Bitch Flicks – Page 88 – The radical notion that women like good movies

A Portrait of Tragedy and Promise: ‘God Sleeps in Rwanda’

Over a 100-day period between April and July 1994, the world stood by while Rwanda’s extremist Hutu government instructed its supporters to massacre 1 million Tutsis and moderate Hutus.

God Sleeps in Rwanda poster — *God Sleeps in Rwanda* poster

Written by Rachael Johnson.

2014 has been an awful year teeming with its own appalling tragedies, but it should also be a time of sober reflection for the international community. Twenty years ago, the unspeakable occurred in one of the world’s most beautiful countries. I’m talking about the Rwandan genocide, of course. Over a 100-day period between April and July 1994, the world stood by while Rwanda’s extremist Hutu government instructed its supporters to massacre 1 million Tutsis and moderate Hutus.

There have been narrative and documentary films about the Rwandan genocide, but I think the most important have yet to be made. Nevertheless, I’d like to call attention to an unpretentious, compassionate documentary short released a decade after the genocide called God Sleeps in Rwanda (2004). The title comes from a Rwandan proverb: “They say my country is so beautiful that although God may wander the world during the day He returns at night to sleep in Rwanda.” Directed by Kimberlee Acquaro and Stacy Sherman, the 28-minute Oscar-nominated film examines the impact of the Rwandan genocide on the lives of five women. Narrated in an unshowy fashion by actor and women’s rights advocate, Rosario Dawson, God Sleeps in Rwanda features powerful testimony by survivors.

As the filmmakers explain, Rwanda’s population was a little less than 70 percent female by the end of the genocide. Although the vast majority of victims were men, Tutsi women–and children–were also massacred. We are told: “Their bodies were targeted because they symbolized the future of an entire people”. Women, additionally, were victims of another atrocious aspect of the Hutu extremists’ genocidal program–systematic sexual violence. Rape was, in fact, a dominant strategy. The filmmakers cite an appalling UN statistic: 250,000 women–at least–were raped during the genocide. They also draw attention to the unexpected, unsettling truth that a woman played a central role in inciting rape–Minister for Family Welfare and the Advancement of Woman, Pauline Nyiramasuhuko. Along with her son, Nyiramasuhuko was indicted for rape as a war crime. (She was convicted of genocidal rape in 2011). God Sleeps in Rwanda, however, focuses on the victims of the genocide. Their stories are harrowing and heart-breaking. One survivor of sexual violence, Severa Mukakinani, calmly relates that she suffered multiple rapes after witnessing her family’s murder. “I cannot count the men who came to rape me,” she says. Attacked with machetes, she was thrown in the river Nyabarongo and left for dead. Somehow she survived. Severa became pregnant by rape and we see her caring for her nine-year-old daughter. At first she did not want the child but she now sees her as hers alone. Her name, Akimana, means “Child of God.” Other women contracted AIDS through rape. The story of Fifi and Chantal is an intensely moving one. Their bond was forged in tragedy- they were gang-raped together. We see Chantal visit Fifi in hospital to comfort and care for her. Sadly, Fifi died of AIDS during the making of the film. Parentless households have been another feature of post-genocide Rwanda and the documentary features interviews with Delphine, a young woman bringing up, and supporting siblings alone.

The film shines a light on many of the enormous challenges facing Rwandan women in the post-genocide era: widowhood, parentless households, poverty, the psychological impact of sexual violence, children born of rape and AIDS. It also, however, makes the case that the position of women in Rwanda has greatly improved since 1994. As the filmmakers state, the predominantly female make-up of the population “handed Rwanda’s women an extraordinary burden and unprecedented opportunity.” Increased political participation is an essential part of that change and the story of Joseline personifies the promise of a new Rwanda. Joseline is a community organizer and development head in her village. Modest and motivated, she is dedicated to implementing vital projects such as road-building. The film features interviews with other strong, gracious women committed to transforming Rwandan society, such as widowed HIV-positive police officer Odette Mukakabera. Odette is an extraordinary woman. Not only does she serve her community; she also supports her children and orphaned niece, while studying to be a lawyer in the evening. The story of Chantal, mentioned earlier, is also one of promise and purpose. She found love after the tragedy, married and had three children.

Although God Sleeps in Rwanda contains haunting glimpses of those immeasurably dark days, it tells an encouraging story of courage and survival. Crucially, it respects its subjects and lets the women speak for themselves.

Nolan Superfans and Antifeminist Trolls: How Much Overlap?

Singer writes of Nolan’s fans’ approach: “If there’s a potential mistake or flaw, it’s always the viewer’s fault, never the film’s (or, Nolan forbid, the director’s).” This is all too familiar in feminist media criticism. How many times do commenters assert we’re “just looking for something to be upset about”; that is our criticism should be attributed to our own over-sensitivity rather than the actual presence of flaws in the subject?

Matthew McConaughey in 'Interstellar' — Matthew McConaughey in *Interstellar*

Christopher Nolan is undeniably an extremely talented filmmaker with a unique voice. He has a high batting average with his movies; for my money his only real stinker is The Prestige, and that still has plenty of fans. Nolan deserves his clout. Interstellar deserves its moment in the cultural spotlight.

But there is something about Christopher Nolan’s movies that warrants a devotion that is just too extreme. As noted in Matt Singer’s Screen Crush article “What Makes Nolan Fans So Intense?”, daring to speak ill of a Nolan film tends to lure the kind of trollish comments that make internet writers wake up with cold sweats. In the case of The Dark Knight Rises, apparently these rose to the level of death threats (particularly harrowing considering the mass murder at a screening of the film in Colorado).

As a feminist internet writer, I’m familiar with nasty commenters. And maybe that is why I suspect a substantial overlap between the Nolan Defense Squad and the Misandry Accusation Squad I know so well. I might be misperceiving this; I certainly don’t have any hard data to back it up. It’s clear that both groups offer plenty to the general pool of internet trolls, but that doesn’t necessitate they overlap themselves. So I look to the underlying motivations of these groups for further support.

"Why so serious?" mage from Joker poster for 'The Dark Knight' — “Why so serious?” image from Joker poster for *The Dark Knight*

Singer aptly characterizes the intensity of Nolan fans by describing their approach to his films’ critics: “If there’s a potential mistake or flaw, it’s always the viewer’s fault, never the film’s (or, Nolan forbid, the director’s).” This is all too familiar in feminist media criticism. How many times do commenters assert we’re “just looking for something to be upset about”; that is, our criticism should be attributed to our own over-sensitivity rather than the actual presence of flaws in the subject?

The similarities don’t stop there. Singer further posits:

“Looking over Nolan’s filmography you see the same archetypal protagonist reappear again and again: the moody loner who is laser-focused on his mission… perhaps Nolan’s subject matter and his preferred sort of hero resonates particularly strongly with the kind of person who might, oh I dunno, feel so passionately about a movie that they would threaten to strangle someone over it.”

What’s more, this archetypal protagonist is also always a man. Sady Doyle’s review of Interstellar described “Christopher Nolan disease”:

“There is a man. He is a sad man. His sadness makes him no less manly. The wife of this man, she is dead now…The man’s sadness, a great struggle conducted in the deep darkness of his soul, fuels his life’s grandest endeavor: The blowing-up of cool shit. In this noble pursuit of the blowing-up of things, the man’s wounds are healed and his masculinity reaffirmed.”

So not only do we have the celebration of Men with a Higher Purpose, we have the reassurance that unwavering devotion to this Higher Purpose redeems the masculinity of men who succumb to the weakness of emotion in the face of their immense suffering.

I’d add the third prong to Nolan Fan Intensity: that there is intellectual cache in understanding his excruciatingly complex films, and in enjoying their darker themes. If you have to have a profound understanding of theoretical physics to properly appreciate Interstellar, people who like it are smarter than people who don’t. If you can keep track of the layered narratives of Inception and Memento, it proves your cleverness over people who were confused. If the bleak worldview of his Batman trilogy appeals to you more than those other inconsequential “fun” superhero movies, you are a more serious and thoughtful person.

Community's Troy Barnes tearfully admitting "I didn't get 'Inception'" — Community’s Troy Barnes tearfully admitting “I didn’t get *Inception*“

The Misandry Accusation Squad tend to have the same self-satisfied intellectual superiority complex. See: mansplaining, tone policing, unmeetable burdens of proof. And that’s where my glimmers of recognition when it comes to the Nolan Defense Squad become blaring misogynist troll warning klaxons.

A black hole or something. — A time library or a love boat or a black hole or something.

