Tag: 2013 Oscar Nominees

2013 Oscar Week: Searching for Sugar Man Makes Race Invisible

Written by Robin Hitchcock
Rodriguez, the central figure of documentary Searching for Sugar Man
Searching for Sugar Man, considered the front-runner for Best Documentary Feature at the 85th Academy Awards this weekend, shares the unlikely story of Sixto Rodriguez, an obscure failed musician in the United States who became an icon on the other side of the planet in South Africa. Rodriguez is a figure of mystery to his fans, and urban legends bloom about his having committed suicide on stage. A group of fans seek out the truth in the 1990s, and find Rodriguez is alive, still living in poverty in Detroit, completely unaware that to a generation of South Africans, he’s a rock god. 
It’s a fascinating stranger-than-fiction story that is heartwarming and inspiring: perfect subject matter for a documentary. And Searching for Sugar Man is undeniably well-crafted, building suspense and mystery in the first half of the film on the hunt for Rodriguez, yielding to a very satisfying emotional catharsis in the second half of the film, where we meet Rodriguez and his daughters and see his triumphant arrival in the land that adores him. The stand-in music videos for Rodriguez’s songs that pepper the film are gorgeous to look at and the songs themselves are a revelation.  Searching for Sugar Man is an excellent film that has a huge problem: the invisibility of race. 
Searching for Sugar Man is about white South Africans. This is not in of itself a problem. White South Africans have stories that deserve to be told. [I am a white American living in South Africa and I think you should hear me out, for example.] But race is an intrinsic part of any South African story, especially any apartheid-era South African story. And Searching for Sugar Man is barely interested in race. It presents white South Africans as synonymous with South Africans, which is an exceptionally outrageous instance of white cultural hegemony given this country’s very recent history of extreme racial oppression. 
Stephen “Sugar” Segerman, one of the South African Rodriguez fans integral to solving the mystery of the musician’s fate, does qualify Rodriguez’s South African fans as the “white, liberal, middle-class,” but it’s a quick aside in one of many descriptions of Rodriguez’s South African ubiquity.  We see how the white conservatives in the apartheid government responded to Rodriguez (by censoring his records and banning airplay). But at no point in Searching for Sugar Man do we hear from a black or coloured South African on Rodriguez (with the very small exception of a news broadcaster in archival footage). I wanted to know if Rodriguez’s influence made it outside the white bubble in apartheid-era South Africa, but Searching for Sugar Man wasn’t interested in telling me. Documentaries should not leave glaring questions unanswered.
Another South African blogger had the same curiosity, and asked a  black friend    about his memories of Rodriguez:

He replied that he had known of the artist, but only because he used to work in broadcasting. This short and interesting answer was essentially all I asked for; a black South African commenting on the fact that Rodriguez was virtually unknown or seemed to not have played a vital role in the lives of black South Africans. Not to prove that Rodriguez did not matter, but to acknowledge that though Rodriguez fan base was mainly white, it does not mean that black South Africans have nothing to contribute with in this particular and fascinating aspect of South Africa during apartheid. A story about Rodriguez would be incomplete without the mentioning of apartheid, and a story that talks about apartheid without including a black South African experience feels incomplete to me. 

Searching for Sugar Man‘s treatment of apartheid is also limited to the white middle-class perspective. Rodriguez’s anti-establishment lyrics are said to have ignited political awakening in the white Afrikaner youth in South Africa. The white male Rodriguez fans elaborate: one saying Rodriguez’s song “The Establishment Blues” taught them the very concept of being “anti-establishment”, planting the idea that “it’s OK to protest against our society; to be angry against your society.” 
Segerman adds, “Because we lived in a society where every means was used to prevent apartheid from coming to and end, this album somehow had in it lyrics that almost set us free, as oppressed peoples. Any revolution needs an anthem, and in South Africa, Cold Fact was the album that gave people permission to free their minds and to start thinking differently.” 
South Africans protesting apartheid in the Soweto uprising of 1976.
While there is no doubt that the apartheid government was oppressive to all South Africans, I bristle at hearing a white man refer to himself and his Afrikaner friends as “oppressed peoples” in a film that doesn’t provide the context of how apartheid shaped the lives of people of color in South Africa. The anti-apartheid movement we see in Searching for Sugar Man is one of privileged white youth rebelling against the censorship and control of their ultra-conservative government; when the fight against apartheid was a life-and-death struggle for basic human rights and freedom for millions of black and coloured South Africans. 
Searching for Sugar Man‘s narrow white perspective on apartheid-era South Africa is all the more troubling because Sixto Rodriguez is himself a person of color (Mexican and Native American) living in extreme poverty in Detroit. Clarence Avant, an African American record producer who worked with Rodriguez, is the first and only person in the documentary to suggest that Rodriguez’s race may have contributed to his commercial failure in the United States. Rodriguez does not appear to be concerned with material wealth, having given away most of the money he’s earned touring after his rediscovery in the late 1990s (Since the release of this documentary, Rodriguez has embarked on a world tour). But when one compares the urban blight Rodriguez sang about on his albums to the circumstances of many South Africans two decades after the end of apartheid, the omission of their story in this documentary is even more appalling. 
I’m delighted that Searching for Sugar Man has helped expose Rodriguez’s fine music to a wider audience (including myself); and as a resident of South Africa it is nice to see this country have a worldwide cultural moment. I just wish that the documentary that achieved all this was more fully and honestly representative of South Africa and its history.  

2013 Oscar Week: Feminism and the Oscars: Do This Year’s Best Picture Nominees Pass the Bechdel Test?

Written by Megan Kearns.

When people watch movies, they often think it’s just entertainment. That they don’t really matter. But media impacts our lives tremendously. Films reflexively shape and reflect culture. Feminist commentary is vital. 

It might seem like they don’t but the Oscars matter. The Oscars are the most visible celebration of filmmaking in U.S. and possibly the world. They can also positively impact career trajectories in financing and future themes in film. Called “liberal Hollywood,” they continue to exhibit conservative and sexist values and norms.

Too often, films depict misogyny, sexist gender roles, damsels in distress, women killed, and women’s bodies objectified. The Oscars typically reward women for playing roles that support a central male character in films.

The Academy is 94% white, 77% male, often perpetuating sexism and racism with their white, dude-centric accolades. Women and people of color are rarely nominated for — and even more rarely win — major awards. Although the actor – male or female – with the most acting nominations is Meryl Streep (nominated 17 times) and the actor – male or female – to win the most Oscars for acting is Katherine Hepburn (won 4 times).

Only 6 black women — Hattie McDaniel (Gone with the Wind), Whoopi Goldberg (Ghost), Jennifer Hudson (Dreamgirls), Halle Berry (Monster’s Ball), Mo’Nique (Precious), Octavia Spencer (The Help) — have ever won for acting. Sadly the roles they won for are “maids, single mothers on welfare and one trickster con artist.”

Only 4 women in 85 years have been nominated for a Best Director Oscar — Lina Wertmüller (Seven Beauties), Jane Campion (The Piano), Sofia Coppola (Lost in Translation), Kathryn Bigelow (The Hurt Locker). In 85 years, Kathryn Bigelow the only woman ever to win Best Director Oscar. Ever. No women of color have been nominated as Best Director.

In 85 years, only 7 women producers have won the Best Picture title, all as co-producers with men — Julia Phillips for (The Sting), Lili Fini Zanuck (Driving Miss Daisy), Wendy Finerman (Forrest Gump), Donna Gigliotti for (Shakespeare in Love), Fran Walsh for (The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King), Cathy Schulman for (Crash), Kathryn Bigelow for (The Hurt Locker).

This year Quvenzhane Wallis is the only female of color nominated for acting. Lucy Alibar who co-wrote Beasts of the Southern Wild, is the only woman nominated for Best Screenplay. No women are nominated for Best Director. There are women directors who could have (and some should have) been nominated – including Kathryn Bigelow (Zero Dark Thirty), Ava DuVernay (Middle Of Nowhere), Sarah Polley (Take This Waltz) and Lynn Shelton (Your Sister’s Sister).
The Academy often overlooks female directors and female-centric films.

Women’s dialogue and plotlines rarely focus on other women or even themselves. If women talk to each other, it’s usually revolving around men. This is why the Bechdel Test – while not perfect or automatically indicating feminism – matters. The Bechdel Test: film must 1) feature two named female characters, 2) who talk to each other, 3) about something other than a man.

Now the Bechdel Test doesn’t measure whether or not a film is good or even if it’s feminist or female-centric. And it’s not just about judging films on an individual basis. The Bechdel Test matters because the overwhelming majority of movies fail, indicating the institutional sexism and rampant gender disparity prevalent in Hollywood.

So let’s look at each of this year’s Best Picture nominees:

The heartbreaking Amour focuses on the marriage and love between wife Anne and husband Georges after Anne suffers a stroke. Their daughter Eva and Georges argue about putting her into medical facility. Eva talks to Anne after her stroke but it’s more of a one-sided conversation. It may not pass the Bechdel Test but it’s arguably a female-centric film as Anne is often the focus.

Argo has a woman problem (and perpetuates Iranian stereotypes) as the women are pushed to the background. The two female hostages never interact with each other alone (the way the men do), only as a group, and we never really hear their opinions or views. The Canadian diplomat’s wife and their housekeeper Sahar — a pivotal female character who’s not initially trusted or credited with bravery — talk extremely briefly. Just like the other women in Argo, Sahar’s opinions and views are erased. Her importance truly lies in how she relates to men, again reifying the exultation of men.

The breathtaking and unusual Beasts of the Southern Wild boasts a unique, nuanced, fierce female protagonist of color. While the film focuses on Hushpuppy’s relationship to her father Wink, her relationship to her absent mother is equally important as we see in her wearing her jersey and searching for her. She also has conversations with her teacher Miss Bathsheeba. We often see boys and men in films that showcase a hero’s journey or transformation. But here we see a journey with a strong-willed, opinionated girl. And I couldn’t be more thrilled.

Django Unchained features a black male protagonist spurred on by “heroic love.” It’s wonderful to see a black married couple who love each other onscreen. And Django captures the “psychological and emotional terrorism” blacks endured. But from a gender perspective, women don’t interact with one another aside from a white woman ordering a female slave. Broomhilda – the catalyst of Django’s journey – is ultimately a damsel in distress rescued by her husband.

Les Miserables boasts feminist themes showcasing plight of women – poverty, sacrifice, sexual slavery. Fantine is a pivotal character. While Eponine and Cossette are in the film, they never interact with each other. Rather there’s a love triangle with Marius in the middle. Despite the large cast of characters, Les Mis ultimately revolves around Jean Valjean – one man’s redemption and salvation.

While his mother impacts his life throughout the film, Life of Pi revolves around an Indian boy’s survival on a shipwrecked boat with a tiger and his search for religion and spirituality.

Obviously, Lincoln is about a dude….Lincoln. And yes, his wife Mary Todd Lincoln is depicted as “his intellectual equal.” But again she revolves around him. Also the film whitewashes the abolition of slavery with the omission of Frederick Douglass. Really? How the hell can you discuss abolition without Douglass?? Even when we do see two women together – Mary Todd Lincoln (Sally Field) and Elizabeth Keckley (Gloria Reuben) – they barely converse. That’s right, only white dudes have impacted or changed history.

