Guest Writer Wednesday: ‘X-Men First Class’: I Like it, but WTF?

X-Men First Class, 2011, Matthew Vaughn
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The X-Men franchise. I’ve been a fan of this ragtag team of mutants since the first movie was released (afterwards diving into the world of comics). The movies, along with their source material, have always been clear in their metaphorical status: These are not just mutants, these are everyone who is Different, Othered and Not Accepted by mainstream society. Previously, this analogy has certainly existed in the films, drawing specifically on Magneto’s history as a Jew in World War II, and on the idea of “coming out” as Bobby (Ice Man, played by Shawn Ashmore). Ian McKellen (Magneto) has discussed the connection between X-Men, race, and sexuality in reference to the first three X-Men films.

Certainly as a metaphor (and hardly that) for gay society, X-Men First Class succeeds. The movie is set up around the stories of Erik (Michael Fassbender) and Charles (James McAvoy), who we come to know later as Magneto and Professor X. Until they meet, about twenty minutes into the film, their stories are filled with loneliness and a sense of “am I the only one” — Charles’ despair is cut short by the arrival of Raven Darkholme/Mystique, whom I’ll discuss later at length. In the comics, Charles and Erik have a long history, a relationship of deep intimacy that spans decades. In X-Men First Class, this relationship is condensed into mere months, and when discussing the film, my (male) friend explained that “For two men to get that close, that fast, there’s probably gay sex happening.”

The movie doesn’t dispute this. In fact, we are treated to a scene of Erik and Charles in bed together, laden with semi-sexual dialogue. Their conversations are deep, meaningful, their gazes fierce and full of longing. Were it not for the plot of the film, and attention paid=”center”> to other characters, I would be certain that the first half of X-Men F=”center”>irst Class was setting up for explicit gay sex. And, really, there’s=”center”> nothing wrong with this. If X-Men First Class is deemed the first gay s=”center”>uperhero movie, then I’m more than proud to have seen it during o=”center”>pening weekend, in a packed theater, and having heard no disparaging=”center”> remarks to that nature. Of course, there is also a huge problem with t=”center”>he “bromance” — Erik and Charles (and villain Sebastian Shaw, also) e=”center”>ssentially deny the validity of their human or female associates in=”center”> order to form a delightful world order on their own. It should be n=”center”>oted that Erik, Charles, and Sebastian all read as male, caucasian,=”center”> and capable of “passing” for human.=”center”>

The plot of this film, firmly rooted in the continuity of the=”center”> previously made X-Men films despite problems, deals primarily with the C=”center”>uban Missile Crisis, US government’s acceptance (and non-acceptance)=”center”> of mutants, and an almost James Bond-esque effect of lingering Nazi=”center”> sentiment. The villains: The Hellfire Club. Consisting of Sebastian=”center”> Shaw (Kevin Bacon), Emma Frost (January Jones), and two henchmen:=”center”> Riptide and Azazel, the Club fronts as a high-class strip club and=”center”> doubles as a lair to promote nuclear war. Shaw believes that mutants=”center”> are, literally, Children of the Atom, and seeks to promote a nuclear=”center”> holocaust (yes, he was involved with the last Holocaust in this canon)=”center”> that will wipe out humanity, leaving only a pure mutant race behind.=”center”>

Who we come to know as the X-Men (Charles, Erik, Beast, Mystique,=”center”> Havok and Banshee) align themselves with the CIA, the institution=”center”> first seeking information on the Hellfire Club and later working=”center”> directly against the nuclear threat. The primary voices of the CIA are=”center”> Agent Moira McTaggert (played by Rose Byrne, in a significant change=”center”> from the character’s comic origins) and a benefactor played by Oliver=”center”> Platt. These two are Good Humans and Allies, working with the mutants=”center”> to integrate and fight for their cause, which just so happens to also=”center”> be the mutants’ cause: the CIA obviously want to avoid nuclear war,=”center”> Erik wants revenge on his “creator”, and Charles wants to keep public=”center”> perception of mutants in a positive light, something that won’t happen=”center”> if Shaw succeeds.=”center”>

And overall, the movie doesn’t disappoint. Despite it’s failings=”center”> (again, I’ll discuss this later), X-Men First Class is a truly fun=”center”> movie. Director Matthew Vaughn (Kick-Ass) puts the film together with=”center”> a genuinely nice balance of humor, tense action, and political=”center”> intrigue. As much as I am baffled by some of the choices the film=”center”> chooses to make, and angered by several others, I can’t wait to see=”center”>X-Men First Class again. Count this off to my fangirling of the=”center”> series, perhaps, but the rottentomatoes.com=”center”> rating seems to agree. =”center”>

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Magneto is skilled at making funny faces while using his powers.
The rest of this review deals with how X-Men First Class handles race and gender, and contains detailed spoilers for the film.

As I stated, the X-Men franchise is no stranger to identifying with marginalized groups, and this film takes that one step further, while ironically completely failing to support any marginalized groups, aside from perhaps, LGBTs. I would hesitate to discuss a movie in these terms, had it not already made it abundantly clear that it was dealing, not only with a fictional universe, but as an analogy for ours.

There are several Characters of Color in X-Men First Class, but don’t go into the film expecting positive portrayals. When I refer to a Character of Color, I mean that said character’s “home” form is not traditional caucasian.

First, we have Darwin (played by Edi Gathegi): a young recruit to Charles’ team, his power is to “adapt to survive” (growing gills when submerged, turning rock solid to deflect physical blows). He receives limited characterization, much like the other recruits, and his first (and final) major scene involves attempting to deceive Shaw, “rescue” another mutant who has decided to deflect, and get quickly killed in the process. During Shaw’s monologue to the teens about why they should join his side, he states that by Charles’ way of thinking, they would rather “be enslaved or rise up to rule”. On “slaves,” the camera cuts to and lingers on Darwin, a black male. Could this be seen as a point of view shot from Shaw? Perhaps, but there are no others like it in the film. Save to say that this is one of the cheapest methods of marginalizing a character that I’ve seen in a recent film.
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The X-Men wonder where they can find a new token black character.
There are characters of color among the background characters as well, throwaways like Angel, Riptide, and Azazel. These characters eitherhave no characterization (Riptide and Azazel) and work for the “bad guys” or, in Angel’s case, (to paraphrase) would rather have guys look at her in the strip club, than have guys look at her as a mutant. She defects to join the baddies as well.

Shaw’s, and eventually, Magento’s side certainly has validity. Not in the manner of wiping out an entire race to let the superior one flourish, but in the sense that mutants, and in this case, mutants who are already marginalized by their appearance, shouldn’t be forced to integrate into normal society, to forgo what makes them them. Mystique’s catch phrase, first bemoaning the fact that she is not, and later celebrating the idea of “Mutant and proud” echoes many movements in history, from Black Pride to Gay Pride. Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) learns to wear her natural form and take pride in it.