Let me be very straightforward: I had no idea what was going on for 90 percent of Interstellar, and I don’t really care to spend any more time trying to figure it out. Maybe love was the fifth dimension or maybe it was gravity; maybe black holes are made of tesseracting bookshelves, maybe transporting hundreds of embryos and (presumably) only one uterus in which to gestate them on the ark to save humanity was a totally great Plan B.

(While I’m at it: Nikola Tesla was not a sorcerer. Your daddy issues cannot be resolved by opening a dream safe. You probably couldn’t be a superhero even if you were a billionaire, or at least your broken back would not heal that quickly.)

So, yeah, I’m not smart enough to understand the science or lack thereof in Interstellar. But if you’re going to reject my hypothesis about Nolan fans because I can’t be bothered with theoretical physics, you’re kind of proving it for me. (Yep, that’s pretty circular logic. So is a lot of the bootstrap paradox nonsense going on in Interstellar.)

Do you think misogynist trolls and the Nolan Defense Squad overlap, or do they independently share a lot of traits? Do you have other explanations for their similarities?

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who firmly believes she did get Inception.

Mariel Hemingway: ‘Running From Crazy’

Most of us, to some extent, want to get away from the families we grew up in, to not be reminded of the people we were at 5, 10, or 15. Actress Mariel Hemingway had more reason than most: not only did her famous grandfather, Ernest, kill himself in his home, not too far from the house where she grew up, but her parents had their own problems, spending their nights drinking in the kitchen, then fighting, sometimes breaking glass and drawing blood, which Mariel, when she was still a child, would clean up.

Read ahead for an interview with the director, Oscar-winner Barbara Kopple.

In the documentary Running From Crazy, we see Hemingway reminisce about her growing up and also witness her current life, speaking to groups about suicide (her sister, the model and sometime actress, Margaux, also killed herself, and Mariel begins one talk with, “I come from seven suicides, perhaps more”), exercising with her partner Bobby, and spreading the word about holistic ways of staying physically and mentally healthy.

Thanks to archival footage the director, two-time Oscar winner (for Best Documentary feature) Barbara Kopple, discovered, we also see Margaux, in film shot for her own documentary (which you can see on Youtube) 30 years before, which retraces the steps of Ernest Hemingway, but also captures Margaux’s interaction with the rest of her family, including her parents (who are both now dead) and her other sister Joan (also known as Muffet) who, after a lifetime struggle with mental illness, is now, we see later, in assisted living (after Mariel’s grown daughter chides her into visiting).

The Margaux we see in the kitchen of the old family home (which Mariel later tells us was torn down after her parents’ deaths) seems nothing like the woman with the blonde hair and big smile we see in a white 70s jumpsuit, singing alongside a piano, in archival tape from “The Mike Douglas” show (the host declares her a “star”). Instead, she seems to physically shrink in the presence of her mother and father and even her sister, whose manner reminded me of girls I knew in high school: fun to have at a party but with personas that were a cover for troubled lives. She even has the same hairstyle.

Mariel later reveals that her father sexually abused her sisters (she would share a bed with her mother to stay safe), and the family dynamic then seems to make more sense, especially to those of us who have stood by a partner who tried to make nice with abusive family members–and seen all the old roles come into play.

Kopple combines the vintage footage with gorgeous current shots of Mariel hiking in the wilds near her hometown. She says of her childhood, “I knew if I didn’t get outside I’d just want to cry.” We also see her in other wilderness, climbing steep cliffs (after fighting with her partner) and dipping herself in a river, all of which, along with her public speaking and outreach, seems like a catharsis to break with the past.

In one of the many scenes in which she speaks to the camera (some of which are a little too much like one-sided therapy sessions), Mariel says, “We were good WASPs, you know. You don’t speak about your problems,” but she does seem to be breaking the cycle as she tries to involve her adult daughters in this work and talk to them about the family’s history of mental illness (which the daughters have, to a lesser degree, also grappled with). She tells us, “They say in spirituality you’re done with something when it doesn’t affect you anymore. I’m not there yet.”

Interview With The Director, Barbara Kopple

I was able to talk by phone to the director Barbara Kopple (who not only has won two Academy Awards but has had a career that started in the ’70s and hasn’t stopped since) about the film a couple of weeks ago. We started by discussing the footage of Margaux. (The following was edited for concision and clarity.)

Barbara Kopple: She (Mariel) didn’t even know it existed.

Bitch Flicks: So how did you find that then?

Barbara Kopple: It was really pretty wild. We not only found the documentary which was an hour, we found 43 hours of Margaux material. I never told Mariel that we had it because I didn’t want her to feel, “My God, what do they have?” I wanted her to be free to really talk. She never knew it (documentary footage of Margaux, Joan and her parents) existed.

The way we found out about it is the sound person named Alan Barker whom I’ve known for years was in Ketchum for our first shoot. And he said, “You know Barbara when I first (started out) I was a camera person and I did some filming here in Ketchum with Margaux.”

I said (about the documentary), “Where is it?” He didn’t know. I said, “Did it ever come out?'”

He said, “I think they had a little hour thing. But if four people saw it, that was a lot. It was called Winner Take Nothing.”

We finally found some footage at an archival house in Minnesota the footage had been given to. When we called them they said, “My God, we have tons of it but nobody has ever asked for it. We’ll have to go and blow the dust off for you.”

We said,”We will pay anything to get a screening copy made.”

“Well that’s going to take a really long time” he said

(Well) when you do some, just send them to us,” so they sent it to us little by little and we would get these Fedex packages that would be like Christmas. (We were) so excited to see what was on them. I just knew that the film would have sort of a richer context because we had that. From that we were really able to step inside the Hemingway family. Otherwise it would be Mariel’s reflections which were extraordinary, but this way you saw. You saw Margaux with her father, interviewing him. You saw how she was treated. You saw how she played tennis with Joan. We thought that all of these wonderful, extraordinary things that made, for me at least, the piece so intimate and so real. And when I showed it to Mariel, I still hadn’t told her until we were in final cut, we were just about to lock it, and I just wanted to have her look at it, so she wouldn’t have any surprises.

(About the part of the film in which Margaux appears) Mariel just sat straight up in her seat, she was like, “Oh my God, this is the first time I’ve seen my parents on film. And I didn’t know if the kitchen was really yellow and blue. I didn’t know. I was just trying to remember. And there’s my mother sitting on the sink, exactly as I described it.”She said, “This is going to be so amazing for my girls to see.” And it was just, it was just wonderful…She didn’t even know it existed.

Bitch Flicks: The documentary does have in it, if the rest of us were having documentaries made about our lives, things we wouldn’t want included–when Mariel was fighting with her partner and the scene where her daughter scolds her a little bit about Muffet (Joan) and tells her she should visit. And I’m wondering if you and Mariel talked at all about those scenes afterward or even during…

Barbara Kopple: No.

Bitch Flicks: So basically she just let you film whatever.

Barbara Kopple: She agreed. Yes. She just let me do the film, no holds barred. That was the deal. I mean she wanted to talk. She never said, “Don’t use that.”

Bitch Flicks: I’m wondering if there have ever been times in your long career when people have said, “Don’t film that,” or “don’t show that” and what has been your policy about that?

Barbara Kopple: It’s happened, but things have been so little and so inconsequential to the story of the film. (She gave a couple of off-the-record examples which seemed really trivial, things that no one else watching would have any objection to or would even notice.) I think that little things that don’t hurt your story or do anything, of course you’ll take them out.

Bitch Flicks: I’m wondering how much time you spent with Mariel and her family; was it in short spurts or an extended period?

Barbara Kopple: Short spurts. I wasn’t there every single day because every single day she was living her life, doing yoga or going for a walk or watching the sun rise. There’s only so many shots…

Bitch Flicks: I’m very interested in this framework that the film has, that Mariel said, “Just film me.”

Barbara Kopple: How it all happened was a really good friend of Mariel’s who worked at the OWN (Oprah Winfrey Network) who said, “Hey Mariel, I think we should do a film about your life.”

Mariel said, “Let’s just make a reality series.”

And her friend said…”I have an idea. I want you to talk to this woman, Barbara Kopple.”

And I guess Mariel had heard my name and she said, “Well, OK, alright.”

I said, “I’d love to,” and then Mariel and I got together and we talked about three hours or more and she just promised that she would tell me whatever I needed to know. She said whatever I asked her she would answer to the best of her ability and not hold anything back. Because she felt that it was important to sort of see the light of day, the bad things in her life. She just did it and kept her promise.

Bitch Flicks: Were you surprised that Mariel’s daughters have never read Hemingway?