Silver Linings Playbook features the unconventional friendship and attraction of a Tiffany and Pat, both struggling with mental illness. We learn that Tiffany is a widow who’s been on medication with an unnamed illness. We see Tiffany and her sister Veronica talk with each other about their lives. I loved this movie. Jennifer Lawrence is once again an outstanding badass. And who knew Wedding Crashers’ Bradley Cooper (although I did love him as Will on Alias) was this good? I’m thrilled that we’re starting to see more nuanced portrayals of mental illness, specifically bipolar disorder – Homeland, Friday Night Lights. But when it comes to gender, while Tiffany is complicated, confident and vulnerable, we get a few details here and there about her life. The predominant focus remains on Pat.

The most controversial (and outstanding) film of the year, Zero Dark Thirty revolves around a strong, complex, intelligent female protagonist. Many have disputed its feminism because they believe it condones torture. While it doesn’t condemn torture is vehemently as it could or should, it raises complex questions. Throughout the film, Bigelow shows that not only does she not condone torture, but ultimately makes a bold and damning statement against the U.S.’ War on Terror. Friends Maya and Jessica debate strategy, challenge each other and unwind. Zero Dark Thirty makes an interesting commentary on gender politics, showcases female friendship and a complex female protagonist struggling to assert her voice in a male-dominated world.

So 3 films pass the Bechdel Test. It’s interesting, although not surprising, that two of those films, which are the most female-centric films nominated this year – Beasts of the Southern Wild and Zero Dark Thirty – are also the two with a woman co-screenwriter or woman director.

I’m really, really, really tired of the white dudefest.

It’s really hard to ignore the correlation between the lack of female-centric films and how few women write and direct.

Of the top 250 grossing films in the U.S. in 2012, 9% of directors were women and 15% were writers. Women 18% of all directors, executive producers, producers, writers, cinematographers, and editors working on top 250 films. Only 33% of films’ speaking roles belong to women

Despite the fact that women buy 50% of movie theatre tickets (as of 2010), most films feature male protagonists. When a female character exists, usually she’s some guy’s lover, spouse or sidekick. Or she’s the damsel in distress he’s going to rescue, validating his virility and masculinity. Male characters do talk about women but they exist as one topic in the spectrum of dialogue. When we see female characters, they serve as “damsels in distress, pining spinsters, fighting fuck toys,” sexy seductresses or “manic pixie dream girls.” Men’s films are seen as universal. Women’s films are seen as niche. That has to change.

All of these objectifying tropes exist for the male gaze, implying that women’s lives must revolve around men. We need to see more women on-screen and behind the scenes. Hopefully then we’ll see more diversity in female characters in age, class, race, sexual orientation as well as personality traits. 

This past Wednesday, Bitch Flicks guest-hosted Women’s Media Center’s weekly tweetchat #sheparty where we dialogued about women and the Oscars. We discussed the problem, the abysmal stats, focus on male-centric films, and solutions. We also debated if Zero Dark Thirty — which has faced a sexist backlash — would have been universally acclaimed if directed by a dude. I say without a doubt yes. Explaining why talking about gender disparity matters, Melissa Silverstein of Women and Hollywood said, 
“People don’t think about whether a film is directed by a man or a woman. We need to help folks understand why it is important. We need to make people understand in terms they can process about the gender disparities in Hollywood. People don’t think about whether a film is directed by a man or a woman. We need to help folks understand why it is important.” 
So can we change the gender dynamics in Hollywood? Yes, we can. 
Female filmmakers can support and mentor other women. As the recent Sundance Institute study showed, networking is vital, studios must be more supportive of work/life balance for women, and we need to make people realize a gender disparity exists in the first place. We as moviegoers can attend opening weekends for female-fronted or women directed movies. We can support independent filmmakers through Indiegogo, Kickstarter and other crowdfunding campaigns. At #sheparty, Spectra of Spectra Speaks said, 
“Taking on the big bad Oscars is important, but so is doing our part as individuals to support women filmmakers. Write about them. Independent filmmakers need actual support — reviews they can show distributors, social media buzz to coax funders.” 
It’s important to deconstruct and analyze and laud mainstream movies. But we film writers must be sure to write about female-centric films and women filmmakers – both mainstream and indie – too. 
When we see more diverse female filmmakers, we see more diverse female protagonists. We need to see women of different races, classes, sexualities and women with abled as well as disabled bodies. We must demand to see more films featuring strong, intelligent complex women living life on their own terms, whose lives don’t revolve around men. We also need to recognize films featuring women and created by women in awards shows.

Women’s stories matter. Women’s voices must be heard. It’s long overdue for the Oscars to realize that too.

2013 Oscar Week: Depicting Sex Surrogacy in ‘The Sessions’

poster for The Sessions
Guest post written by Alisande Fitzsimons.
One of the more moving films of 2012 was Ben Lewin’s drama The Sessions. Based on the life and articles of profoundly disabled poet and journalist Mark O’Brien (played by John Hawkes), The Sessions depicts the period in O’Brien’s life when he engaged with Cheryl Cohen-Greene, a sex surrogate played by Helen Hunt. 
Bitch Flicks Co-Founder Stephanie Rogers has already written about Sex, Disability and Helen Hunt in ‘The Sessions’ for this site, pointing out that, “Helen Hunt is awesome.” She’s right – the power of Hunt’s performance as Cheryl cannot be understated, and even though she’s already collected one Oscar (for As Good As It Gets in 1997), a lot of us are rooting for her to collect another in 2013. 
Helen Hunt as Cheryl Cohen-Greene with John Hawkes as Mark O’Brien
What Exactly Is A Sexual Surrogate? 
When she first meets Mark O’Brien, Hunt’s character takes care to explain that she is a sex surrogate, rather than a sex worker but is not shown explaining the exact differences to him on-screen. For the record, the difference is this: sex workers provide sexual services in exchange for money. These services can vary wildly and some sex workers do indeed work with disabled or sexually dysfunctional clients. 
A sexual surrogate on the other hand is a certified sex therapist who educates and sometimes engages in intimate acts with their patients in order to reach a therapeutic goal. 
In The Sessions Hunt’s character treats O’Brien over four two hour sessions. O’Brien has never had an intimate relationship when he first begins working with Cohen-Greene but makes rapid progress, becoming comfortable with his own body, then with Cohen-Greene’s body, before finally achieving full intercourse with her and bringing her to orgasm. 
Growing up in the UK, I wasn’t aware that this kind of therapy existed, and I found the film’s insight into it fascinating. The film was released there at a particularly useful moment in British culture. As I type, a former Brothel keeper called Becky Adams is getting a lot of press attention for a new charity she has founded called Para-Doxies. 
The aim of Para-Doxies is to introduce disabled people of all genders and sexuality to sex workers so that their sexual needs can be met. As far as I’m aware therapy such as the sort offered by Cohen-Greene is not available in the UK. Realising how much good the sex therapy O’Brien received did him makes me hope that Adams’ project succeeds and that disabled sexuality becomes more widely accepted. 
There’s Sex But It’s Not Conventionally Sexy. 
I don’t mean that section heading in a bad way. In fact, the depiction of sex in The Sessions is wholly refreshing. As well as giving audiences an insight into disabled sexuality (because for some people the fact that disabled people do indeed enjoy sex apparently came as a bit of a shock), the film also does a marvelous job of presenting a leading lady who has sex both with her husband and patients in a way that’s not meant to titillate. I know I don’t have to remind anyone that this is unusual. 
There are no bras or slips left on during sex in this film but even though we see Hunt naked and having sex, there’s no part of this film that makes a female viewer uncomfortable. Not because Hunt is made to look unattractive in the film – she’s simply not – but because the nudity is so much in keeping with the realist tone of The Sessions that the sex is in no way “pornified” and so does not cater to the male gaze. 
Even when O’Brien, whom Hunt’s character has come to love — but, crucially, has not fallen in love with – orgasms during sex with him, it’s not the sort of noisy When Harry Met Sally moment we’ve come to expect from Hollywood films. Rather, it’s a quiet but heartfelt moment of wholly convincing intimacy between the couple. 
Arguably this should make the moment on-screen even sexier because it reflects real-life lovemaking more than most sex scenes ever will. The catch though is that the scene is so beautifully written and performed that it felt hard to watch. I mean that too in a good way. I mean, who over the age of 13 can’t look at a sex scene? 
The emotional investment the audience makes in the characters of Cohen-Greene and O’Brien means that watching it is not unlike one of those moments when you walk in on a friend having sex – awkward. 
Helen Hunt as Cheryl Cohen-Greene
The Private Life of a Sexual Surrogate 
Apart from the sessions in which she treats O’Brien, Cohen-Greene’s professional life is depicted on-screen when Hunt is shown making notes about how the treatment is going. This part of the film is crucial, not only because it gives the audience insight into O’Brien’s state of mind from a healthcare professional but also because it is what will distinguish Cohen-Greene’s work as a sexual surrogate from that of a particularly sympathetic sex worker in the minds of less liberal viewers. 
Another interesting insight the film is careful to make is into Cohen-Greene’s private life. While most of the film does indeed concentrate on O’Brien – it’s his story, and based on poetry and articles he wrote so the world could really understand disabled sexuality – the small amount of time the camera spends with Cohen-Greene at home is interesting. 
What, for example, motivates someone to become a sexual surrogate over any other kind of therapist? It’s a role that hugely benefits patients but one that may cause problems for the surrogates themselves. 
Cohen-Greene, for example, is married with a teenage son in the film. Her husband, whom she describes as “a philosopher” is in fact unemployed, leaving the family to rely on his wife’s income. It’s apparent that he has no problem with the nature of her work – and all credit to the filmmakers for not reducing an unemployed character to a loutish stereotype – but rather accepts her job as a valid form of employment and therapy. 
In fact, until Cohen-Greene begins treating O’Brien it seems that the couple had no problems with jealousy at all. O’Brien though sparks something in his therapist that her husband recognizes as threatening. It’s not as if a man who was forced to spend at least 20 hours a day in an iron lung due to catching polio during his childhood should, in Hollywood terms at least, be much of a threat to any healthy marriage. 
Yet O’Brien’s flirty and lively personality, not to mention his superior mind that can conjure up incredibly beautiful poetry, do start to come between the couple, even though it’s clear that Hunt’s character does not actually fall for her patient so much as come to respect him and care for him deeply, the way most of us do for our closest friends. She never, in spite of the non-physical intimacy the therapy could foster between them, tells him much about her personal life at all. A sure sign of love and respect for the man she is married to. 
— 
That Cohen-Greene is not depicted as a kind of saint who can see the lovable in a disabled man is another strength of The Sessions. The character is undoubtedly a good person but also a real one, and perhaps most importantly given the delicate nature of this kind of sex therapy, a wholly professional one. 
When the patient-therapist relationship she has with O’Brien threatens her marriage, she reacts first with anger then with consideration and does what she needs to to make that relationship work. 
At the film’s end she is shown attending O’Brien’s funeral with her husband, to whom she is still married. When O’Brien’s girlfriend, whom he met after his sessions with Cohen-Greene have finished, reads out a love poem that is clearly about Cohen-Greene, Hunt just smiles. 
When the love you have for someone is that great, be it platonic or romantic, sometimes the fact that both of you know is enough. It’s a credit to Hunt that her characterization of a character who could easily have been made out to be brassy or manipulative never is, and I really hope she’s duly rewarded by the Academy for it. 