Her journey to acceptance is central to the film. Growing up with Charles Xavier, Mystique learned to hate her natural blue form. She asks Charles, early in the film, if he would ever date her, looking like this [her blue form]. He gives her a line about being unable to think of her as anything other than his sister, but repeatedly reacts poorly to her use of blue form in public, unless, of course, it is to his ends. Raven ages slower than her adoptive “brother,” and as a result, Charles continually infantalizes her, keeps her drinking cola while he drinks at bars, informs her of her decisions and influences others. Her next love interest (and unfortunately intertwined in her seeking of acceptance) is Hank McCoy/Beast (Nicolas Hoult), who she sense an immediate bond with due to his deformed feet. Beast is geekily interested in the pretty girl, but doesn’t hide his motives. He wants her blood to create a formula that destroys the physical manifestations of their powers. Again, Mystique seeks his approval of her natural form, and Beast fumbles for an answer before settling on “You’re beautiful now,” gesturing to her clearly female, white caucasian, curvy body. She finally finds someone who appreciates her natural form in Magneto, however she gains it while reducing herself to a sexual object. Even while encouraging her to embrace her natural form, Erik compares Mystique to a tiger who needn’t be tamed.

The Mystique I know from canon (both movie and otherwise) doesn’t rely on others to decide whether or not she should be proud of her body. Granted, she has suffered for looking the way she does, but becomes stronger for it. In X-Men First Class, Mystique’s journey is so closely tied to male approval and attraction that it is hard to take her seriously, and certainly removes any feminist aspects to her character.

On the subject of Beast, there are always mutants who see their powers as more of an affliction than a blessing (Rogue in the original trilogy is the primary example). Beast views his gorilla-like feet as a hindrance to his otherwise immensely successful scientific and inventing career. Aside from tossing anything vaguely scientific on a self-proscribed disabled character, the film indulges in Beast’s point of view. He tries to cure himself of the physical affliction and is instead, in a thinly-veiled echo of Jekyll and Hyde, granted a full beastly form, complete with blue hair. Should Beast have embraced his disability instead of working against it? The film doesn’t deign to say. However, Magneto, with his band of physically different mutants, is quick to accept Beast’s new form. In most canon, where Beast continues to align at least loosely with Charles, he is relegated to background roles.

The film features a training montage (split-screens and everything!) that works to simultaneously progress the characters in their abilities, to give a bit of characterization, and to show case what a genuine asshole Charles Xavier is. His methods include accessing hidden memories to manipulate emotions, instructing young Banshee that the throat is “just a muscle” and can be trained (what does this say, then, to those who have muscles that cannot be trained?), and producing a seemingly endless supply of female mannequins for Havoc to annihilate while he learns to focus his explosive blasts. Along with his not-so subtle racism and casual outing of fellow mutants, Charles really is a winner.

Previous X-Men films have stayed clear of Charles’ dubious nature (aside from X-3, which I choose not to include in my canon by virtue of how bad it was) and, perhaps, for good reason. A leader with such obvious issues is difficult to get an audience to rally behind. While I appreciated that X-Men First Class did not shy away from the problematic nature of Charles Xavier, I wasn’t exactly keen on being made to watch him subtly marginalize his own people while building a team. Given that Charles ends the film in his iconic wheelchair, paralyzed, perhaps there is another layer to the discourse here, but I couldn’t find one.

In addition to proporting to align sensibilities with marginalized POC and failing, for a film that takes place in the 60s, I was expecting a Mad Men-esque deconstruction of gender relations, not an excuse to indulge in poor treatment of females. I was truly excited going in to this film, looking forward to how Emma Frost would do in her first prolonged big-screen portrayal. I was even excited when January Jones (Mad Men) was cast in the role: her layered portrayal of Betty is intense and powerful, two qualities any proper Emma Frost must have.

I was, to say the least, disappointed. Not only is the character written awkwardly, but Jones’ portrayal lacked any kind of depth. Emma Frost is used in the film as punch line, glorified butler, and sex object. With her powers — telepathy, shown to be strong enough to combat Xavier’s, and diamond form, protecting her physical form — there is no reason for Frost to do anything she doesn’t want to. She is essentially Sebastian Shaw’s busty lap dog, and getting nothing out of the arrangement. Where was the devious woman I’ve come to love?

My friend, Aimee LaPlant, who runs the fansite EmmaFrostFiles.com, shares this dismay. She presented her view in an interview with MSNBC sex columnist Bryan Alexander that Emma Frost was not “created to be a slut,” as purported by Christy Marx, at least not in what the term slut has come to mean. Emma Frost is a powerful role model for girls: using her sexuality and enjoying it, building her powers,and effectively manipulating and controlling others to her ends.

The Emma Frost in X-Men First Class is none of these things. In fact, the portrayal of Emma in this film follows Christy Marx’s thesis almost exactly. This Emma is created to be a slut. She is sent to Russia to aide in negotiations to set up nuclear bases by Shaw, and instead of using her powers to gain information or influence, Emma “mind fucks” the Soviet official — an action that could be seen metaphorically, could be used as a cover for gaining information telepathically, however the film does not suggest that anything is happening aside from January Jones wearing sexy lingerie and a grown man groping a manifestation.

A woman presented as sexual and powerful is nothing to bemoan. However, when a woman, such as Emma Frost and Mystique, is reduced to only her sexual aspects this is troubling, and a far too easy route for filmmakers to take. What are Emma’s motivations? We don’t know. Mystique’s back story has been re-written to ensure that she relies on the approval of others rather than acceptance that is self-motivated.

As for the other main female character, Agent Moira McTaggert, I am not sure where to begin. Rose Byrne shone in the role, far beyond how the character was written. In comics canon, McTaggert is a brilliant scientist who comes to Charles’ aid with her research. In this film, she has been rewritten: she is American and not Scottish, she is a CIA agent — a lone woman in her office, she is the one coming to Xavier for his aid. Despite shining for a glorious five minutes near the finale of the film, McTaggert essentially works as the human POV for the film. She needs to learn about mutants, so through her, we do as well. Moira is one of the only females in the film who is comfortable using her sexuality (“using some equipment the CIA didn’t give me”) and manages to not be defined by it. In an eye-roll-inducing detail, her battle gear consists of a suitable uniform paired with platform shoes.

Two ending scenes in the film sum up her character, and the role of females in the film. During the climactic battle, Moira tries to catch Charles’ attention. He yells “Moira, be quiet!” — the men have a job to do. Finally, at a government debriefing, McTaggert tries to explain the events of the past days through her foggy memories (kindly induced by Xavier). “Gentlemen,” a lead agent says, his tone mocking, “this is why the CIA is no place for a woman.”
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The 60s is no place for mutants.
Marcia Herring is a rollergirl receptionist from Southeast Missouri. She is still working on her graduate degree, but swears to have it done someday. She spends most of her time watching television and movies and wishes she could listen to music and read while doing so without going insane. She previously contributed a review of Degrassi: The Next Generation to Bitch Flicks.

2011 MTV Movie Awards

The 2011 MTV Movie Awards aired last night (Sunday, June 5), and something interesting happened: a lot of young women won awards.
I didn’t watch the ceremony. I’m too old for MTV, and didn’t even realize the show had happened until I came across a mean-spirited article, published last year, unironically lamenting “Why Twilight Ruined the MTV Movie Awards.” Because no other movie with a lousy script ever won an MTV Movie Award? No one would argue that MTV awards are based on high art and excellent filmmaking, but, like most major awards, they’re worth looking at for their cultural significance. And, for some reason, this year’s winners give me something to feel good about.

