There is so much violence both toward men and women in the movie, but it is so over the top that teamed with the beautiful highly stylized cinematography it is hard to take seriously. This time around, the world of Sin City has a very ethereal dream-like quality that tempers its grittiness a little.
If you are thinking that it’s been a long time since the first Sin City movie came out, you would be right. It first hit the screen in 2005, meaning it has nearly been a full decade before they have graced us with the sequel. A lot has happened in nine years; Brittany Murphy, who was in the original, passed away under mysterious circumstances. Devon Aioki’s brief reign as “Asian It Girl” has faded from our memories and people like Clive Owen and Josh Hartnett have found better things to do.
Despite myself I loved the first Sin City and on re-watching it I still do. I know it is deeply problematic–the lack of agency of the women in the movie, their constant portrayal as victims who must be rescued by big tough violent men, and their overt objectification are all things that drive me nuts. The movie isn’t particularly kind to men either, the vast majority of whom are portrayed as greedy, callous, vicious lechers. Even the good guys are mostly anti-heroes. Overall however, the snappy dialogue and visually interesting hyper-stylized cinematography captured me, and I couldn’t help but love the sex workers of Old Town. They are tough broads, ruled over by Gail played by Rosario Dawson, who live the way they choose, selling what they want and organizing and running their own turf where not even the dirty cops of Sin City can enter without their permission. If there is going to be a third Sin City movie, can it please center on the sex workers of Old Town? I feel like there could be many interesting stories to be told there.
Unfortunately Sin City: A Dame to Kill For woefully underutilizes the prodigious talents of Dawson. There are two core female characters: firstly, Ava Lord, played by Eva Green, who is the titular “dame to kill for” and Nancy Callahan, with Jessica Alba reprising her role from the first movie. Both women, unsurprisingly (this is Frank Miller after all) are highly sexualized. Nancy still works as a dancer at the diner although she is no longer as wholesome as she once was having developed a drinking problem and dreams of revenge following the death of detective Hartigan. Ava on the other hand is a classic femme fatale who uses her body and Dwight’s complete intoxication with her to further her own murderous ends.
One could argue that there are some positives for women’s representation compared to the first movie. Nancy is no longer a passive victim; she turns herself into an avenging demoness in a very dramatic transformation scene and with the help of Marv manages to finally take out the overarching villain of both movies (something no man has ever been able to do despite plenty of trying). I think the whole Joseph Gordon Levitt storyline exists purely to illustrate just how untouchable Roark is and yet there he is, killed by little old Nancy Callahan, former victim of his son and current exotic dancer in the very diner where he plays his high-stakes poker games.
Ava Lord manages to manipulate all the men around her to get exactly what she wants by pretending to be what they want her to be–a fragile woman who needs rescuing from her terribly sad life, someone who needs to be protected from the filth of Sin City. Eva Green is masterful in her handling of the material and manages to bring tonality to what would otherwise be a two-dimensional caricature of a traditional noir vixen. Ava Lord is a woman who is tired of living in a man’s world and so seeks to carve out a place of her own in it through any means necessary. She is also pretty twisted and appears to take much pleasure in the pain of others and is eventually punished for her sins. As far as wicked women go I’m pretty OK with Ava Lord.
There is so much violence both toward men and women in the movie, but it is so over the top that teamed with the beautiful highly stylized cinematography it is hard to take seriously. This time around, the world of Sin City has a very ethereal dream-like quality that tempers its grittiness a little.
We can all agree that Frank Miller is a misogynist toad, but I think Robert Rodriguez has managed to interpret the source material in a way that is not terrible, helped at least in part by his excellent casting decisions. It’s definitely not going to win “most feminist movie of the year,” but for a big budget action movie, a genre that is notoriously terrible for the ways in which it depicts women, I found it to be pretty watchable.
And the main thing about ‘Violet & Daisy’ I couldn’t puzzle out is what we’re meant to make of the incessant and brutally unsubtle reminders of the title characters’ schoolgirl trappings: popping bubble gum while blasting machine guns, stopping to play hopscotch on the way to pick up ammo, sucking lollipops while chatting with their boss and sharing cookies and milk with their target, giggling while jumping on the bellies of their victims to see blood spew from their mouths. I get that there is a “shocking contrast” between these innocent activities and their professional murdering, but could Fletcher really think that was novel or interesting enough to warrant a whole movie?
And then I think: Oh god, is this a sex thing? This is probably a sex thing. Wait, that’s too gross. This can’t be a sex thing. But oh god, lollipops. Lollipops are always a sex thing.
People who know me and know I write for Bitch Flicks love to give me suggested post topics. “I watched this movie and there was a girl in it—you should totally write about that!” Sometimes it is a case of “I can’t tell if this is sexist, could you sort that out for me in ~1000 words?” (I tease, but I actually really appreciate these suggestions because deciding what to write about is often the hardest step. Dance Academy is in my Netflix queue, KDax!)
Movie poster for Violet & Daisy
Yesterday was my husband’s birthday, so I am finally yielding to a long-standing request and reviewing the film Violet & Daisy. Collin’s gchat-transmitted review of the film is “I just liked that it was about two killer women and it had Tony Soprano in it.”
A slightly longer synopsis: Violet (Alexis Bledel) and Daisy (Saoirise Ronan) are young, girlish assassins, who take a new assignment because they want to buy dresses from the fashion line of a pop singer named Barbie Sunday. For contrived reasons, they fail to kill the target (James Gandolfini) initially and form a strong emotional bond with him while periodically fending off other assassins after the score. Gratuitously violent dramedy ensues.
Alternate title: Cutesy Murderesses!
The whole thing is rather twee and aggressively quirky, Tarantino-by-way-of-Wes Anderson (down to the Futura title cards). It’s so patently derivative I started to wonder if that was The Point somehow. Did writer-director Geoffrey Fletcher (who also wrote Precious, the polar opposite of this film in terms of tone) get carried away with a style mimicry writing exercise and actually make the movie?
Violet and Daisy play a hand clapping game
And the main thing about Violet & Daisy I couldn’t puzzle out is what we’re meant to make of the incessant and brutally unsubtle reminders of the title characters’ schoolgirl trappings: popping bubble gum while blasting machine guns, stopping to play hopscotch on the way to pick up ammo, sucking lollipops while chatting with their boss and sharing cookies and milk with their target, giggling while jumping on the bellies of their victims to see blood spew from their mouths. I get that there is a “shocking contrast” between these innocent activities and their professional murdering, but could Fletcher really think that was novel or interesting enough to warrant a whole movie?
And then I think: Oh god, is this a sex thing? This is probably a sex thing. Wait, that’s too gross. This can’t be a sex thing. But oh god, lollipops. Lollipops are always a sex thing.
Lollipops are always a sex thing.
But wait, the guy who wrote Precious couldn’t possibly think the sexualizing little girls is the key to a winning film. That doesn’t make any sense. This must be a critique of these sexist and icky tropes. The punchline is coming any minute. Any. Minute. Now…
This sort of Poe’s Law experience is probably familiar to many feminist film-watchers: is this patriarchal trash or is it secretly a critique of patriarchal trash? A classic example is Sucker Punch, a movie that scientists have proven cannot be written about without using the word “masturbatory.” Most feminists (including myself) barfed all over the movie and its icky initialization and objectification of victimized women, but director Zack Snyder insists his film was meant to be a critique of the audience’s desire for such content. Which makes my bullshit meter go off. The sad truth is we live in a world where it seems more likely that a movie about abused women with names like “Baby Doll” and “Sweet Pea” fighting fantasy steampunk wars is much more likely to be catering to the perverted male gaze than challenging it.
Sucker Punch
And ultimately, Sucker Punch was too unpleasant a viewing experience for me to worry too much about the validity of its claims to feminism: it is a terrible movie either way. Thankfully, Violet & Daisy isn’t nearly as gross as Sucker Punch, but if anything that makes me even less bothered to decide if the movie was trying to deconstruct these tropes or just replicating them. Either way, Violet & Daisy is not really worth watching unless doing so will somehow make your partner happy.
Have you experienced Poe’s Law at the movies?
Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who will write a negative review of a movie you like as a birthday present.
First off, busting the industry perception that men will never flock out to see a movie about a woman, Lucy’s audience was split evenly between the sexes. Moreover, it’s a female led action flick without a romantic subplot or scenes that unnecessarily exploit the lead actress’s sex appeal.
It’s a great showcase for Johansson, as she runs through Europe showing off her action chops and her steely determined expression, and an entertaining delivery system for a mix of pseudo-science and scraps of intriguing philosophy, but feminist game changer it is not.
Posters for Lucy showed only Scarlett Johansson
Lucy’s release is a bit of a David and Goliath story.
In one corner, you have a traditional action-adventure based on an age-old legend with universal familiarity and a male lead, who’s proven himself by carrying several films, while in the other, is a female led action film, with a completely original story and pretensions towards high art. Add to that a lead who’s never carried a blockbuster, an R-rating and European provenance and Luc Besson’s film, Lucy seems risky.
While both films were successes, with Lucy earning a cool $44 million its opening weekend and Hercules, $29 million, the big story on their release was the industry’s surprise that the great hero, Hercules, was beaten by “a girl.” Headlines posed it as a physical fight: Lucy alternately beat-up, slayed, pummeled, over muscled, and overpowered Hercules, and that was something to gawk at.
Of course, Hercules couldn’t be defeated by a mere “girl.” She has to be a super-powered engine.
Way back in April, when the film’s first trailer was released, Lucy went viral. The story of an American party girl transformed by a drug that lets her access 100 percent of her brain, it looked like a crazy, brutal ride with Scarlett Johansson morphing into a merciless and unstoppable god-like killer; like Bradley Cooper’s well-received Limitless, but with a woman holding a gun. Even the mind-expanding drug at the centre of the story is gendered feminine, a synthetic form of CPH4, a hormone produced by pregnant women.
It all sounds rather wondrous. A female led-action film is always something to take notice of (they’re as rare as unicorns), especially when it’s successful. Sure, every time a film with a female lead dominates at the box office, feminist critics have to cheer it on a bit regardless of its quality, because of its potential as a game changer (though I’m not sure how many times we need a success before it will actually change the game), but Lucy has a lot going for it.