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Alisande Fitzsimons is a sex positive writer. She can be found tweeting @AlisandeF.

2013 Oscar Week: Matriarchal Impositions of Beauty in Snow White and the Huntsman

Kristen Stewart and Charlize Theron star in Snow White and the Huntsman
Guest post written by Carleen Tibbetts.
Despite the various twists on the classic fairy tale, there is a definite constant in Snow White: women are their own worse enemies. The storyline is essentially the same: jealous, vain stepmother wants to oust stepdaughter who will one day surpass her in physical attractiveness. Stepmother fails. Stepdaughter’s kindness, beauty, and naivete prevail as she triumphs over her would-be destructor. Rupert Sanders’s Snow White and the Huntsman, however, is a different animal. Yes, at the heart (pun intended) of the story are still the female archetypes of beauty, female rivalry and jealousy, whether or not “true” love will make a woman complete, etc. Sanders’s version also explores, though not fully enough, the fragile nature of mother-daughter relationships. True, her mother wishes Snow White into existence based upon her own ideals of beauty, but it is also the child’s tenderness that moves her. When Snow White is still small, before her mother passes away, her mother places her hand over the girl’s chest and tells her she possesses a “rare beauty” there. When the “evil” queen was a young girl, her mother placed a spell, a curse, really, on her that her beauty would be her protector, her bargaining tool, and also her undoing. 
Both Snow White and her “evil” stepmother were taught to view their worth in terms of beauty. For Snow White, it was her compassion, her sweetness, and her soul. For the “evil” queen, it was how far she could get by on her looks. The ways in which both Snow White and Ravenna’s “beauty” are reflected their mother’s eyes lays the groundwork for their respective indifference to or obsession with their own attractiveness.
The “evil” Queen is this adaptation is still a shape-shifting sorceress, however she doesn’t transform into a sweet octogenarian to play to Snow White’s compassion to give her the poison apple. This queen tries to stave off the aging process at all costs, appears to Snow White under the guise of true love, preying on her lonely heart in order to rip it from her chest. Prince Charming in this instance is no prince. He’s a widowed brute drowning his grief in beer and bar brawls. Female assertion of power is so central here that the Huntsman needs no name. He could be any man. He’s disposable yet indispensable in this fairy tale revenge fantasy. 
Charlize Theron as Queen Ravenna
Charlize Theron’s Queen Ravenna comes to power by preying on a benevolent king’s nature and masquerading as a prisoner of war. The first time we see Ravenna (a flaxen-haired, sanguine, statuesque counterpart to Snow White), she is shackled, bound in a cart, covered in gold dust and fur. The king wants to save her, and does so by making her his victory prize. To the victor go the spoils. He wastes no time and marries her that day. On the wedding night, Ravenna decides she’s not down to consummate this thing. Her language quickly changes from addressing him as her “lord,” acquiescing to his kisses, to telling him that he and his gender are vile, shallow creatures. As the king tries to make love to her, Ravenna, a former trophy wife several times over, says, “Men use women. They ruin us. When they are finished with us, they toss us to the dogs like scraps.” Using her powers, she paralyzes the king in the middle of his attempt at seduction, completely emasculating him, and then murders him without hesitation. 
Queen Ravenna
Literally overnight, sacks her own kingdom. She immediately has young Snow White locked in a tower and begins to consult the infamous mirror on the wall. In this version of the story, the mirror is truly stand-apart. It’s a giant gold circle that offers Ravenna a wavering, distorted reflection. She demands to be left alone with the mirror and her insecurities. As she asks it the timeless question about her fairness, liquid gold pours out of the mirror and morphs into a humanoid form (Very T-1000) as it assures her she is the most gorgeous woman around. Ravenna’s beauty even bewitches her (albino with a Page Boy haircut) henchman brother. Ravenna rejuvenates herself by literally inhaling life force from young women she keeps on hand. Whenever a wrinkle starts to manifest, she sucks their purity and innocence from them. Medieval Botox.
Ravenna spends her days this way, depleting girls of their youth, taking milk baths, sporting amazing headwear, snacking on small animals and picking through their flesh with her talon jewelry (ala Pamela Love) while her brother looks on in adoration, etc. Inevitably, the day comes when the mirror tells Ravenna that Snow White has already one-upped her in the fairest department. The spell her mother placed on her as a child haunts her: “By fairest blood it is done, and by fairest blood it will be undone.” Ravenna sends brother dearest to help with Snow White’s de-hearting.
Kirsten Stewart as Snow White on a white horse
We get our first glimpse of Kristen Stewart as the grown Snow White in her locked cell getting snatches of sunlight through the window, playing with crudely fashioned toy dolls, and sharing “conversation” with small birds that flit by. She manages to escape via the sewage system into the sea and washes up on a beach where she is led to a clichéd white horse. The horse takes her as far as The Dark Forest, where, for some inexplicable reason, Ravenna’s powers do not work. The horse doesn’t survive, however, and Snow White wanders the forest distraught and disoriented.
Enter Chris Hemsworth as the (definitely alcoholic, possibly Scottish) Huntsman the Queen recruits to fetch Snow White and instead becomes her protector/guide/love interest. The awkward sexual tension between Stewart and Helmsworth manifests in scenes such as his cutting off the muddy tails of her dress, under which she’s already wearing pants. Although he tells her not to flatter herself and aside from the fact that the gesture is completely sexually loaded, it also frees her from some gender-specific dead weight (literally and figuratively). Stewart’s various garment changes somewhat reflect her character’s rather quick transformation from bewildered girl-woman to a self-actualized adult, which, for the most part, occurs in the company of her “protector” menfolk.
Snow White’s “protector” menfolk
After meeting the dwarves who explain to the Huntsman that she is indeed a princess who gives off the essence of “life itself,” Snow White’s childhood friend, William, enters the rotation. Upon learning she’s alive and on-the-run, he volunteers to help hunt her down, then turncoats and joins up with her and the other eight men at her service. A William-Huntsman-Snow White love triangle follows. Snow White and her boyfriends have wandered into a corner of the kingdom where Ravenna can get to them. Ravenna shape-shifts and appears to Snow White as William, her supposed true love, a love that Ravenna tells her will betray her as she tricks her with, yes, a poison apple. The Huntsman and William attempt to kill Ravenna, but she breaks apart into hundreds of ravens (hence, the name Ravenna) that fly back to the castle.
The Queen and her raven nature
What follows is an exquisite scene, possibly the best in the film, where Charlize Theron emerges from a gooey mass of black sludge, half-dead birds flopping around, feathers everywhere, as she returns to her human form, wrinkled, crawling toward her beloved mirror. Unable to get Snow White’s heart, Ravenna must up her human injectible count, so when we see her next, she’s glaring into the golden mirror as dozens of spent dead girls lie at her feet.
Meanwhile, Snow White seems to have kicked it. William tries to revive her with a kiss. Nada. Her body is brought to her loyal subjects so they can mourn their loss. Dressed in a white, almost bridal gown, barefoot, and laid out on a concrete slab, the Huntsman finds her the most beautiful when she is at her most vulnerable (read: female) state in the entire film. In his grief/sexual arousal, the Huntsman cries to that Snow White she reminds him of his dead wife in strength and spirit (ironically). Tears of “true” “love!” The spell is broken! There’s nothing a mostly-dead girl loves more than a man telling her she reminds him of his fully-dead wife! Apologies, William.
Fierce Snow White
Gone is the meek Snow White. She emerges from her death stupor fierce and ready for a good smiting. She rallies her male subjects to join her, screaming, “I will be your weapon!” Next, we see Stewart doing her best Joan of Arc with her hair braided, tied back off her face, atop a white horse. She’s transformed. She’s ready to settle the score with the Queen, yet the Huntsman’s flirtatious remark, “So you’re back from the dead and instigating the masses? You look very fetching in mail,” undercuts her, for lack of a better word, makeover. This flattery has no effect on her. Or, if it is supposed to, we can’t really tell with that one facial expression Stewart so expertly emotes. Should she want to look fetching? What does that say about male gender norms if the Huntsman isn’t threatened but aroused by Snow White’s cross-dressing or her newly-acquired “uppity” nature?
Snow White assumes the throne
As aforementioned, yes, this is a revenge fantasy and it is about to get epically Elektra. What does it mean when one woman storms another woman’s castle? Snow White is leaping through fire in slow motion, taking life after life as her braided ponytail whips through the flames. Strange womb re-entry images come to mind as Snow White penetrates the castle and makes her way its utmost interior where Ravenna awaits her, all hopped up the teenage girl life essence she’s been sucking down. She throws Snow White around the throne room with superhuman strength, until, in what is one of the most anti-climatic scenes, Snow White manages to pierce Ravenna’s heart. Fairest blood spilled for fairest blood. She withers instantly and dies. Snow White in her battle gear is reflected in Ravenna’s golden mirror, truly the fairest of them all. Coronation. Roll credits.
Snow White and the Huntsman is a nominee for Best Costume Design, thanks to the brilliant Colleen Atwood (think almost any Tim Burton film), who has been nominated nine times in the past and won three. Atwood’s breathtaking designs evoke a cold alchemy, a fusion of Norse and Celtic metalwork. Her crow costume, her talon jewelry—Charlize Theron she could not embody the raven in Ravenna without Atwood’s creations.
One does not think “Oscar” without thinking “Charlize Theron.” The woman is undoubtedly a force, having won Best Actress for her portrayal of Aileen Wuornos in 2003’s Monster, in which she looked anything but gorgeous. Theron’s stature and intensity make her Queen Ravenna the most fascinating, complex, twisted, neurotic, tortured, and beguiled “evil” queen to date (Although, Sigourney Weaver’s queen in a 1997 adaptation comes fairly close).
Sadly, whether or not this film is Oscar-worthy, part of its hype is due to Sanders-Stewart . Rupert Sanders, a 41-year-old married man when his first major motion picture debuted, allegedly engaged in some dalliance with Kristen Stewart, some nineteen years his junior. Whether or not anything occurred during filming, photos were taken of the two being friendly beyond the prescribed working relationship. No matter the circumstance, the “other” woman is always to blame. K-Stew, you temptress! Rupert Sanders’s wife is beautiful! They have children! The fact that he cast his wife in the role of Snow White’s mother adds another unsettling layer to the scandal. Sanders’s king paid the ultimate price for his lust, and although Stewart and Pattison are going strong, Sanders himself may not find work easy to come by as talks for further Snow White installments remain open.
———-
Carleen Tibbetts lives in San Francisco. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Word Riot, Metazen, Monkeybicycle, Coconut Poetry, and other journals.