Here are a selection of the winners (you can see the full list here).

Best Comedic Performance: Emma Stone for Easy A

Best Female Performance: Kristen Stewart for The Twilight Saga: Eclipse

Best Scared-As-S**t Performance: Ellen Page for Inception

Best Line from a Movie: Alexys Nycole Sanchez for Grown Ups

MTV Generation Award: Reese Witherspoon

Best Breakout Star: Chloë Grace Moretz for Kick-Ass

Biggest Badass Star: Chloë Grace Moretz for Kick-Ass

Only one of the above categories is gender specific, and though we could endlessly debate The Twilight Problem (Stephanie did just that in her review of New Moon), it’s worth noting that Stewart won the Best Female Performance award for a film geared toward a female audience. If you have nothing at all positive to say about The Twilight Saga, you still have to admit that this film series is wildly popular with and unabashedly made for young (and some not so young) women. This shouldn’t be remarkable, but it is.
Young women are highlighted in these awards for being funny, for being iconic, for breaking out, and for being badass. What other awards are recognizing women–particularly young women–in this way?
I’ll admit that many of the films these actresses won for (the ones I’ve seen, at least) are problematic. I’m not really celebrating that Easy A (which I found virtually unwatchable) won an award, but I am celebrating that a film with a female lead is being recognized as containing a great comedic performance. There was a lot of controversy surrounding Kick-Ass and the way the character Hit Girl was portrayed, but I am thrilled that a teenage girl (who was 12 when she made the film) is being recognized and rewarded as “badass.” 
Even if MTV continues to make us shudder with their programming, they are highlighting young women in film. Hollywood and other awards shows: take notice!

Guest Writer Wednesday: Howl’s Moving Castle and Male Adaptations of Female Work

This piece by Emily Belanger is cross-posted from Not Another Wave.

The first time I saw Howl’s Moving Castle, five or six years ago, I was delighted. I’d seen Spirited Away, but other than that I’d never seen any Miyazaki films, and as far as Miyazaki films go, HMC is a tad more accessible to Western audiences. Plus, they dubbed the animation so well that a friend convinced me the film was not, in fact, a translation, but that it had originally been done in English.
Well, that wasn’t true. It’s definitely a dubbed film. But I was surprised, a month ago, when my older sister handed me a copy of the book Howl’s Moving Castle and recommended I read it. She said it was a little like The Princess Bride, in that the book was different from the movie but still delightful. And delightful it was – but I was surprised by the ways the story and characters changed when it was transferred from a Welsh novel written by a woman, to a Japanese film directed by a man. Miyazaki did a fantastic job with the film, and I still love it, but his adaptation places more focus on male characters and all but strips Sophie of her power. On the flip side, the film complicates age and evil witches in a really interesting way.

I want to make it clear up front that I don’t know enough about Japanese culture and Welsh culture to comment on how culture has impacted this transition. In fact, I haven’t even seen the movie undubbed. Accordingly, this review will compare a book that was published in English, to a version of the film that was released in English though Disney, and which was marketed to an American audience.

This romantic imagining of Howl says it all
(source: Dreamhuntress on flickr)
First of all, in the movie, Howl is the main event. He’s dashing and pretty, and he swoops into Sophie’s boring life to save her from the soldiers who are flirting with her. Yes, Sophie doesn’t really need saving from those men, and Howl in fact puts her into more danger when the Witch of the Waste sees him with her and decides to put a curse on her, but there’s still something heroic in the gesture. These heroics don’t show up so soon in the book – instead of scaring off unwanted suitors, Howl is the unwanted suitor. Sophie gets nervous when he tries to buy her a drink, so he chuckles, offers to escort her wherever she’s going, and backs off when she doesn’t want him to. And the Witch of the Waste doesn’t curse her because she’s seen with Howl – she curses her because of a misunderstanding and a mistaken identity. I can see why Miyazaki simplified the witch’s motivations here, mind you.
The Witch of the Waste is a complicated character in the book, in ways I won’t fully describe here, since I hope you’ll all read the book for yourselves. But I will say this: while the film complicates the idea of witches by turning the Witch of the Waste into a victim you can sympathize with, who is ultimately an ally, the book complicates the idea of witches in other ways by making Howl’s struggle into one where he’s trying to avoid becoming like the witch. She isn’t evil by virtue of being a powerful woman, (and every powerful woman in the movie is, in fact, evil – even the witch only turns good after losing her powers). She has turned evil over time because she made the same choice Howl made, and his only hope is to undo that choice before it hurts him like it hurt her.
And gaining power in the book doesn’t corrupt all female characters. While the movie carries a warning to all magical beings – all the other wizards and witches in the land are losing their humanity to war – the only witches we meet (Madam Suliman and The Witch of the Waste) use their power for evil, while the wizards we meet (Howl and his apprentice) use their magic to help people/ to hide. In the book, however, we meet several witches who are good, including Howl’s teacher, a woman who teaches magic to Sophie’s sister, and Sophie herself. Yeah, that’s right, Sophie herself has magical powers in the book. In fact, in the book Sophie is able to save Howl because of her magical powers, not because they’re in love – although they are.
And that last point transitions nicely into my last critique of the movie – the movie is more a love story, where the book is more a coming of age story. Accordingly, it follows traditional patterns of love stories in ways that downplay how powerful women are and play up how powerful men are, while also reinforcing the Beauty and the Beast myth that a virtuous woman can save a dark, brooding man from his animalistic nature. In the book, Sophie plays a huge role in defeating the evil force they fight toward the end. In the movie, it’s mostly Howl, and Sophie’s role pertains mostly to Howl’s heart, which, remember, she is moving through their emotional connection and not through her own power. To reiterate: in the movie, her power and influence are defined in relation to Howl, but in the book she has her own power.
Still, there’s a silver lining to all this: the movie and the book are both about a young woman who only finds herself after losing her youth. How feminawesome is that?? Also, the characters are interesting and fleshed out in both mediums, and the movie’s approach to war is interesting. And the animation and music – just incredible. So if you love the movie, I hope you keep on loving it. But take the time to read the book too so you can appreciate the powerful side to Sophie’s nature.
Emily Belanger currently lives in Utah, where she’s completing an MFA in creative writing. When she isn’t writing fiction or teaching, she co-edits Not Another Wave, a feminist blog with an inclusive angle, and writes for Go Girl Magazine, a travel magazine for and by women. She’s originally from rural New Hampshire and misses the humidity very much.

Quote of the Day: Roseanne Barr

Roseanne Barr
In her recent New York Magazine piece, Roseanne Barr talks about creating and starring in a number-one sitcom, and relates her experience to the breakdown of Charlie Sheen, the state of comedy today, and the hostility Hollywood has toward women–and especially working-class women. Here’s an excerpt. I highly recommend reading the entire piece here.
Hollywood hates labor, and hates shows about labor worse than any other thing. And that’s why you won’t be seeing another Roseanne anytime soon. Instead, all over the tube, you will find enterprising, overmedicated, painted-up, capitalist whores claiming to be housewives. But I’m not bitter.