First off, busting the industry perception that men will never flock out to see a movie about a woman, Lucy’s audience was split evenly between the sexes. Moreover, it’s a female led action flick without a romantic subplot or scenes that unnecessarily exploit the lead actress’s sex appeal.
It’s a great showcase for Johansson, as she runs through Europe showing off her action chops and her steely determined expression, and an entertaining delivery system for a mix of pseudo-science and scraps of intriguing philosophy, but feminist game changer it is not.
American party girl Lucy is manipulated by her boyfriend into becoming a drug mule
Lucy is set up like a rape revenge film, a controversial idea in of itself. Our heroine is manipulated into working as a drug mule by her new boyfriend, who forces her to deliver a briefcase by flirting with her and then handcuffing her to it. Next, she’s lifted off the ground and abducted from a hotel lobby by a group of mobsters who refuse to explain anything to her and promise to kill her and her family if she refuses to cooperate. After being knocked unconscious, she wakes up in a strange bedroom stripped to her underwear to find her body has been violated, except, instead of raping Lucy, her captors have cut her open and sewn a bag of drugs inside her body which she will have to deliver for them. Through all this, Lucy is helpless and relentlessly victimized; she has no idea how to save herself from these men who have claimed ownership of her body and her will.
Lucy wakes up in an unfamiliar room, in a scene reminiscent of a woman discovering she has been drugged and raped
Until one of her captors kicks her in the stomach, which causes the drugs to leak into her body, inadvertently unlocking her mind and eventually giving her superhuman abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, invulnerability to pain, mind control, and time travel as the area of her brain she is able to access rises. Along with this, comes a Greek god’s sense of morality, as she begins to see human beings as insignificant creatures that she can kill for simply being in her way.
And what is Lucy to do with her superpowers? Does she want to save herself from the effects of the drug, which promise to kill her within 24 hours? Does she want revenge or to stop others from being victimized as she was? No, she just wants all the CPH4 left so she can accumulate all human knowledge and build a supercomputer. Really, that’s the plot.
Lucy gains superhuman abilities and invulnerability
Though she does kill off the mobsters, it’s only incidental to her goal. In fact, she helps the police arrest the other drug mules, people who have been victimized just as she was, with no concern to the punishment they will face.
The problem with creating a god-like protagonist with no concern for humanity is that she has no concern for humanity. Lucy has no passion or anger about what has happened to her and after a few early scenes, there’s no reason to sympathize or identify with her. Because she no longer has human concerns, the stakes are no longer personal. Because she’s become so powerful, there’s also no struggle for her, no question of whether or not she will succeed. Lucy is an unstoppable force and her enemies are nothing more than bugs on a windshield. A good action film should have character development as well as fight scenes and explosions, and Lucy is sorely lacking in that department.
As an action heroine, Lucy wields a gun and kills without hesitation
Shortly after the drug leaks into her system, Lucy makes one final phone call to her parents, where she tearfully says goodbye and thanks them for raising her so well. This short scene is all we really get of Lucy’s past or of her humanity and once she hangs up the phone, she quickly loses any determination to stay alive or return to her old life. By the time she arrives at the apartment she shares with her friend, Caroline ( Analeigh Tipton), she is cold and impartial.
A film with an emotionless, inhuman god or robot figure only works when there is also a human character we are meant to connect and sympathize with–John and Sarah Connor to the unyielding Terminator. Here, Lucy tries to be both human and inhuman, giving us no real reason to care about her. Though she’s joined by a French police officer, Pierre Del Rio (Amr Waked), playing the usual female role of grounding their superhuman partner, he is given no backstory and we are given no indication that we are meant to switch to identifying with him. His purpose in the story is unclear as, though she kisses him in one scene, saying she needs him to keep her connected to humanity, but we never see this actually happen and the kiss is very dry and perfunctory, indicating he is not meant to be a romantic interest.
Morgan Freeman explains Lucy’s actions as she becomes less and less human
Morgan Freeman is also along for the ride as a scientist whose lectures on the human brain are paired with scenes of Lucy’s transformation as if she is his object lesson. Though Lucy apparently has surpassed his knowledge by the time she speaks to him and knows enough to criticize his theories, he is still posed as an expert who she needs to help her on her quest. By the last segment of the film, Lucy has lost so much humanity that she becomes nothing more than a beautiful object, a Marilyn Monroe mannequin, moved around and explained by men. As she sits silently in a chair absorbing CPH4 and watching spectacular effects only she can see, Morgan Freeman narrates what is happening to her. While her body transforms, she becomes less human, less verbal and therefore less of a character. By the film’s end, her physical form and anything that was specifically the human woman named Lucy cease to exist. Instead, she becomes a force of knowledge that exists “everywhere” and a supercomputer that the male characters can use, a literal object that will somehow save them, though what she hopes they will do with it is never explained.
In addition, there’s definitely some racism at work in the film, which is set in Asia and filled with Asian villains who violate a “‘pure white woman.” There is no real reason the crime story has to to take place in Taiwan aside from vague cultural perceptions that Asia is full of drugs and crime. In one scene, Lucy kills three men after they tell her they don’t speak English, suggesting that they deserved to die for not speaking her language, though she’s the one in a foreign country.
Set in Taiwan, the film shows Asian men preying on a white woman
The filmmakers appeared to take for granted that they would be viewed as progressive for using a female lead, but instead, merely transform the standard white savior from male to female without paying attention to the problematic idea of the white savior itself. Viewers who praise the film as feminist ignore the idea the idea that feminism does not only include white women.
Like any successful female led film, Lucy should also be looked at for its potential to change the media landscape. Scarlett Johansson definitely gives it her all and shows her potential as an action star, capable of helming a film even without her fellow Avengers. Perhaps Lucy’s success will lead to a solo film for her popular Black Widow character or to films for some of our other favorite superheroines.
On its own, Lucy is a cheesy and entertaining ride if you don’t think too much about it. It casts a woman in a superhuman role that women rarely get to play and never plays it as a surprise or irony that the person tasked with advancing the human race is female. That much is admirable.
’22 Jump Street’ alternately endorses and makes fun of the idea that we should be sensitive, tolerant people, but it isn’t mean-spirited or offensive – it’s just sort of harmlessly dumb.
22 Jump Street alternately endorses and makes fun of the idea that we should be sensitive, tolerant people, but it isn’t mean-spirited or offensive – it’s just sort of harmlessly dumb.
The Whole Movie in One Screenshot
The premise of 22 Jump Street is that the characters from 21 Jump Street — two undercover cops played by Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill – have to do the exact same thing they did in the first movie, but with a bigger budget, and in a slightly different setting. I’m not being sarcastic – that’s actually the brief they get from their Captain at the start of the movie, because 22 Jump Street is one long, self-referential joke about making a half-assed sequel.
In this particular case, the cops, who went undercover as high school students in 21 Jump Street, are now undercover as college students. There are jokes about college, jokes about movies, and jokes about how the characters look really old, but the dominant theme in the movie is that it, and its characters, try really hard to be not homophobic, not sexist, not racist… and don’t always figure out how.
The most obvious example of this, and the one that’s been discussed the most often in reviews, is that the friendship between Tatum and Hill’s characters – Jenko and Schmidt – plays out as if it’s a romance. Jenko becomes friends with a football player, making Schmidt jealous, and leading them to fight about whether they should split up and “investigate different people.” There’s a sad musical montage while they think about how much they miss each other, before they agree to team up again as “a one-time thing.” When they reconcile, in the end, Jenko’s football player friend looks on with a mixture of joy and regret, declaring, “That’s who he should be with!”
Despite their cover story being that they’re brothers, and the fact that Schmidt starts dating a woman, other people mistake them for a couple, too. A school counselor makes them hold hands and attend couple’s therapy; some drug dealers think they’re having oral sex during a bust.
The movie is trying hard to be not homophobic – there’s even a part where Jenko, who’s forced to take a seminar on human sexuality, explains why you can’t use gay slurs – but, when you boil it down, the joke is still, “They seem gay, but they’re not!”
After a long period of time where movies couldn’t allude to homosexuality at all, and a shorter period of time where they could only do it in a derogatory or pejorative way, we’re now in a place where mainstream movies are totally cool with joking that their leading men are gay… as long as it’s clear that they don’t have gay sex. It’s a step forward, for sure, and you can argue that 22 Jump Street is just making fun of the homoerotic subtext that’s already present in buddy cop movies, but the joke is still based on the idea that actually being gay is a bridge that can never be crossed.
This kind of humor has gotten more and more prevalent as public acceptance toward the LGBT community has increased. Homosexuality is no longer something so taboo that we can’t even talk about it – and it’s no longer a career killer for heterosexual actors to play a gay character, or to joke about their masculinity. “They seem gay, but they’re not!” has shown up in R-rated comedies, and most of the recent Sherlock Holmes adaptations – including the Robert Downey Jr. movies, House, and, most notably, BBC’s Sherlock – and the punch line is always the same: “Ha ha ha. This looks gay, and we’re fine with looking gay – and doesn’t it reflect well on us, that we’re not afraid to look gay – but, just so you know, we’re not gay.”
If you were watching a movie or TV show about a man and woman who really, really acted like a couple, and people mistook them for a couple, and there were constantly jokes introducing the idea that they should be a couple, chances are they’d end up as a couple. Usually, the point of making those sorts of observations in the early part of a movie or series is to plant the idea in the audience’s mind that the characters should get together, and introduce tension about whether or not they will. It’s the same principle as We’re the Millers, where Jennifer Aniston and Jason Sudeikis pretend to be married as part of con, but end up falling in love. Or the second season of Orange is the New Black, where Larry and Polly are mistaken for a couple, and it makes them realize that they should be one. Or even the later seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, where Buffy and her mortal enemy, Spike, fall under a spell that makes them act like they’re in love, which leads to them actually falling in love.
With 22 Jump Street and its contemporaries, we’re under no illusion that the story will resolve itself that way. In fact, part of the point of the joke is that we take for granted that it won’t. That’s what makes it a “safe” joke to tell. That doesn’t offend me, and I understand that joking about things in a non-judgemental way can be a step toward acceptance. The movie just isn’t as progressive as it seems to want to be.