2013 Oscar Week: Matriarchal Impositions of Beauty in ‘Snow White and the Huntsman’

Kristen Stewart and Charlize Theron star in Snow White and the Huntsman
Guest post written by Carleen Tibbetts.
Despite the various twists on the classic fairy tale, there is a definite constant in Snow White: women are their own worse enemies. The storyline is essentially the same: jealous, vain stepmother wants to oust stepdaughter who will one day surpass her in physical attractiveness. Stepmother fails. Stepdaughter’s kindness, beauty, and naivete prevail as she triumphs over her would-be destructor. Rupert Sanders’s Snow White and the Huntsman, however, is a different animal. Yes, at the heart (pun intended) of the story are still the female archetypes of beauty, female rivalry and jealousy, whether or not “true” love will make a woman complete, etc. Sanders’s version also explores, though not fully enough, the fragile nature of mother-daughter relationships. True, her mother wishes Snow White into existence based upon her own ideals of beauty, but it is also the child’s tenderness that moves her. When Snow White is still small, before her mother passes away, her mother places her hand over the girl’s chest and tells her she possesses a “rare beauty” there. When the “evil” queen was a young girl, her mother placed a spell, a curse, really, on her that her beauty would be her protector, her bargaining tool, and also her undoing. 
Both Snow White and her “evil” stepmother were taught to view their worth in terms of beauty. For Snow White, it was her compassion, her sweetness, and her soul. For the “evil” queen, it was how far she could get by on her looks. The ways in which both Snow White and Ravenna’s “beauty” are reflected their mother’s eyes lays the groundwork for their respective indifference to or obsession with their own attractiveness.
The “evil” Queen is this adaptation is still a shape-shifting sorceress, however she doesn’t transform into a sweet octogenarian to play to Snow White’s compassion to give her the poison apple. This queen tries to stave off the aging process at all costs, appears to Snow White under the guise of true love, preying on her lonely heart in order to rip it from her chest. Prince Charming in this instance is no prince. He’s a widowed brute drowning his grief in beer and bar brawls. Female assertion of power is so central here that the Huntsman needs no name. He could be any man. He’s disposable yet indispensable in this fairy tale revenge fantasy. 
Charlize Theron as Queen Ravenna
Charlize Theron’s Queen Ravenna comes to power by preying on a benevolent king’s nature and masquerading as a prisoner of war. The first time we see Ravenna (a flaxen-haired, sanguine, statuesque counterpart to Snow White), she is shackled, bound in a cart, covered in gold dust and fur. The king wants to save her, and does so by making her his victory prize. To the victor go the spoils. He wastes no time and marries her that day. On the wedding night, Ravenna decides she’s not down to consummate this thing. Her language quickly changes from addressing him as her “lord,” acquiescing to his kisses, to telling him that he and his gender are vile, shallow creatures. As the king tries to make love to her, Ravenna, a former trophy wife several times over, says, “Men use women. They ruin us. When they are finished with us, they toss us to the dogs like scraps.” Using her powers, she paralyzes the king in the middle of his attempt at seduction, completely emasculating him, and then murders him without hesitation. 
Queen Ravenna
Literally overnight, sacks her own kingdom. She immediately has young Snow White locked in a tower and begins to consult the infamous mirror on the wall. In this version of the story, the mirror is truly stand-apart. It’s a giant gold circle that offers Ravenna a wavering, distorted reflection. She demands to be left alone with the mirror and her insecurities. As she asks it the timeless question about her fairness, liquid gold pours out of the mirror and morphs into a humanoid form (Very T-1000) as it assures her she is the most gorgeous woman around. Ravenna’s beauty even bewitches her (albino with a Page Boy haircut) henchman brother. Ravenna rejuvenates herself by literally inhaling life force from young women she keeps on hand. Whenever a wrinkle starts to manifest, she sucks their purity and innocence from them. Medieval Botox.
Ravenna spends her days this way, depleting girls of their youth, taking milk baths, sporting amazing headwear, snacking on small animals and picking through their flesh with her talon jewelry (ala Pamela Love) while her brother looks on in adoration, etc. Inevitably, the day comes when the mirror tells Ravenna that Snow White has already one-upped her in the fairest department. The spell her mother placed on her as a child haunts her: “By fairest blood it is done, and by fairest blood it will be undone.” Ravenna sends brother dearest to help with Snow White’s de-hearting.
Kirsten Stewart as Snow White on a white horse
We get our first glimpse of Kristen Stewart as the grown Snow White in her locked cell getting snatches of sunlight through the window, playing with crudely fashioned toy dolls, and sharing “conversation” with small birds that flit by. She manages to escape via the sewage system into the sea and washes up on a beach where she is led to a clichéd white horse. The horse takes her as far as The Dark Forest, where, for some inexplicable reason, Ravenna’s powers do not work. The horse doesn’t survive, however, and Snow White wanders the forest distraught and disoriented.
Enter Chris Hemsworth as the (definitely alcoholic, possibly Scottish) Huntsman the Queen recruits to fetch Snow White and instead becomes her protector/guide/love interest. The awkward sexual tension between Stewart and Helmsworth manifests in scenes such as his cutting off the muddy tails of her dress, under which she’s already wearing pants. Although he tells her not to flatter herself and aside from the fact that the gesture is completely sexually loaded, it also frees her from some gender-specific dead weight (literally and figuratively). Stewart’s various garment changes somewhat reflect her character’s rather quick transformation from bewildered girl-woman to a self-actualized adult, which, for the most part, occurs in the company of her “protector” menfolk.
Snow White’s “protector” menfolk
After meeting the dwarves who explain to the Huntsman that she is indeed a princess who gives off the essence of “life itself,” Snow White’s childhood friend, William, enters the rotation. Upon learning she’s alive and on-the-run, he volunteers to help hunt her down, then turncoats and joins up with her and the other eight men at her service. A William-Huntsman-Snow White love triangle follows. Snow White and her boyfriends have wandered into a corner of the kingdom where Ravenna can get to them. Ravenna shape-shifts and appears to Snow White as William, her supposed true love, a love that Ravenna tells her will betray her as she tricks her with, yes, a poison apple. The Huntsman and William attempt to kill Ravenna, but she breaks apart into hundreds of ravens (hence, the name Ravenna) that fly back to the castle.
The Queen and her raven nature
What follows is an exquisite scene, possibly the best in the film, where Charlize Theron emerges from a gooey mass of black sludge, half-dead birds flopping around, feathers everywhere, as she returns to her human form, wrinkled, crawling toward her beloved mirror. Unable to get Snow White’s heart, Ravenna must up her human injectible count, so when we see her next, she’s glaring into the golden mirror as dozens of spent dead girls lie at her feet.
Meanwhile, Snow White seems to have kicked it. William tries to revive her with a kiss. Nada. Her body is brought to her loyal subjects so they can mourn their loss. Dressed in a white, almost bridal gown, barefoot, and laid out on a concrete slab, the Huntsman finds her the most beautiful when she is at her most vulnerable (read: female) state in the entire film. In his grief/sexual arousal, the Huntsman cries to that Snow White she reminds him of his dead wife in strength and spirit (ironically). Tears of “true” “love!” The spell is broken! There’s nothing a mostly-dead girl loves more than a man telling her she reminds him of his fully-dead wife! Apologies, William.
Fierce Snow White
Gone is the meek Snow White. She emerges from her death stupor fierce and ready for a good smiting. She rallies her male subjects to join her, screaming, “I will be your weapon!” Next, we see Stewart doing her best Joan of Arc with her hair braided, tied back off her face, atop a white horse. She’s transformed. She’s ready to settle the score with the Queen, yet the Huntsman’s flirtatious remark, “So you’re back from the dead and instigating the masses? You look very fetching in mail,” undercuts her, for lack of a better word, makeover. This flattery has no effect on her. Or, if it is supposed to, we can’t really tell with that one facial expression Stewart so expertly emotes. Should she want to look fetching? What does that say about male gender norms if the Huntsman isn’t threatened but aroused by Snow White’s cross-dressing or her newly-acquired “uppity” nature?
Snow White assumes the throne
As aforementioned, yes, this is a revenge fantasy and it is about to get epically Elektra. What does it mean when one woman storms another woman’s castle? Snow White is leaping through fire in slow motion, taking life after life as her braided ponytail whips through the flames. Strange womb re-entry images come to mind as Snow White penetrates the castle and makes her way its utmost interior where Ravenna awaits her, all hopped up the teenage girl life essence she’s been sucking down. She throws Snow White around the throne room with superhuman strength, until, in what is one of the most anti-climatic scenes, Snow White manages to pierce Ravenna’s heart. Fairest blood spilled for fairest blood. She withers instantly and dies. Snow White in her battle gear is reflected in Ravenna’s golden mirror, truly the fairest of them all. Coronation. Roll credits.
Snow White and the Huntsman is a nominee for Best Costume Design, thanks to the brilliant Colleen Atwood (think almost any Tim Burton film), who has been nominated nine times in the past and won three. Atwood’s breathtaking designs evoke a cold alchemy, a fusion of Norse and Celtic metalwork. Her crow costume, her talon jewelry—Charlize Theron she could not embody the raven in Ravenna without Atwood’s creations.
One does not think “Oscar” without thinking “Charlize Theron.” The woman is undoubtedly a force, having won Best Actress for her portrayal of Aileen Wuornos in 2003’s Monster, in which she looked anything but gorgeous. Theron’s stature and intensity make her Queen Ravenna the most fascinating, complex, twisted, neurotic, tortured, and beguiled “evil” queen to date (Although, Sigourney Weaver’s queen in a 1997 adaptation comes fairly close).
Sadly, whether or not this film is Oscar-worthy, part of its hype is due to Sanders-Stewart . Rupert Sanders, a 41-year-old married man when his first major motion picture debuted, allegedly engaged in some dalliance with Kristen Stewart, some nineteen years his junior. Whether or not anything occurred during filming, photos were taken of the two being friendly beyond the prescribed working relationship. No matter the circumstance, the “other” woman is always to blame. K-Stew, you temptress! Rupert Sanders’s wife is beautiful! They have children! The fact that he cast his wife in the role of Snow White’s mother adds another unsettling layer to the scandal. Sanders’s king paid the ultimate price for his lust, and although Stewart and Pattison are going strong, Sanders himself may not find work easy to come by as talks for further Snow White installments remain open.
———-
Carleen Tibbetts lives in San Francisco. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Word Riot, Metazen, Monkeybicycle, Coconut Poetry, and other journals.

2013 Oscar Week: A Thorn Like a Rose: War Witch (Rebelle)

Guest post written by Emily Campbell.

If you reel off its vital stats, War Witch sounds like a shoo-in for an Oscar.