Barbara Kopple:. No, because I don’t think Mariel read very much of it until she got married to Steve (her daughters’ father). I mean, it was a family that never really talked. They didn’t talk about books. They (Margaux and Mariel) were bullied because they went to the Hemingway school that was named after him. He had committed suicide. That was something that you just didn’t talk about. I wasn’t, but probably the audience who sees it (are surprised). It’s just who they were. People in the house were very dysfunctional–fights all the time. There wasn’t much time for fuzzy, cozy stuff. Her mother had cancer and Mariel took care of her mother. If you wanted to get close to the father you went fly-fishing or hunting with him.

Bitch Flicks: Is there anything else that you really would like to add?

Barbara Kopple: I guess if there was anything else I wanted to say, it was that I learned a lot. I learned that, in a sense, all of us are touched by mental illness, or by suicide, or we know somebody that is and it’s really important to talk about it. And that it’s really important to help each other and in the end I think what we really need to have is more love and more compassion for each other and that’s hugely important. I think that this film, if by getting out there, can convince people that they’re not alone and that there are people out there who love them and care about them and will help them, then we’ve done something very special.

Running From Crazy will be on Netflix starting on Nov. 25. For more information go to Facebook.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfGYqdTAxEk”]

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Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing. besides appearing every week on Bitch Flicks, has also been published in The Toast, RH Reality Check, xoJane and the Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender

‘Haunter’: Where Ghost Power Meets Girl Power

In ‘Haunter,’ Abigail Breslin plays a teenager who galvanizes a team of young women to challenge their evil oppressor together! Oh, and they’re all dead.

“We can send this bastard to hell, but we have to do it together.”

Written by Mychael Blinde.

In Haunter, Abigail Breslin plays a teenager who galvanizes a team of young women to challenge their evil oppressor together! Oh, and they’re all dead.

Haunter (2013) is a scary – and yet feel-good! — teenage-lady-driven horror film. It’s creepy but not gory, and Breslin and her character, Lisa, are both fantastic.

The most recent film by Haunter’s director, Vincenzo Natali, was Splice, a film I very much enjoyed.

A wonderful film about wombs and monsters.

Haunter’s horror is very different from the science-driven horror of Splice. In Natali’s words: “I would almost call Haunter ‘fantasmagorica.’ It’s somewhat of a fantasy with darkness lurking around the edges.”

Splice-Haunter — In other words, fewer sluggy hybrid monsters ripping each other to shreds. More fog.

Speaking of films that Haunter is not like, Haunter is not like The Sixth Sense or The Others. In those films, the protaghostnist’s status is revealed as the final twist, whereas in Haunter, we learn relatively early on that Lisa and her family are the dead characters.

We meet Lisa just a few days after she’s discovered that she, her mother, her brother, and her father are all stuck reliving the same Sunday over and over again, trapped in their house by a thick fog that distorts space and prevents escape.

Carol, Bruce, Lisa, Robbie, and Edgar. The family doesn’t have a last name.

Not that Lisa’s family is remotely interested in escape – they seem blissfully unaware of the daily repetition and express concern for Lisa when she tries to explain it to them.

“Some clothes are missing from the laundry. Do you know where they are?”

Lisa is frustrated with her family’s denseness, and also alarmed to discover strange and creepy things happening around the house… and she keeps hearing someone whisper her name.

Then an evil presence intrudes on her family in the guise of a telephone repairman. This character is named Edgar Mullins, but actor Stephen McHattie is credited as The Pale Man.

“Whenever you hear strange noises in this house, or voices calling out to you, ignore them.”

The Pale Man confirms what we, the audience, already suspected: this repeated Sunday – the day before Lisa’s 16th birthday – is her death day. Lisa is the ghost, and the voice she’s hearing is from the world of the living.

The Pale Man warns her: “If you should try to contact the living, or anyone else, you and your family will suffer in ways you cannot fathom.” But Lisa figures out that the living are already suffering, and that she’s been summoned by the living teenager in the house, Olivia, who is seeking Lisa’s help.

Lisa and Olivia, sharing a house and yet worlds away.

Lisa proves herself to be a smart, brave, and determined protagonist. She sends out a message to all of the Pale Man’s victims: “We can send this bastard to hell, but we have to do it together.”

And sure enough, she teams up with Olivia and with all the other young lady ghosts killed by the Pale Man’s evil, and together they vanquish him! Lisa restores order and peace to both life AND the afterlife.

This is a wonderful exception to film after film after film after film of male characters saving the day. It’s especially nice to see a teenage girl not only carry this movie, but succeed as the hero, and to see so many female characters join together to defeat their oppressor.

By making Lisa and her family ghosts and cluing the viewer into their ghost-status early in the film, Haunter sidesteps the most pervasive problem in haunted house films: the JUST GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE problem. (I mean, REALLY, why did they even move there in the first place?!)

The question Haunter inspires isn’t, “Why don’t they just leave the house?”

Instead, Haunter asks:

If YOU were stuck in a house reliving the same day over and over, would you risk tangling with powerful forces beyond your control to escape? What if lives are at stake – but you’re dead?

Abigail Breslin:

I wanted to find a horror movie to do that was really smart and unique and different. And when I read this, I thought it was really exciting. I loved the character and the story—and it took me like three reads before I truly figured out what was going on. I love that you can’t really call the shots. It’s not really your typical horror flick. I love supernatural stories—demons and ghosts…I want the suspense, the spine-tingle, the story you’re trying to unravel.

Haunter does get a little confusing at times, primarily because the house exists in one physical space and yet on different planes of existence:

Vincenzo Natali:

Even though the film takes place entirely in this house, the house is in itself a kind of universe. It’s a universe composed of various strata of different time periods and I loved the way the script opened up. We thought we were in one kind of world and then as this thing unravels, we realize that it’s something much larger than that.

I think this overlapping of worlds and women was an interesting idea to explore, and worth the minor confusion. The overlapping timeframes allow these young women to work together to overthrow the malevolent Pale Man.

Sure, he might be scary…

…but she’s scarier!

I never thought I would be so happy to see this face.

I read Haunter as a film about the triumph of teamwork against a tyrannical patriarchy.

The film is driven by the fear of male control and aggression, fear of men’s anger and their capacity for violence. The Pale Man kills by inspiring a murderous rage in the husband/father figure, which results in the death of the entire family.

Trigger Warning for domestic violence. It gets intense. — Trigger warning for domestic violence. It gets intense.

Here’s how Natali describes the Pale Man:

He is the Minotaur in the maze. Or the spider in the center of the web. He is the manipulator. He’s that thing you don’t see, but you know is there and waiting for you.

He is the patriarchy: he enforces an invisible oppression through the systemic subjugation of women. Then a brave young woman overcomes her subjugation and inspires a group of women to join forces, to create a new and better world for the living and the dead alike.

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Mychael Blinde writes about representations of gender in popular culture at Vagina Dentwata.

The Best Mates You’ll Ever Have: ‘Misfits’ the TV Series

I caught up on the series and decided that hands down, it’s one of the best genre TV shows around. It’s a success not because of the kooky Sci Fi aspects of the show, but because of the diversity of the characters in race, class, and language, and also the engaging representation of women. The characters all start off as archetypes in the beginning of the series, but slowly over the course of the first season, layers are revealed and the audience grows to love each misfit for being the messy and vulnerable people they really are.

I was introduced to the British TV show Misfits by accident in 2012. In the parlance of my inner voice, the show became “my shit.”

I couldn’t believe I’d never heard of the Misfits show before. Moi, who was so on top of the smart Sci Fi British flick Attack the Block the previous year. Yours truly who was always looking for cool Sci Fi movies and TV shows from other countries–especially if they had people of color in them. I was kinda miffed with myself, especially since Misfits had been around since 2009. Not only had I missed it, but my ass was really late on the come up too. The shame!

Alisha (Antonia Thomas), Curtis (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett, Kelly (Lauren Socha), Nathan (Robert Sheehan), and Simon (Iwan Rheon)

At the start of the series, Curtis (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett), Alisha (Antonia Thomas), Kelly (Lauren Socha), Simon (Iwan Rheon), and Nathan (Robert Sheehan), all have committed minor offenses that have made them delinquents who must perform community service for a local community center. Forced to wear loud orange jumpers, they are required to serve out a term of about three months under the guidance of a probation officer. Most of their service work is picking up dog shit from the streets, helping elderly citizens, or collecting trash and debris at various assigned locations. Most times the misfits sit around bitching on the roof of their community center, trying to figure one another out. It becomes clear who the archetypes are early on.