Most Awkward Fistfight Ever
Speaking of things that aren’t as progressive as they seem to want to be, 22 Jump Street, intentionally or not, dramatizes the same type of struggle in Schmidt. While the movie is awkwardly trying to avoid homophobia without being sure what to do, Schmidt awkwardly tries to avoid being sexist or racist, with mixed and confusing results.
There’s a running joke in the film where he tries to suck up to the Captain (played by Ice Cube) by saying what he clearly thinks are appropriately sensitive things about race. When the Captain flips out and starts yelling for the waiter in a restaurant, Schmidt defends him by saying, “He’s black! He’s been through a lot!” When the case is initially explained to him – that a black woman died after taking drugs sold to her by a white man – Schmidt comments that’s it’s refreshing to have a black victim, and that the fact that she’s black makes him care so much more. Jenko corrects him that he means to say he cares equally, but Schmidt’s adamant that he cares more.
In both cases, everyone else in the scene is confused or annoyed by his comments, and the joke seems to be that he’s trying too hard to seem sensitive without knowing how to go about it. (In the second case, the joke might also be that people who criticize casting decisions in movies are similarly misguided about it).
Schmidt’s also confused about how to relate to women. One of the antagonists in the movie is his girlfriend’s roommate, Mercedes (played by Jillian Bell). Her idea of conversation is to crack deadpan jokes about his age, even when they’re in life or death situations (which is funny), and, at one point, they get into a fistfight, where he’s not sure if it’s okay to hit her. She yells at him that, if he saw her as a person, he’d punch her in the face, and he does it, but he feels really awkward and uncomfortable. (There’s also an improvised moment where they become confused about whether they’re going to kiss during the fight.)
The fistfight scene stands out as one that captures Schmidt and 22 Jump Street’s dilemma pretty clearly – as a reasonably progressive straight, white guy, he wants to do the right thing and not be racist, sexist, or homophobic, but he has no idea what he is and isn’t supposed to do and say. The absurdity of a situation where, in order to be feminist, you have to punch a woman in the face sums up the conflict pretty clearly – in this brave new world we live in, well-meaning people still get confused about how they’re supposed to behave.
The film also has less thoughtful sequences. Schmidt hooks up with a woman named Maya, and we’re supposed to laugh at the idea that he wants to have a relationship while she’s looking for a one night stand (because women are supposed to want relationships, and men are supposed to want one night stands, get it?). He does the walk of shame in the morning, where it appears that he’s the only man among a group of women, and a later scene in the movie follows this up by showing us that Schmidt is now on a first name basis with the same women (implicitly because he’s done this so often that they’ve all gotten to know each other).
The joke “Schmidt makes friends with the other people doing the walk of shame, because he does it all the time” is funny in itself, but Jonah Hill, for some reason, adopts a more effeminate posture and delivery during those scenes, making the joke more like, “Schmidt’s become one of the girls!” Which is funny because… it’s emasculating? Like being gay?
I honestly don’t know.
22 Jump Street exists in a sort of no-man’s-land where we don’t want to be bigoted or hateful, but where even the least homophobic person in the world can reach for a gay slur in anger, and where, even a movie that’s trying to be progressive can reach for jokes that tacitly confirm the same stereotypes it’s opposing. It’s a snapshot of where mainstream culture is, now, where we want to be better, and thoughtful, and kind, but we haven’t dismantled the language that came before. We’re in a transitional stage between the generations that would find this movie offensively tolerant, and those that will find it offensively backward.
You’re Welcome
Katherine Murray is a Toronto-based writer who yells about movies and TV on her blog.
‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ is flat-out aggressively weird (up to and including its gigantic EFF YOU of a post-credits scene reminding us of the grand history of weird comic book adaptations). It has capitalized perfectly on this moment of comic book blockbusters and consumers’ particular faith in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. As a super-dork who loves her some space cowboys and space cowgirls and space nonbinary cow-wranglers, I just want to issue my most sincere and grateful slow clap. Way to take your moment, movie.
The cast of Guardians of the Galaxy
Marvel Studios made another gigantic pile of money last weekend with Guardians of the Galaxy. Even though it is based on a property that could kindly be referred to as “obscure,” the Marvel name plus a great trailer plus a genius week-after-ComicCon release = big opening weekend. Even for a movie about Andy Dwyer, a green badass chick, a beefy guy painted like a brocade tablecloth, a cyborg raccoon, and a sentient tree creature all getting their space opera on over a purple ringpop of a MacGuffin.
Guardians of the Galaxy is flat out aggressively weird (up to and including its gigantic EFF YOU of a post-credits scene reminding us of the grand history of weird comic book adaptations). It has capitalized perfectly on this moment of comic book blockbusters and consumers’ particular faith in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. As a super-dork who loves her some space cowboys and space cowgirls and space nonbinary cow-wranglers, I just want to issue my most sincere and grateful slow clap. Way to take your moment, movie.
Guardians of the Galaxy is so weird there are two chick on screen at one time!
And while Guardians of the Galaxy doesn’t make straight A’s on the feminist scorecard, as expertly detailed by my Bitch Flicks colleague Andé Morgan, it still represents an important moment for feminist fans of genre flicks. First, this is the first Marvel movie with a credited woman writer, Nicole Perlman. Male-dominated movie studios seem to be just now wrapping their heads around the idea that women actually pay to see movies, and that’s not necessarily moving them to cater to what the female audience wants. Getting more women on the creative end is vital, particularly women like Perlman who can make bizarre material palatable to mainstream audiences, because comic books sources are never short on w’s, t’s, or f’s.
“I’m a blue guy with a shiny mohawk and I still think that might be too weird.”
Guardians of the Galaxy must bear inevitable comparisons to Star Wars. Sidestepping their actual relative merits, these films collectively prove that the moviegoing public are, at large, huge dorks. If you have compelling characters and a decent level of whiz bang in your FX, we’ll happily embrace whatever nonhumanoid creatures and nonsensical mythos you hurl at us.
And with no disrespect meant toward the legions of FX engineers anonymously creating cinematic wonder for our consumption, it seems that the compelling characters are the tricky part; without those you’ve got a Transformers on your hands, or the film nodded toward in GotG’s post-credits sequence.
Too often, studios conflate “compelling character” with “white dude.” And yep, there’s a bright shiny White Dude at the center of Guardians of the Galaxy, acting as the sole representative of Earth to boot. But in case you haven’t caught my “wait, seriously?” drift yet, everyone else in the movie is some variety of alien including the dynamic duo of a CYBORG RACCOON and SENTIENT TREE.
Djimon Hounsou can play this alien dude but there’s still no T’Challa? Seriously?
All of which means that there’s no excuse left in the world to only make movies about the white dudes in comics. Don’t even begin to pretend with your “too unknown.” Please stop with your “not accessible to mainstream audiences.” And don’t think you’re going to get much further with Marvel Studio’s president Kevin Feige’s usual line about “timing” and “telling the right story,” because the time is obviously NOW to throw any and all Marvel pasta at the movie screen, and the “right story” is clearly irrelevant (I don’t think Guardians of the Galaxy got made because the studio just couldn’t sit on this brilliant yarn about a face-melting space ruby).
Unfortunately Feige is craftily spinning Marvel’s boon time as somehow making it even more difficult for them to release new properties:
I hope we [release a female-led film] sooner rather than later. But we find ourselves in the very strange position of managing more franchises than most people have — which is a very, very good thing and we don’t take for granted, but is a challenging thing. You may notice from those release dates, we have three for 2017. And that’s because just the timing worked on what was sort of gearing up. But it does mean you have to put one franchise on hold for three or four years in order to introduce a new one? I don’t know. Those are the kinds of chess matches we’re playing right now.
Well who would want to play a chess match with only white pieces and no queens? You need to shake up your board, Marvel. No more excuses.
We all know that male superheroes get reboots for their (often shitty) movies over and over and over again. There are an ever-increasing number of Batman, Superman, and Hulk movies, not to mention a growing franchise of Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor flicks. With this mentality of quantity over quality, there’s no excuse for denying reboots to some of my favorite female superheroines and their considerably fewer films. Some of the movies that made my top 10 list admittedly sucked, and their heroines deserve a second chance to shine on the big screen. Some of the movies, however, were, are and ever shall be totally awesome, and I just want a do-over to enhance the awesome.
We all know that male superheroes get reboots for their (often shitty) movies over and over and over again. There are an ever-increasing number of Batman, Superman, and Hulk movies, not to mention a growing franchise of Iron Man, Captain America and Thor flicks. With this mentality of quantity over quality, there’s no excuse for denying reboots to some of my favorite female superheroines and their considerably fewer films. Some of the movies that made my top 10 list admittedly sucked, and their heroines deserve a second chance to shine on the big screen. Some of the movies, however, were, are and ever shall be totally awesome, and I just want a do-over to enhance the awesome.
1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Buffy catches a knife before cheerleading practice
When the film Buffy the Vampire Slayer came out in 1992, I loved it. At the tender age of 10, I was already a huge movie nerd, so I was delighted to see all those celebrity cameos (Kristy Swanson, Donald Sutherland, Pee-Wee Herman/Paul Reubens, Rutger Hauer, Luke Perry, David Arquette, and I still associate the Academy Award-winning Hilary Swank with her bit part in this flick as an annoying, backstabbing valley girl). I loved the cheesiness and the unexpected badassness of its cheerleading heroine, Buffy. The movie, though, doesn’t hold a candle to the quality, thematic breadth, character depth, epic scope and feminism of the subsequent TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer that aired 1997-2003.
Buffy vs. Buffy
Buffy has become one of the most iconic superheroines in our pop culture history. She has prophetic dreams and preternatural strength, agility, speed and healing along with the mantle of a dark destiny as “the chosen one” who must give her life in service to protecting the world from unseen demonic threats. A reboot could draw more from the material of the TV show, focusing on friendship, community and sisterhood while keeping all the action and humor that draw in crowds. Combine that with a die-hard cult fanbase, and a BtVS reboot can’t lose.
