Women in Sports Week: ‘Sports Night’: That ’90s Show

The cast of Sports Night

This is a guest post by Artemis Linhart.

“If you haven’t binge-watched Sports Night within one weekend, then you haven’t seen Shakespeare the way it was meant to be played.”*

This nuanced end-of-90s sitcom offers a peek behind the scenes of a cable sports news show, all the while mixing genuinely serious story arcs with brilliantly written characters and conversations. Captivating on many levels, the series experienced an untimely cancellation after just two seasons, which, for the most part, when it comes to television, is a sign of high yet underappreciated quality.
Taking a closer look at the female characters of the show, it is palpable that, while Sorkin views women as crazy, neurotic and flawed individuals, he sees all people as such.
This is precisely the reason why the show, not unlike his other shows, is said to be exceptionally well-written. While Sorkin is known to write most of his material himself (though it has been said that he is stingy when it comes to the sharing of writing credit), it is unsurprising that he has achieved just about cult status amongst fans for recycling whatever works. And work they do, the female characters of Sports Night–as women, as professionals, but most of all as believable human beings.

Felicity Huffman as Dana Whitaker and Sabrina Lloyd as Natalie Hurley in Sports Night

Like A Boss

On this show, it is the women who are in charge. The main characters besides the two male news anchors are Dana, the producer of Sports Night, and Natalie, her second-in-command and associate producer. They literally run the show, and not just on their network. From time to time, this is noted on a meta-level. At one point, after there has been a bomb threat to their office building, it is the guys who are freaking out, whereas the women remain calm.

As Dana tells them to pull themselves together, she concludes, “We’re in charge. We’re women in charge. And we’re keeping it together. That’s what we do.” Casey replies, sullenly, “Well, we’re men, and we’re petrified. That’s what we do.”

Dana meets with Casey (Peter Krause) and Isaac (Robert Guillaume)
Similarly, Natalie holds an important position and is well aware of it. She never seems hesitant with regard to decision making or apologetic about being in a position of control. As they are already dating, Jeremy playfully notes, “You’ve taken to bossing me around a lot, you know that?”

The following conversation ensues:
Natalie: Yes. You know why?

Jeremy: ‘Cause you’re my boss?

Natalie: Bull’s-eye, Jerome.

There is a mutual understanding about who’s boss, and there isn’t a moment in the series’ two seasons where women’s authority is questioned or dishonored.

Dana and Natalie are a team both on and off the air. They are not just coworkers but also very close friends and have a very strong bond akin to sisterhood. Team spirit is big on Sports Night as it is but, what is more, there is a very tangible solidarity amongst women. Not once do we see a cat fight, a trope so frequently employed in realms of television where women are involved. Arguments overflow with emotions at best, but never do they result in pettiness. They are invariably based at the very least on mutual respect and dignity.
Even Dana’s interactions with her coworker Sally Sasser, who turns out to be “the other woman” for both Dana’s long-time friend (with coveted benefits) Casey and her fiancé Gordon, are not spiteful but professional. The one time Dana attempts to confront Sally in rage results in the realization that it is not her place to reproach her. Halfway through her tirade, she ends up apologizing and they reconcile.

Natalie and Dana
Another particularly remarkable aspect is that these women are in no way portrayed as “butch,” highlighting the (seemingly little-known) fact that characteristics typically associated with femininity (physical and otherwise) and a genuine passion for sports are, in fact, not contradictory.

Between garbage can basketball and obsessing over stats, there is no way they could be mistaken for anything but authentic sports geeks. This is especially accentuated by the recurring role of Jenny, an adult film actress with a keen interest in sports and a solid command of baseball trivia.

While being the boss and being a woman do not pose a discrepancy on the level of the show itself, funnily enough, it is Dana, who, at one point, says:
“You know, you’re the boss all day long, and you’re barking out these orders and you just want… I don’t know. A check on your femininity, when you’re done.”

Coming from Dana, this is somewhat surprising, as it has never seemed to bother her in this particular way. She has always been the epitome of the gorgeous, desirable woman who just happens to be a sports nut (a type of person Sports Night is heavily populated with). As a matter of fact, just a few episodes prior, Dana appears in a revealing leather outfit, as she is on her way to a “biker chick” themed bachelorette party. While putting on her high heel boots, she asks Natalie:
“Tell me something. Why would the nickelback have set up five yards off the line on third-and-one inside the 50 and they’ve been going off-tackle all day?”

Clearly, this is a reference that only outright American Football enthusiasts would get. Her cascade of a monologue in sports jargon illustrates that her in-depth knowledge of sports goes hand in hand with her femininity, despite popular belief on and off television.