Curtis is the local track star, accustomed to getting girls with his athletic prowess. Alisha is the typical gorgeous girl who every guy wants, and spends a lot of time fluffing her curls, or putting on make-up. (What isn’t typical about her from my Black American perspective is that this Black girl is the ultimate hottie for all the boys and men near her, Black, white, Indian, Asian,etc). Kelly is the tough girl from the wrong side of the tracks, ready to fight anyone who she thinks makes fun of how she talks (a class giveaway) or infers she’s just a chav. Simon is a socially awkward introvert. Nathan, the comic relief of the series, has a “live for today” attitude that annoys everyone. They are truly misfits among themselves, and in normal circumstances, would never choose to be around one another.

While performing their community service outdoors, they are assaulted by a freak thunderstorm that hurls fist-sized hail stones down upon them. Unable to reach the indoor safety of the community center, they are all zapped by lightening. Surviving the preternatural lightening strike, the crew discovers that they each have developed unique powers. They have to master them quickly because as the show progresses, these powers will help save them from other victims of the freak storm. Victims who become antagonists. Victims who use their unusual powers to bring crisis, chaos, and even death for some of the misfits.

And talk about powers.

Curtis, who has deep regrets about his failed track career, now has the ability to go back in time and change history.

Alisha, known for having casual sex without regards to the feelings of her partners, has the power to make anyone desire her sexually by simply touching them. Even if she isn’t attracted to them. She can no longer experience the joy of human contact in any form.

Kelly, who was always conscious and on edge about how she thought people viewed her, can now read minds. She gets to hear exactly what people think about everything.

Simon, who already felt invisible and overlooked by people, literally becomes invisible at will.

And Nathan, the class clown and bothersome trickster who lived in the moment? He doesn’t have a power. Envious of the others, he spends the entire first season trying to figure out what his power could be. Eventually he dies at the end of the season. No worries though. We learn with Nathan that he’s an immortal. Great. The most annoying character will last for eternity.

The rest of the series and consecutive seasons (five in all), follow their trials and tribulations, and if this had been a lesser show, probably wouldn’t have held my interest after a couple of episodes. But the characters are so rich. And there’s lots of sex, drugs, dance raves, fantastic background music, and the best romantic pairing of two unlikely people. There’s no way this show could fail me. And did I mention lots of sex?

Kelly (Lauren Socha) and Alisha (Antonia Thomas) share a little girl time.

My favorite aspects of the show (besides the sex positivity) are the growth of the characters and the depictions of the women. What intrigues me about Kelly the tough girl, and Alisha the hottie, is the reversal of the depiction of white and Black female characters. Know this: had Misfits been an American show, Kelly, the white female, would have been the desired woman with the apex standard of beauty. Alisha would be portrayed as the toughie, the strong black woman from the wrong side of the tracks. It is so refreshing to see a Black woman centered as beautiful to all men on TV. (I must point out that Alisha walks a thin tightrope of the Jezebel trope that haunts Black women in the media. But her character arc supersedes my Jezebel concerns later in the series.)

Misfits introduces a lot of Black female minor characters who we meet in various episodes, all of them (except for one who has beef with Kelly in an early episode) are centered as beautiful and desirable by all men. To white women, and non-Black women of color, this may not seem like a big deal, mainly because white female beauty standards across the globe are heavily touted as the ideal—straight hair, thin lips and nose, slender body, and light-colored eyes. Black women the world over spend billions trying to attain a white standard of beauty. (Hair weaves and relaxers, skin bleaching creams, rhinoplasty etc.) On Misfits, Black British women of all hues, body types, and hair textures, are treated as equally desirable as their white counterparts. I watched the show thinking, “Man, the creators of this show have love for the sisters.” This was happening in 2009 when Misfits debuted. In America, it was not until Scandal came on the scene in 2012, that there was a sexy lead Black female being fought over by men (especially non-Black men) on a major TV network. Sleepy Hollow and Gotham have joined the mix in 2014 bringing much attention and centering the beauty of actresses Nicole Beharie, Lyndie Greenwood, and Jada Pinkett-Smith. But Misfits was doing this on the regular since 2009.

Black Girls Are Magic. Alisha (The Flawless Antonia Thomas)

Kelly is a treat for me also because for one thing, she is what the old-timers call a broad. Not necessarily a lady, or a bitch, but a woman who can handle her own. Kelly is bawdy, boozy, and will knuckle up on a dude with a quickness. She’s a working-class plain Jane on the surface, but will curse you out with English slang, break into a building if she needs to without skipping a beat, and smoke you out with some herb if you need to talk it out. She’s built like a Rubenesque Goddess, and yeah, her bra may not fit properly with all that thickness, but she cleans up swell when she needs to, and she’s loyal to her mates. A boss chick who will ride or die for the misfit crew. And I love her for it. Her beauty comes from inside and through her actions. She’s not a Mary Sue, nor side-kick babe. Both Kelly and Alisha are treated as equals among the male characters, and their leadership at various times has saved them from the bad guys. As Season 3 commences, Kelly and Alisha are unlikely friends for life. Their bond is genuine. And the men grow from viewing them as possible sexual conquests to one of the homies.

My Gangster Goddess, Kelly (Lauren Socha)

My favorite Misfits. Alisha, Kelly, and Simon. — My favorite Misfits: Alisha, Kelly, and Simon.

Misfits plays with gender roles in Season 3. The crew loses their powers, but are given the opportunity to acquire new powers from a “power dealer.” After losing his time-traveling skills, Curtis gains the power to change his sex at will. He uses it to run track again, but this time on a Women’s team. He names his female self “Melissa” and strikes up a friendship with a fellow female runner. After having sex with the female teammate, as a man (and as a woman later) he soon discovers that the sexual prowess he thought he had was really bad self-serving sex. He also learns inadvertently as Melissa, that he’s a whiny chap that needs to grow up and get over is track star past. What’s a guy to do? He starts self-pleasuring himself as a woman to learn how to really make love to a woman as a man. When Simon asks Curtis if he’s a lesbian, Curtis replies, “I don’t think there’s an official term for this shit.” I want to tell him, “Yes love, it’s called being free and genderfluid.” There’s an honesty here that is refreshing. We are a part of Curtis/Melissa’s discovery of non-gendered sexuality. Curtis masters autoerotic pleasure to become a better lover. And much like Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie, Curtis becomes a better man by being a great woman. Of course, things get a little wonky when Curtis gets himself pregnant!

Venus as a Boy. Curtis is about to gender swap.

I'm coming out! Melissa, a.k.a Curtis (played by Kehinde Fadipe) — I’m coming out! Melissa, a.k.a Curtis (played by Kehinde Fadipe)

With all the fun, zany, and often poignant things that happen to all the characters on Misfits, my favorite character out of the bunch is Simon. Simon has the most dramatic character arc, literally doing a 180 degree turn from when we first meet his shy, bullied, and often sketchy behavior in Season 1. He has a good heart, but lacks the confidence to be the true leader he really is deep inside. Hands down, he has the best genre love story I’ve seen in awhile. His transformation and how it happens is based on his love affair with Alisha. Trust me when I say, you will root for these two unlikely lovers to be together forever. Simon sees Alisha’s inner beauty, and Alisha sees his inner strength of character. It is real true love, and how it’s handled in Misfits is brilliant.

My boo. Simon (Iwan Rheon) — My boo: Simon (Iwan Rheon)

True Love, Simon and Alisha. (Iwan Rheon and Antonia Thomas) — True love: Simon and Alisha (Iwan Rheon and Antonia Thomas)

Sadly for me, there were major cast changes in Seasons 4-5. All my favorite characters were gone, replaced with new faces and new powers. The fun continued, but it was harder for me to enjoy because I was so invested in the original cast. I missed the sisterhood of Kelly and Alisha, and I especially missed the surprising and sweet Simon/Alisha romance. With mates like these, you want to hand out at the pub forever. Trust me. Go watch it now. You won’t regret it.

Freak lightening storm that started it all.

I even learned to love snarky Nathan (Robert Sheehan)

Gugu Mbatha-Raw is a Superstar in ‘Beyond The Lights’

I thought of Beyoncé often while watching writer-director Gina Prince-Bythewood’s (‘Love and Basketball’) new film ‘Beyond The Lights.’ The main character, pop star Noni (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) is supposed to remind us of Beyoncé, as well as Rihanna, with bits of Nicki Minaj, Lauren Hill, Britney Spears, and Lindsay Lohan thrown in. In early scenes we see her in elaborate videos wearing hardly any clothes, her skimpy outfits often incorporating glittering chains. She has first blonde, then purple, long flowing hair.