2. Supergirl
Supergirl must save the Omegahedron…whatever that is
The 1984 movie Supergirl, starring a young, fresh-faced Helen Slater, was another childhood favorite of mine. Even now 30 years after its release, my nostalgia-tinted view doesn’t allow me to see Supergirl as anything other than a formative superheroine movie about a woman who chooses her duty, her family, and her planet over romantic love. Though Supergirl (aka Kara) has the exact same powers as her cousin Superman (superhuman strength, flight, x-ray and heat vision, freezing breath, invulnerability and an aversion to kryptonite), Kara was so much more exciting than the Man of Steel from whom her comic incarnation was spawned.
One of the many Supergirl comic incarnations
Supergirl, like Superman, is an uncomplicated role model for young girls and boys. She is always brave, good, and righteous, and her moral code guides her and always triumphs in the end. I say if Superman got a series reboot, then fair is fair and Supergirl should get one, too.
3. Red Sonja
Despite Arnold’s size in this poster, Red Sonja is the true badass here
My love of Red Sonja is downright legendary. She’s a barbarian babe and the greatest sword-wielder who ever lived. The film is full of grand, beautifully choreographed fight sequences, dramatic accents and lines that I’ll probably utter on my deathbed (“You can’t kill it; it’s a machine!“). Sonja faces off against Queen Gedren, a lesbian super villainess played by the mistress of the sword and sandal genre: Sandahl Bergman (more on her later). As a young child, I adored watching these strong, independent women face off in single combat–women who would decide the fate of the world.
Red Sonja reboot rumors titillate but don’t deliver
Both based on comics, Red Sonja is part of the Conan universe. If Conan got his very own craptastic reboot of Conan the Barbarian (starring Jason Momoa of Khal Drogo fame), then it’s high time Red Sonja got hers, too. Hell, they should even make Sonja a lesbian since she’s none to fond of the gentlemen folk and just look at that Kentucky waterfall action she’s rocking. Wow, the idea of an epic lesbian swordswoman is really blowing my mind. That. We need that S.T.A.T.
4. Aeon Flux
Aeon Flux fail
The 2005 film Aeon Flux was generally considered a flop. Based on the animated series Aeon Flux that appeared on MTV’s Liquid Television in the 90s, the film was so loosely based on its source material that it disappointed fans and failed to engage newcomers. Animated series creator, Peter Chung, called the film version “a travesty” that made him feel “helpless, humiliated, and sad…Ms. Flux does not actually appear in the movie.”
The animated Aeon contorting
Frankly, the movie just wasn’t weird enough. The cartoon is populated by bizarre bodies that bordered on the grotesque, trippy visuals, nonlinear narratives and complex political and philosophical musings. The animated Aeon Flux was really cool, iconic, unexpected and unpredictable. Hollywood could use an injection of surreal, nonconformist cinema. Aeon should get a second shot, one that stays truer to its eccentric cartoon.
5. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider
Lara Croft wielding her two handguns
Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and its sequel Lara Croft Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life are based on the wildly popular video game series Tomb Raider. A female Indiana Jones-type adventuring archeologist, Lara Croft is an ideal heroine: brilliant, capable, inventive and athletic. Croft is proof that female-centric video games that don’t sexually exploit their heroines can be extremely successful and lucrative.
Video game Lara Croft over the years
The movie, however, had a long, convoluted, boring storyline. With a Bond-style episodic approach, the film left me feeling like I hadn’t gotten to know any of the characters in a meaningful way, and even the much anticipated action sequences dragged on and on and on. I don’t want to say good-bye, though, to such a magnetic female character who draws both male and female fans. With a quality script and a judicious editor, a Lara Croft reboot could be amazing, encouraging little girls to want to be Lara Croft (not Indiana Jones) when they grow up.
6. She
She is a matriarch revered as a goddess
1982’s She is a cult classic full of the most random-ass shit you can imagine. I was obsessed with it as a kid. Starring the arresting Sandahl Bergman, of Red Sonja and Conan the Barbarian fame, the film is probably very loosely based on the H. Rider Haggard novel She. The movie takes place in a bizarre post-apocalyptic world wherein She is a ruler of a matriarchal society. Worshiped as a goddess, She protects her people and accepts male (sexual) sacrifices. She is a warrior who goes on a journey to rescue a young woman, encountering werewolves, exploding mimes, a giant in a tutu and some green dudes who seem like they have some kind of leprosy.
The mighty and sexay She
Keeping the darkness and the zaniness of the original film, a reboot about a powerful, complicated, not always righteous female ruler set in a dystopian, magical world would be an exciting challenge. If I had my way, Bergman would reprise her role as She or at least have a cameo in the reboot.
7. Elektra
Elektra waaay outshone Daredevil
Though the character Elektra has a long comic book history, she first appeared as a love interest in 2003’s Daredevil. Though she died in the end of that massive pile of festering turds, she was later resurrected for her own spin-off film, Elektra, which was a box office flop. Truly, I was impressed with actress Jennifer Garner who performed the role of Elektra, mainly due to how excellent she was with the physicality of the role. She trained hard for the part and looked graceful, strong and natural in her martial arts performance and sai use, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for fat-headed Ben Affleck’s awkward, cringe-worthy fighting “skills.”
Comic Elektra and live action Jennifer Gardner
The plotline of the Elektra film was silly with a throwaway story, but I appreciate that our heroine strives to protect a young girl much like herself and presumably goes on to train this girl, bringing about a new era where women work together and aren’t pawns of a male secret group. Marvel can do better with this dark ninja assassin fighting her own demons. I vote for a do-over!
8. Sheena Queen of the Jungle
Sheena had so many super cute/cool animal pals
Another childhood favorite of mine was Sheena, starring Tanya Roberts as a female Tarzan who communicates with animals and saves her “people” and homeland from exploitation. I used to run around as a kid putting my fingertips to my forehead Sheena-style, hoping I, too, had a gift for speaking to animals (you probably know how that turned out). When I grew older, I actually became too ashamed to watch the film because it’s so painfully racist (I can’t stand that white savior trope).
Sheena as the great white hope
The thing is, Sheena is a female icon with a lot of history behind her. In 1937, she became the first female character to have her own title. She’s had her own movie and TV series. She is self-reliant, clever, righteous and part of a unique community that includes people and animals, and she chooses her home over love. The character of Sheena speaks to women. My solution to Sheena‘s inherent racism is to make the character African and Black like the people of her community. If The Beastmaster, Sheena’s (totally sweet) animal communicating male counterpart, got his own film trilogy (in which Tanya Roberts herself co-stars) and TV show, then Sheena deserves a second shot as a new and improved Black superheroine to be a role model for the next generation of women, particularly women of color.
9. Tank Girl
Tank Girl had a pretty wacky style
The 1995 film Tank Girl was unsuccessfully translated from its comic origins to the big screen. Despite having a series of celebrity cameos and high profile artists contribute to its soundtrack, the film, like its comic book, was a crazy conglomeration of imagery, absurdist, barely cohesive narrative and haphazard political commentary. Roger Ebert said of the film,
Whatever the faults of Tank Girl, lack of ambition is not one of them…Here is a movie that dives into the bag of filmmaking tricks and chooses all of them. Trying to re-create the multimedia effect of the comic books it’s based on, the film employs live action, animation, montages of still graphics, animatronic makeup, prosthetics, song-and-dance routines, models, fake backdrops, holography, title cards, matte drawings and computerized special effects. All I really missed were 3-D and Smell-O-Vision.
The Tank Girl comic continues its popularity
So Tank Girl didn’t make money. It did become a cult classic, and it was directed by a woman (Rachel Talalay), which are both wins in my book. It’s a story that revolves around a woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone. She smokes, she farts, she has tons of sex and just generally does what she wants. The anarchy of the character of Tank Girl and the defiant example she provides for women deserves another chance to show women that we don’t have to meet a feminine mold; we can call the shots and we can be as weird as we want to be…and still save the day in the end.
10. Frozen
Elsa uses her powers in Frozen
Frozen is the highest grossing animated film of all time and the 5th highest grossing film of all time. Damn. That is some serious popularity. That is some serious proof that people are starving for quality stories about the love and relationships between girls and young women. Loosely based on the Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale The Snow Queen, the Disney film Frozencenters around Elsa and her sister Anna, showing how their love for one another is what truly saves the day.
The power of sisters in Disney’s Frozen
This is the perfect opportunity for Disney to take the reins in their neverending quest for more money and reboot Frozen as a live action movie with all the bells and whistles that a mega-corporation can afford. Such a high profile movie about the beautiful and important bond between young women will help feminism more than I can say. Plus, it’ll be cool to see a live action Elsa use her sweet ice powers.
As I was compiling this list, I realized what a huge influence these superheroines were for me as I was growing up. It’s sad how few of my examples extend into the new century. Though I may have missed a few, it seems more likely that this is because Hollywood hasn’t been making movies about female heroes nearly as often as they should be. With films like Frozen, The Hunger Games, and Divergent, I hope to see a shift in that pattern that neglects the tales of heroines. These movies don’t always get it right, but their very existence is a triumph. Maybe with their success, the lazy producers of movies will dig up some of the films on my list and give them a second, maybe better chance to inspire women of the next generation.
Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.
You don’t have to be an intellectual elitist to hate ‘Transformers: Age of Extinction.’ It is a terrible movie for reasons that have nothing to do with a lack of originality and everything to do with an abundance of vulgarity, violence, misogyny, and racism.
Here is all you need to know about Transformers: Age of Extinction:You Don’t Have To See It.
I’m pretty sure that’s not in the Bible.
The fourth installment of the Transformers movie franchise, Transformers: Age of Extinction(2014), dropped this Friday, June 27. It has done well at the box office, becoming the first film this year to break $100 million in its opening weekend, and dwarfing the returns of competitors like 22 Jump Street (2014) and How to Train Your Dragon 2 (2014). Directed by Michael Bay (again) and written (such as it is) by Ehren Kruger, it features Mark Wahlberg as Cade Yeager, the heroically hunky everyman hero. Shia LeBeouf was unavailable, as lately he has been fully occupied with losing his shit.
