image Awards air live on NBC this Friday, February 17th, at 8 PM EST. Will you watch?

Guest Writer Wednesday: Journey 2 Posters: Painfully Obvious Sexism Watch

This is a guest post from Scott Mendelson. Originally published at Mendelson’s Memos.
One of these Journey 2 posters is not like the other. Hint, it’s the one with giant boobs that are more important than giant bees.
Here are four character posters (and one main poster) for Warner Bros’ upcoming Journey 2: The Mysterious Island. Each poster highlights a lead character and a respective giant animal menace. As you can clearly see, the focus point of three of the posters is the actual special effects creation that is chasing our heroes. In three of the posters, the human character is smaller than the monsters, thus making the giant animals themselves the center of our attention.
Of course, the middle poster in the top row, the one highlighting Vanessa Hudgens is a bit different. In her poster, the flying bee creature is smaller than Hudgens’s profile. So if the giant bee is not the center of attention, if it isn’t the fx monster in this poster, than what is?
Why, Hudgens’s boobs of course. As you can see, the largest thing on the poster, the thing that is clearly intended to be the focus point for Hudgens’s poster is the young actress’s rack.
The marketing team at Warner Bros. didn’t see fit to fetishize Dwayne Johnson’s massive muscles or any manly attributes that Josh Hutcherson may possess. But in her character poster (and the main poster on the bottom right), the young actress’s breasts are apparently the main attraction.

Because of course when you’re a girl in a generic or male-driven mainstream genre film, even when it’s a PG-rated adventure aimed at younger kids, the only marketable attributes you have is your ‘fuck-ability’. Stay classy, Warner.

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.