About a decade ago, the powers that be were trying to make Beyoncé a movie star in films like Dreamgirls and that Austin Powers sequel where she wore a huge afro. But instead of going the way of Diana Ross (Beyoncé’s part in Dreamgirls was based on her life) with a film career fizzling after she was cast in roles that used fewer and fewer of the qualities that made her so compelling in her Lady Sings the Blues debut, Beyoncé abruptly cut back on film roles to concentrate on her music career. Her videos and award show performances have become increasingly cinematic–culminating in the stunning black and white video for “Drunk in Love” and her performance at the Video Music awards lit from behind with huge blazing letters that spelled out “Feminist.” She didn’t need to be cast in some white guy’s film to be a star in front of the camera.

I thought of Beyoncé often while watching writer-director Gina Prince-Bythewood’s (Love and Basketball) new film Beyond The Lights. The main character, pop star Noni (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) is supposed to remind us of Beyoncé, as well as Rihanna, with bits of Nicki Minaj, Lauren Hill, Britney Spears, and Lindsay Lohan thrown in. In early scenes we see her in elaborate videos wearing hardly any clothes, her skimpy outfits often incorporating glittering chains. She has first blonde, then purple, long flowing hair. We see her sing alongside a tattooed white rapper, Kid Culprit (Richard Colson Baker aka Machine Gun Kelly, who is like a taller, more current version of Eminem) while she wears shoes with heels so high it’s a marvel that she–or anyone–can walk in them, let alone dance. She wins an award and chugs champagne as she passes screaming, adoring crowds on the way to her limo. She tells the paid detail cop, Kaz (Nate Parker), outside of her hotel room not to let anyone disturb her, so he shuts out two of her hangers-on but relents to let in her controlling mother, Macy (Minnie Driver). When he hears Macy scream, he goes into the room himself where he sees that Noni is seated on the railing of her hotel balcony, many stories up, ready to jump.

This film is the second one this year in which a Black woman director (with a script from a Black woman screenwriter) has cast Mbatha-Raw as the essential center of a film (the art house hit Belle was the first), and she rewards their faith by giving her all. In contrast to the Jane-Austen-like romantic intrigue in Belle, in Lights she’s a powerhouse, utterly convincing as Noni (if she had faltered for even a moment the film would devolve into camp) whether she’s dancing in a tightly choreographed award show performance, singing (Mbatha-Raw’s voice is the one we hear during all of Noni’s songs: the film has been billed as a love story but doubles as a musical), interacting with other characters, or doing all three: during the award show appearance we see her expressive face send clear messages to both Kaz, who is in the wings and Kid Culprit, who is performing onstage with her. Prince-Bythewood also seamlessly and sometimes wittily incorporates into the film the modern media landscape: music videos, award shows, talk shows (we see two appearances from famous chastiser of his fellow Black people, Don Lemon), Youtube and Twitter, which perhaps shouldn’t be an unusual achievement, but is.

After a summer marked by the incidents in which white police officers killed unarmed Black people, having a Black police officer as the hero may not be the best fit. But Parker is believable and likeable in the role–and like Mbatha-Raw embodies the character with touching sincerity. He does so even in scenes like the one in which he wraps Noni’s cut hand in the shirt off his back, a flimsy excuse for us to ogle his flawlessly muscled chest, abs, and arms. When this moment came the audience I saw the film with laughed–so did I–but none of us did so in a derisive way.

BeyondTheLightsNoniKaz1 — Noni (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) and Kaz (Nate Parker)

Minnie Driver as Macy, Noni’s hard-driving manager-mother gets a big speech near the end (the big speeches in this film, like contractions in labor come closer together as it speeds toward its conclusion) in which she explains the desperation behind her ambition for her daughter, but we in the audience never manage to see that desperation ourselves, just the steely mask of Driver’s face. She never really softens, not even in a scene when she asks Noni, “When did you ever tell me that you didn’t want this?”

And Noni answers, “When I was on that balcony.”

While watching most films and TV shows–especially those that take place in Los Angeles and New York–I’ve wondered if anyone associated with the production ever looked up and noticed they were surrounded by Black and brown people–who were neither homeless nor worked in cleaning or wait staff positions. Beyond The Lights is one of the few recent films I’ve seen (besides Dear White People) which takes for granted that Black people, especially Black women, are everywhere; they’re not just entertainers but also political consultants and hairdressers. When Kaz is saving Noni he chants, “I see you. I see you. I see you.” Apparently a Black woman director is one of the few people who can see all the Black women in real life who aren’t “the help.”

I should confess that I dislike most mainstream films. I hated The Devil Wears Prada, which marks the last time I ever believed critics’ raving about a multiplex hit with a woman protagonist. But at Beyond The Lights, I had almost as much fun as I did watching Snowpiercer. Lights reminded me of the old ’80s TV series Dynasty (although the story has a somewhat different setting) with better acting and a bigger budget: a compilation of confrontations between beautiful people in (and out of) beautiful clothes: the film even has a scene in which one woman slaps another, echoing Dynasty’s famous fights between women. Parker and Mbatha-Raw have great chemistry together, shown most memorably in a love scene that has Beyoncé’s “Drunk In Love” playing on the soundtrack. Beyond The Lights gives the audience many other simple pleasures and, at least for its duration, makes us wonder what else we could ever want from the movies.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfcfZn8nq3w”]

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Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

Girls on Film: Gina Prince-Bythewood’s ongoing struggle for racial diversity in romantic films by Monika Bartyzel at The Week

‘Inside Amy Schumer’: Freeing the Pussy on Comedy Central by Inkoo Kang at Women and Hollywood

Michelle MacLaren In Talks to Direct ‘Wonder Woman’ Movie by Justin Kroll at Variety

Portia de Rossi, Norman Lear, Jesse Tyler Ferguson Salute TV’s Impact on LGBT Equality at Paley Center Gala by Andrea Seikaly at Variety

#FeministPrincessBride Is Your New Favorite Hashtag Game by Victoria McNally at The Mary Sue

Kim Kardashian doesn’t realize she’s the butt of an old racial joke by Blue Telusma at The Grio

TIME Magazine Faces Backlash for Attempting to Ban the Word Feminist at Ms.

One-Sentence Reviews of the Lesbian Netflix Canon by Sara Century at Bitch Media

15 Historical Queer Women Who Need Their Own Biopic Right Now by Ashley C. Ford at BuzzFeed

Is America Ready To Fall In Love With The Telenovela? by Brenda Salinas at NPR’s Code Switch

Why the Media Still Doesn’t Get Lesbianism Right by Allison Epstein at Adios Barbie

White People Don’t Get It Because They Never Had to by Tanya Steele at Shadow and Act

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Seed & Spark: “do… you… use… your… tongue… in… kissing… scenes… when… acting… ?” (I actually googled that!)

You see it all the time, actors kissing passionately on screen. It looks like they really mean it. But have you ever thought about what it is like for them – the first time they have to conjure that passion in a roomful of cameras, equipment, and onlookers?

This is a guest post by Kim Wilson.

For me, what started as sheer terror at the thought of my upcoming sex scene for my latest film, Cleave, actually turned out to be not as scary as I thought, AND… okay, I’ll admit it—it was even a little bit hot. When I helped write this film, I didn’t know I’d be cast in it. Only in the preparation for the scene did I chastise myself for writing a sex scene: What. Was. I. Thinking?!

Even my own mother asked what it was going to be like. In the weeks prior to filming, I searched the internet incessantly on what to expect. Most searches ended up taking me to porn sites, which I can say definitely did NOT help my self-confidence. I needed something to draw from, something to ease the irrational fears bouncing around in my head. It was all-consuming. It terrorized me hourly.

I was anticipating the worst: bad kissing, missed queues, awkward touching. Sometimes I would have to pull over on the side of the road flushed with anxiety, beads of sweat pooling on my upper lip, trying to catch my breath in a panic. Could I really pull this off? My mind manically raced. What if my partner is dreading kissing ME? After multiple (hundreds of) calls to my acting coach and a few hundred self affirmations I found on YouTube, I finally convinced myself that I would get through this with flying colors because, after all, I am a goddamn professional.

My acting partner and I met before our scene. This was a good thing. Even though we knew each other already, it was nice to remember he was an actual human being and not this sex demi-god I had made him out to be in my head. And, what I realized immediately was that this meeting was imperative. If any of you reading this are actors and you have a racy scene coming up heed this one piece of advice: You must trust your partner implicitly in a scene like this. They have to have your back. Your vulnerability is just out there flapping in the wind for the world to see. And by god, we were going to fly high in that windstorm. How do you develop that trust?