Yeah, the critics don’t seem to like the movie very much – it’s currently coming in at 17 percent at Rotten Tomatoes, the lowest rating yet for a Transformers film. I didn’t like it, either. In fact, I hatedhatedhated it, for all the reasons that every other critic mentions. Very original, I know. Actually, my original angle for this review, originally, was to gripe about the film’s lack of originality. You see, it’s very important to me that as many people as possible know that I listen to NPR while driving my Subaru to the farmer’s market, and I was going to tie in my theme with the subject of the latest TED Radio Hour episode, What is Original. However, maybe I’m maturing as a critic, because I’ve concluded that it’s just not fair to expect a film like Transformers (2014) to be original. I mean, it was loud, senseless, clunky, and almost THREE HOURS LONG. But, as Stephanie Palmer wrote recently, summer blockbusters aren’t usually intended to be original. Rather, they’re designed to minimize risk and maximize profit. Fair enough.
I also thought about making the best out of it, as Charlie Jane Anders does in her review of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (2011). After all, when life gives you poop, make poopjuice, right? No. Nope, in fact. It doesn’t matter that this is an action figure movie designed to appeal to adolescent males, I just can’t muster the good will to hold my nose, wink, and keep my tongue in cheek.
You don’t have to be an intellectual elitist to hate Transformers: AOE. It’s a terrible movie for reasons that have nothing to do with a lack of originality and everything to do with an abundance of vulgarity, violence, misogyny, and racism.
By vulgarity, I don’t mean expletives, I mean excessive tastelessness. Shiny, five gallon buckets of Dom Pérignon tastelessness. Bay is a master of landscape cinematography, and it shows since almost every shot in the movie is a landscape onto which a CGI robot will be projected. For example, after the prologue (dinosaurs), we’re introduced to Yeager. He’s just a regular guy – he drives a rusty blue pickup, he’s dirty, he wears tight T-shirts (yeah, his biceps are dreamy), and he cares about his teenage daughter, Tessa (Nicola Peltz). He’s also a single dad and a small businessman, struggling to make ends meet with his barn-based cassette tape and film projector repair shop/ROBOTICS ENGINEERING LAB. While establishing Yeager’s down home bonifides and cat-saving prowess, Bay treats us to endless shots of cornfields, soybean fields, and field fields. I haven’t seen so much lingering on a cornfield since Field of Dreams (1989) mated with Children of the Corn (1984).
Similarily, the viewer endures an excess of shallow, inarticulate references to the concerns of the day. Posters and billboards in the background allude to our national discussion of immigration policy, while mean Kelsey Grammer and his très chic CIA deathsquad reflect our trepidations about government surveillance.
Violence certainly has a place in storytelling but, like its predecessors, Tranformers (2014) has an excess of violence. Mr. Bay, where is the blood? We see countless buildings ravaged by rockets and errant robots, but where are the human bodies falling from the 55th story, blown out or jumping to escape the flames? Likewise, those same rockets strike countless vehicles, robots slice cars in half, space magnets lift tour buses half a mile into the air only to drop onto elevated trains full of commuters. I’m guessing Paramount couldn’t afford to break off some of that $210 million budget to cast a few hundred thousand dead bystanders. To be fair, I could ask that same question of Godzilla (2014) or Pacific Rim (2013)(and I do).
Was that one of those driverless Google cars?
It’s not like this so-called family film shirked from depicting violence and death entirely. In one disturbing scene, a government agent holds a gun to Tessa’s head while she pleads for her life as Cade looks on, helpless; later, we see Cade’s affable best friend Lucas (T. J. Miller) burned to death, leaving an obscene smoldering effigy that Cade and Tessa…absolutely do not react to. Maybe they’re just like the film’s young audience as the exit the theatre – numb to death.
Bay doesn’t just excel at bloodless mass murder or at getting actors to stare skyward at imaginary robots, he’s also good at casual racist caricature. Early on, our white male protagonist has to defend his home from a real estate agent who is not a black woman who is also large, she’s a Fat Sassy Black Woman. Later we’re reacquainted with Brains, a small robot with a cybernetic afro and dialogue co-opted from a minstrel show. We also see Orientalist cliches, including Every Asian Knows Martial Arts and a Wise (Robot) Samurai.
While the film passes the letter of the Bechel Test, women don’t fare well, either. Bay’s camera often lingers on the female character’s bodies. Lucas’ introductory scene begins with his verbal sexual harassment of two women crossing the street separating him from Yeager. This harassment goes unrebuffed by Wahlberg’s character. Boys will be boys, I guess.
Yep, that looks about right.
Sophia Myles plays a geologist, Darcy Tirrel; while she’s the first main character to be introduced, she spends the remainder of the film playing The Watson for Stanley Tucci’s Steve Jobs character, Joshua Joyce, to explain Transformer tech to. During the climatic battle (I think it was the climatic battle, it’s kinda hard to tell), she marks Joyce’s development (now he’s a friendly capitalist!), saying “I’m proud of you.”
Bingbing Li plays Su Yueming, Joyce’s Chinese attaché. She wears tight pantsuits, knows Kung-Fu, and can drive a motorcycle. While initially she rebuffs his creepy-boss advances, she relents in the end and they sunset into the credits.
Tessa exists a perpetual protectorate for Yeager. For example, an hour and a half, i.e., midway, through the film, Yeager boards an alien prison ship to rescue her. While Tessa is hiding from her captors, a masculine green alien prisoner wraps a slimy green tongue around her bare leg. As the tongue gets longer and longer, it starts to reach for her genitals. I was reminded of the infamous tree rape scene in Evil Dead (1981).
Buy a Chevy.
As Rebecca Phale at The Mary Sue notes, the most disturbingly misogynistic scene is also the most subtle. On the aforementioned prison ship, Hound, a horribly erratic and violent Autobot voiced by John Goodman, murders an alien – essentially, a walking vagina dentata with an unfortunate sniffle – because it is “too ugly to live.” He punctuates the act by calling the corpse a “bitch.”
Buy a Chevy!
And so on. I intended to discuss the plot, but there wasn’t one. I was going to use phrasing like “soul crushing,” but I will decline in the interest of originality. How about “a long, loud, and dreary exercise in post-postmodern nihilism,” has that been taken? I will say that you, reader, are free to not see this movie. By all means, see a summer blockbuster, but hold out for one that shows more respect for women, minorities, and your ears.
Buy a Chevy, goddammit!
OK Mr. Bay, I’m done, I’m broken, just leave me alone and I’ll buy a fucking million pack of Bud Light.
While villainesses often work at cross-purposes with our heroes and heroines, we love to hate these women. They’re always morally complicated with dark pasts and often powerful and assertive women with an indomitable streak of independence.
As a follow-up to my post on the Top 10 Superheroines Who Deserve Their Own Movies, I thought it important to not neglect the bad girls of the superhero universe. I mean, we don’t want to piss those ladies off and invoke their wrath, do we? While villainesses often work at cross-purposes with our heroes and heroines, we love to hate these women. They’re always morally complicated with dark pasts and often powerful and assertive women with an indomitable streak of independence. With the recent growing success of Disney’s retelling of their classic Sleeping Beauty, the film Maleficent shows us that we all (especially young women) are hungry for tales from the other side of the coin. We want to understand these complex women, and we want them to have the agency to cast off the mantle of “villainess” and to tell their own stories from their own perspectives.
1. Mystique
The shapeshifting Mystique
Throughout the X-Men film franchise, the blue-skinned, golden-eyed shapeshifting mutant, Mystique, has gained incredible popularity. Despite the fact that she tends to be naked in many of her film appearances, Mystique is a feared and respected opponent. She is dogged in the pursuit of her goals, intelligent and knows how to expertly use her body, whether taking on the personae of important political figures, displaying her excellent markmanship with firearms or kicking ass with her own unique brand of martial arts. As the mother of Nightcrawler and the adoptive mother of Rogue, Mystique has deep connections across enemy lines. X-Men: First Class even explores the stigma surrounding her true appearance and the isolation and shame that shapes her as she matures into adulthood. The groundwork has already been laid to further develop this fascinating woman.
2. Harley Quinn
The playful, demented Harley Quinn
Often overshadowing her sometime “boss” and boyfriend The Joker, Harley Quinn captured the attention of viewers in the Batman: Animated Series, so much so that she was integrated into the DC Batman comic canon and even had her own title for a while. She’s also notable for her fast friendship with other infamous super villainesses, Poison Ivy and Catwoman. Often capricious and unstable, Harley always looks out for herself and always makes her own decisions, regardless of how illogical they may seem. Most interestingly, she possesses a stark vulnerability that we rarely see in villains. A dark and playful character with strong ties to other women would be a welcome addition to the big screen.
3. Ursa
Kneel before Ursa!
Ursa appears in the film Superman II wherein she is a fellow Krypontian who’s escaped from the perpetual prison of the Phantom Zone with two other comrades. As a Kryptonian, she has all the same powers and weaknesses of Superman (superhuman strength, flight, x-ray vision, freezing breath, invulnerability and an aversion to kryptonite). Ursa revels in these powers and delights in using extreme force. Ursa’s history and storyline are a bit convoluted, some versions depicting her as a misunderstood revolutionary fighting to save Krypton from its inevitable destruction, while others link her origins to the man-hating, murderous comic character Faora. Combining the two plotlines would give a movie about her a rich backstory and a fascinating descent into darkness in the tradition of Chronicle.
4. Sniper Wolf
“I watched the stupidity of mankind through the scope of my rifle.” – Sniper Wolf
Sniper Wolf from Metal Gear Solid is one of the most infamous and beloved villainesses in gaming history. A deadly and dedicated sniper assassin, Sniper Wolf is ruthless, methodical and patient when she stalks her prey, namely Solid Snake, the video game’s hero. Not only that, but she has a deep connection to a pack of huskies/wolves that she rescues, which aid her on the snowy battlefield when she faces off with Snake in what was ranked one of gaming’s best boss fights. In fact, Sniper Wolf has made the cut onto a lot of “best of” lists, and her death has been called “one of gaming’s most poignant scenes.” Her exquisite craft with a rifle is only one of the reasons that she’s so admired. Her childhood history as an Iraqi Kurdish survivor of a chemical attack that killed her family and thousands of others only to be brainwashed by the Iraqi and then U.S. governments is nothing short of tragic. Many players regretted having to kill her in order to advance in the game. She is a lost woman with the potential for greatness who was manipulated and corrupted by self-serving military forces. Sniper Wolf is a complex woman of color whose screenplay could detail an important piece of history with the persecution of Kurds in Iraq, show super cool weapons and stealth skills while critiquing the military industrial complex and give a woman a voice and power within both the male-dominated arenas of spy movies and the military.