The cast of Sports Night (Joshua Malina as Jeremy Goodwin on the left)

Dana doesn’t just run the show that she produces, she actually runs the show everywhere else, as well. You might call her a bit of a control freak that, in all her neurotic ways, evokes comparison to Monica Geller on Friends. Dana is the center of the group who often speaks up for or makes decisions for others. Of all the women in charge in her group of friends and coworkers, she is without a doubt the leader. Just as she calls the shots on Sports Night, Dana does so in her private life. This is especially the case with her best friend Natalie, who looks up to her, and her long time love interest Casey. During the budding of Dana and Casey’s flawed romance there is barely a moment where Casey asserts himself. As he finally asks her out after 90 days of pondering, he receives a slight scolding for having waited too long.

Neil Finn’s song, “She Will Have Her Way,” is used in the Season 2 premiere as well as multiple times throughout the season. And, as is always the case with Dana, she will have her way. Right up until she doesn’t. On the night of what should be their first date, Dana claims to have had an epiphany and presents her new “dating plan”: instead of the two of them going out on a date as planned, they will postpone it, while Casey has to date other women for 6 months. The logic of this eludes everyone but Dana herself, yet she will not let go of the idea until it blows up in her face, as Casey finally decides to move on with one of the women he went on a mandatory date with.

Natalie in Sports Night
With regard to Natalie, one might point out that she has certain qualities of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. On looking more closely, however, it becomes clear that her character can rather be seen as a deconstruction of the trope. Bearing in mind that Sports Night premiered in 1998, a full seven years before the term was coined, Sorkin seems to have unwittingly been very much ahead of his time.

Besides being a stunningly beautiful and intelligent woman, she is portrayed as slightly quirky (though hardly any crazier than the rest of Sports Night‘s main characters). She often resorts to bizarre, impulsive behavior and clearly serves a purpose for Dan’s troubled character on several occasions. However, she is very well aware of her captivating charm and peculiarity and alludes to it every now and then. As for her relationship with Jeremy, she does partly hold the position of the vivacious, upbeat character that struggles to grab Jeremy by the hand, teach him to embrace life and, essentially, “live a little.” Yet, instead of reducing her to this function, Sorkin depicts her as an independent woman. It becomes clear that she is mainly looking out for her own interests. On an equally important note, Natalie doesn’t succeed in her efforts to get Jeremy to savor life and step out of his comfort zone until ultimately this is the reason they break up.

A Big Thing Badly

Sports Night experiences a crisis in one of the first few episodes, as Natalie is sexually assaulted by an athlete. In general, not a lot of backstory on Natalie is revealed in the course of the series, whereas we learn quite a bit about the family members of the rest of the ensemble cast. Consequently, this episode highlights her character in quite a meta way. It is established early on that Natalie prefers not to talk about private matters. She tries to dismiss the incident and only mentions it to her staff as they find out elsewhere. 
The cast of Sports Night watches a game
The incident poses a conflict on many levels. It is Dana who sends Natalie to do a pre-interview with a football player who happens to be a convicted felon. The objective is to question him about the off-limits topic of domestic violence against his girlfriend. Instead of sending Jeremy, Dana uses Natalie to “provoke a better response to the questions.”

As the assault is revealed, Dana exploits this to get an exclusive story. Realizing the highly problematic nature of her decision, she nonetheless makes a deal with the athlete’s representatives, having the ratings of her television show in mind:
Dana: “Despite a mountain of fairly immutable evidence, I am prepared to believe that what happened to Natalie didn’t happen to Natalie. And I’m confident I can persuade Natalie to see it the same way.”

In exchange for their discretion they would get 5 minutes of air time touching on the topic that would otherwise have been off limits.
Eventually, Dana calls off the interview altogether only three minutes before the show in an effort to do the right thing after all. Ultimately, the prospect of an exclusive news story makes way for decency regarding this sensitive subject. 
Natalie and Dana hug it out
Interestingly, the incident provokes a particularly adverse reaction in Jeremy, who at that time already carries a torch for Natalie. While the knight in shining armour attire certainly isn’t tailor-made for a type like Jeremy, he nonetheless feels compelled to take the athlete aside and warn him: “You touch her again, I’m gonna have you killed.” In a comment evidencing the show’s capacity to treat serious subjects with sharp and subtle humor, he goes on to say, “Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m gonna pay someone $50 to have you killed.”