COMMUNICATION

We both agreed we wanted the scene to be authentic as possible. No robot kissing, but to be “in the moment “ and authentic. And that meant really allowing us to lose ourselves in each other. Gulp. We discussed our boundaries in detail: “Yes, you can feel me up.” (That’s an actual quote.) And while we awkwardly laughed at ourselves during these conversations, it really helped us feel just a wee bit more comfortable. On the day of filming, I was still terrified. I don’t know exactly where my head was, but between my mantras and my power posing, I decided to wear sweatpants to set. Hideous sweatpants. Old sweatpants. I have no idea why I wore sweatpants. I must have thought that I would come off as “casually cool” and “I’m totally okay with this scene that’s about to happen–see? I’m sooooo comfortable.” Yeah. My “day after thanksgiving” outfit might not have been the best way for me to communicate to the crew and my scene partner “I’m ready to get sexy!” One hour before our call time, I had already had the self-talk in the bathroom before the scene – you know the one I’m talking about: the “pull your shit together” talk in the stall.

It’s YOU and HIM (or HER)

My partner and I are in our places. We stand facing each other inches apart. It’s literally minutes until the director calls “action.” I can tell he is nervous. He can tell I am too. All of a sudden, this wonderful thing happens: we comfort each other. I stroked his arms. He stroked my neck. I reached for his shoulders, he reached for my back. This touching was actually calming us down. It was helping prepare us mentally and er…physically for the impending scene. There were new beads of sweat forming on my lip now. “Action!” the director called out. We lean in and we kiss. It was effortless. I was surprised. Best of all, it was authentic. We had built our own little world of intimacy.

As the scene unfolded it went from kissing into more passionate stuff that became less and less awkward. Even when the director called out, “OK, now arch your back here” and “drag your hand there,” it felt effortless. Yes, think about that for a moment. Someone calling out your next sex move as you’re in the throws of passion in a strange bar. Believe it or not, it was a relief. What could have been robotic and canned, felt natural and easy. I trusted my partner and he trusted me. And I admit, there were mortifying moments as well, such as being taken aside discreetly and told my breathing was too loud during the sex scene. Yeah. That happened. (That could be my new all-time low.) But it’s proven one of the funniest stories I can pull from my hat at parties lately, so I’ve got that going for me. You learn a lot from fake sex. I am not particularly looking forward to seeing myself on screen and thinking to my horror, “I make THAT face?” Fingers crossed I will be able to use it at parties soon as well.

SUPPORT MATTERS MOST

Looking back, I realize one of the biggest reasons that I felt comfortable on set besides my partner was the incredibly gracious crew who didn’t laugh or make eye contact (thank god) with me during those scenes. Our director had set the stage for all of us, having all of our best interests and safety as her priority. She was the one that was responsible for the mood, the tone and the professionalism. She met with the crew beforehand, giving them strict instructions on her high expectations during each take. She met with my partner and me before the scene to assess our comfort levels and allow us to express any concerns. The fact she was a woman was a huge comfort to me. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it without her support as well.

What I learned most of all, was that acting wasn’t so much about myself as it was about the other person. My partner and I learned how to put each other at ease, how to work together as a team to “give and receive” from the each other and how to turn our mortification into laughter. I am forever grateful to the director, crew and to my acting partner.

So, did I use my tongue in my kissing scene? I’ll never tell.

To learn more about Kim Wilson and the film Cleave, visit the following sites:

http://www.seedandspark.com/studio/cleave-0

Twitter: @whatsyourlceave

Instagram: Whatsyourcleave

Seed & Spark: What Do Women Want?

Still searching for a way to answer our question of fairness, the young woman of Jumla, sitting wearily before me, looked quizzically at our translator.

Our translator said: “She’s asking what ‘fair’ means.”

This is a guest post by Sophie Dia Pegrum.

A voice. After filming a day in the life of a young woman of Jumla, Nepal, we asked her whether she considered the physical burdens of her life fair in comparison to her young husband. She thought about it for a long time. I sat, exhausted, watching her thoughts pass across her face from my position behind the camera. As the co-director and DP, I had spent what I considered a fairly grueling day arising before dawn, hauling my first world gear several miles up a mountain pass to follow this young woman while she searched for firewood, chopped it, and carried a seemingly impossible load back down the steep mountain path. The morning’s trek was engaged at a rather leisurely pace by her standards due me getting all the shots I wanted while desperately searching for my inner mountain filmmaker goat. This was just the beginning of a long day which also involved her journey across the village to milk a cow, cook meals for her husband’s family, and to hand clay wash the front of their stone house using freezing water. Her husband had been hanging out in the village most of the day and had decided to go to the river to fish in the afternoon.

Families in Jumla will often spend their limited resources educating their sons, for as soon as a young girl is married, she goes to live with the family of her husband, and essentially becomes their scullion. Why use the little assets a family has to educate the daughters who will essentially marry into a life of drudgery?

Still searching for a way to answer our question of fairness, the young woman of Jumla, sitting wearily before me, looked quizzically at our translator.

Our translator said: “She’s asking what ‘fair’ means.”

How do you find another way to ask this question? For us, the educated women of the industrialized nation, who stand on the shoulders of our sisters who have fought for our equality, we cannot un-know this history. We are as puzzled by the idea of not conceiving of equality, as the young woman of Jumla, who knits her eyebrows, trying to comprehend the concept. Moreover, what good will it do her to try to answer this question. For even if her life was unfair, what could she do to change it?

We spent time on and off over the next three years, embedded in the same village, observing many similar stories and capturing the immense spirit and strength of the women in this remote place in the foothills of the Himalaya. In the beginning, some women were too shy to even consider talking to us, but often, many women who had never been asked their opinion, began to express themselves in front of the camera, and we saw a subtle shift.

I had often questioned our presence as two women filmmakers, and the impact we may be having. Certainly, both being about six feet tall, we were often a source of local entertainment as we constantly hit our heads on low ceilings and doors and crammed ourselves into small corners of smokey kitchens to film. Though loaded with irony for my own personal reasons, being lovingly referred to by the locals as the “cameraman,” I enjoyed the moniker that to them, represented professionalism.

Over time, we recorded the myriad voices of women here, especially in their song. Women sang in the fields as they worked together, their strains echoing uphill as they disappeared with their baskets to collect wood. They sang in their kitchens in the evening after the days work was done and they sang together while they pounded corn. They sang for us and asked us to share our songs. My co-director and I tried to figure out if there was another song aside from “Happy Birthday” that we both knew the words to.

Women who had never been asked to air their opinions were sometimes surprised by their own voices. Often uneducated, they hadn’t had the opportunity to create the thought patterns which allowed them to form their own judgements and ideas, or create a view of themselves in the world. One woman told us that she didn’t feel that she could take a free class being offered by a local charity because she didn’t think she was capable of learning.

One of the most poignant memories I have was at the end of an interview we did with a man who was running a tea shop and inn with his wife and children. As I was packing away the camera he came to us and said that he would reconsider the education of his own daughters. He said that watching us operate “technical things” made him appreciate that perhaps his daughters had more potential than he had realized. He now understood and believed that women could do things like that and he wanted his daughters to have this opportunity.

Women will still have to find their voices, but within this complex and embedded societal structure, men will need to stand alongside them too and this requires better education for all and a deep shift in thinking.

Our film, Daughters of the Curved Moon, will be coming out in the next year and I am looking forward to sharing the inspiring story of these communities with a wider audience. I am also finishing up another documentary I shot on the roof of the world called Talking to the Air, which I am crowd-funding at Seed&Spark. My ability to articulate my voice as a filmmaker comes from the determination of so many others before me. In turn, I wish to use this channel to tell authentic stories of humankind that promote a sense of wonder in us all, and to share the voices of those that are still struggling to find their forum. After working in the high Himalaya, I am now also determined to learn some new songs.

Sophie Dia Pegrum is a director and cinematographer who has produced and shot films in the Antarctic, at the North Pole and in the Himalayas including 77 Below and Daughters of the Curved Moon. Sophie co-owns Horsefly Films and the Rare Equine Trust and produces docs about rare horses and fragile horse cultures worldwide. She is currently finishing a film she shot on the Tibetan border titled Talking to the Air: The Horses of the Last Forbidden Kingdom.

The Stronger ‘Vessel’

Written by Leigh Kolb.

Dear Women on Waves,

I’m not married and am pregnant. I cannot have a baby.

I heard you can drink bleach, but I’m scared it will kill me.

My sister told me about your ship. Can you help me?