5. Scarlet Witch
One of the most powerful mutants in X-Men lore, Scarlet Witch
Scarlet Witch, the twin sister of Quicksilver and daughter of Magneto, is one of the most powerful mutants in the X-Men and Avengers universe. With power over probability and an ability to cast spells, Scarlet Witch is alternately a valuable member of Magneto’s Brotherhood of Mutants as well as the Avengers. She can also manipulate chaos magic and, at times, control the very fabric of reality, such that she can “rewrite her entire universe.” Um, badass. She’s also one of the most interesting characters in the X-Men and Avengers canon because she’s so deeply conflicted about what she believes and who she should trust. Eventually coming around to fight on the side of good, Scarlet Witch has a true heroine’s journey, in which she has a dark destiny that she overcomes, makes choices for which she must later seek redemption, finds her true path as a leader among other warriors, and she even becomes a mother and wife in the process. Despite her extensive comic book history (first appearing in 1964) and the fact that she’s such a strong mutant with such a compelling tale of the journey from dark to light, Scarlet Witch has only been a supporting character in video games, TV shows, and in movies (most recently set to appear in the upcoming Avengers: Age of Ultron). That’s just plain dumb.
6. Ursula
The ominous, magnetic sea witch, Ursula
Ursula, the sea witch from Disney’s The Little Mermaid, is so amazing. Part woman, part octopus, she has incredible magical powers that she uses for her own amusement and gains. With her sultry, husky voice and sensuous curves, she was a Disney villainess unlike any Disney had shown us before. What I find most compelling about Ursula is that her magic can change the shape and form of anyone, and she chooses to maintain her full-figured form. Though she is a villainess, this fat positive message of a magnetic, formidable woman who loves her body (and seriously rocks the musical number “Poor Unfortunate Souls” like nobody’s business) is unique to Disney and unique to general representations of women in Hollywood.
Now that Disney has made Maleficent, they better find a place for this octo-woman sea witch, and they better keep her gloriously fat, or they’ll be sorry.
7. Evil-Lyn
Evil-Lyn
Evil-Lyn was the only regularly appearing villainess on the 80’s cartoon series He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. Unlike its blissfully female-centric spin-off, She-Ra: Princess of Power, He-Man was pretty much a sausage-fest. Much in the way that Teela and the Sorceress were the only women representing the forces of good, Evil-Lyn was the lone lady working for the evil Skeletor. As his second-in-command, she proved herself to be devious and intelligent with a gift for dark sorcery that often rivaled that of the seemingly much more powerful Skeletor and Sorceress. There appears to be no official documentation of this, but as a child, I read Evil-Lyn as Asian (probably because of her facial features and the over-the-top yellow skin tone Filmation gave her). I love the idea of Evil-Lyn being a lone woman of color among a gang of ne’er-do-wells who holds her own while always plotting to overthrow her leader and take power for herself. (Plus, she has the best evil laugh ever.) I have no illusions that she’ll ever get her own movie (despite Meg Foster’s mega-sexy supporting performance as the cunning Evil-Lyn in the Masters of the Universe film). However, I always wanted her to have more screen time, and I always wanted to know more about her, unlike her male evil minion counterparts.
8. Knockout and Scandal
Knockout and Scandal are bad girls in love
Scandal Savage and Knockout are villainess lovers who appear together in both comic series Birds of Prey and Secret Six. As members of the super-villain group Secret Six, the two fight side-by-side only looking out for each other and, sometimes, their teammates. Very tough and nearly invulnerable due to the blood from her immortal father, Vandal Savage, Scandal is an intelligent woman of color who’s deadly with her Wolverine-like “lamentation blades”. Her lover Knockout is a statuesque ex-Female Fury with superhuman strength and a knack for not dying and, if that fails, being resurrected. I love that Scandal and Knockout are queer villainesses who are loyal to each other and even further push the heteronormative boundaries by embarking on a polygamous marriage with a third woman. I generally despise romance movies, but I would absolutely go see an action romance with Scandal and Knockout as the leads!
9. Lady Death
Lady Death overcomes her status as eye candy
Lady Death has evolved over the years. Beginning her journey as a one-dimensional evil goddess intent on destroying the world, her history then shifted so that she was an accidental and reluctant servant of Hell who eventually overthrows Lucifer and herself becomes the mistress of Hell. Her latest incarnation shows her as a reluctant servant of The Labyrinth (instead of the darker notion of Hell) with powerfully innate magic that grows as she adventures, rescuing people and saving the world, until she’s a bonafide heroine. An iconic figure with her pale (mostly bare) skin and white hair, Lady Death has had her own animated movie, but I’m imagining instead a goth, Conan-esque live action film starring Lady Death that focuses on her quest through the dark depths of greed, corruption and revenge until she finds peace and redemption.
10. Asajj Ventress
The Dark Side has Asajj Ventress. #win
Last, but not least, we have Asajj Ventress from the Star Wars universe, and the thought of her getting her own feature film honestly excites me more than any of the others. I first saw Ventress in Genndy Tartakovsky’s 2003 TV series Star Wars: Clone Wars, and she was was mag-fucking-nificent. A Dark Jedi striving for Sith status, Ventress is a graceful death-dealer wielding double lightsabers. Supplemental materials like comic books, novels and the newer TV series provide more history for this bald, formidable villainess. It turns out that she’s of the same race as Darth Maul with natural inclinations towards the Force. Enslaved at a young age, she escaped with the help of a Jedi Knight and began her training with him. She was a powerful force for good in the world until he was murdered, and in her bitterness, she turned to the Dark Side. Her powers are significant in that she can cloak herself in the Force like a mist and animate an army of the dead (wowzas!). Confession: I even have a Ventress action figure. The world doesn’t need another shitty Star Wars movie with a poorly executed Anakin Skywalker; the world needs a movie about Asajj Ventress in all her elegantly brutal glory.
Please bring Asajj Ventress to life on the big screen!
Peeling back the layers of these reviled women of pop culture is an important step in relaxing the binary that our culture forces women into. Showing a more nuanced and empathetic version of these women would prove that all women don’t have to be good or evil, dark or light, right or wrong, virgin or whore. Why do we love villainesses? Because heroines can be so bloody boring with their clear moral compasses, their righteousness and the fact that they always win. When compared to their heroine counterparts, villainesses have more freedom to defy. In fact, villainesses are more likely to defy expectations and gender roles, to be queer and to be women of color. In some ways, villainesses are more like us than heroines because they’re fallible, they’ve suffered injustices and they’re often selfish. In other ways, villainesses are something of an inspiration to women because they’re strong, confident, intelligent, dismissive of the judgements of others and, most importantly, they know how to get what they want and need.
Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.
Like many fans of this film, I initially watched ‘Ink’ (2009) on Netflix and immediately conducted some research to learn more about the making of this independent picture. It’s also a narrative that lingers with you after you’ve finished watching it, so I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about the film’s acting and score, as well as the pivotal moments that merge with a complex plot that unfolds somewhere between reality and fantasy. After maybe a half a dozen viewings, this story never fails to evoke tears for me.
Like many fans of this film, I initially watched Ink (2009) on Netflix and immediately conducted some research to learn more about the making of this independent picture. It’s also a narrative that lingers with you after you’ve finished watching it, so I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about the film’s acting and score, as well as the pivotal moments that merge with a complex plot that unfolds somewhere between reality and fantasy. After maybe a half a dozen viewings, this story never fails to evoke tears for me.
This independent film by Jamin Winans is structured around the story of a father and daughter, alongside breathtaking visuals, ethereal yet warrior-like beings, and an amazing, ambient soundtrack. Comparable to the existential terror of Donnie Darko and the romantic beauty of Eternal Sunshine, Ink is a masterpiece in terms of storytelling, artistic integrity, and the craft of merging humor with the spiritual and the potential darkness lurking in the subconscious. Winans’ vision will make you question where you go when you close your eyes to sleep and how you find your way back to waking. Ink also instills a sense of philosophical well-being, suggesting that some events in our lives may be pre-determined while we maintain the ability to step in and incite change if we would like.
Allel tries to figure out how to save Emma’s soul.
John (Chris Kelly) falls apart and loses his way after his wife dies, leaving him and his young daughter Emma (Quinn Hunchar) behind. However, with the help of otherworldly companions and foes, father and daughter find each other in the dark, traversing through the world of dreams and nightmares, reminding us that we are our own worst enemy. In this reality, those who bestow pleasant dreams watch over us as we sleep and fight the evil incubi who attempt to burden us with nightmares. These two forces battle as we sleep, and John and Emma find themselves in the crossfire in Ink.
Liev, the “Storyteller,” acts as a sort of spirit guide and helps to save both John and Emma through her kind patience and gentle push for John to remember who he used to be.
Via flashbacks, we discover that John grew up poor and is now obsessed with fortune and success in his career, so much so that he has become a cold shell of the person he once was. We are also shown glimpses of the love story between John and his late wife. However, rather than cherish the piece of Shelly still in this world–Emma–he abandons his entire life and embarks on a downward spiral of depression and oblivion.
Most central to the plot of Ink is the conflicted father-daughter relationship we see between John and Emma. We are shown the dark implications of suicide when we watch John shoot himself and become the grotesque figure, Ink, whose name reminds us that we are always capable of changing our own story, taking initiative and owning our lives and our choices. Emma also shows immense courage as she loses her father and then helps him to recall his former life.
In an especially critical scene toward the beginning of the film, Emma pleads with her father to play with her, and he is reluctant, claiming that her mother can entertain her when she wakes. Here, we see the prototypical image of the bumbling, single father who feels uncertain about his parenting abilities, but is in fact doing well raising a daughter (see Casper, My Girl, and Dan in Real Life). However, after some resistance, John gives in and leaps into Emma’s make-believe world where he must rescue her from “the monster,” which we later discover is indeed John himself.
Making the transition from monster to father, John fights off the incubi and saves his little girl.