Following the assault, Natalie gets death threats of her own. She literally gets slut shamed in the subsequent episode when a hateful message reaches her via email, saying “Dear slut, You should never have been in that locker room where men have just played the game of football.”
Felicity Huffman as Dana Whitaker in Sports Night
In the mean time, she receives special treatment from her co-workers. Initially, the crew wants to shelter her by giving her the rest of the night off. “Am I being fired?” she asks, assuming the position of being doubly victimized. As Natalie is distracted and makes mistakes later on, her staff is very understanding and refrains from calling her on it – very much to her distaste:
“Why not? Why aren’t you laughing at me? Why aren’t you mad at me? (…) Look, all I want is to get it right, and when I don’t, I expect to be treated like a professional. I expect to be yelled at. I want to be treated like the show is still important. I want to be treated like my job is still important!”

She sees her career in jeopardy, which she later explains to be the reason why she’d rather not have the public know about the incident. Natalie refers to a Boston Globe reporter whose story of sexual assault by an athlete was exposed, and asserts: “There isn’t a female sports journalist that didn’t learn their lesson from it.” 
Josh Charles as Dan Rydell and Peter Krause as Casey McCall in Sports Night
Clearly, being a female sports reporter bears certain considerations that being a male sports journalist generally doesn’t.

From parents’ disapproval (as Dana quotes her mother: “sports is no place for an educated woman”) to more serious issues as the one mentioned above, there are a myriad of reasons to become a woman working in the field of sports, to prove them all wrong, step by step, and take on this patriarchal society of ours.
* For those unfamiliar with the series: One of Aaron Sorkin’s many clever one-liners that keep resurfacing in his shows and are referred to as “Sorkinisms.”
 

Artemis Linhart is a freelance writer and film curator with a weakness for escapism.


2013 Golden Globes Week: ‘The Newsroom’: Misogyny 2.0

I am a great man.

Written by Leigh Kolb

During the first episode of HBO’s The Newsroom, news anchor Will McAvoy (Jeff Daniels) delivers a rousing monologue about why America is not the “greatest country in the world.” He renders the crowd of college students speechless as he lashes out at the “sorority girl” who asked the question, bashing America’s current “WORST-period-GENERATION-period-EVER-period.” Soft piano music plays in the background as he laments America’s past greatness:
“…We reached for the stars, and we acted like men. We aspired to intelligence; we didn’t belittle it; it didn’t make us feel inferior. We didn’t identify ourselves by who we voted for in the last election, and we didn’t scare so easy. And we were able to be all these things and do all these things because we were informed. By great men, men who were revered.” (emphasis added)

Most of the speech is eloquent, and will have audiences of all political persuasions nodding in agreement (as they should–American exceptionalism is misguided). 
What the audience of college students can’t see, and what no one seems to focus on, is the fact that Will, in all of his “great men” bravado, got this idea from a woman.
I’m not sure if Aaron Sorkin, The Newsroom‘s creator and writer, got the memo either. In  “How to Write an Aaron Sorkin Script, by Aaron Sorkin,” by Aaron Sorkin in GQ, AARON SORKIN (in case you missed it) writes:
“A student asks what makes America the world’s greatest country, and Will dodges the question with glib answers. But the moderator keeps needling him until…snap.”

In reality, Will sees what he thinks is an hallucination of MacKenzie McHale (Emily Mortimer) in the audience. As he struggles to answer the question, she writes him a prompt and holds it up: 

“IT’S NOT. BUT IT CAN BE.”

