Amy Schumer – Bitch Flicks

Post-Feminist Rom-Coms and the Existing Female in ‘Trainwreck’ and ‘Legally Blonde’

In the post-feminist romantic comedy, female characters transition from being non-existent objects, into existing, as subjects, in the course of love. … In ‘Trainwreck,’ Amy begins the film as a subject, but ends as an object. Amy’s opposition becomes submission to male desires, for a man, which erases her. In ‘Legally Blonde,’ Elle begins as object, but ends the film as subject. Initially, the gaze of the camera and the characters objectify Elle’s body. But eventually, Elle demonstrates her worth and success outside of male desires and ultimately finds love.

This guest post is written by Claire White.

In cinema, female characters do not exist (as subjects), especially in the course of finding love. Looking at the origins of feminist film theory, it is easy to establish why the idea of the non-existent female in cinema is present. However, when female heroines are the main protagonist, the female oscillates between existing and being erased. I will convey this oscillation of existence through the analysis of two post-feminist romantic comedies, Trainwreck and Legally Blonde, in which the female protagonist ultimately finds love.

In the case of Trainwreck (directed by Judd Apatow, 2015), the lead character, Amy (Amy Schumer), exists as love subject at the beginning of the film. However, by the film’s end, Amy erases herself by submitting to male desires, becoming the love object, in order to ultimately find love. On the other hand, in Legally Blonde (directed by Robert Luketic, 2001), Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon) does not exist at the beginning of the film, due to her characterization as a typical dumb, rich, and spoiled blonde who is portrayed as object. Nonetheless, it is how her character develops and reacts to male criticism which legitimizes her, and in the end she finds, proving that in the post-feminist romantic comedy, the female can exist and find love.

The concept of the non-existent female character in cinema has been prevalent as far back as the 1970s, as highlighted in the works of key feminist film theorists Claire Johnston and Laura Mulvey. In her 1974 essay “Myths of Women in the Cinema,” Johnston contends in cinema, “woman as woman is largely absent” (Johnston 1974, 410). Johnston examines the sexist ideology of the male-dominated cinema, and discusses the woman as a myth (1974, 410). Women in cinema exist under fixed iconography, only ever as erotic myth or stereotype, with no variety, whereas men play various different roles (Johnston 1974, 408). Laura Mulvey’s 1975 essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” discusses the “male gaze,” which remains a prominent concept in contemporary film criticism. The Male Gaze is understood as men in the cinema being the active holders of the gaze, which is imposed onto the women as passive bearers of “the look” (Mulvey 1975, 418). The Male Gaze “projects its fantasy onto the female figure, which is styled accordingly” (Mulvey 1975, 418). These critiques arise out of the recognition of the cinema being male-dominated, meaning male directors were the ones portraying women as object, and inflicting their gaze.

Claire Mortimer recognizes, while the romantic comedy is thought of as a woman’s genre, “the romantic comedy heroine is almost always the construct resulting from the work of men, due to the patriarchal nature of the film industry” (Mortimer 2010, 20). Applying Johnston and Mulvey’s theory in the cinematic love story, the woman does not exist outside of a sexualized and erotic or love object, not love subject. Over twenty years after Mulvey’s essay, Jane M. Ussher discusses the Male Gaze in film and art, and describes the woman appearing “as a creature to be worshiped or an object to be denigrated; her very essence is irrevocably linked to sexuality in all its myriad forms” (Ussher 1997, 84). This is a testament to the weight of Mulvey’s argument, and demonstrates over time that women as object in cinema endures.

I assert that Trainwreck and Legally Blonde fall under the term of “post-feminist.” Yvonne Tasker and Diane Negra, in the introduction of their edited book Interrogating Postfeminism: Gender and the Politics of Popular Culture, describe post-feminism as an ideology which “broadly encompasses a set of assumptions, widely disseminated within popular media forms, having to do with the ‘pastness’ of feminism, whether that supposed pastness is merely noted, mourned, or celebrated” (Tasker & Negra 2007, 2). Post-feminism acknowledges the work of feminism as over, and exists through the idea of gender equality having been achieved, allowing young women to feel empowered through sexual acts and consumption.

The post-feminist romantic comedy presents what Negra and Tasker describe as “a limited vision of gender equality as both achieved and yet still unsatisfying” (Tasker & Negra 2007, 2). Trainwreck and Legally Blonde both portray empowered and successful women, living in post-feminist success, yet also highlight the gaps and unsatisfactory nature of the post-feminist society. The two concerns post-feminist culture emphasizes, which are most relevant to these films, are the “educational and professional opportunities for women” and “physical and particularly sexual empowerment” (Tasker & Negra 2007, 2).