It tackles the delicate topic of African child soldiers and was filmed entirely in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Its main character is a girl who bravely forges forward even though her life has more obstacles than The Hunger Games.
It stars a leading actress who grew up on the streets of Kinshasa and was cast at the age of 15.
It’s in French.
So why has it slipped under the radar?
After hosting an impromptu watch party, I posed the question to a few friends. “It’s because it’s Canadian. That and there are no white people,” one said.
“There are if you count the albino guy,” another countered, unwittingly opening a whole new can of worms.
Eventually the discussion culminated in a long, detailed dissection of the official Oscar nominees and it was concluded that, since there were already Best Picture nominations for a French language film (Amour) and two films about a young people of color overcoming adversity (Beasts of the Southern Wild and Life of Pi), there just weren’t any bases left for War Witch to cover. Despite being comprised of components that typically make the Academy salivate left and right, War Witch is nominated in only one category: Best Foreign Film, otherwise known as that part of the Oscars dedicated to movies only a handful of people have actually seen and several handfuls of people will inevitably decide to see but still probably never get around to it.
War Witch (2012) poster
Canada’s seventh nominee in this category, War Witch begins with a seemingly innocent narrative hook: the voiceover of a woman speaking to her unborn child. The camera pans through a Congolese village, where the residents live in houses constructed of everything from towels to tarpaulins and wear sandals made of plastic water bottles. Inside one of these ramshackle houses, a girl sits patiently while her mother braids her hair.
Within two minutes, everything takes a turn for the decidedly less innocent and never looks back.
It turns out the girl and the narrator are one and the same: Komona, age 12, is abducted from her village by rebel soldiers along with a handful of other children. In order to ensure the loyalty of their new recruits, the rebels eliminate any other contenders and waste no time in doing so, putting an AK-47 in Komona’s hands and instructing her to kill her parents.
“This is your mother,” her kidnappers say, passing around sticks for the children to practice gun-handling. “This is your father. Respect your guns. They’re your new mother and father.”
As a member of the Great Tiger’s rebel army, Komona is trained to do battle against the government alongside other kidnapped children. What sets her apart from them is her ability to see visions after drinking the “magic milk” from a certain tree—a gift that leads to her foreseeing and surviving a government attack. Ultimately, Komona’s visions catch the attention of the Great Tiger himself and, at age 13, she is anointed his personal war witch.
Throughout the course of the film, Komona’s voiceover continues narrating her story to her child. “Listen good when I talk to you because it’s very important that you know what I did before you come out of my belly,” she tells it. “Because when you come out, I don’t know if God will give me the strength to love you.”
War Witch delivers its share of chilling lines, such as Komona calmly explaining that she sees fallen soldiers not as dead bodies but as walking ghosts, or how a local butcher always keeps a pail at hand since every slice of his machete reminds him of what happened to his family and makes him want to vomit. But interspersed with the grimness are moments of levity. At one point, the child soldiers are watching a movie on a bus, yelling and clapping like kids on a school trip. At another, after Komona’s friend Magicien informs her it’s only a matter of time before her visions are faulty and the Great Tiger has her executed like the three witches before her, they flee the army together and Komona accepts his proposal of marriage. However, this is only after she requests that Magicien first bring her a white rooster (which her father once told her is the hardest thing to find in the country), a challenge he takes very seriously.
The brainchild of Montreal director Kim Nguyen, War Witch (billed as Rebelle in French) was filmed entirely in Kinshasa, after Nguyen had spent the past decade researching the plight of child soldiers in central Africa. “I learned that there are actually more women child soldiers than men,” he said, “which was surprising. What’s tragic, of course, is that they’re used as sexual slaves.”
Rachel Mwanza, who stars as Komona, has already racked up Best Actress awards from the Berlin Film Festival, the Tribeca Film Festival, and the Vancouver Film Critics Circle. She and Serge Kanyinda, who plays Magicien, have earned respective nominations for Best Actress and Best Supporting Actor at the 2013 Canadian Screen Awards. “This character is ten-dimensional,” Nguyen has said of Mwanza’s portrayal of Komona. “She’s a child but she’s an adult, she’s a killer and a victim, she’s a mother but she’s a child. You cannot imagine a more paradoxical figure.” But, as he relayed during a TIFF interview, War Witch’s accolades are far more an exception than a rule: “I had brutal answers that would tell me a Black main actor doesn’t sell.”
In only ninety minutes, War Witch packs a thousand punches. Komona is abducted at 12, a renowned war witch by 13, and pregnant by 14. Her loved ones are snatched away with ruthless precision and her time as a soldier leaves its marks in the form of Stockholm syndrome, post-traumatic stress, and an unborn child. Her superiors beat her, and even Magicien and his protective talismans can only prevent so much harm. The ghosts of her parents give her nightmares, urging her to return to her village and bury them. Inevitably, she becomes a product of her environment, learning to kill or be killed. This comes to a head during one especially harrowing scene wherein she becomes a “poisoned rose” in an effort to kill her commanding officer.
But War Witch is more than just atrocity layered on top of atrocity. There are allies: for a time, Magicien and Komona take shelter with Macigien’s uncle, who abhors the war and provides a safe haven. There’s ingenuity: in one of the film’s lighter moments, Macigien throws himself against the side of a passing van and kicks up a fuss about being injured until the bewildered driver quickly leaves him some money and speeds away. And there’s hope: Komona’s resilience leads to her turning on her commanders multiple times, with eventual success, and stubbornly seeking closure that seems forever just out of reach. 
And yet, it’s a Canadian film. No Canadian film has ever won Best Picture and only one (2003’s The Barbarian Invasions) has won Best Foreign Film. Only three Canadian actresses and one African actress have nabbed the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role. The Academy has also been known to neglect giving credit where it’s due, a fact that has even more unfortunate ramifications regarding actors of color. Black actresses have been nominated for Best Actress in a Leading Role a mere ten times, with Halle Berry’s 2001 turn in Monster’s Ball resulting in the solitary win. As noted in a study titled “Not Quite a Breakthrough: The Oscars and Actors of Color, 2002-2012,” no winner in any Oscar category has ever been Latino, Asian American, or Native American. More recently, Life of Pi’s Suraj Sharma, who carried the entire film by acting opposite a bluescreen and lost 20% of his body weight for the role and is only 17 years old, was passed over for a nomination although the film itself garnered eleven of them.
Actor Rachel Mwanza
As noted by Jorge Rivas in his 2012 article, an overwhelming majority of the Academy consists of white men. Rachel Mwanza, pictured above with the Silver Bear she won at the 2012 Berlin Film Festival, was the first African woman to do so. Mwanza is currently slated to star in the upcoming Marc-Henri Wajnberg-directed drama Kinshasa Kids.
———-

Emily Campbell has taught English on three continents, been involved with dubious theatrical productions on four, and recently acquired an M. Ed. on one. She has previously written a review of Cracks for Bitch Flicks and still not-so-secretly wants to be an Animorph when she grows up.

2013 Oscar Week: ‘Flight’s Unintentional Pro-Woman Message

Written by Lady T. 

Denzel Washington in Flight
Flight, directed by Robert Zemeckis and written by John Gatins, has a fascinating lead performance by Denzel Washington and an absolutely harrowing plane crash scene that will make you never want to fly again. It also has a poorly-conceived romance subplot with a character who is not so much a real woman as a distracting trope of a woman inserted to show a different side to the protagonist. No one who is looking for a Bechdel-passing thriller will want to pick up Flight, as there is gratuitous female nudity and few of the female characters are well-developed, to no fault of the capable actresses.
Yet despite the presence of exploitative nudity and poorly written female characters, I found one surprising, perhaps unintentional, feminist message in Flight, in the story involving Katerina Marquez, the female character with the least amount of development and screentime.
Flight opens with the morning after of a sexual encounter between pilot Whip Whitaker (Denzel Washington) and flight attendant Katerina Marquez (Nadine Velazquez). (There is female nudity but no male nudity, because of course there is, and the lingering shots on her body are pure male fantasy/objectification.) Based on their brief conversation, we learn that Whip and Katerina seem to like each other well enough, but the sex was definitely on physical attraction and no real emotional connection. We also learn that they drank – a lot – the night before the flight.
Later in the day, the passengers board the flight, Katerina helps them to their seats, and Whip mixes several mini-bottles of vodka into his drink, making it clear that he has a serious problem with alcohol and thinks nothing of how his behavior might affect the safety of the passengers.
When the plane starts to fall apart, though, Whip is an absolute master at the helm, remaining calm and controlled and guiding the plane to safety. Katerina, meanwhile, notices a child passenger who has fallen out of his seat when the plane turned upside down. She unbuckles her own seat belt, crawls to the other side of the plane, and puts the child back in his chair, strapping him back in.

Nadine Velazquez as Katerine Marquez and Tamara Tunie as Margaret Thomason in Flight
This is the moment where I decided that I liked Flight, even if it is a very flawed film from both an artistic and feminist perspective, because the script recognizes that human beings are complex, not completely good or completely evil. Whip and Katerina both drank before the flight (and Whip during, which is even worse), but they’re still both capable of acts of great heroism.
During more turbulence, Katerina falls, breaks her neck, and dies. (A review at Bitch magazine decries this dramatic choice as an example of the “woman who has sex in a horror movie dies first” cliche, which I feel entirely misses the point and is downright insulting to a character who died in the line of duty, saving a kid’s life.) Whip survives, though with many serious injuries.
The rest of the film is focused on Whip’s journey as the controversy surrounding the plane crash is hyped in the media, and he goes under investigation. We learn that Whip’s pilot skills are indeed magnificent, and that he saved 96 out of the 102 passengers on board. At the same time, the script and Washington never let him off the hook for his terrible behavior. As the story unfolds, Whip grows increasingly arrogant, reckless, addicted, and dangerous, repeating over and over again that “they gave him a broken plane,” as though this absolves him from drinking/snorting cocaine while flying.

Whip addressing the press outside his ex-wife’s house
Whip finally attends his National Transportation Safety Board hearing (while drunk and on cocaine), where the lead investigator Ellen Block (played by Melissa Leo) reveals that the cause of the plane crash was a damaged jackscrew in the elevator assembly. The crash is in no way Whip’s fault. Sitting in the hearing, even while drunk and pretending not to be, Whip feels as though he’s in the clear.
Then Block drops an unexpected bomb on his head: the empty vodka bottles were found on the plane. Only the flight crew had access to the alcohol on board, and Katerina Marquez’s toxicology report tested positive for alcohol. She asks Whip if he thinks Katerina drank the vodka.
My stomach twisted in nausea when Block asked this question, because I knew exactly what would happen if Whip let Katerina take the fall for the vodka bottles. The media would go into a frenzy. The story about the broken plane would turn into the story of the drunk slut of a flight attendant whose reckless behavior almost ruined the reputation of a decent man who saved the lives of ninety people. Katerina’s rescue of the child on the plane would go largely unnoticed. The media would tarnish her name, all too eager to sink their claws into another story about a fallen woman.
It would be all too easy for Whip to lie. He’s lied already to everyone around him, including himself. The rest of his career rides on this lie. Katerina’s career won’t be ruined if he lies; she’s already dead. There is nothing to stop him from lying — except his conscience.