Nothing real or truthful makes its way to TV unless you are smart and know how to sneak it in, and I would tell you how I did it, but then I would have to kill you. Based on Two and a Half Men’s success, it seems viewers now prefer their comedy dumb and sexist. Charlie Sheen was the world’s most famous john, and a sitcom was written around him. That just says it all. Doing tons of drugs, smacking prostitutes around, holding a knife up to the head of your wife—sure, that sounds like a dream come true for so many guys out there, but that doesn’t make it right! People do what they can get away with (or figure they can), and Sheen is, in fact, a product of what we call politely the “culture.” Where I can relate to the Charlie stuff is his undisguised contempt for certain people in his work environment and his unwillingness to play a role that’s expected of him on his own time.

But, again, I’m not bitter. I’m really not. The fact that my fans have thanked and encouraged me for doing what I used to get in trouble for doing (shooting my big mouth off) has been very healing. And somewhere along the way, I realized that TV and our culture had changed because of a woman named Roseanne Conner, whom I am honored to have written jokes for.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Men outshouting women on radio from the f-word blog

Why we all need to see Bridesmaids from I Will Not Diet

Thelma and Louise Turns 20 from Women and Hollywood

Does Oprah’s Finale Herald the Rapture? from WIMN’s Voices Blog

Beyonce: Girls Run the World (Cue the Apocalypse!) from Ms. blog

Who Run the World? GIRLS! Who Wrote the Song? MEN! from Goddesses Rising

Dove: Visibly More White Beautiful Skin from Feministe

Short Skirts and Inappropriate Gender Messages in Tide Commercial from Marinagraphy

Leave your links in the comments!

From the Archive: Norma Rae

I’m feeling a little nostalgic (and I’m on vacation), so today I’m reposting the very first review I wrote for Bitch Flicks, way back in March 2008. It’s a movie I loved and still love, and is definitely worth your time if you haven’t seen it.
Norma Rae

Sally Field’s career, honestly, hasn’t meant much to me. Aside from recent Boniva commercials, Forrest Gump, and Steel Magnolias, I haven’t seen much of her work. She’s always struck me as a respectable actress, but not someone I seek out from a personal interest. Not being familiar with her early career, her so-called serious turn in Norma Rae was lost on me. What wasn’t lost, however, was an honest portrayal of a working woman, and a social issue that continues to dog women and men (though women, I suspect, suffer more from lack of unions) everywhere.

A primary question about social fiction is whether the story remains relevant, or if the sociopolitical situation remains mired in the past. Norma Rae does retain relevance, though she’d likely be working in Wal-Mart today instead of a textile mill (as I watched, I wondered how many textile mills still operate in the U.S.). While the movie seems to be a window on a past time in working America, it’s still relevant—and progressive—on many levels.
The plot of Norma Rae is inspired by the real life experience of Crystal Lee Jordan, a woman who worked in a North Carolina mill to unionize its employees, spurred on by an out-of-town organizer, until being fired on a bogus charge of “insubordination.” Norma Rae (played by Field, who won the Best Actress Oscar for the role) lives with her parents in the beginning of the movie, and reunites with an old friend who she marries after a brief courtship. As Norma Rae becomes more involved with union activities, the she experiences the usual relationship (romantic, familial, and work) strains, but doesn’t quit until the mill bosses force her out. It’s at this time she makes her famous stand; she refuses to leave, scrawls “UNION” on a piece of cardboard, stands on a table in the middle of a busy factory floor, and stoically remains–in an exhilarating climax to the film–until all her fellow employees shut down their machines and stand with her. She’s arrested and fired in the end, but finishes what she started and believed in.

It’s true that Field gives a standout performance, and the union-organizer Rueben (played by Ron Liebman) isn’t bad either. But what stands out for me in the film–and what makes this, in my opinion, a good piece of feminist muckraking–is the character’s relationship with men. We don’t learn too much about her relationship with other women, but what’s striking about her relationship with men is the lack of romanticism involved. Norma Rae has a couple of kids from a couple of different men–neither of whom are present in their lives–and when she marries Sonny, it’s for entirely pragmatic reasons. He proposes while on a date with both their children present, and makes his case to her that he’s a good man and that their lives might be easier if they lived them together. There’s no grand romance, and it’s refreshing to see marriage represented as the economic institution that it essentially is–particularly in the face of contemporary Hollywood, which just can’t seem to make a movie without a romantic sub-plot geared toward female viewers.

The other–and more prominent–relationship in the movie is between Norma Rae and Rueben. I admit that while watching the movie I waited for romance to blossom between these two characters, but felt great relief when it never happened. We see their relationship go from cautious skepticism to a fully fledged friendship, as Norma Rae becomes dedicated to the union cause. There are few representations of purely intellectual relationships (not to mention asexual friendships) between men and women that come to mind in movies, and though one could certainly argue that there is sexual antagonism underlying their interaction, it’s an emotion that stays below the surface, never consummated–all the way to their farewell handshake at the end of the movie.

Norma Rae isn’t a super mother, nor does she fit the description of a woman we’re typically supposed to look up to. She’s made mistakes in her life and she’ll probably make a few more. She’s not looking to move away from her roots and improve her life based on others’ terms; she doesn’t act out of selfish desire. In other words, she’s a rarity in film: a real woman. 

Degrassi, Teens, and Rape Apologism

This guest post by Marcia Herring previously appeared at Feministing.
A recent plot line in popular teen drama Degrassi: the Next Generation featured what was, for all rights and purposes, date rape. Instead of taking the standard track for the show, Degrassi ignored the issue and made the abusive actions of character Declan all right to thousands of teens watching.

If you are unfamiliar with Degrassi, you can watch the episodes in question (“Love Lockdown, Parts 1 and 2”) here.

Oh, Degrassi. What hath thou wrought?

Background: Tackling issues that many teen dramas often avoid, or get wrong, Degrassi wins awards for its cliched and intense portrayal of high school life. Early years of the Next Generation saw several plotlines getting censored on American television: an abortion, a lesbian relationship, drug usage and consequences, school violence. Now Canadian and American networks work closely together to ensure that the programming is top notch and groundbreaking, including, earlier this year, the first transgender young adult on television (which was, by the way, handled incredibly).

The range of success in portraying teen issues varies, but ever since the original incarnation of Degrassi Junior High in the 1980s, the show has been used as a teaching tool for social situations and family discussions. In the absence of after school specials about what the kids get into these days, it is shows like Degrassi that perhaps show youth positive options to problems they may face.

A History of Rape: Degrassi is no stranger to rape. In season two, bitchy cheerleader Paige was coerced by a guy she liked into an upstairs room at a party, immediately pushed past her comfort zone, and, while shouting “No,” held down and raped. As Feminist Music Geek notes, she used music to help overcome feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness to fight back, and testified against her rapist in court. Later, in season 6, uptight Christian Darcy decided to cut loose and go wild for a weekend: this backfired when her drink was roofied. When she woke up next to her boyfriend, she assumed they had engaged in consensual sex, which was, in itself, bad enough because Darcy had sworn to remain a virgin until marriage. Eventually, enough memory of the night came back (and Peter swore he had done nothing) that Darcy believed she had been raped. She got tested, had an STD, and began a downward spiral that involved a suicide attempt, and sexual advances toward a teacher who tried to help her. Both girls have slow healing processes, but they are shown to heal through extended plotlines, and the recurring issues that these involve (though Darcy is written out of the show so that Shenae Grimes could join the cast of 90210).