In the contemporary romantic comedy, Mortimer describes the female heroines as those who “work hard and play hard, seemingly living the post-feminist dream” (Mortimer 2010, 30). This is the site of the female character’s existence, through empowerment and agency. However, as Mortimer further explains, in the romantic comedy love story, “at a decisive point in the narrative, [the female heroine’s] values are overturned and they can no longer find happiness in their former lifestyle” (Mortimer 2010, 30). The contemporary romantic comedy heroine will make “significant sacrifices for a traditional heterosexual partnership; she embraces the romantic dream and is whisked off her feet by the right guy, having realised that love conquers all” (Mortimer 2010, 30). This is what happens to Amy in Trainwreck, which ultimately erases her as a character of existence.

Trainwreck tells the story of party girl and journalist Amy Townsend (Amy Schumer, who also wrote the screenplay). She lives in New York City, and is assigned to write an article on sports surgeon Dr. Aaron Conners (Bill Hader). The two pursue a relationship, the main tensions of the relationship coming from Aaron’s eventual unacceptance of Amy’s wild, weed-smoking, excessive drinking, and emotionally distant ways.

In an introductory voice-over, Amy describes her life with her “great job,” “sick” apartment, and “awesome” friends and family, all while the audience are shown images of Amy sleeping with various men. Amy is a successful protagonist without being tied down to one monogamous relationship; she embodies Angela McRobbie’s description of the new, young post-feminist woman who “brazenly enjoy their sexuality without fear of the sexual double standards” (McRobbie 2007, 38). Even when Amy enters her relationship with Aaron, she remains existing while finding love by sticking to her own principles, regardless of male desire. This is seen predominantly in the scene where Amy first sees the Knicks City Dancers perform.

In the scene where Amy and Aaron attend a basketball event together, editing and framing positions Amy as a female character who exists. This is due to her obvious opposition to the male desire Aaron and the male characters around her exhibit during a performance by the cheerleading group, the Knicks City Dancers. After the camera reveals the scantily-clad dancers beginning their routine in a long shot, the film cuts to a medium shot of Amy and Aaron in the crowd, watching. The camera frames both of the characters into a two shot and positions them in the center of the frame. Due to the two shot, the difference in opinion on the dancers are given emphasis. Amy looks on with a disgusted expression on her face, while Aaron cheers in support and claps. In the background, male extras dance in enjoyment to the performance, while Amy remains stationary and opposed. She gives a slight shake of the head in disapproval, and the camera cuts back to the performance.

Amy’s refusal to accept the image of woman as erotic spectacle is what validates her as a female character which exists as subject. However, in a post-feminist culture, “whilst it is clear that women are active in resisting the narrow restrictions of the feminine masquerade,” women still do not have the “freedom to decide what being a ‘woman’ means to us” (Ussher 1997, 131). While Amy’s opposition to male desire may be the effect of Schumer’s writing, Apatow, as director, still maintains control over Amy’s character. In discussing how female desire is portrayed by male directors, Geetha Ramanathan stipulates “female desire … is underwritten by a male desire which conflates the image of woman with desire itself” (Ramanathan 2006, 141). This underwriting is apparent in the final sequence of the film.

In the final scene of the film, and in an effort to truly find love, Amy erases herself by performing as a cheerleader for Aaron. Trainwreck follows Roberta Garrett’s description of the new romantic comedy tradition, in which “the [female] central protagonists modify their behaviour in accordance with the desires of the [male] other” (Garrett 2007, 101). As Amy dances with the Knicks City Dancers, she is dressed in the same revealing costume as the dancers in a short skirt and plunging neckline, which is not unusual for Amy’s character. However, by wearing a cheerleader costume and not her usual clothes, and dancing in the center of the performance, Amy has shifted in character from flaunting her sexuality for her own empowerment, to submitting to male (Aaron’s) desires. A medium shot cut to Aaron as he watches the performance positions him in the center of the frame, surrounded by empty chairs. This performance is for him, and him alone, and his obvious enjoyment is indicated by the astonished expression and smile on his face. This performance is regressive from Amy’s earlier opposition to the dancers, and represents what Garrett describes as the “patriarchal desire to return to pre-feminist conceptions of sexual difference” (Garrett 2007, 99). In the course of finding love for the post-feminist, their “pursuit of ‘personal’ happiness [is] understood in relation to men,” as their professional success and financial stability is no longer enough (Garret 2007, 94). As shown in the diegesis, Amy has changed significantly since she last spoke to Aaron, while he has not changed at all. To finally achieve love, as cemented by the kiss which ends the film, Amy has had to completely change herself to fit male desire, and, as a result, erases herself into the love object.