Whip right before (eventually) doing the right thing
For whatever reason, Whip can’t lie. When confronted with Katerina’s face, he can’t continue with his charade. After struggling with himself and muttering “God help me” under his breath, he says, “No, Katerina did not drink the vodka…because I drank the vodka.” The consequences are swift: his reputation is ruined, his career is over, and he has to serve time in jail, but his conscience is a little clearer now.
Whip refusing to blame Katerina is not a heroic act on his part; it’s simply Whip taking long-overdue responsibility for his actions. But living in a world that blames women for their own rape and abuse, a world that shames women for stepping outside of their prescribed roles, that punishes mistakes any mistakes women make, that finds excuses for famous athletes who rape women and kill their girlfriends, I felt gratified to see a male character refuse to tarnish a woman’s name, even at personal cost to himself.
Katerina is not a character we get to know very well. She only exists in the plot to serve as a parallel to Whip, and she’s naked for no real reason at the beginning of the film. All the same, I appreciated that the male lead acknowledges Katerina’s humanity and her worth as a person. He acknowledges that she doesn’t deserve to have her reputation dragged through the mud. Even though her character is killed early in the film, she is not treated as disposable, because women do not deserve to be treated as disposable. I’m uncertain that this message was intentional on the part of the team who created Flight, but I’m grateful for it all the same. 

———-

Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen.

2013 Oscar Week: ‘Flight’s Unintentional Pro-Woman Message

Written by Lady T. 

Denzel Washington in Flight
Flight, directed by Robert Zemeckis and written by John Gatins, has a fascinating lead performance by Denzel Washington and an absolutely harrowing plane crash scene that will make you never want to fly again. It also has a poorly-conceived romance subplot with a character who is not so much a real woman as a distracting trope of a woman inserted to show a different side to the protagonist. No one who is looking for a Bechdel-passing thriller will want to pick up Flight, as there is gratuitous female nudity and few of the female characters are well-developed, to no fault of the capable actresses.
Yet despite the presence of exploitative nudity and poorly written female characters, I found one surprising, perhaps unintentional, feminist message in Flight, in the story involving Katerina Marquez, the female character with the least amount of development and screentime.
Flight opens with the morning after of a sexual encounter between pilot Whip Whitaker (Denzel Washington) and flight attendant Katerina Marquez (Nadine Velazquez). (There is female nudity but no male nudity, because of course there is, and the lingering shots on her body are pure male fantasy/objectification.) Based on their brief conversation, we learn that Whip and Katerina seem to like each other well enough, but the sex was definitely on physical attraction and no real emotional connection. We also learn that they drank – a lot – the night before the flight.
Later in the day, the passengers board the flight, Katerina helps them to their seats, and Whip mixes several mini-bottles of vodka into his drink, making it clear that he has a serious problem with alcohol and thinks nothing of how his behavior might affect the safety of the passengers.
When the plane starts to fall apart, though, Whip is an absolute master at the helm, remaining calm and controlled and guiding the plane to safety. Katerina, meanwhile, notices a child passenger who has fallen out of his seat when the plane turned upside down. She unbuckles her own seat belt, crawls to the other side of the plane, and puts the child back in his chair, strapping him back in.

Nadine Velazquez as Katerine Marquez and Tamara Tunie as Margaret Thomason in Flight
This is the moment where I decided that I liked Flight, even if it is a very flawed film from both an artistic and feminist perspective, because the script recognizes that human beings are complex, not completely good or completely evil. Whip and Katerina both drank before the flight (and Whip during, which is even worse), but they’re still both capable of acts of great heroism.
During more turbulence, Katerina falls, breaks her neck, and dies. (A review at Bitch magazine decries this dramatic choice as an example of the “woman who has sex in a horror movie dies first” cliche, which I feel entirely misses the point and is downright insulting to a character who died in the line of duty, saving a kid’s life.) Whip survives, though with many serious injuries.
The rest of the film is focused on Whip’s journey as the controversy surrounding the plane crash is hyped in the media, and he goes under investigation. We learn that Whip’s pilot skills are indeed magnificent, and that he saved 96 out of the 102 passengers on board. At the same time, the script and Washington never let him off the hook for his terrible behavior. As the story unfolds, Whip grows increasingly arrogant, reckless, addicted, and dangerous, repeating over and over again that “they gave him a broken plane,” as though this absolves him from drinking/snorting cocaine while flying.

Whip addressing the press outside his ex-wife’s house
Whip finally attends his National Transportation Safety Board hearing (while drunk and on cocaine), where the lead investigator Ellen Block (played by Melissa Leo) reveals that the cause of the plane crash was a damaged jackscrew in the elevator assembly. The crash is in no way Whip’s fault. Sitting in the hearing, even while drunk and pretending not to be, Whip feels as though he’s in the clear.
Then Block drops an unexpected bomb on his head: the empty vodka bottles were found on the plane. Only the flight crew had access to the alcohol on board, and Katerina Marquez’s toxicology report tested positive for alcohol. She asks Whip if he thinks Katerina drank the vodka.
My stomach twisted in nausea when Block asked this question, because I knew exactly what would happen if Whip let Katerina take the fall for the vodka bottles. The media would go into a frenzy. The story about the broken plane would turn into the story of the drunk slut of a flight attendant whose reckless behavior almost ruined the reputation of a decent man who saved the lives of ninety people. Katerina’s rescue of the child on the plane would go largely unnoticed. The media would tarnish her name, all too eager to sink their claws into another story about a fallen woman.
It would be all too easy for Whip to lie. He’s lied already to everyone around him, including himself. The rest of his career rides on this lie. Katerina’s career won’t be ruined if he lies; she’s already dead. There is nothing to stop him from lying — except his conscience.

Whip right before (eventually) doing the right thing
For whatever reason, Whip can’t lie. When confronted with Katerina’s face, he can’t continue with his charade. After struggling with himself and muttering “God help me” under his breath, he says, “No, Katerina did not drink the vodka…because I drank the vodka.” The consequences are swift: his reputation is ruined, his career is over, and he has to serve time in jail, but his conscience is a little clearer now.
Whip refusing to blame Katerina is not a heroic act on his part; it’s simply Whip taking long-overdue responsibility for his actions. But living in a world that blames women for their own rape and abuse, a world that shames women for stepping outside of their prescribed roles, that punishes mistakes any mistakes women make, that finds excuses for famous athletes who rape women and kill their girlfriends, I felt gratified to see a male character refuse to tarnish a woman’s name, even at personal cost to himself.
Katerina is not a character we get to know very well. She only exists in the plot to serve as a parallel to Whip, and she’s naked for no real reason at the beginning of the film. All the same, I appreciated that the male lead acknowledges Katerina’s humanity and her worth as a person. He acknowledges that she doesn’t deserve to have her reputation dragged through the mud. Even though her character is killed early in the film, she is not treated as disposable, because women do not deserve to be treated as disposable. I’m uncertain that this message was intentional on the part of the team who created Flight, but I’m grateful for it all the same. 

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Lady T is a writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at www.theresabasile.com.

2013 Oscar Week: The Women in Whip Whitaker’s Life: Representations of Female Characters in ‘Flight’

Guest post written by Martyna Przybysz.
It is difficult to talk about strong female characters in a film, where one male actor overtakes the screen completely. Flight is indeed a tour de force performance by ever so excellent Denzel Washington. His protagonist, Captain Whip Whitaker is a pilot with many years of experience, and I am not necessarily referring to flying here – he’s become an expert on covering up his abuse of alcohol and drugs while on duty. 
The opening scene finds Whip in a hotel room with his co-worker, and lover, an attractive and visibly younger than him flight attendant, Katerina, as they awake at the crack of dawn after what looks like a heavy night of alcohol and sex. With its brave nudity, and seeming objectification of a female body, the scene sets the tone of the film, or rather introduces us to our leading man – middle aged, evidently hedonistic, as well as arrogant and reckless in his approach to work, and, well, life. It is hard to shake off the feeling that Nadine Velazquez (known to some as ditzy and very likeable Didi from the CW Network’s show ‘Hart of Dixie’) fills in a stereotypical role of a young hot ethnic woman, and her nude body only accentuates the male lead’s aforementioned characteristics. It later becomes apparent that Whip has a tendency to go for younger women of different ethicities, but sadly, interracial relationship element never develops into a discourse here. It is the substance abuse that is placed at the heart of each relationship that Whip has with women in the film. 
Katerina is not just any sexy Latina to Whip – she’s his partner in crime, a relapsing acoholic and a confidante of sorts, who covers up for Whip’s addiction, as well as hiding her own. His relationships with women for that matter are nothing but simple – as the director wants us to believe – but on screen they fall short of that ambition, and simply feel flat. What he has with Katerina is ended abruptly by the plane crash. At first glance, it’s a casual arrangement between the two, but we are later left wondering whether it is really just that. The cues are perhaps hidden in the way Whip’s friend, Charlie, looks at him when the NTSB delivers the news of two fatalities on the crew (one being ‘Trina’, as referred to by Whip), or it may be those few moments later when he quietly sheds a few tears when left alone in the room. And it is in relation to Katerina that Whip feels an enormous sense of guilt, that subsequently makes him break the vicious circle of lies: ‘Katerina Marquez did not drink the vodka, because I drunk the vodka’ he confesses. 
There is also a cliched ex-wife figure lingering somewhere in the background. Deana (played by Garcelle Beauvais) is the ‘one that got away’, and the one who probably got hurt the most by Whip’s self-destruction. It’s one of those ‘he never got sober for her, so he lost her’ stories, and we have heard it all before. Then, there is a loving mother figure and a loyal colleague, Margaret (Tamara Tunie) – a woman who, in a seeming resignation, for years of working together with Whip watches as he drinks himself into oblivion. We never really find out whether she stays loyal or moral, and that is how yet another female figure in Whip’s life dissolves into the background. Finally, in the films most poignant scene, Melissa Leo, in a role that feels more like a cameo – she is only on screen for about 10 minutes – is Ellen Block, a NTSB’s Hearing Officer for Whitaker’s hearing. She is the only female character in ‘Flight’ that demonstrates some traces of depth – she is confident yet composed, direct but subtle in her approach. She already knows the answer to her questions, but could it be sadness and compassion that we see in her eyes as she looks at Whip as he admits to his crimes? 
I would like to think that, as the only real ally that Whip has had in a female up to this point was a rather unconvincing Kelly Reilly’s Nicole. A character previously described by critics as “lyrically melancholic” and a “fragile heroin addict who embraces rehab and Whitaker at the same time, with patchy results.” And rightly so, because the central love story between the two is devoid of romance. Yes, there is an element of some kind of higher power bringing them together – they meet at the hospital stairwell, and after listening to a rather unconventional cupid, a dying cancer patient, Nicole says to Whip: ‘That was a trip, ha? He made me feel like, I don’t know, like you and me were the last people left on this planet’. There is also a theme of ‘sameness’, a common ground – her relationship with a needle is analogical to the one Whip has with a bottle of vodka. But Nicole is a few steps ahead of Whip, she has already faced her problems and is desperate to redeem her mistakes. It isn’t until the morning after she comes home to Whip pass out drunk on the floor (only to repositions his chin so that he doesn’t choke on his own vomit) that we learn that in fact, Nicole does have a bit of a personality. Or does she? It is all rather bleak, very underwritten, and however she may exhibit some hugely likeable (by nerds like myself) traces of being a melancholic artistic soul – it is all too dubious to put one’s finger on it, let alone relate to. 
I did like how unobtrusive she remains throughout her slowly developing bond with Whip, however frail that bond may seem. On the other hand, that is what proves how self-absorbed she actually is (both of them are in fact!) – helping Whip is not really on her agenda, because she is the one looking for acceptance and love. It may be that she sees what she is looking for in him, because, and in spite of, the demons that they are both dealing with. This would then make this into a beautiful tale of love and redemption, but that is an entirely different movie, and it certainly wouldn’t be called Flight. However predictable in terms of the direction the relationship is heading towards (Whip fesses up, she visits in jail, all live happily ever after), I give kudos to the writer John Gatins for the effort put into creating an unconventional romantic subplot, however superfluous. And to the casting director for allowing us to indulge in the redhead beauty that Kelly is. It is still however disappointing that for a film with so many female characters the potential for developing at least one soulful female protagonist was pretty much wasted. I would like to blame it on Denzel and his breathtaking performance, but for the love of Denzel…may I blame the scriptwriter? 
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Martyna Przybysz is a Pole, living in London, UK. She works in media and the arts. A sucker for portrait photography and a salted caramel cheesecake. This is her blog: http://martynaprzybysz.tumblr.com.