Demographics: Now. In addition to teaching life lessons, Degrassi has to drive an audience. The Degrassi audience is, for the purposes of this argument, comprised of 5 somewhat equal parts. Part one is loyal fans. These have seen every episode of every incarnation of the show, and will watch every week. They probably participate in some kind of fandom, whether it be following someone involved on Twitter or reading/writing fanfiction. Part two are new fans. These fluctuate with every generation or group of students that go through. These are the screaming fangirls who tune in when their favorite character has a plotline but doze off at other times. Part three are casual viewers, those who stay on the channel if they have nothing better to do and generally recognize the characters. Part four are parents of teens watching the show, and educators. They might watch with intent to monitor their childrens’ intake, or simply to partake in family time. They offer commentary on the action and are a sounding board for questions that viewers have, stirred up by the episode. They might even be fans themselves. Part five is a wild card: friend of a friend who has to watch the new episode at a sleepover. Boyfriend of a part one. Someone who marathons the show for a week, but then encounters a mean fan and drops the show.

An ideal Degrassi episode will have something for all of these audiences: fanservice (read: hot guys or the couple du jour) for the flighty new group, the structured and dramatic plot that older fans have come to expect, something to keep casual viewers coming back, and an educational value for parents and educators.

Thesis: The recent two-part episode “Love Lockdown” failed on a moral level, one from which I am not sure Degrassi can recover, no matter how many successful episodes follow.

Background: Holly J and Declan began dating in season 9 when he convinced her that he liked her take-charge, sometimes-bitchy attitude and was willing to go the extra mile to find out about her life. Their relationship was often physical, and focused on financial aspects as Declan’s family is very rich and Holly J’s family became quite poor. During their summer vacation (Holly J’s internship) to New York City, Holly J engaged in a rivalry over Declan with his sister, which resulted in Declan’s fluctuating behavior: at first angrily siding with his sister and then dramatically requesting forgiveness on a live television broadcast.

Later, in season 10, Holly J and Fiona (Declan’s sister) have a new friendship, one that is consistently troubled with issues of purchased affections. It is no wonder that this spreads into the relationship between Holly J and Declan: he has been living in New York, and believes that smooth-talking and a beautiful necklace will reassure his place in Holly J’s heart. They go on a break.

In Declan’s absense, Holly J and Sav engage in a casual relationship: flirty and physical. They always appear smiling and happy. Towards recent episodes this might even indicate deeper feelings than their original “only until graduation” pledge.

“Love Lockdown, Part 1”: In “Love Lockdown Part 1,” Declan returns. His goal is to convince Holly J to get back with him. From the moment he sees her with Sav, he does not register Sav as a threat, but as an obstacle to be brushed aside. He just needs to get some time alone with Holly J, and then she will see. For most of the evening, she sticks to Sav’s side (to Declan’s frustration, the episodes are told at his perspective) until Declan creates the perfect distraction: set up a sweet DJ booth for Sav the aspiring musician at a party. This gives Declan the in he has been wanting, where Holly J promptly turns him down. “I’m not going to do anything tonight/at this party”/”I have a boyfriend” are variations on Holly J’s replies to Declan’s pleading. He doesn’t get it.

Little sister to the rescue: Habitual drunk Fiona plays up her level of drunkenness for the sake of big brother’s love life, leaning heavily on her best friend and big brother. Holly J knows how to handle this situation and sends Sav home. Once Fiona is safely tucked in bed, Holly J and Declan are left alone, in the dark, on the sofa. A few words of concern about Fiona, and Declan’s agenda is back on the table. Holly J reiterates that she has a boyfriend, that she isn’t comfortable doing anything, that she doesn’t want to. Words that Declan ignores, kissing her shoulder, her neck. “We shouldn’t.” He kisses her cheek, turns her head, kisses her mouth, and she, reluctantly kisses back as the episode ends.

The reaction: Two definitive camps. Holly J was raped. No means no. And, If you think Holly J was raped you are stupid. 

One fan’s reaction.
 Most of the replies to this insisted that kissing and “spreading your legs” do in fact indicate consent. 

Another fan’s reaction.
Victim blaming. Rape only exists under certain conditions. Holly J wasn’t raped because she didn’t really resist. Real victims suffer for years, they are beaten, drugged, and really abused. Holly J is fine.

“Love Lockdown, Part 2”: The description of the episode: “Holly J feels extremely conflicted about what happened with Declan at his party.” This episode too, though not as much as part 1, is framed in Declan’s narrative.

Holly J and Fiona:

“Last night, I didn’t want things to go as far as they did.”

“Like, as in sex? You and Declan have done that before.”

“No. Last night, I felt … pressured.”

Holly J and Declan:

“I didn’t want to. I told you that!”

“I thought that was because of Sav!”

“Does it matter why?”

Okay, so we’re on the right track, at least to recover from something atrocious. Right? And then, Holly J gets into Yale with Declan … and … 

“I don’t know how I feel.”

“He thinks that you think he raped you.”

“I never said that.”

Holly J is backpedaling. Protecting herself from the pain she ends up feeling anyway. Rape is a stigma and a label that she obviously doesn’t want, so she denies it.

Part of the final scene, Holly J and Declan:

“I don’t… think you raped me.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Do you hate me?”

“I regret what happened.”

The reaction: A potentially facetious remark in tumblr RP, made to thedeclancoyne: “Congrats on not being a rapist.”

The results: Internalized rationalizations. If you were in a relationship once, there is always a chance to rekindle, even if you use coercion. If a guy is hot, you probably want it. If you dated a guy once, had sex willingly with him once, you probably want it again. If you say no, but then go along with it, you are saying yes. If you are smart and sassy under normal circumstances but don’t put those skills to use under duress, you obviously didn’t really feel threatened.

These statements fit in perfectly with contemporary culture’s view on rape, but not with what our youth should be learning. Take a look at a few of the graphics and campaigns.

Would it have been difficult for Degrassi to take a step back from the heart-throb Declan’s point of view for a moment, to truly examine the situation, to show viewers that Holly J was over-rationalizing, acting fearful and in denial, instead of staying in Declan’s view and getting a romanticized picture of potential future love? NO.

“Love Lockdown, Parts 1 and 2” is a plotline that asks viewers to side with Declan and apologize for his rape of Holly J. This is simply unacceptable. And then, what prompted me to finally finish up this meta, teennick used this as a valentine:

The lines he used—”back when he was with Jane” (quote @teennick) to initially hook up with her— while she was hesitant, and already dating Spinner. His tradition of claiming and power in relationships is long. And instead of punishing him, we get a Declan valentine.
As of the posting of this entry, Holly J’s plot has not been resolved or addressed.

Marcia Herring is a rollergirl receptionist from Southeast Missouri. She is still working on her graduate degree, but swears to have it done someday. She spends most of her time watching television and movies and wishes she could listen to music and read while doing so without going insane. 