In Legally Blonde, the shift from real to not real in the pursuit of love for the female protagonist works in reverse. The film tells the story of Elle Woods (Reese Witherspoon), a Californian Sorority President who goes to study at Harvard Law School to chase her college boyfriend, Warner Huntington III (Matthew Davis) after what she thought would be a proposal resulted in Warner dumping her for being too “blond.”

In the first half of the film, Elle is a female character who does not exist, as she embodies ditzy blonde stereotypes and, as a result, most characters expect little of her outside of being a trophy wife. Where Trainwreck‘s Amy flaunts her sexuality for personal empowerment, Elle uses it specifically to appeal to men. Indeed, Carol M. Dole describes Elle’s Harvard admissions tape as her “employing her sexuality … featuring herself in a bikini” (2008, 62). Elle is a character who is “unashamed to employ the spectacle of her adorned body to gain her ends,” which is common for post-feminists (Dole 2008, 67). Legally Blonde begins in the classical romantic comedy tradition, “[exhibiting] a structural drive towards marriage and coupledom” (Garret, 2007, 96). For the first half of the film, Elle’s main character drive is to be proposed to. However, as a romantic comedy made in the post-feminist society, when Elle’s attitudes shift, the limits of post-feminism is critiqued.

The scene where Elle is misled into believing a Harvard party is a costume party by Vivian (Selma Blair), pinpoints the moment in which the character of Elle switches from non-existent to existing. The scene begins with a close-up on Elle’s high-heeled shoes which pans slowly up her body, revealing her tight, pink bunny costume. The camera remains behind Elle as she walks up to the door of the party, allowing the emphasis to remain on her body and behind, which is situated in the center of the frame. As Elle walks into the party and realizes Vivian lied to her about the costumes, the camera remains in a medium shot. This use of camera ensures Elle’s body and tight, sexualized costume of silky corset and tights is always in frame. Elle is positioned as another ditzy, sexualized blonde, evident in her easily being manipulated and her choice of costume. However, when she talks to Warner, who suddenly pays attention to her and reaches out to grab her hips, despite having ignored her up until now within the diegesis, a shift in framing and camera angles occur. When Warner insult’s Elle’s intelligence, she steps back and the camera cuts to a close-up, which zooms slowly towards her face. This camera movement removes the objectifying gaze, and emphasizes her outraged expression as she realizes Warner and her fellow classmates will never take her seriously, despite being smart enough to get accepted into Harvard Law School, just like anyone else.

It is in this way Legally Blonde points out the limits of post-feminism. Post-feminism purports feminism’s work is done, and espouses empowerment through sexualization. However, what Legally Blonde does here is “[warn] women viewers that extremes of femininity” that is, flaunting her sexualized body, “can be socially unacceptable” and damaging (Dole 2008, 68). Elle realizes she is more than the beauty she has been conditioned to believe is the most important part about her. It is from this point onward that Elle’s character is validated and becomes a real person, and becomes subject, outside of erotic spectacle.

The final scene of Legally Blonde proves female characters can exist and find love in the cinema, as Elle does. This scene is set “two years later” after Elle wins her first big murder trial, indicated by a title card at the bottom of the screen. Elle has been announced as class speaker at her graduation from law school, having earned the love and respect from her fellow students. Eleanor Hersey pays particular attention to the role the public speech plays in contemporary romantic comedies. She argues a public speech “reminds women that they are not going to find all their fulfilment in men” (Hersey 2007, 152). Elle’s anger from Warner is channeled into her studying, and upon graduation, she has succeeded. Legally Blonde shifts post-feminist empowerment from sexuality to education (Hersey 2007, 156).

During Elle’s speech, the camera cuts to high angle shots of the ensemble characters in the audience, watching her. As the camera views Vivian, who was originally Elle’s opposition due to being Warner’s fiancée, she now smiles up at Elle and a caption along the bottom of the screen reveals Vivian “dumped” Warner and is now best friends with Elle. Similarly, when the camera cuts to the character Emmett (Luke Wilson), captions reveal he and Elle have been dating for two years, and he is going to propose to Elle that night. Elle has been able to find and attain love, not only in the form of a proposal but also in friendship. Elle’s love story has come full circle from the proposal-that-never-was with Warner, to Emmett, who loves Elle for her mind (Hersey 2007, 156). She was able to prove herself outside of stereotypes, and ultimately find love, despite her existence as subject.