Then he launches into his “great men” manifesto, and the story begins.
IT WAS HER IDEA!
Much has been written about the “hostile” misogyny of The Newsroom (see here, here, here and here), and rightfully so. 
While all of the characters are flawed, Will is a hero, but the female characters are incompetent, clumsy and hysterical. Will goes on the air stoned, is condescending toward dates, tricks MacKenzie into thinking he was going to propose to her years ago, changes MacKenzie’s contract to allow him to be able to fire her every week, but he is our good guy, our hero.
The women? Again, critics have been deconstructing the show’s misogyny from its inception, but the women are unbelievable. Will’s ex-girlfriend and new executive producer MacKenzie is especially baffling. She has returned to America after reporting in Afghanistan and Iraq for two years to serve as the executive producer of News Night. She’s a well-respected reporter and producer, but throughout the first season she consistently unravels into a heap of one-dimensional stereotypes. Is it believable that an esteemed journalist doesn’t understand how to work email? That she doesn’t know anything about economics? 
MacKenzie frequently has emotional breakdowns in front of her staff.
It doesn’t make sense. Unless you’re Aaron Sorkin–then this is who women are. They are the flighty associate producer who mixes up the state Georgia and country Georgia and writes “LOL” on a funeral card. They are the gorgeous woman with a PhD in economics who is only convinced to anchor after being seduced by the Gucci wardrobe. They are the women who think an important news tip is a pick-up line, don’t understand the acronym or are too preoccupied with being jealous to get the news (thank goodness there were men to decode the message). They are the women who love Sex and the City and blow up if Valentine’s Day doesn’t go their way. They are purveyors of gossip, and love reality TV.
Maggie earned her position at News Night by being promoted accidentally before McHale promotes her for being “loyal.”
Will has flaws, of course. However, he is consistently portrayed as competent and heroic.
After Maggie’s (Alison Pill) roommate is a guest on News Night and goes on a tangent about abortion rights (which would have been a welcome conversation had it made any sense), her boutique is emblazoned with “Baby Killer” graffiti. Will literally walks out of the steam of the streets to go comfort her. It was was an overly dramatic visual reminder that he is a hero–in fact, he is a “great man.” 
“Don’t worry. I got this.”
If Sorkin’s sexism isn’t clear enough in his writing, an interview with The Globe and Mail serves as a persuasive character study. He refers to his interviewer as “Internet girl,” and tells her:
“I think I would have done very well, as a writer, in the forties. I think the last time America was a great country was then, or not long after. It was before Vietnam, before Watergate.”

There it is. Greatness was a time before women’s liberation and before the civil rights movement. And while I’m sure he wouldn’t admit to meaning that, there is clear white male American privilege and hubris that allows someone to truly believe that America was greatest in the 1940s. 
In the final episode of the season, Will ends up hiring the “sorority girl” from the beginning (after accusing her of ruining his life) and telling her she is what makes America the greatest country. He learns that seeing MacKenzie in the audience wasn’t his imagination–she was there with the prompts. She shows him the signs, and he says, “It was you?” She says,

“No, it was you, Billy. I was just producing.”

How unfortunate. His defining moment was prompted by women, yet he finishes with all of the power, even claiming or being given the power from their own contributions. Of course an audience of a news program only sees the glory of the anchor, not the leg work of the producers. But when a show revolves around the behind-the-scenes work of a news program, it’s disheartening and infuriating that MacKenzie–who prompts Will’s monologue and remakes News Night–is the fool, and Will gets all the glory for “civilizing” America.

It’s easy to laud the accomplishments of “great men” if you’re so sure that you are one yourself (Will McAvoy and Aaron Sorkin certainly do). And while the show features good acting and interesting critiques of media and almost-current events, it’s hard to fully appreciate all of that through the cloud of self-importance.

Is The Newsroom the best dramatic television series?
It’s not. And unless Sorkin quickly figures out his issues with women, it can’t be.

—–


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

Women in Politics Week: "The Women of Qumar": Feminism and Imperialism in ‘The West Wing’

CJ Cregg (Allison Janney) in The West Wing

Guest post written by Pauline Holdsworth.
 
CJ: They beat women, Nancy. They hate women. The only reason they keep Qumari women alive is to make more Qumari men. 

Nancy: What do you want me to do? 

CJ: How about suggesting that we sell the guns at them, suggesting that we shoot the guns at them? And by the way, not to change the subject, but how are we supposed to have any moral credibility when we talk about gun control and making sure that guns don’t get into the hands of the wrong people? God, Nancy, what the hell are we defining as the right people? 

Nancy: This is the real world, and we can’t isolate our enemies. 

CJ: I know about the real world, and I’m not suggesting we isolate them. 

Nancy: You’re suggesting we eliminate them. 

CJ: I have a briefing.

Nancy: You’re suggesting –

CJ: I’m not suggesting anything. I don’t suggest foreign policy around here. 
 Nancy: You’re suggesting it right now. 

CJ: It’s the 21st century, Nancy, the world’s gotten smaller. I don’t know how we can tolerate this kind of suffering anymore, particularly when all it does is continue the cycle of anti-American hatred. But that’s not the point either. 

Nancy: What’s the point?

CJ: The point is that apartheid was an East Hampton clambake compared to what we laughingly refer to as the life these women lead. And if we had sold M1A1s to South Africa 15 years ago, you’d have set the building on fire. Thank God we never needed to refuel at Johannesburg.

Nancy: It’s a big world, CJ. And everybody has guns. And I’m doing the best I can. 