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

DGA Says ‘No’ to Women from Works By Women

‘Thelma & Louise’ at 20 from Macleans

The Tony Awards, 2011 from The Feminist Spectator

Tropes vs. Women: #4 The Evil Demon Seductress from Bitch Media

At Cannes, Women With Diverse Visions from the New York Times

Hollywood’s Diversity Problem Predictably Blamed On The Recession from Jezebel

Magazines, T.V. and Disney: The Negative Portrayal of Beauty in the Media from fbomb

The 10 Most Powerful Women in Television from Ad Week

Achilles Effect: Boys, Pop Culture, and Gender from Achilles Effect

Rape Is Still Rape, and No Still Means NO! from Ms. Magazine

Sound-Off: Is Beyonce Sending the Wrong Message? from Essence

Leave your links in the comments!

[UPDATE: All links should actually work now.]

Quote of the Day: Janet McCabe

Feminist Film Studies: Writing the Woman into Cinema by Janet McCabe (2004). Part of the Wallflower Short Cuts Series.

Leading comedic roles for women in film and television are often relegated to “romantic” comedy and these women still, in 2011, struggle to break into the classification of comedy–without modifiers–and remain relegated to the dreaded “chick flick” (a term that the title of this website plays off of).

From the section “Romantic comedy and gender” in the book Feminist Film Studies: Writing the Woman into Cinema.

Television comedy is another area of recent feminist inquiry, which investigates in particular star performance, joke-making techniques and the television audience. Alexander Doty (1990), investigating the interplay between the star image of Lucille Ball and the character she plays in I Love Lucy (Desilu Productions Inc/CBS, 1951-57) argues that Lucy Ricardo is constructed as the zany, loveable, ditzy and talentless housewife and mother based on the denial, repression and (re)construction of Ball’s star image. Patricia Mellencamp (1997) is another scholar fascinated by Lucille Ball’s slapstick routines. Recuperating Ball’s performance as an act of defiance from the confinement of the domestic space allows her to locate the radical underpinnings of the show for female viewers. Each week Lucy unsuccessfully attempting to escape domesticity and break into show business. They physical comic routines performed by Ball offered a means of challenging patriarchy as she upstages her husband/other men; and this is what audiences tuned in to see. Drawing on Freud’s theory of humorous pleasures (that is, humour used to avoid emotional pain) enables Mellencamp to argue that laughter directed at Lucy’s performance of being talentless – ‘her wretched, off-key singing, her mugging facial exaggerations and out-of-step dancing [is] paradoxically both the source of the audience’s pleasure and the narrative necessity for housewifery’ (1997: 73). She contends that Lucy’s situation made visible the real dilemmas faced by many women: ‘Given the repressive conditions of the 1950s, humour might have been women’s weapon and tactic of survival, ensuring sanity, the triumph of the ego, and pleasures’ (ibid).
One of the most sustained discussions on gender, representation and cross-cultural theories is Kathleen Rowe’s study of the unruly woman (1995). Using theoretical models from Mikhail Bakhtin concerned with the grotesque, Rowe identifies the grotesque body as ultimately the female body – often an outrageous, voluptuous, loud, joke-cracking dissenter or ‘woman on top’. The unruly female is not about gender confusion but inverting dominant social, cultural and political conventions; unruliness occurs when those who are socially or politically inferior (normally, women) use humour and excess to undermine patriarchal norms and authority. Focusing on Roseanne Arnold allows her to suggest how Roseanne’s star image and her television situation (Carsey-Werner Company/ABC, 1988-1997) disrupt and expose the gap between feminist liberation (informed by second-wave feminism) and the realities of working-class family life (those of whom feminist liberation left behind), between ideals of true womanhood and unruliness to challenge notions of a patriarchal construction of femininity. Making a spectacle of herself – her overweight body, her physical excesses, her performance as loud and brash – reveals ambivalence as the unruly woman speaks out. Difficulties faced by Roseanne in the press with the vitriol directed at her ‘make known the problems of representing what in our culture still remains largely unrepresentable: a fat woman who is also sexual; a sloppy housewife who’s a good mother; a “loose” woman who is also tidy, who hates matrimony but loves her husband, who hates the ideology of true womanhood, yet considers herself a domestic goddess’ (1995:91).
As I hope is clear, feminist critics disclose how television culture is informed by context and given meaning through the ways in which particular programmes are consumed, how narratives are experienced and what they mean to the female viewer – what television series says about women and how media texts function in their daily lives. Through interviews, Deborah Jermyn (2003) analyses how women talk about the series in an effort to understand what Sex and the City (HBO, 1998-2004) means to female fans. Pivotal here is the point at which Jermyn’s own fandom intersects with the experience of those she interviewed – it is a moment that allows her to reveal both the pleasures and difficulties involved in understanding how fan culture operates and how to speak about it.
I Love Lucy and Roseanne are two shows that were able to reach a large mainstream audience, while Sex and the City remained, most definitely, for female audiences (as has the atrocious film franchise). Yet Sex and the City is very different from these two other shows, in that it is (for the most part) about women who aren’t in these traditional domestic roles.

What leading women of comedy since the 90s reach across gender divides and avoid the ghettoization of the “chick flick?” Who are the new “unruly” women? Does Tyler Perry’s Madea count? (I’m only half joking here.) I’d love to hear readers’ thoughts on these matters.

Guest Writer Wednesday: The Hollywood Concept of Collateral Beauty

This guest post also appears at Djelloul Marbrook’s web site.
One of the reasons I like the television series Bones is that women are doing well there, something you can’t say of Game of Thrones, The Borgias or Camelot or the many other shows where women are de rigeur decoration.
I don’t know if it’s occurred to filmmakers, but they’re a lot like museum curators who keep the work of women artists in their basements and then claim women are well represented within their four walls.
Emily Deschanel

On the other hand, women are doing quite well on The Good Wife, where the estimable Julianna Margulies creates a memorable woman with a few spare brushstrokes. Her riveting understatement is ably complimented by two other remarkable women, Christine Baranski and Archie Panjabi.

And then there’s Mary McCormack as the eccentric and poignant witness protection agent in the series In Plain Sight. She’s so genuine you think you’ve met her.
All to the good, but on the more problematic side, in eleven major television series corpses are the real stars of eight of them. And in The Borgias and Game of Thrones women are reduced to barn animals, while they’re chic accessories in some of the CSI, Law and Order, and NCIS shows.
But cameras have minds of their own. They gravitate towards actresses like Cote de Pablo, who is also a recording artist, in the original NCIS series. She gets more out of her role by underacting than her showier colleagues, and the producers are often obliged to team her up with the equally understated Mark Harmon, the show’s magnetic star.
Julianna Margulies

It’s to the great credit of actresses like Stephanie March, Diane Neal, Marg Helgenberger, Emily Procter, Mariska Hargitay and quite a few others that their presence transcends the weak hands they’re dealt by directors, writers and producers. They illuminate their series in spite of the best intentions of the director to contain them. March, for instance, in episode after episode of Law and Order stood out from the ensemble because of her gravitas and aura of integrity. As for Helgenberger, the camera celebrates her no matter what hand the producers deal her. And who wouldn’t rather follow Procter into the jaws of hell than the show’s star, the one-note David Caruso? The same may be said for reserved Alana de la Garza, who first appeared in CSI: Miami, went on to Law and Order in New York and now plays in its spin-off, Law and Order: LA.