2013 Oscar Week: More Royal Than Affair

A Royal Affair (2012)
Guest post written by Atima Omara-Alwala.
Anyone reading the synopsis of A Royal Affair wonders if it will be more of the same. I mean what else can be said about a high-born woman trapped in loveless marriage to an awful unsophisticated idiot who finds love in the arms of an enlightened dashing sensitive man? (Looking at you Keira Knightley, in The Duchess or let’s be real, any movie about Marie Antoinette). However it is saved by actually not being about the affair but a story of the fight for enlightenment and freedom. These ideals are at the center of Danish director Nikolaj Arcel’s film, which is based on the lives of Danish King Christian VII, his wife and Queen Caroline, Mathilde, and their royal physician, Dr. Johan Streunsee. 
The protagonist is Caroline Mathilde (Alice Viksander), who is the primary orator of the movie. We find her in exile in an undescribed place where she begins to write her story to her children. Caroline, who is English by birth, is betrothed at a young age to the equally young King Christian VII (Mikkel Følsgaard) of Denmark. Though the story does not go into great detail about her family origin, she is the youngest child of the then-ruling British royal family. 
Being a young woman of royal birth, the best that women of Caroline’s station can hope for is a powerful marriage, with love as a luxury. This expectation is driven home in the scene where Caroline frets over whether her husband should like her. Her mother, actually trying to be very kind, says, “Dear, if you are able to get your husband into your bed on your wedding night, you will be a great success.” 
And so with that Caroline’s married life begins as she is sent to a foreign land she has never visited to a place with a language she barely speaks. King Christian the VII as a husband leaves much to be desired. He is relatively childish and awkward but, beyond that, something is mentally off about him. His mental instability is made apparent in a scene where King Christian’s stepmother, the Queen Dowager Juliane Marie (Trine Dyrholm), warns him his wife’s prettiness and artistic abilities can eclipse his reign. Very suddenly, Christian moves from happiness to anger, as he takes his insecurity out on Caroline in front of their guests and demands that she “move her fat thighs” away from the piano she is playing for guests. A real Prince Charming, to be sure. Caroline, justifiably, is horrified into shocked silence as is everyone else in the room. The King’s mental capability and his mercurial nature becomes an important player in the film later. 
The following wedding night scene is so painfully awkward you can’t help but feel sorry for Caroline right away. Thankfully, the filmmaker saves us from the rest of the inartful consummation by fading to black. The unhappy marriage is summed up very quickly in the next few scenes as her only solace is her friendship with lady-in-waiting, Louise Von Plessen who is sent away eventually. Christian VII is revealed to not only be verbally abusive but a heavy drinker, carouser and frequenter of Copenhagen’s finer houses with ladies of ill-repute. All of which rightfully disgusts and angers Caroline but she endures with relative matriarchal silence. Eventually, Caroline completes her most important royal duty and becomes pregnant with her first child and heir to the throne Frederik. 
Around this time, enters Dr. Johan Struensee (Mads Mikkelsen, a former Bond villain in 2006’s Casino Royale!). What is interesting about Johann is that besides being a doctor he is also a man of the Enlightenment movement that is sweeping the continent. A well-read man, Johann bonds with the king over their mutual love of Shakespeare. It is for this major reason he is selected to be the royal physician and then elevated to overall trusted adviser. 
King Christian’s irritation with his wife’s continued moodiness over their marriage leads to him encouraging Johann to give his wife a checkup to find out what exactly ails her, so she can be more “fun” in the King’s words. 
In her own right, Caroline has an excellent education and it is revealed before she came to Denmark that she also enjoyed the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, and other idols of the Enlightenment. Her bond forms with Johann, whom she has regarded with suspicion and complicit in her husband’s behavior, when she realizes he has smuggled and hidden many of these banned writers’ books into Denmark. In Johann, Caroline finds someone who can understand her, and in her Johann instantly respects a woman he greatly underestimated as clearly just another pretty and mindless royal wife. The bond is further cemented when Johann convinces the King and Queen that their son and heir, Frederic,k needs to be vaccinated from smallpox, something never done, but Johann successfully does also gaining him admirers at Court. 
While Johann and Caroline eventually enter into the expected royal affair, the story becomes more about what their illicit partnership cultivated. Johann often accompanies the King to his Council meetings where the conservative Council men enact oppressive rulings of the state of Denmark. Due to his clear mental incapabilities, the Council treats the King like a puppet. And Johann and Caroline are both frustrated by the Council’s anti-Enlightenment, conservative, aristocratic policies of censorship and the unequal rights of men etc. It is Caroline who reminds Johann of his power over the impressionable King. And it is then that the light turns on for Johann of how the King can be used to promote a greater good. 
And so it unfolds, King Christian, through the influence of Caroline and Johann’s affair, becomes the arbiter of the Enlightenment movement in Denmark. He abolishes the conservative Council, establishes freedom of the press, ends prison torture, etc. Denmark becomes a pioneering country in freedom even at the notice of Voltaire himself. Like Caroline and Johann, strangely even King Christian appears most happy during this time, as Johann is careful with his power over the King encouraging him to think actively and use his power as king but for enlightenment ideals. The political intrigue and fight for power is at the heart of this film as both Caroline and Johann fight for control from the conservative council with the King as their proxy. 
Like all movements challenging the status quo, the conservative Council challenges the ideals of the Enlightenment celebrated by Caroline and Johann and their informal salon they have gathered around them. For US viewers the conservative Council’s arguments against social reforms is very familiar.. “Where is the money?” “Must be paid for” etc. And certainly viewers around the world can related to the ideals of equality and freedom. The unfolding chess match, with the mentally unstable King as its chess piece, has its consequences finally as the conservative council reaches a major checkmate against Queen Caroline and Dr. Streunsee. Caroline and Christinan’s enemy at the court, Queen Dowager Juliane Marie discovers her infidelity through the questioned birth of Caroline’s second child, Louisa. 
The consequences of political infighting and manipulation even for a greater good plays itself out in a less than idealistic fashion and as a result we find Caroline back as we did at the start of the movie, in exile, penning the final pieces of her story to her children, in hopes they at least understand, if not accept her motivations. What the children do with that knowledge makes for an interesting ending. 
This movie is Oscar worthy and passes the feminist smell test because A) Despite the title has “affair” in it has surprisingly little gratuitous sex in it, especially at the expense of Caroline. B) She controls the narrative and not someone else which is often the case with women who end up in her situation (read: Henry VIII’s unlucky wives) C) She is an equal partner in the Enlightenment discussion with Johann. D) it is less about an affair and is more about the coming together of two unlikely revolutionaries whose intellectual partnership became a major historical turning point for a nation’s history and political system. 
While Alice Viksander didn’t carry a ton of emotional range as Queen Caroline she does command your respect, and your interest in the movie to the very end.

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Atima Omara-Alwala is a political strategist and activist of 10 years who has served as staff on 8 federal and local political campaigns and other progressive causes. Atima’s work has had a particular focus on women’s political empowerment & leadership, reproductive justice, health care, communities of color and how gender and race is reflected in pop culture. Her writings on the topics have also been featured at Ms. Magazine, Women’s Enews, RH Reality Check.


2013 Oscar Week: Acting Up: A Review of ‘How to Survive a Plague’

Guest post written by Diana Suber.

At the beginning of the AIDS epidemic, I was a child and only vaguely aware of the crisis as hundreds of people, mostly young gay men at that time, were dying from an unknown virus with no cure in sight. As a teen in the late eighties and early nineties, I do remember seeing the “Silence = Death” posters, t-shirts, and buttons with the iconic pink triangle, but I realize now that I did not know the full scope of what it all meant. So I was intrigued to watch the documentary How to Survive a Plague directed by journalist David France. Nominated this year for an Oscar in the Best Documentary Feature category, How to Survive a Plague chronicles the organization ACT UP (AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power) and its offshoot TAG (Treatment Action Group) from 1987 to 1996 and these organizations’ dedicated efforts to pressure the United States government and other authorities to prioritize HIV/AIDS research and treatment and to approach the epidemic as a healthcare emergency and not merely an isolated scourge among homosexual men.

“Silence = Death”
The principal setting of the film is Greenwich Village, New York, considered to be “ground zero” of the HIV/AIDS activist movement, where activists meet to organize, having been motivated to stop their friends, family members, lovers, and themselves from dying. The film is rich in archival footage of ACT UP and TAG meetings, protests against the federal and local government and various agencies such as the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and the National Institutes of Health (NIH), and interviews with ACT UP and TAG activists at the forefront of the movement, including Peter Staley, Mark Harrington, and David Barr, just to name a few. Many of the activists featured in the film are white gay men; yet almost all of them attributed the long-term success of the movement to Dr. Iris Long, a straight woman and chemist, who gave the activists a crash course in drug testing protocols and working through the FDA/NIH bureaucracy. Other women activists featured in the film include Garance Franke-Ruta, Ann Northrop, and Dr. Ellen Cooper.

Director David France, who was a journalist at the time these events were unfolding, has said that his goal as a journalist and then as a filmmaker was to bear witness. Consequently, the film is a very detailed account of the power of grassroots activism. Not only did these activists–gay and straight, young and old, male and female, healthy and dying–use protest in the streets as a means of garnering attention to what activist and playwright Larry Kramer described as a plague that was killing hundreds of thousands, but they educated themselves and became experts on medical research, experts at navigating the bureaucracy of drug testing and drug approval protocols, experts on creating policies for the treatment of HIV/AIDS patients, experts at wrangling the media, and experts at placing pressure on key decision-makers in the FDA and NIH. The activists also partnered with and prodded drug companies to find and manufacture drugs to treat the disease. In fact, ACT UP and TAG’s open dialogue with scientists at pharmaceutical companies like Merck & Co. ultimately lead to the discovery of the combinations of protease inhibitors which have stopped HIV/AIDS from being a death sentence.