CJ: (tearfully) They’re beating the women, Nancy. — “The Women of Qumar,” Season 3, Episode 9, The West Wing

“The Women of Qumar” originally aired on November 28th, 2001, approximately two months after the first American airstrikes in Afghanistan. That timing is crucial to consider when looking at how this episode presents an imagined Middle East. Though The West Wing is often billed as optimistic counter-history and as an antidote for the policies and politics of the Bush administration, the show’s Qumari plot line is much more of a fictional transcription of current events than it is a progressive alternative. Most importantly, in creating Qumar as a fictional country meant to evoke the worst American fears and prejudices about life in the Middle East, Aaron Sorkin effectively packages and sells many of the motivations behind the current war in Afghanistan in the guise of progressive entertainment.

Nancy McNally (Anna Deavere Smith) CJ Cregg (Allison Janney) in The West Wing
A kind of “I speak for all women” conviction is displayed by Press Secretary C.J. Cregg in this episode, whose conversation with National Security Advisor Nancy McNally (Anna Deavere Smith) suggests her belief that all other female members of the administration share her perspective. Her suggestion that all-out militarism is an appropriate reaction to the gender-based oppression experienced by the women of Qumar is troubling on several levels. First, it contributes to a “savior” narrative which glosses over the very real existence of gender-based violence and oppression in North America and paints Middle-Easterners as explicitly violent, backwards, and misogynistic. Second, since Qumar is a fictional amalgamation of various imagined versions of Islamic countries in the Middle East, it’s implicit in C.J.’s argument that Islam is a chief factor in these women’s oppression — a loaded assertion which makes troubling assumptions about the experiences of Islamic women, particularly with regards to personal agency and faith.

It’s also worth noting how convinced C.J. is that the United States will one day be at war with Qumar. “This isn’t the point, but we will. Of course we will. Of course we’ll be fighting a war with Qumar one day and you know it,” she tells Nancy. And by the end of the fourth season, the United States and Qumar will be at the brink of military conflict, but it won’t be because America has stepped in to nobly rescue the women of Qumar from their religion and culture — it will be the end result of a series of events set in motion by President Bartlet’s authorization of the extrajudicial assassination of the Qumari defense minister, Abdul Shareef. 

“The Women of Qumar” won Allison Janney an Emmy, and contains what is perhaps her most impassioned speech on women’s issues. It’s framed as a look at C.J.’s personal, emotional side and seems largely intended as character development — but as the Qumari plot line becomes more and more important throughout the next two seasons, C.J.’s initial framing of the issues becomes more integral to the show’s moral stance on militarism and foreign policy. Her outbursts in this episode seem intended to garner emotional support and lend legitimacy to the Bartlet administration’s foreign policy, which tends to favor intervention and unilateral strikes and which often betrays a belief in the inherent moral superiority of the United States as a kind of self-appointed global police. Rather than presenting C.J.’s perspective as a morally ambiguous mobilization of feminist rhetoric in the service of imperialism and militarism abroad, her speech in this episode is glorified as a noteworthy example of her personal feminist politics. 
In “Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourse,” Chandra Talpade Mohanty writes, “I would like to suggest that the feminist writings I analyze here discursively colonize the material and historical heterogeneities of the lives of women in the third world, thereby producing/re-presenting a composite, singular “Third World Woman” — an image which appears arbitrarily constructed, but nevertheless carries with it the authorizing signature of Western humanist discourse.” In “The Women of Qumar,” this amalgamating force is literally employed as a plot device, one which creates an archetypal Third World Woman and then invents an amalgamated nation around her.

One of the most troubling moments in C. J.’s conversation with Nancy is her statement, “Apartheid was an East Hampton clambake compared to what we laughingly refer to as the life these women lead” – a statement that paints this amalgamated, fictional country (which refers back to viewers’ hazy imaginings of the Middle East as a whole) as a region so backwards, so violent, and so primitive that no women’s life there could possibly be worth living. In addition to erasing the diversity of Middle Eastern women’s experiences, C.J.’s words here suggest that she considers herself, as a white feminist, to be an authority on deciding whether or not the lives of racialized women are “real” lives. Given that many of these women would experience drastically increased violence and displacement as a result of an American investigation, her implicit suggestion here that the current “worth” of the lives of the women of Qumar is something for Americans to decide and for Americans to wager with is particularly problematic.