– Amina, Morocco

This plea opens Vessel, the documentary about the abortion-rights organization Women on Waves (and Women on Web), led by Dutch doctor Rebecca Gomperts. Women on Waves was launched in 1999, when Gomperts realized that if a Dutch ship sailed to international waters adjacent to countries with abortion restrictions, she could legally help women to have a safe abortion.

Directed by Diana Whitten, Vessel examines how, as Whitten says, “a woman had to leave one realm of sovereignty to reclaim her own.” Gomperts—who has been an artist, Greenpeace activist, doctor, and mother, all roles that inspire her work with Women on Waves—is dynamic on camera. The scenes of her deftly dealing with protesters and pundits show us the power and strength necessary to do the work that she’s doing—providing safe abortions and reproductive education to the women in places least likely to receive those services.

The original aim of Women on Waves was to sail their mobile clinic (contained in a shipping container) to countries where women most needed their services. They would get the women on board, sail 12 miles off-shore, and administer the medical abortion. Their maiden voyage was to Ireland, where they were met with harsh press, angry protesters, and legal setbacks.

When a journalist presses Gomperts and asks if she’s had an abortion, she shoots back:

“It’s a frequent medical procedure. Just because it’s women, because it’s invisible… no one fucking knows. Are you going to ask someone who works with Amnesty International if they’ve been tortured?”

One of the most powerful aspects of the documentary is the inclusion of the actual women’s words (and women in need call and email constantly). Gomperts is right: abortion is frequent and necessary. The fact that it is about women’s autonomy and choice makes it invisible, and in countries where abortion is restricted, this is incredibly dangerous. The words and voices of these women drive the documentary forward.

When they arrive in Poland, Women on Waves is contacted by a desperate young woman. She was raped, and is seven weeks pregnant. “Welcome Nazis,” male protesters scream at them as they dock their ship. This juxtaposition—the desperate woman, the vicious protestors—underscores the larger issues at play in activism surrounding abortion rights. It’s about male control.

The Portuguese government sends warships to stop their ship from sailing into international waters. The masculine image of a warship up against a small, feminine vessel built to liberate women, is dramatic. The ocean—so often symbolizing femininity—is full of possibility, and full of limitations. Through all of the gorgeous shots of the water, it’s hard to not think about Virginia Woolf or Kate Chopin’s The Awakening. The femininity of the water is liberating and stifling, and Gomperts and her amazing crew feel that when faced with each new obstacle. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something,” she says.

“We decided if women couldn’t get to the ship, we could help the women get the pills,” Gomperts says, and she announces on air on a Portuguese talk show exactly how women can self-medicate with just Misoprostol to give themselves abortion. She quickly and aggressively gives the prescription as the host nods and the smug male pundit looks stunned.

Immediately afterward, she announces her pregnancy. “If it’s wanted, it’s delicious,” she says. She stresses that she wants to show that side—that you can be pregnant, a mother, and be supportive of abortion rights. This evolution of her ethos goes hand in hand with the evolution of her activism.

A volunteer says that they get more and more emails from women who want to get the pill. There’s a plea for help from a woman in the US military in Afghanistan. “Every story of the women who write is different,” the volunteer says. “It’s hard to generalize because abortions are so common.”

The power of the Internet gives the women a new wave to ride on. They field emails and calls, and created their sister organization, the website Women on Web. It may be illegal to give women the pills, but giving information on how and when to take the pills isn’t illegal. So education—via trainings and hotlines—became their new voyage.

The power of female solidarity in Vessel is overwhelming. These women seem tireless in their goals of empowering women all over the globe—from educational workshops in Tanzania to draping “Tu Decision” with their phone number on the La Virgin del Panecillo in Quito, Ecuador (my favorite scene).

p1010060.jpg(mediaclass-base-page-main.d2c518cc99acd7f6b176d3cced63a653791dedb3) — “Your Decision,” “Safe Abortion” at the feet of the Virgin at El Panecillo in Ecuador

In 2012, Women on Web responded to more than 100,000 emails from 135 countries requesting information about abortion with pills. They point out that in some countries, abortion may be legal, but not accessible to women. The United States of America is one of those countries.

We are often so focused on changing laws that we don’t realize the power in giving women the right tools and education to empower themselves “despite the laws.” Through their campaigns—across the sea and across the web—Women on Waves and Women on Web do it all, effecting change in legislation and in women’s personal lives.

The documentary is understated and beautiful, and we are left with a sense of hope. The images of women celebrating in spite of men screaming and yelling, and the images of a fearless older woman with bruises on her arms from fighting with police who ransacked their ship remind us what power we truly have.

While the virgin-in-chains turned abortion-activist was my favorite image in the film, the most emotional moment was during an email exchange with a woman from Nairobi. She kisses the pills when she gets them, and a raw, personal email exchange follows as she goes through the process. When it’s over, she requests the name of the volunteer who was emailing her. A Women on Web volunteer responds that they are a collective, working as a team, so she couldn’t give the specific name—a beautiful and poignant reminder of the power of both individual stories and collective support.

“Women will make it happen.”

* * *

Vessel, Diana Whitten’s first feature film, won the Audience Award in the Documentary Competition and the Special Jury Award for Political Courage at South by Southwest.

Vessel will be shown during DOC NYC on Saturday, Nov. 15.

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Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature, and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

‘Big Hero 6’: Woman Up

The female team members are often shown as being more capable then the males, both as combatants and as scientists. Gogo Tomago , and Honey Lemon, are two bright, young scientists who exhibit strength of mind, body, and will. During a training montage, Gogo uses the phrase “woman up” to encourage one of her teammates to do better. This was a great, subversive line because it flowed naturally from the character and the context, rather than seeming like a forced injection of faux-feminism.

Written by Andé Morgan.

Big Hero 6 (2014) is a cinematic snack, lighter fare to counterbalance heavier offerings like Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar (2014), much in the same way that Wall-E (2008) contrasts with The Terminator (1984), or a pile of disgusting feces compares with Jack and Jill (2011). Still, the film does touch on universal themes that adults will appreciate: the trials of adolescence, grief, our wonder at science, and our fear of unrestrained technological development.

Other recent Disney animated films, like Planes: Fire and Rescue (2014), and Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day (2014), were not, for good reason, box office or critical darlings. But Big Hero 6 is different — it’s an offspring of Disney’s 2009 union with Marvel. Like Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Big Hero 6 draws on a little-known corner of the Marvel universe. Directors Don Hall and Chris Williams took the heart of that original comic and created a Happy-Meal-ready sequel factory. Thankfully, they left the spandex boob socks and impractical armor behind.

Yeah, this OG Gogo Tomago... — Yeah, this is OG Gogo Tomago…

The story is set in the fictional city of “San Fransokyo.” While the name is a bit clumsy, the visual fusion of Bay Area landmarks and American and Asian architecture is beautifully done. The influence of Japanese comics and science fiction is tastefully overprinted on all the animation, and it works. I wish I could say the same for the character design. While adequate, it suffers from the same Disney animation facial blandness found in Frozen (2013) and Wreck-It Ralph (2012).

If you’ve ever seen a Disney animated movie, particularly one of the more recent ones, then you already know the plot beats to Big Hero 6. This is too bad, because after establishing an interesting origin story, screenwriters Robert Baird, Daniel Gerson, and Jordan Roberts let the effort devolve into a decidedly unoriginal superheroes vs. villain story. Hiro Hamada (Ryan Potter) is a 14-year-old orphan (of course) and robotics prodigy, although the puffy robotic heart of the film is Baymax (Scott Adsit), who resembles (at least to this child of the 80s) a futuristic Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Despite an appearance that may appear androgynous to Westerners, Hiro is definitely a male protagonist, and this is definitely not Frozen. However, gender plays little role in his actions or interactions, and this is where the film really shines.

After rescuing Hiro from certain doom, his brother, Tadashi (Daniel Henney), takes Hiro to the robotics lab at the local R1 university. There he meets Tadashi’s friends and fellow students (who will later become his wrecking crew) and the department head, Professor Callaghan (James Cromwell). Hiro is impressed by the tech, and very badly wants to join Tadashi in college. In order to gain entrance, he competes in a pro-level science fair. He wins, of course, but tragedy ensues and sets the stage for the rest of the movie.

The cast of characters is diverse. In a subtle and pleasantly subversive move, the only white male characters of note are the “villains.” The Black character, Wasabi (flatly voiced by Damon Wayans), did come off a little token-ish, but it’s hard to level that accusation considering the diversity of the entire cast. Also, I have to credit the writers for avoiding race or gender-based humor throughout. This film does not have exceptional voice acting, animation, or story, but it does stand out in one other major way: the relative parity between male and female characters. And I don’t just mean numerical parity, I mean parity in the intent and essence of the roles.