Although the movement was very successful, it was not without its drawbacks. Activists interviewed stated great disappointment when drugs for which they had advocated for and invested much time and resources did not ultimately work on the virus or its symptoms. Many activists did not survive to see the fruits of their labor realized. Indeed, a very poignant part of the film is when activists march to the White House, occupied at that time by President George H. W. Bush, and dump the ashes of their loved-ones on the lawn while yelling “Shame!” The documentary also explores some of the internal politics and strife that occurred within ACT-UP over the years as personalities clashed over the direction and focus of the movement. This strife led to a segment of ACT-UP leadership breaking off and forming TAG. Fortunately, neither organization allowed politics to derail their existence or the ultimate goal.

To his credit, France tempers the emotional frustration and urgency that permeates the film with moments of humor. One of my favorite scenes was footage of TAG activists placing a giant condom over the home of the late Senator Jesse Helms. And as I watched other archival footage of protesters with signs saying “Healthcare is a Right” scrolling across the screen, I was struck by how much the echoes of the past tend to reverberate in the present. The activists featured in this film — through their tireless work, their courage, and their deafening lack of silence — saved millions of lives. (The film states that more than 6 million lives have been saved since 1996 when the three-drug combination of protease inhibitors was identified as a viable treatment). But the fight is not over because there is still no cure for HIV/AIDS, the virus is still spreading worldwide especially among communities of color, and millions of people cannot afford and/or have no access to the life-prolonging drugs that are now available. And so the greatest take-away from How to Survive a Plague is the knowledge that silence is still not an option.

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Diana Suber is a movie-loving lawyer who lives in Atlanta. She writes movie reviews and other thoughts on film at her blog http://www.atlflickchick.com/.

2013 Oscar Week: ‘Brave’ and the Legacy of Female Prepubescent Power Fantasies

Written by Amanda Rodriguez.
I liked Disney Pixar’s Brave well enough. It’s pretty enough. It’s a story about a mother and daughter, and there was no romance, both of which are nice; though, as I’ll show, neither are as uncommon as they might initially appear. I didn’t find the feminist qualities of this movie to be particularly impressive. Brave is actually situated within a somewhat prolific trope of female prepubescent power fantasy tales. Within this trope, young girls are allowed and even encouraged to be strong, assertive, creative, and heroes of their own stories. I call them “feminism lite” because these characters are only afforded this power because they are girl children who are unthreatening in their prepubescent, pre-sexualized state.
Let’s consider a few examples.
First, we’ve got Matilda, a film based on the eponymous novel by Roald Dahl. This story is about a genius six-year-old girl who realizes she has telekinetic powers. Matilda is brave and kind to those who deserve it and punishes authority figures who take advantage of their positions of power. This story, similar to Brave, is about the budding (surrogate) mother/daughter relationship between Matilda and her kindergarten teacher, Miss Honey. They find idyllic happiness at the end of the film when they adopt each other to form their own little family.
“I can feel the strongness. I feel like I can move almost anything in the world.” – Matilda
Then there’s Harriet the Spy, based on the book by Louise Fitzhugh, about an inquisitive, imaginative girl who learns the power of her voice and how her words affect others. Another potent mother/daughter bond is featured between Harriet and her nanny, Golly.
“You’re an individual, and that makes people nervous. And it’s gonna keep making people nervous for the rest of your life.” – Golly
We can’t forget Pippi Longstocking, based on the book series by Astrid Lindgren. Pippi is independent and adventurous with a slew of fantastical stories. She also has incredible physical strength, exotic pets, and teaches her friends Tommy and Annika that just because the trio are children, doesn’t mean experiences and desires should be denied them.
“I’m Pippilotta Delicatessa Windowshade Longstocking, daughter of Captain Efraim Longstocking, Pippi for short.” – Pippi
There’s also Whale Rider based on the book by Witi Ihimaera. Pai is a determined young girl who wants to become the chief of her Māori tribe, but that is forbidden because she’s a girl. With wisdom and vision, Pai strives to unite and lead her people into the future. She is dedicated, stubborn and perseveres, showing she has the uncanny spiritual ability to speak with (and ride) whales.
“My name is Paikea Apirana, and I come from a long line of chiefs…I know that our people will keep going forward, all together, with all of our strength.” – Pai
One of my personal favorites is Pan’s Labyrinth (or El Labertino del Fauno meaning “The Labyrinth of the Faun” in Spanish). Interestingly, Pan’s Labyrinth is the first on our list that wasn’t based on a book, as it was written and directed by Guillermo del Toro. The film takes place in post Civil War Spain with young Ofelia as our heroine. She is forced to live with her fascist captain stepfather who hunts down rebels while her mother languishes in a difficult pregnancy. Totally isolated, Ofelia retreats into a dark fantasy world replete with fairies, fauns, and child-eating monsters. In this world (that may or may not truly exist), she is a long-lost immortal underworld princess trying to make her way home. Throughout the tale, Ofelia forms a strong connection with Merecedes, a kitchen maid who is not only secretly a rebel spy, but is brave and crazy badass. Ofelia is intelligent, defiant, loyal, and ultimately self-sacrificing. 
“Hello. I am Princess Moanna, and I am not afraid of you.” – Ofelia
All of these stories validate young female agency because all these girls are prepubescent. They are too young and too physically underdeveloped to be objectified or vilified for their sexuality. There are tales that continue to advocate for the empowerment of their slightly older heroines despite their budding sexuality. These are pseudo coming-of-age films. I say “pseudo” here because the main characters don’t actually become sexual beings.
A great contemporary example of a pseudo coming-of-age tale is the action-thriller Hanna, starring the talented Saoirse Ronan as a 14-year-old CIA experiment with enhanced DNA to make her the optimal weapon. She is trained in arctic isolation and is therefore unsocialized and unschooled in the ways of the world. Most of the film centers around her mission to kill Cate Blanchett’s evil CIA agent character, Marissa. However, there is an interlude when Hanna befriends brash young Sophie who is eager to grow up. The two sneak out and go dancing, and a boy kisses Hanna. Our young heroine is at first intrigued and even enraptured by the experience, but she ends up knocking the boy to the ground and nearly breaking his neck. Later, there is also sexual tension between Hanna and Sophie as the two lie next to each other in a tent, falling asleep, but nothing comes of it. These are examples of Hanna’s awakening sexuality, which the film insinuates may ultimately be terrifying in its power and lack of boundaries. Hanna, though, is still young and chooses her father and his indoctrination over her own self-discovery.  
“Kissing requires a total of thirty-four facial muscles.” – Hanna
Not to forget Jim Hanson’s classic Labyrinth starring Jennifer Connelly as Sarah, a teenager who is enthralled by the fantasy of the Labyrinth along with its alluring goblin king, Jereth (aka David Bowie in an impressive Tina Turner mullet wig). Sarah withdraws from her family, yearning for adventure and romance while hating her obligation to babysit her “screaming baby” brother, Toby, so she calls on the goblin king to take the boy away. She then spends the rest of the movie trying to get the toddler back. Jareth attempts to seduce her into forgetting the child and being his goblin queen, which is what Sarah initially wanted, but, in the end, she chooses her family and fantastical goblin friends over love, romance, and her sexuality. When she says to her goblin friends, “I need you; I need you all,” she is affirming that she’s not ready for adulthood and wants to remain a child a bit longer. Her intact innocence is what allows her to be uncomplicatedly triumphant, to assert her equality with and independence from Jareth.
“For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great. You have no power over me!” – Sarah
To be empowered, all the aforementioned heroines must remain perpetually young, fixed forever in their prepubescent state within the reels of their films. Once our heroines become sexual teens, their power is overwhelmingly defined by their sexuality, and/or their worth is determined by their body’s objectification. In fact, many of these tales are no longer fantasies, but horror movies (or movies that have horror qualities) that demonize female sexual awakenings. 

I don’t even want to disgrace the hallowed web pages of Bitch Flicks with an obvious account of the worthless Twilight series that equates female sexuality with death and advocates teen pregnancy over reproductive rights. However, Bella is a prime example of a young woman whose own self-value is dependent on how the male characters view her. She is the apex of a noxious love triangle, and her desirability defines her, creating the entire basis of the poorly acted, poorly produced saga.

“It’s like diamonds…you’re beautiful.” – Bella re: Edward’s sparkly skin. Gag, Puke, Retch

Ginger Snaps clearly fits the mold of the vilification of budding female sexuality. Ginger gets her period for the first time and is therefore attacked by a werewolf. The attack has rape connotations, implying that Ginger wouldn’t have been as enticing to the wolf if she weren’t yet sexual, especially since her mousy sister Brigitte is spared. Ginger goes through a series of changes, becoming sexually aggressive and promiscuous. When she has unprotected sex with a boy, turning him into a werewolf, this further underscores the connection between Ginger’s monstrous lycanthropy and her unchecked sexuality. There’s also a great deal of sexual tension between Ginger and her sister, Brigitte, suggesting that her sexuality is boundless and therefore frightening.  


“I get this ache…and I, I thought it was for sex, but it’s to tear everything to fucking pieces.” – Ginger

Lastly, we have the pseudo-feminist film Teeth about a young girl who grows teeth on her vagina (vagina dentata style). Our teenage heroine, Dawn, is in one of those Christian abstinence/purity clubs, and everything is fine until she becomes attracted to and makes out with a boy. The film punishes her for her newfound sexuality and mocks her abstinence vow by having the boy rape her. Dawn’s vagina then bites off his penis. Over the course of the movie, Dawn is essentially sexually assaulted four times. Four times. She is degraded from the beginning of the film to the very end. Her supposedly empowerful teeth-laden vagina is a dubious gift, considering she generally must be raped in order to use it. Instead of focusing on the power of her sexuality and the awesome choice she has of whether or not to wield it, the film victimizes her at every corner, undercutting her potential strength and sexual agency.

“The way [the ring] wraps around your finger, that’s to remind you to keep your gift wrapped until the day you trade it in for that other ring. That gold ring.” – Dawn

Basically, Brave isn’t really that brave of a film. It’s traipsing through a well-established trope that, though positive, is stagnant. Don’t get me wrong; I love all the prepubescent female power fantasy tales I’ve listed, and I’m grateful that they exist and that I could grow up with many of them. However, we can’t pretend that Brave is pushing any boundaries. It sends the message that little girls can be powerful as long as they remain little girls. The dearth of representations of postpubescent heroines who are not objectified, whose sexuality does not rule their interactions, and who are the heroes of their own stories is appalling. There may be exceptions, but my brain has a fairly to moderately comprehensive catalog of films, especially those starring strong female characters. Scanning…scanning…file not found. If I, who actively seek out films that use integrity in their depictions of kickass women, can’t think of many, how is the casual viewer to find them? How is the teenage girl coming into her sexuality while facing negativity and recriminations supposed to see herself portrayed in a light that gives her the opportunity to be nuanced, to be smart and brave, to be independent or to be a leader?  

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