The Middle East appears so frequently in popular culture as a simplistic amalgamation of stereotypes that the practice has earned a name on TV Tropes. The site writes that this trope, “Qurac”, has three main iterations — an Arabian Nights version, a version featuring a tin-pot dictator, and “Jihadistan”. In all three, Middle Easterners are depicted as fanatical, violent, and greedy. The West Wing employs this practice again by inventing “Equatorial Kundu,” a “generic” African country experiencing civil war. In both cases, the insertion of fictional countries into real-world geography allows the writers to include what they consider to be “typical” Middle Eastern and African storylines, without being held accountable for perpetuating harmful stereotypes by any one real-world country or government.

CJ Cregg (Allison Janney) in The West Wing
The use of mainstream feminist rhetoric to justify and legitimize war hits painfully close to home, since The West Wing’s Qumari plot line was airing alongside the mobilization of this rhetoric in real time to advocate for an American presence in the Middle East. This rhetoric, which framed the war as an effort to liberate Middle Eastern women from the oppression of veil and Taliban alike, continues to thrive today — in the third presidential debate, both President Obama and Governor Romney displayed more enthusiasm for women’s issues when they fit into a narrative of militarism abroad than when they tied in to domestic issues. It’s worth noting that when asked directly about the gender pay gap and other women’s issues in the second debate, both candidates shied away from the question to refocus their energies on the economy — but though no questions about women’s issues were raised during the foreign policy debate, both were happy to offer unsolicited analysis of the U.S.’s responsibility to “protect” women’s rights abroad via drone strikes and continued American presence. 
In the political context in which these episodes aired, the mobilization of imperialist feminism is not just a monolithic and over-simplified representation of feminist politics, but also a troubling repackaging of war in an otherwise-progressive show. 
More broadly, Aaron Sorkin has been criticized throughout his career for his tendency to “[create] one-dimensional female characters in male-dominated settings,” as Ruth Spencer wrote in The Guardian. Though The West Wing brought us Allison Janney’s fantastic portrayal of C. J. Cregg, it’s also rife with women who waver between being genuinely-realized characters and caricatures of strong women in politics — for example, Amy Gardner and Abigail Bartlet. When it comes to representing feminist politics, The West Wing tends to funnel women’s issues through one character and one character only in any given episode — and given that character is more often than not Amy Gardner, the show’s representation of feminist advocacy in politics becomes limited. 
In addition to C. J.’s speech, “The Women of Qumar” is also notable for the introduction of Amy Gardner, played by Mary-Louise Parker, who would frequently act as the face of the show’s feminism throughout the rest of its run. When Amy is introduced, she’s arguing with Josh about legalizing sex work, a conversation in which she dismisses Josh’s concerns about “creat[ing] more criminals in a criminal environment” and disregards questions of women’s ability to unionize, access social services, health care benefits, and exert a degree of control and regulation within their industry. Amy often seems to be convinced that she speaks for American women as a whole and knows what’s best for them, a conviction which is rarely problematized by a show which by and large neglects to present contrasting feminisms or delve into any women’s concerns beyond the discourse of white mainstream feminism. Though she and Josh often fight over women’s issues, their conversations more often devolve into flirting than they do into substantive engagement with the issues at hand. In “The Women of Qumar,” Josh’s suggestion that her desire to police sex work is at odds with a belief that the government should stay away from women’s bodies is a compelling and worthwhile discussion, but one which is, disappointingly, left to fall by the wayside in favor of their interpersonal chemistry. 
The issues raised here point to a larger issue with the way feminist politics are represented in the show — a tendency to engage with feminism on a surface level and a failure to adequately inhabit its complexities and contradictions. And by privileging a certain brand of white mainstream feminism and by failing to place that feminism in any sort of critical context, The West Wing’s foray into political feminism is, for the most part, a missed opportunity.
——
Pauline Holdsworth is a fourth-year English student at the University of Toronto, where she is the Editor-in-Chief of The Strand. She also covers women’s issues for Campus Progress. You can follow her on Twitter at @holdswo.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie‘s Picks:

Comic-Con 2012: Sexism in Hollywood: How Far Have We Come? by Lucas Shaw via The Wrap

Will Catwoman Be a Breakout Feminist Character? by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood

“Nice Guys” Contribute to Rape Culture by Ben Atherton-Zeman via Ms. Magazine

Women in Film by the Numbers via Reel Grrls (from Pinterest)

From ‘The Lion King’ to ‘Brave,’ Making Mothers Matter in Pop Culture by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

Bear, Bow, And Boy: Queering Pixar’s “Brave” by Rainicorn via Gay Christian Geek

Megan‘s Picks:

If Women Ran Hollywood by Martha Lauzen via Women’s Media Center

All the Funny Ladies: What the Emmy Nominations Tell Us About a Year of Women in Comedy by Alyssa Rosenberg via Slate’s XX Factor 