From left to right: Fred, Gogo, Baymax, Hiro, Honey Lemon, and Wasabi.

Several main characters, and an important ancillary character, are women. Aunt Cass (Maya Rudolph), is Hiro and Tadashi’s guardian. She’s a single mother, and not once does she complain about it. No references are made to some horrible tragedy involving her former husband; there are no jokes about her wanting a man. Rather, she’s shown as a happy, competent business owner and caretaker.

The female team members are often shown as being more capable then the males, both as combatants and as scientists. Gogo Tomago (Jamie Chung), and Honey Lemon (Génesis Rodríguez), are two bright, young scientists who exhibit strength of mind, body, and will. During a training montage, Gogo uses the phrase “woman up” to encourage one of her teammates to do better. This was a great, subversive line because it flowed naturally from the character and the context, rather than seeming like a forced injection of faux-feminism. Also of note, the villain’s daughter, Abigail (Katie Holmes), is depicted as a brave test pilot, and her fate is key to the film’s climax.

Big Hero 6 will most strongly appeal to older kids. The heavier questions may be lost on younger children, and some of the fight and chase scenes are a bit violent (bloodless, and no more so than similar films) and frenetic. Adults will (or at least should) appreciate the themes, the gender equity, and the racial diversity of the characters. Most importantly, the film excels at imparting a sense of wonder about science. By showing strong, capable female characters, this film will, I hope, encourage both girls and boys to develop an interest in science.

The film has a trim 102-minute running time, so a six-minute appetizer, Feast (2014), precedes it. The story is told from the visual perspective of a young Boston Terrier, and quickly jumps from a series of hungry-dog sight gags to a saccharine love-marriage-baby-carriage parable. Despite having the look of an experimental short, the animation and the story are deliberate, targeted, and all conventional Disney fluff.

Also on Bitch Flicks: Wreck-It Ralph is Flawed, But Still Pretty Feminist by Myrna Waldron

Andé Morgan lives in Tucson, Arizona, where they write about film, television, and current events. Follow them @andemorgan.

Where is the Female Version of ‘Whiplash’?

I’d really like to see more introspective films about the human experience where the humans experiencing things look like me.

Written by Katherine Murray.

I’d really like to see more introspective films about the human experience where the humans experiencing things look like me.

Two weeks ago, I made a special trip downtown to see Whiplash, a movie that is every bit as good as its rave reviews have promised. Whiplash is tense and thoughtful, with skilful pacing and a stunning conclusion, and it asks challenging questions about the human experience. What is achievement? What drives us? What is the value of love and approval?

I absolutely recommend it – but that’s not what I want to talk about, here.

Aside from having an awesome, introspective story that deals in universal human themes, Whiplash has one other prominent feature – 99.9 percent of it is dudes.

The music student and music teacher at the core of the story are dudes, the other people in their band are all dudes, the main supporting character – who is the music student’s father – is a dude. Melissa Benoist is there for about seven minutes, cumulatively, and then the rest of the movie is about men grappling with big, important questions.

There’s nothing wrong with that – and, in popular cinema, there’s also nothing unusual about that – but it did make me wonder: why can’t we have more introspective movies about the human experience where the humans experiencing things are women?

Like, speaking as a woman, I am just as interested in big, existential, philosophical, and psychological questions as men are. I spend just as much time trying to figure them out, and they have just as much relevance to my life – but you wouldn’t really guess that from going to the movies.

Most of the time, when you watch a movie about how A Person should deal with X, the person is a man. To the point that it really stands out, when it’s not.

Gravity, for instance, aside from being a feast for your 3D glasses, is a story about how A Person should deal with loss. And it’s striking because the person is played by Sandra Bullock, and she’s on screen alone for most of the movie, grappling with universal human challenges like how to process grief, and how to find the will to live after experiencing trauma.

A lot of critics have argued that the film would have been better if it had just been about trying to fix a space shuttle without getting blown up, without making it a metaphor for how Sandra Bullock overcomes the loss of her child. It’s the loss and grief story, though, that takes this from being an action movie with a female protagonist – which is rare enough – to being an introspective movie about the human experience with a female protagonist – a genre that might be the rarest of all.

Depending which types of movies you’re analyzing, only 15 to 23 percent of top-grossing films have a female protagonist, despite the fact that women make up half the population. I’m willing to bet that, if we could easily cordon off and analyze the percentage of female protagonists in introspective movies about the human experience, the numbers would be even lower.

You’ve got your female action heroes, and you’ve got your female romantic leads – you’ve even got your female gross-out and/or buddy comedies, now. Occasionally, you even get your female everyman in the shape of Anna Kendrick. But, finding a woman as the stand-in for humanity is like finding a unicorn in a world where horses are already almost extinct.

If you look at this survey of Hollywood movies that came out in 2012, none of the ones with a female lead – except Brave, which is specifically about how there’s more than one acceptable way to be female – seem to be concerned with especially deep questions. This is the same year that brought us Cloud Atlas, Life of Pi, Looper, and ParaNorman – male-led stories with varying levels of introspection that focus on questions of history and human connection, belief, our capacity to learn to care for others, and compassion in the face of fear. Female-led movies in the survey include a couple of horror movies, an instalment in the Twilight franchise, The Hunger Games (which was good, but not that deep), and whatever the hell Snow White and the Huntsman was supposed to be.

Casually searching the internet for lists of existential movies, or movies about what it means to be human also returns a lot of movies about dudes.

That’s not to say that there aren’t deep, introspective movies with female protagonists. It’s just that they’re few and far between.

Slogging through Melancholia is about as fun as slogging through real depression, but it’s an introspective movie about a person who’s grappling with Big Questions concerning depressive realism, and whether pessimism is just good sense. Similarly, Black Swan is (arguably) a movie about a person grappling with identity, and how we reconcile with our shadow selves.

Le fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain – or, Amélie – is an introspective story about a person who struggles with shyness and how to take risks. And, it works at least as well as The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, which is about exactly the same thing, only starring a male protagonist.

So, there are some introspective films about the human experience that feature a female protagonist. But, why do these stories so often default to male?

The first explanation would be that most of the writers, directors, and producers working on movies are men, and therefore they’re more likely to create a male protagonist, because that’s the experience and perspective they’re most familiar and comfortable with.

Fair enough.

Though I hasten to add that Gravity, Melancholia, and Amélie were all written and directed by men, I think it’s valid for a story-teller to gravitate to telling stories about characters of their own gender, race, ethnicity, and sexual orientation. In some cases, it can even seem arrogant for story-tellers to presume to speak for people with different life experiences. That’s why it’s important to make room for stories told by people who’ve been underrepresented in media. You know, instead of making it as hard as possible for those people to get in on the action.

The second explanation also goes a long way toward answering the question, “Why does this even matter, Katherine?” and concerns the way that media presents “male” as standard and “female” as a special variation on “male.”

This is feminist criticism 101 and I won’t get into a long discussion of it, but everyone reading this blog understands that we live in a culture where “person” defaults to male a hell of a lot more often than it defaults to female – where being a woman is a marked status that denotes something other than a normal/average/neutral individual. Men and women are so used to seeing men as the default human that it can create a self-perpetuating cycle where writers keep reaching for “a man” when they mean to say “a person,” and the constant presentation of “a person” as “a man” on screen just reinforces that bias.

True story: I’m a woman, and I write things, and unless I specifically stop myself and take stock of what I’m doing, I default to male characters when I just need some random person. This is a thing that happens without malice or even intent, which is why it’s important to bring the pattern to conscious awareness.

Introspective human experience movies are typically more about A Person than they are about an individual with really specific characteristics; there’s a good chance that men are the default just because nobody’s thinking about it that much.

The third explanation, and the one that bums me out the most, is that there may be a perception that women either aren’t interested in or aren’t as capable of answering philosophical questions – something that’s also suggested by the unfortunate pattern where male actors are asked deep questions about the issues raised by their movies, and female actors are asked about their bodies and clothes.

Happily, the solution is the same no matter what the explanation is: we need to balance things out by creating more movies like Gravity, and Melancholia, and Amélie, where the stories are about people grappling with problems that people must face, and the people in question are women.

Just like it’s right that Matthew McConaughey should be able to star in a movie that’s specifically about masculinity (Mud), and a movie that’s about the abstract question of human selflessness (Interstellar), female actors should be able to take the lead in movies that are specifically about women as well as movies that are about people in general – because they represent both of those things.

So, where is the female version of Whiplash? It’s 50 years forward in time, when “person” has an equal chance of meaning “woman.”

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