What many of these women have in common is a restraint we used to assign to laconic Western stars like Gary Cooper and James Stewart, a sense that while they have no wish, in spite of their beauty, to fill a room, it would be ill-advised to step on their toes. They are in many ways women of the century, liberated in spite of society’s hesitancy to license their liberation.

If you compare them to the women stars of the 50s, you’ll see that they’re more like Humphrey Bogart and John Garfield than Barbara Stanwyck and Ida Lupino. Their feminity has a touch of the divine, and I’m not talking about looks, I’m talking about empowerment. These actresses, like Lena Headey in Game of Thrones, should be leading armies, toppling empires, governing our destinies, not playing second fiddle to writers who evince a palpable inhospitality towards women.
Mary McCormack

If we truly wanted to be a great nation the filmmakers could lead the way. But first they must acknowledge that the Marlboro Man could be a boob, his looks being no warranty of anything but Big Tobacco’s preconceptions, Anglo-centrism and misogyny.

NCIS: Los Angeles strikes a blow in the right direction by casting the memorable Linda Hunt as director of operations, but the scriptwriters insist she parody herself like Caruso in CSI Miami.
More promising, much more promising, is Mary McCormack In Plain Sight role. Here the script writer lavishes good lines on her, obviously with the sanction of the director and producer, and she emerges as the character who’s got your back, the one who cuts the bullshit.
The dazzling Emily Deschanel as Temperance Brennan in Bones has the benefit of the concept of the show as well as a co-star, David Boreanaz, who steps aside graciously with much good humor. She also has an endearing cast of colleagues, not least Tamara Taylor, her smart and funny boss, and Michaela Conlin, Brennan’s quirky, in-your-face sidekick.
It’s strange that filmmakers freight good-looking male actors with their projections but continue to use women as floral design. Who, looking at Lena Headey, could even think of her in Game of Thrones as a one-dimensional meanie queen and incestuous lover of her brother, in this case the attractive Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, who shone in the defunct and much lamented New Amsterdam series?

Unfortunately beauty in a male-dominated society lends itself to incidentality. I wonder if this would be so of males in a female-dominated society. My mother in her paintings created a world inhabited entirely by women. She simply banished men. At the same time she introduced a hint of androgyny. I suspect we may be heading as a species toward androgyny.
But in the meantime I think much evil in the world, including terrorism, is rooted in the hatred and fear of women. In The Borgias this emerges cruelly in the treatment of Holliday Grainger as Lucrezia by her boorish husband Giovanni Sforza. If she was indeed a poisoner, one can easily forgive her. One wishes him the best poisons in Italy.
The question that keeps bothering me as I consider these actresses and how they’re cast is simply this: Don’t the filmmakers see them, I mean really see them? I guess not. It’s reminiscent of the poet Randall Jarrell’s unforgettable poem, “A Sad Heart At The Supermarket,” in which a shopper wonders why the bag boy doesn’t really see her.

Didn’t they cast a chubby Richard Burton as the famously athletic Alexander the Great in 1956? Would they have cast a chubby woman as Olympias? And if they wouldn’t think of Dolph Lundgren or Jason Statham as wimps, why in hell would they think of Headey in that way? And who but an idiot would mess with Eva Green in Camelot? Grainger looks much less dangerous—indeed she looks angelic—but by episode three of The Borgias she has already shown her goon of a husband she is nobody’s chattel. His leg is broken and worse is undoubtedly in his future.
The problem seems to be that the camera all by itself, with little help from the cinematographer, sees what the filmmakers can’t see. Do Headey, Green and Helgenberger look like anybody’s sweetie pie? True, Boreanaz and Caruso don’t treat Deschanel and Procter like sweetie pies, but that’s only because they know the camera can’t wait to quit them in order to linger on the women, so there’s no use being churlish.
I don’t think filmmakers and museum curators live on my planet. The camera keeps offering forensic evidence that they keep dismissing like judges in a kangaroo court. They have lots of precedent, of course. History books have been doing it for millennia.

The filmmakers often treat beauty much as the army treats damage—they collateralize it. But you can fill the original CSI set in Vegas with corpses, with William Petersen, with Laurence Fishburne, and Matt Damon if you can get him, and Marg Helgenberger will still be the only one in the room. It’s not because of her beauty alone: it’s a presence, the projection of a high seriousness that it took far more action and gunplay for Gary Cooper to display in High Noon.
What I’m talking about is the feminine principle and how the film industry goes to great lengths to marginalize it in the same way that the church devotes itself to paternalizing religion. The film industry has taken over where the church left off, handing out a sop here and there, but insisting on women as decor. There have been exceptions, Milla Jovovich in science fiction action films and Maggie Q in Nikita most notably, but the overall picture is that of an industry striving for the appearance of gender equality but unable to embrace it. In a way, the film industry is struggling with what I posit as a root cause of terrorism, fear of women. Perhaps a society whose biggest industries are prisons and war has that much to fear from women.

Djelloul Marbrook blogs at www.djelloulmarbrook.com and is the author of two books of poetry (Far from Algiers, Kent State; Brushstrokes and Glances, Deerbrook Editions) and three novellas (Artemisia’s Wolf, Saraceno, and Alice Miller’s Room). A retired newspaper editor, he lives in New York with his wife Marilyn. 

Best Picture Nominee Review Series: 2010 Roundup

It’s over a year late . . . but here it is! 
“As much as I would like to sit through a movie like this and enjoy it for what it is (ground-breaking sci-fi entertainment that will go down in history), I simply can’t. James Cameron’s attempt to create a more spiritual, natural, and peaceful society leaves me annoyed that once again this idea is filtered through a white, Western, male member of a patriarchal society. Some theorists will consider Cameron’s Alien trilogy feminist, because of Sigourney Weaver’s empowered Ripley (legend says it was written to be asexual–with casting deciding the character’s sex), but she still has to prove her femininity and womanliness by saving cats and small children. I fear that many feminists will laud Avatar as well–for creating a world where the people worship a female entity (“Eywa”), because the Clan leader’s female mate/wife is as powerful as him, and since the female lead is as empowered as Ripley. However, like Ripley, Neytiri too has her feminine trappings, as her power can be explained away through her heritage.”
Avatar reviewed by Nine Deuce
“Cameron can only seem to conceive of an ideal society five light years and nearly two centuries removed from our own if it exactly mirrors an episode of Fantasy Island in which he’s the guest star, but it’s cool. He’s got a revolutionary political message to communicate: if we don’t all buy Priuses and reject militarism and imperialism right quick, we’ll destroy our planet and rudely intrude upon blue fucker utopias everywhere, thus ruining countless enlightened neo-primitive sex parties attended by the universe’s hottest aliens.”