Considering the Rape Culture by Melissa McEwan via Shakesville 

‘Political Animals’ and Women’s Power Fantasies by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

Louis C.K. on Daniel Tosh’s Rape Joke: Are Comedy and Feminism Enemies?  by Jennifer L. Pozner via The Daily Beast

Filmmakers Find Surprises at an Islamic School for Girls in Syria by Amy DePaul via Women’s Media Center

A New Sleeping Beauty Adaptation Will Feature a Stalker Take on the Classic Tale by Alanna Bennett via The Mary Sue 

‘Brave’ Part II: The Radical Re-Writing of the Mother-Daughter Relationship by Didion via Feminema 

The Savior and the Vandal: Jerusalem Film Festival and Religious Fundamentalism: [the vandalism of women’s images] by Kyna Morgan via Her Film

Dear, Aaron Sorkin: Someone Please Fix You by Sasha Stone via Women and Hollywood   

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

Oscar Best Picture Nominee: ‘Moneyball’

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

Robin Hitchcock has previously reviewed The Descent and Michael Clayton for Bitch Flicks. You can read her movie reviews at her blog HitchDied and other feminist pop culture commentary at her blog The Double R Diner.

The Social Network Roundup

Most of the commentary out there on The Social Network focuses on its awesomeness and front-runner status for this year’s Best Picture Academy Award. Plus, the film won its opening weekend’s box office, even though it’s numbers were lower than anticipated. While it very well may be a brilliantly-made film, one thing we can’t ignore is the film’s women. Other people are talking about the film’s misogyny, too, which raises this question:

Is The Social Network reinforcing the misogyny of its subject(s), or is it specifically offering their attitudes about women as critique?
While I hope it’s the latter, much of my reading never makes clear that the film rises above the attitudes of its ivy-league elites. An elitist attitude also seems to creep into articles that criticize  those who note the film’s misogyny, dismissing complaints about yet another film that focuses on upper-class white men as unintelligent.

Here are some of our findings. If you’ve written about the women of The Social Network, or have read something good that we missed, please leave your links in the comments section.

Rebecca Davis O’Brien’s “The Social Network’s Female Props” @ The Daily Beast:

Complaining about misogyny in modern blockbuster cinema is about as productive as lamenting Facebook’s grip on our society. But what is the state of things if a film that keeps women on the outer circles of male innovation enjoys such critical acclaim; indeed, is heralded as the “defining” story of our age? What are we to do with a great film that makes women look so awful?

Tracy Clark-Flory’s “Female programmers on “The Social Network” @ Salon Broadsheet

But, oh, are there groupies: They aggressively undo belt buckles in bathroom stalls, take bong hits while the boys do their important coding work and rip open their blouses so that coke can be snorted off their flat little tummies. They are useless on the technical and business front, as is made clear in a scene where two groupies look on as Zuckerberg has a sudden revelation and begins barking orders to his all-male team. The doe-eyed coeds ask if there is anything they can do to help out — and the question itself is a punch line. Even a nubile Facebook intern who presumably does have some technical abilities is introduced only to party with Facebook’s smooth-talking president, Sean Parker (played by Justin Timberlake), at a Stanford frat party. The women are trophies for these male history-makers.

Laurie Penny’s “Facebook, capitalism and geek entitlement” @ New Statesman

The only roles for women in this drama are dancing naked on tables at exclusive fraternity clubs, inspiring men to genius by spurning their carnal advances and giving appreciative blowjobs in bathroom stalls. This is no reflection on the personal moral compass of Sorkin, who is no misogynist, but who understands that in rarefied American circles of power and privilege, women are still stage-hands, and objectification is hard currency.

The territory of this modern parable is precisely objectification: not just of women, but of all consumers. In what the film’s promoters describe as a “definitively American ” story of entrepreneurship, Zuckerberg becomes rich because, as a social outsider, he can see the value in reappropriating the social as something that can be monetised. This is what Facebook is about, and ultimately what capitalist realism is about: life as reducible to one giant hot-or-not contest, with adverts.

Irin Carmon’s The Social Network, Where Women Never Have Ideas @ Jezebel

Hollywood’s solution to Facebook’s unsexy creation story was familiar: Add women as sluts, stalkers, or ballbusters. With very few exceptions, girls don’t even know how to properly play video games or get high off a bong, and they’re gold-diggers or humiliating bitches, and they certainly never come up with anything of value on their own. The result is a fictional Harvard as crudely misogynistic as Hollywood — which, thankfully, it actually wasn’t — and a world in which the best a woman can hope for is to have her rejection create as meaningful a legacy.