I think it’s important to recognize Allel as a fierce guardian over both father and child, and also a wonderful role model for young viewers. In this dimension, we see multiple fight scenes between Allel and male-gendered incubi. While saving Emma is truly a group effort, it’s always refreshing to spot a woman who isn’t afraid to swing a dangerous weapon–in Allel’s case, a staff she carries on her back. Liev, the beautiful and ethereal woman who is willingly taken prisoner by Ink as he and Emma journey to hand over the girl’s soul, is a prominent feminist character in the film, as well; she encourages Emma by explaining that she is transforming into a lioness in this new world and she had better practice her roar. Unlike Allel, Liev carries no weapons and teaches Emma that her voice is her weapon.
Allel and Liev both act as spirit guides in their quest to protect the innocent life of Emma, who is suffering due to her father’s neglect and drug and alcohol use. Liev is more of a maternal, pacifist figure in the movie while Allel gets pretty down and dirty beating up the forces of evil. Both characters are feminine forces the film can’t do without; Allel is part of Emma as she infuses her unconscious with pleasant dreams while Liev lends the resilient Emma the strength to cope with her kidnapping at the hands of her unrecognizable father.
The gang battles their enemies in another dimension, never causing physical change or destruction in our world.
We’re so invested in cycles and rhythms, whether it’s in our own lives or in film or literature–which mirror our lives–it’s provocative to find a scene in Ink that depicts the halting or disruption of flow in favor of necessary disorder so that change can be reached. Jacob, the “Pathfinder,” easily recognizes the chain of events and tells us that “one thing begets the next.” In an intense and memorable scene, Jacob demonstrates how sometimes the steady and predictable rhythms of life must be interrupted to jar us so that we can experience a personal revelation and recall what we value and who we are.
Jacob orchestrates an “accident” so that John is sent to the same hospital where his daughter is in a coma.
The set of metaphysical beings who travel alongside John and Emma in their quest to be reunited are so likable in their efforts to protect father and child, and we fret that they can be defeated at any moment, and all will be lost. With the combination of bad ass fight scenes, magnificent imagery, and the sense that these guardian spirits are reflections of our own spiritual imaginations and longings, it’s shocking that Ink’s budget was a mere $250,000. This low-budget sci-fi drama certainly exceeds viewer expectations, and the irony of a blind seer with a chip on his shoulder adds a dimension of comedy to an otherwise somber film. Ink’s cinematography is impressive, and the film’s score–also developed by Winans–is exquisite and accompanies the film’s juxtaposition of action and quiet nurturing nicely.
Allel tries to hold off the incubi from entering Emma’s hospital room.
Realizing his error and that he almost abandoned Emma for good, John fights off the evil incubi who merely capture the little girl. Something awe-inspiring happens as we watch this narrative unfold in two opposing dimensions, one in the clinical environment of a hospital and the other in a world where our souls may be lost if we lose our way. The merging point is brilliant; John rescues his daughter when she needs him the most, and the film offers us both dream-like metaphor and concrete reality, which work alongside one another well. John’s decision to seek Emma at the hospital works as Ink’s denouement in a deeply visceral fashion. We also come to discover that when John is jolted out of his own coma or temporary self-exile, in choosing to father Emma, he chooses himself.
Jenny has a Master of Arts degree in English, and she is a part-time instructor at Alvernia University. Her areas of scholarship include women’s literature, menstrual literacy, and rape-revenge cinema. You can find her on WordPress and Pinterest.
I want to give ‘Non-Stop’ the benefit of the doubt, because I truly enjoyed it, certainly more than any of the other films in the Grizzled Action Hero phase of Liam Neeson’s career. It deftly plays with audience expectations and genre-savvy to yield more red herrings than a Lenten Fish Fry to keep the whodunit simmering for most of its tight 106-minute runtime.
Liam Neeson in Grizzled Action Hero mode in Non-Stop
I want to give Non-Stop the benefit of the doubt, because I truly enjoyed it, certainly more than any of the other films in the Grizzled Action Hero phase of Liam Neeson’s career. It deftly plays with audience expectations and genre-savvy to yield more red herrings than a Lenten Fish Fry to keep the whodunit simmering for most of its tight 106-minute runtime.
Julianne Moore in Non-Stop
An example of how Non-Stop plays with tropes is its use of lead actress Julianne Moore. “The Most Famous Person Did It” is such a classic problem with mystery film and television I remember noticing it in reruns of Murder She Wrote when I was in grade school. Non-Stop knows you are wondering if Julianne Moore is slumming it here because she wants that juicy villain monologue at the end. So she gets lots of opportunities to do suspiciously weird things, but also plenty of opportunities to be vulnerable and likable, so we don’t just assume she’s the bad guy and decide to just watch Air Force One again. At some point we wonder… could she possibly be an age-appropriate love-interest for Liam Neeson? It’s almost inconceivable!
“You do know she’s ONLY eight years younger than him, right?”
Then there’s a half-dozen or so recognizable character actors taking turns being potentially sinister and/or mean enough we want to see Liam Neeson punch them, even if they might not be the terrorist in question. (Liam Neeson will ultimately punch nearly all of them). Is it the shifty businessman? The genteel captain? The John McClane wannabe who is already making fists with his toes because he’s got so much anger? The squirrelly oversharer played by that guy named Skeet or Street or Poot or something? The brown guy in the kufi (please don’t be the brown guy in the kufi)?
Maybe it is Lupita!!!
Lupita Nyong’o in Non-Stop
Spoiler alert: it is not Lupita. In fact, one of the most precious things about this movie is that it clearly got a last-minute Lupita-heavy re-edit to reflect her It Girl status. Her character is named (Gwen) but she’s really just an extra (Flight Attendant #2), with no significant dialogue (the film would even pass the Bechdel Test without her!) and zero characterization. But there are so many pointless cuts to Lupita B-Roll. Liam Neeson sneaks around the galley. But what is Lupita doing? (Checking the latch on an overhead bin.) Liam Neeson defies his superiors at DHS. But what is Lupita doing? (Picking a piece of lint off her uniform.) Liam Neeson punches a guy. BUT WHAT. IS. LUPITA. DOING!? (Making a “who is this punch-happy jackass?” face.)
Lupita ruefully thinks, “Get off my plane.”
But I digress. Everyone’s a suspect (I seriously entertained the notion that the shy unaccompanied minor would be an accessory to the terrorist plot somehow), and that’s a big part of why Non-Stop works. But scratch that seemingly clever surface and Non-Stop has a quintessential Idiot Plot, as defined by Roger Ebert: “a plot containing problems that would be solved instantly if all the characters were not idiots.” It’s cat and mouse between a villain doing asinine things for incomprehensible reasons and a hero who responds irrationally, which could all be avoided if the pilot would just make an unscheduled landing (I know from long-haul flights, and you’re not “in the Middle of the Atlantic!” When Halifax is 45 minutes behind you).
Even the characters are confused.
Often the most plausible explanation for the main character’s strange behaviors is “because that’s the way a man’s man would do it.” Liam Neeson doesn’t tell anyone he was [minor spoiler] just forced to kill his partner in self-defense because… that makes him all the more tragically guarded with his emotional pain? (He’s got the requisite dead daughter backstory and surprisingly not-inconvenient drinking problem.) I don’t really understand why being tragically guarded with emotional pain is on the Action Hero Checklist to begin with. Look, I’ve got dead family and stunted emotions too, and I’m decidedly not a badass.
Non-Stop is usually gripping enough to distract you from its various weaknesses, but it’s got no choice but to tear open its nonsensical underbelly when the villain (or villains!?!) are revealed, and no, there isn’t some hidden agenda that makes all the ridiculous stuff that’s happened make any more sense. Fortunately the movie is almost over then.
Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town. Her feelings about Lupita Nyong’o are comparable to Key & Peele’s valets’ regarding “Liam Neesons.”
There are patterns in Guillermo del Toro’s dark fairy tales, one of the obvious ones being the ease with which he puts children in harm’s way, some of their trials being so painfully harsh that one can’t help suspecting that he puts them in his stories just to tear at our heartstrings. Thankfully, the stories of childhood loss are balanced with protective Nurturer figures, some women, some men, but I’ll be focussing purely on the men because of the clichéd figure of the female nurturer.
There are patterns in Guillermo del Toro’s dark fairy tales, one of the obvious ones being the ease with which he puts children in harm’s way, some of their trials being so painfully harsh that one can’t help suspecting that he puts them in his stories just to tear at our heartstrings. Thankfully, the stories of childhood loss are balanced with protective Nurturer figures, some women, some men, but I’ll be focussing purely on the men because of the clichéd figure of the female Nurturer.
The Father archetype takes the form of king, tyrant, judge, doctor, executioner, devil, god, priest, take your pick, anything that traditional male roles offer. In real life as on reel, if their characters slip into the feminine role of nurturer (which should not be mistaken for saviour) we gush with praise, because he’s done something so contrary to his nature. On the other hand, we hold up the Mother to some very exacting standards, and are less likely to let her deviate from her primary role. While I’ve examined women’s roles in movies (because I felt there was such a dearth of complex ones), it jumped out at me how many men in Guillermo del Toro’s movies fit into archetypal Fatherhood roles, their characters too being complex, sometimes contradictory.
: : : SPOILERS AHEAD!! : : :
Vidal and Ofelia in Pan’s Labyrinth
The Tyrant
Captain Vidal from Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
Vidal fits perfectly into the role of The Tyrant. Part of Ofelia’s trial is escaping his oppressive clutches and trying to save her mother at the same time. The Tyrant is your model patriarch; as a fascist, he represents the worst of the Patriarchy. He values sons over daughters, females are only valued as hosts to create the next generation of tyrants. In fact, the entire movie is ridden with imagery and subtexts of the oppressed feminine battling the militaristic autocracy of the despotic tyrant. While he was willing to allow his wife to die if it allowed his son to live, his Nurturer side, though selective, surfaces when the child is born.
A patriarch deigns to give his name only to those he prizes as legitimate offspring, the age-old system of the patriarchy wields its power as long as its descendants hold its dynastic title, and by being denied the right to perpetuate his name just before his death, The Tyrant is truly defeated.
The Faun and Ofelia in Pan’s Labyrinth
The Mage
The Faun in Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
The Faun’s role is significant because his character displays the duality of the Mage/Trickster archetype. As an ancient being, with “old names that only the wind and the trees can pronounce,” he occupies the noble archetypal roles of the Mage– a Magician, for he is capable of magic; Holy Man for his ancient wisdom; Guide–because he helps Ofelia find her way home; Nurturer–for the advice, comfort and help he gives her when she needs it.