The Blind Side reviewed by Stephanie Rogers

“There’s a way to tell a true story, and there’s a way to completely botch the shit out of a true story. Shit-botching, in this instance, might include basing the entire film around an upper-class white woman’s struggle to essentially reform a young Black man by taking him in, buying him clothes, getting him a tutor, teaching him how to tackle, and threatening to kill a group of young Black men he used to hang out with.
However, a filmmaker might consider, when telling the true story of Michael Oher’s struggles to overcome his amazing obstacles, to actually base the film on the true story of Michael Oher’s struggles to overcome his amazing obstacles.”

The Blind Side reviewed by Nine Deuce

“What was the intended message of this film? It won an Oscar, so I know it had to have a message, but what could it have been? I’ve got it (a suggestion from Davetavius)! The message is this: don’t buy more than one Taco Bell franchise or you’ll have to adopt a black guy. I’ll accept that that’s the intended message of the film, because if the actual message that came across in the movie was intentional, I may have to hide in the house for the rest of my life.”

District 9 reviewed by Sarah Domet

“Perhaps Blomkamp’s vision is to convey the notion that our greatest hope for an internationally practiced humanism is to fully experience the isolation and desperation at the individual level. I want to believe that this is his message. But I fear I may be giving him too much credit, for in the end Blomkamp never fully considers the implications of violent discrimination and segregation on anyone but (white, male) Wikus, the original perpetrator of this alien apartheid in the first place. In the end, Wikus becomes a victim, too, yes. However his victimhood is meant to be understood as a courageous act of martyrdom, and, more specifically, one of choice. After all, Wikus told Christopher Johnson to board the Mothership without him; Wikus would stay behind to fight the bad guys. If nothing else, Wikus was given the luxury of choice and self-determination, a luxury not afforded to the “others” of this film, woman and prawn alike.”

An Education reviewed by Jesseca Cornelson

“The script isn’t bad. After all, if movies didn’t routinely take shortcuts by using familiar, stylized codes for characterization, they couldn’t tell their intricate tales in about 100 minutes. It’s just that the script is so tidy and effective that it doesn’t come anywhere close to transcending its form. At times I wondered if the film would have felt as artful if it had been cast with more familiar Hollywood types, say Julia Roberts as Miss Stubbs or Anne Hathaway as Jenny, both of whom I find exude a sweetness that always makes me aware of how terribly charming they are. Would the film have been as engaging if everyone had American accents? I wonder if audiences’ own aspirations to sophistication might make us a bit blind to how ordinary this film is.”

The Hurt Locker reviewed by Amber Leab

“The Hurt Locker is a powerful anti-war film, which can almost get lost in the breathless action sequences. Its message is subtle but unmistakable: war utterly breaks you. The final scene of the film, which has been criticized for its ambiguity (we see James voluntarily back in action after a brief return home and a too-familiar scene representing shallow American excess), is actually a haunting, almost terrifying reminder of our implication in war. If you see James as a hero at the end of the movie, you haven’t understood a frame of the film you just watched. Yet the film teases us with a traditional genre representation of the hero. We want him to be a hero, only finding joy in the adrenaline rush of war, but he isn’t. He’s an empty shell of a person, nothing more than an animated suit heading toward…nothing. He’s walking off into the abyss. War has ripped out his humanity. This is what we do to our soldiers: we ask them to do the impossible in combat, and it destroys them.”

Inglourious Basterds reviewed by Amanda ReCupido

“I saw Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds when it first came out and then again recently in the sweep of the Oscar season. I remember upon first viewing being surprised that, unlike all the posters and marketing would have you believe, Brad Pitt is not the hero of this story. In fact, it is an unassuming, quiet, doe-eyed Jewish girl, Shosanna (played by Melanie Laurent) who carries the film. Brad Pitt and his cronies just kinda happen to be there, bludgeoning and scalping people (this is, after all, a Tarantino flick), and faltering in their plans to sweep the Nazi regime, while Shosanna plots, schemes, threatens, and even fraternizes with the enemy in her mere disguise as a woman to bring the Third Reich to its knees. It is because no one expects her to plan such an attack that she is not viewed as a threat and able to get away with it. Shosanna’s womanhood is both her handicap and her ultimate weapon.”

Precious, Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire reviewed by Carrie Polansky

“Certainly, all of the issues addressed in the film — including (but not limited to) rape, incest, teen pregnancy, poverty and illiteracy — have been addressed before by other films, and when addressing such topics, it’s all too easy to come off sounding preachy or melodramatic. Precious does not fall in to this trap. Precious addresses these topics honestly and directly, never undermining the horror of it all but still making it clear that these are real aspects of life, and that they aren’t death sentences. Though the character Precious is forced to deal with a huge number of issues that no young woman should ever need to face, the audience is not supposed to pity her. Precious is too strong a character for that.”

A Serious Man reviewed by Lesley Jenike

“The Coens are, in my book, among the most consistently innovative filmmakers working today. And I don’t mean “innovative” in the sense that, as directors, they splice and dice filmic conventions the way Baz Luhrmann or Danny Boyle do, for example. Rather, they’re consummate storytellers, fancy jump cuts be damned, and their stories, no matter how dark, how disconcerting, become somehow universal, funny, and true. What’s ultimately so disconcerting about this movie, however, is its skeptical take on the Judeo-Christian tradition of parable and storytelling as illustration and explanation. The Coen brothers are undermining their own profession here, their own modus operandi, and call into question narrative’s effectiveness in light of a chaotic universe and incomprehensible suffering. It’s a dangerous move but ultimately a rewarding one.”

Up reviewed by Travis Eisenbise

“Insert Pixar dilemma: Pixar has a girl problem. I don’t want to dwell too much on this, as the blogosphere has already run Pixar through the dirt (as it should). Noted in Linda Holmes’ blog on NPR, after 15 years of movie making, Pixar has yet to create a story with a female lead. Ellie is the only female voice in this entire movie and she is dead and gone within the first ten minutes. She’s not even allowed an actual voice as an adult. (see PT: #3). The entire story is told by a male octogenarian and a boy, Russell (voiced by Jordan Nagai), who is seventy years Carl’s junior, and who—instead of being a real-world boy scout—is a Wilderness Explorer (see PT: #2). It is devastating to watch this movie in a theatre of mothers and young girls who are forced to stretch their own experiences into the identities of these stock male characters. (PT #4: Employ an inordinate amount of male writers.)”

Up in the Air reviewed by Kate Staiger

“Bingham’s other female sidekick is Alex (Vera Farmiga), a sexy, strong-corporate-woman. She meets Bingham, a fellow super-traveler, in a hotel bar. They hit it off, do the deed, and she becomes the love interest. They exchange contacts and meet for booty calls in cities where they happen to cross paths while on business. As their relationship progresses, he goes through the formal “sworn-bachelor-stumbles-into-love” process, schlepping it all with sentimentality and making it confusing to understand the direction of this movie. Aren’t I supposed to be watching a movie about the tragedies of people losing their jobs? Or am I supposed to be focused on Ryan Bingham’s thawing heart? Or no, it’s this: Ryan Bingham has a hard job and travels a lot. It makes his life experience void of human connections. He is now in the process of making it better as a result of his pesky sidekick on one shoulder, and his hot woman-equivalent on the other. YES!”

And you can read all the reviews of the Oscar-nominated films for 2011 in our Best Picture Nominee Review Series: 2011 Roundup.