Melissa Silverstein’s “The Social Network” @ Women and Hollywood

The film depicts a world where women are crazy groupies, there for amusement, to give you blow jobs in bathrooms at parties, and to snort coke off of, but not to be taken seriously.  The tech world has long been known as a world that favors guys, just this week twitter was all “atwitter” about a women in tech panel that occurred at the TechCrunch Disrupt event in SF.

I guess that is one reason why it is a perfect movie for Hollywood today.   I know there are women doing some seriously important and great jobs in tech, just like I know that there are women doing some seriously important and great jobs in the films business. But we all know that the tech guys are more visible and the movie guys are more visible. 

Steven Colbert’s interview with Aaron Sorkin @ The Colbert Report


The Colbert Report Mon – Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Aaron Sorkin
www.colbertnation.com
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Jennifer Armstrong’s “‘The Social Network’ has a woman problem” @ Entertainment Weekly’s Pop Watch

The Social Network has turned out to be the rare pop cultural phenomenon that is everything we hoped it would be. Smart, riveting, and very much of our time, it provides endless fodder for intellectual dissection and further exploration. The fact that it has become so all-engrossing, however, makes one glaring fact about it all the more disturbing: Its downright appalling depiction of women.

Roxanne Samer’s “Review: The Social Network” @ Gender Across Borders

Previously, I have argued that in some cases representations of sexism and racism can serve as political critiques of the mistreatment they depict. One could claim that Zuckerberg and his peers’ objectifying of women and fetishization of Asian women in particular is presented in the film as in poor taste. The film is by no means casting Zuckerberg, never mind Parker, as an innocent angel. But in the end one must ask: are these trysts etc. depicted as deplorable or as typical and tolerable 20-something boy behavior?  My intuition says it’s the latter. 

JOS’ “Social Network sexism” @ Feministing

The film follows an interesting pattern I’ve noticed in other work by contemporary male filmmakers (Inception as an example) – it offers compelling insight into sexism while also displaying a sexist perspective in its storytelling.

Cynthia Fuchs’ “‘The Social Network’: Fincher and Sorkin’s Story of Obsession” @ Pop Matters

Based on Ben Mezrich’s 2009 book, The Accidental Billionaires, and scripted by Aaron Sorkin, the film is already renowned for its breakneck dialogue (especially when Mark speaks, condescendingly and oh-so-cruelly). However fictionalized that dialogue might be (the book imagines conversations as it recounts events mainly from Eduardo’s perspective, and includes luridish party and sex scenes), it represents here an attitude that makes its own political and cultural point, that men and boys in privileged positions tend to see the world in ways that benefits them, that reinforces their privilege.

Jenni Miller’s “‘The Social Network’ and Sexism: Does the Film Treat Women Unfairly?” @ Cinematical

We’re given a trio of wholly unreliable narrators who do see women as props and prizes and ugly feminists out to get them. They’re emblematic of all the things that the fictional Mark Zuckerberg wants and feels are out of his reach, like the Harvard social clubs. Even Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield) questions whether or not Zuckerberg’s screwing him over all boils down to the fact that Saverin got into one of Harvard’s fancy clubs where WASPs cheer on half-naked women making out with each other.

David Ehrlich’s “5 Reasons Why ‘The Social Network’ Does Not Define This Generation” also @ Cinematical

5. It’s a film about men in a generation that’s also about women (I hope).

Alison Willmore’s “The (Homo)Social Network” @ IFC

The suggestion that Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher had an obligation to insert a token “strong lady” character in order to make their film more demographically friendly or underline how their own intentions are separate from their characters is condescending to audiences. The film world still leans incredibly toward male perspectives, male characters and male audiences, and the way to fix that is by supporting and encouraging women making and working in movies, not by implying the need for an artificial quota of “go girl”ness.

Dana Stevens’ “Is the Facebook movie sexist?” @ Slate

The Social Network presents an odd paradox in its vision of the war between the sexes (which, like all the conflict in this movie, is a real war, brutal and unattenuated). It’s smarter about the way women circulate as objects of male competition, predation, and fantasy than it is about the motivations of individual female characters. The film’s “women problem” doesn’t lie in the fact that many of the women in it (with the exception of Erica Albright and the lawyer played by Rashida Jones) are shallow, self-serving jerks—so are most of the men. But any film capable of putting on-screen as complex and fascinating a jerk as Jesse Eisenberg’s Mark Zuckerberg should be smart enough to do the same for the ladies.