When Ofelia bungles at her tasks, however, he shows his ugly side by turning into Tyrant, and finally when the time arrives for the final test, he turns Trickster by posing a moral dilemma to Ofelia: if she allows her brother to be harmed she would gain entry to her father’s kingdom, if she doesn’t she will lose that chance forever.
Ofelia proves her worth and gains access to the fairy kingdom through unintentional sacrifice. In the real world children might be rewarded for their bravery but not for their innocence, and the director sure rubs that in.
Trevor Bruttenholm and Hellboy in Hellboy II: The Golden Army
The Alchemist*
Trevor Bruttenholm in Hellboy (2004)
The Alchemist can be wizard or scientist, he represents transformation and change. In a negative context, he nurses an destructive ambition to exploit the natural world for profit. Trevor Bruttenholm as the occultist is the positive Father-Nurturer, transforming a demon child, a monstrous thing born of another dimension, into a force for good. Rasputin on the other hand represents the other side of the Alchemist’s persona, destruction and change for the sake of personal gain.
Dr Casares and Carlos in The Devil’s Backbone
The Sage
Dr. Casares in The Devil’s Backbone (2001)
This movie is also set in a militaristic background, the orphan children are again victims of tyrants. Dr. Casares plays a true Nurturer figure in The Devil’s Backbone. As a man of science, he is a rationalist who denies the existence of Santi, the ghost child that tries to warn them of a coming disaster, emphasized by the unexploded bomb in the courtyard of the school.
His impotency might portray him as half a man, since virility is a necessary part of the Patriarchy, as it symbolizes power and regeneration. Casares is anything but a cold rationalist. When he takes a sip of the panacean Devil’s Backbone elixir, at first glance it’s a half-hearted attempt to cure his impotency, but by being teacher, guide and saviour to the fatherless children, he ultimately sacrifices his life while performing the role of Father-Nurturer, a role that requires the strength and willingness to put oneself in harms way to make sure one’s progeny survives.
Stacker Pentecost and Mako Mori in Pacific Rim
The Knight
Stacker Pentecost in Pacific Rim (2013)
The Knight is a warrior with a code. He fights for justice, for the innocent, for the weak. He is chivalrous and stoic and that chivalry contributes to his sexism. While the argument between blind obedience and freeing oneself of the Father-Tyrant is shown several times, there are two fathers who let go of their children in the story. The ability of the Knight is limited, he can’t always protect his children, so to avoid becoming the hated archetypal Tyrant, the Knight has to free himself of the glory of his saviour role and acknowledge his limitations. Stacker Pentecost learns to let go, his eventual acknowledgment of Mako’s maturity shows his growth. He does not have to let go of his gallantry however, to “clear a path for the lady,” so she can make her own choice whether to risk her life in the battle.
* Going purely by the movie.
Rhea Danielgot to see a lot of movies as a kid because her family members were obsessive movie-watchers. She frequently finds herself in a bind between her love for art and her feminist conscience. Meanwhile she is trying to be a better writer and artist and you can find her at rheadaniel(dot)tumblr(dot)com.
With cast members Daisy Ridley, Carrie Fisher (reprising her role as the iconic Princess Leia), Lupita Nyong’o and Gwendoline Christie, these women quadruple the number of female leads that typically appear in a ‘Star Wars’ trilogy. That’s right. Until now, space has apparently been no place for women, especially strong women with more than one or two lines.
As buzz builds around the upcoming and presumably final Star Wars trilogy following the announcement of the Episode VII’s cast, I’m relieved to see that, with the recent addition of Game of Thrones‘ Gwendoline Christie and 12 Years a Slave‘s Lupita Nyong’o, the Star Wars franchise is trying to overcome its reputation as a sausage-fest. With Daisy Ridley on board (I’m guessing to play Han and Leia’s daughter) and veteran Carrie Fisher, who’ll be reprising her role as the iconic Princess Leia, these women quadruple the number of female leads that typically appear in a Star Wars trilogy. That’s right. Until now, space has apparently been no place for women, especially strong women with more than one or two lines. Now we just have to hope that Christie and Nyong’o won’t be used as Othered alien cameos and that these women’s considerable talents will be used, instead, to enrich the flagging franchise.
Consider the way the questionable way George Lucas has dealt with the very few women of Star Wars from the beginning. For the original Episodes IV-VI, we have Fisher as the tough rebel leader, but still royalty, Leia Organa…the only female character of note in the entire trilogy.
Leia in camouflage uniform on the forest moon of Endor
In the prequel Episodes I-III, we have Natalie Portman playing Padmé Amidala, Luke and Leia’s mother as well as a strong, independent, politically savvy queen…the only female character of note in the follow-up trilogy.
The Phantom Menace featured an ass-kicking Padmé
Basically, despite the fact that entire Star Wars trilogies feature only a single female lead, each trilogy starts off with promise because that lone lady happens to be an empowered women who leads others with compassion, but isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty by firing a few blasters.
Mother and daughter both start off as forces to be reckoned with
Though Leia is the apex of yet another insipid (and incestuous) cinematic love triangle, her role as a critical leader in the rebellion is far more defining of her identity. In A New Hope, Leia is captured by Imperial forces and tortured. Not only does she not reveal the location of the rebel alliance, she is also integral in the success of her own rescue at the hands of Han and Luke. She also displays remarkable bravery, intelligence, and an innate talent for The Force (shown in both Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi through unexplained knowledge, strength, and a supernatural connection to her twin, Luke).
A deceptively helpless imprisoned Leia moments before her escape
Interestingly enough, one of Leia’s most seriously badass scenes is also, conversely, her most iconically objectifying one as well. When Leia poses as a “ruthless” bounty hunter to infiltrate Jabba’s Palace to rescue Han in Return of the Jedi, her cool points went through the roof. I love the idea of the woman organizing a team to go in and rescue her male love interest. However, women being in love within the Star Wars universe never goes well, and Leia is captured and forced to don scanty clothing and lounge beside Jabba. The film is vague about whether or not she has been raped or forced to engage in sexual acts with Jabba, but from here on out, Leia’s image as “Slave Leia” has gone down in pop culture as well as sexual fetish history and continues to be a popular cosplay for nerd gals and others.
I hate that Leia is best remembered for her “Slave Leia” outfit
Though Leia is demeaned, harassed, threatened, and disgusted by her captor, in the end, she’s able to take charge. With nothing but the chain around her neck, enslaving her, she kills Jabba, one of the most iconic villains of all time before aiding the rest of her friends in their escape. Her self-liberation, that she’s integral to her team and their escape, and that she fucking killed Jabba the fucking Hut goes a long way to distract us from the fact that for two films, we didn’t even see Leia’s wrists or ankles and suddenly, now that she’s in love, she’s a prime target for grossly sexualized objectification.
Though scantily clad, Leia is heavily armed
Later in Return of the Jedi, things get even dicier for Leia when she’s befriended and essentially held hostage by the furry Ewoks (I wonder if Lucas has some sexual fetishes he was indulging in this film). They give her a rustic dress, braid her hair and make her wear it down for the first time in the trilogy. They protect her and ignore her. Essentially, the Ewoks relegate Leia to a traditional female role, removing her agency. Leia is rescued by her friends yet again. The fact of the matter is that Leia, our only female character, is captured and rescued more than any other character in the trilogy. In the end, the film gives her back a measure of agency, and she is allowed to fight in the final battle.
Leia’s mother, Padmé, is a more extreme example of Lucas’ at best confused, at worst fucked-up attitude toward women in that her highs are higher, but her lows are so very, very much lower. On the positive side, Padmé is a popular and well-respected ruler-turned-Senator who is courageous in her dedication to her people. She generally wields her power for good, in defense of her planet and is never power hungry, nor is she a mere figurehead (despite the ridiculous ornamental nature of her wardrobe). She is alternately a diplomat and a warrior when the need arises.
Padmé doesn’t shirk from necessary conflict
Though considerable, that’s where Padmé’s awesomeness ends. Throughout all three films, she is treated like a doll with her parade of outfits and her elaborate face painting. There’s even a Star Wars wiki page dedicated to her extensive wardrobe. Much of her Naboo state attire is even offensive with its appropriation of Asian cultural aesthetic.
Does Lucas also have an Asian fetish?
Despite the focus the films place on her body via her endless stream of costumes, Padmé mostly remains a badass (except for her vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum that opens the door for Palpatine to take control of the Senate, ushering in the tyranny of the Empire for decades to come…except for that). All agency slips from her, though, when Padmé falls in love with the atrociously acted Anakin Skywalker.
Padmé becomes little more than a love interest and a pretty face
Her story ceases to be one about political advocacy, diplomacy, and her struggles to keep her people’s liberties and safety intact. Instead, Padmé becomes little more than a love interest and a pretty face. Ignoring the fact that the love story is painfully trite and stilted with zero chemistry and wooden acting, this romance becomes all that Padmé is about. She marries Anakin in secret and becomes pregnant, and her personality totally changes. She becomes a simpering, deplorable character who dies of a broken heart. I mean, who cares that Anakin has been a childish wanker from the beginning and that she’s got a newborn set of twins? Life, I guess, is just too unbearable for a once strong and independent woman once she realizes she made a bad choice in love.
Interestingly enough, Lucas did a better job in the 70s and 80s with his depiction of Leia than he did 20 years later when he brought Padmé to life.
Of the renderings of Skywalker women, Leia wins the prize for badassery
It’s a sad state of affairs when representations of women become progressively less feminist as time goes on. Despite the fact that certain parties are involved: Lucas with his growing record of bad judgment and J.J. Abrams with his habit of taking all the substance out of sci-fi franchises, I can’t help but be hopeful that the new Star Wars trilogy will get it right where its predecessors failed. Though the series has let me down before (Episodes I-III were, frankly, Bantha fodder), having several actresses on the cast for this new trilogy, women known for their strong female characters is a bright spot in a franchise that’s rapidly turning towards the Dark Side.
Of George Lucas, I, like Luke, can only say, “There is good in him. I’ve felt it.” And I, like Luke, will continue to have faith until it is perhaps too late.
Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.