In the post-feminist romantic comedy, female characters transition from being non-existent objects, into existing, as subjects, in the course of love. However, as argued, this transition can go either way. In Trainwreck, Amy begins the film as a subject, but ends as an object. Amy’s opposition becomes submission to male desires, for a man, which erases her. Legally Blonde, however, works opposite: Elle begins as object, but ends the film as subject. Initially, the gaze of the camera and the characters objectify Elle’s body. But eventually, Elle demonstrates her worth and success outside of male desires and ultimately finds love.

Bibliography:

Dole, C M 2008, ‘The Return of Pink: Legally Blonde, third-wave feminism, and having it all’, in Ferris, S, Young, M (eds.), Chick Flicks: Contemporary Women at the Movies, Routledge, London and New York, pp 58-78

Garret, R 2007, ‘Romantic Comedy and Female Spectatorship’, Postmodern Chick Flicks: the return of the women’s film’, Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke, pp 92-125

Hersey, E 2007, ‘Love and Microphones: Romantic Comedy Heroines as Public Speakers’, Journal of Popular Film and Television, vol. 34, no. 4, pp 149-158

Johnston, C 1974, ‘Myths of Women in the Cinema’ as printed in Kay, K and Peary, G (eds.) 1977, Women and the Cinema: A Critical Anthology, E. P Dutton, New York, pp 407-411

McRobbie, A 2007, ‘Postfeminism and Popular Culture: Bridget Jones and the New Gender Regime’ in Negra, D, Tasker, Y (eds.) Interrogating Postfeminism: Gender and the Politics of Popular Culture, Duke University Press, USA, pp 27-39

Mortimer, C 2010, ‘The Heroine of the Romantic Comedy’, Romantic Comedy, Taylor and Francis, Hoboken, pp 20-44

Mulvey, L 1975, ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema’ as printed in Kay, K and Peary, G (eds.), 1977, Women and the Cinema: A Critical Anthology, E. P Dutton, New York, pp 412-428

Negra, D, Tasker, Y 2007, ‘Introduction: Feminist Politics and Postfeminist Culture’ in Negra, D, Tasker, Y (eds.), Interrogating Postfeminism: Gender and the Politics of Popular Culture, Duke University Press, USA, pp 1-26

Ramanathan, G 2006, ‘Desire and Female Subjectivity’, Feminist Auteurs: Reading Women’s Films, Wallflower Press, London, pp 141-167

Ussher, J M 1997, ‘The Masculine Gaze: Framing ‘Woman’ in Art and Film,’ Fantasies of Femininity: Reframing the Boundaries of Sex’, Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick, New Jersey, pp 84-142

See also at Bitch Flicks:

Trainwreck‘s Unexpected Dose of the Feels

Raunchy and Unfiltered, Amy Schumer Talks about Trainwreck at the Apple Store

The Feminist’s Box Office Call of Duty

Watch Me Shine: Legally Blonde and My Path to Girl Power

Claire White is a Screen & Cultural Studies and Media & Communications graduate, bookseller, and production intern based in Melbourne, Australia. She is founder and writer of the all-female stage and screen blog Cause a Cine. You can follow her on Twitter @clairencew.

The Male Gaze, LOL: How Comedies Are Changing the Way We Look

The body is no longer a Lacanian reflected ideal, it is a biological mess that often exists beyond anyone’s control. The effect of this convention is two-fold–a bait and switch of expectations but also the creation of a sense of biological sameness: man or woman, everybody poops. By placing the body in a biological space instead of a symbolic one, physical comedy is questioning the visual tendencies of subconscious desire.

This guest post by Donna K. appears as part of our theme week on The Female Gaze.

When I was taught the definitions of comedy and tragedy as an angst-y teen, I remember being struck by the way in which they were generalized. In tragedy, everyone dies. In comedy, everyone gets married. I remember thinking, “Yes, marriage IS hilarious!” But in fact, marriage was comic in the sense that everything worked out for everybody–everybody often being defined as the white male with power. Over the last decade, the male gaze has quietly been averted through a new wave of female-driven comedies. Television shows like 30 Rock, Broad City, Orange is the New Black, The Mindy Project, Inside Amy Schumer , and films like Bridesmaids and Appropriate Behavior have paved the way for comedy, specifically the role of women in it, to be re-defined: comedy is a choice. Comedy is not who will marry whom it is the choice to marry or not, to tell one’s individual story, to laugh in the face of the controlling patriarchy until there is nothing left to laugh about.

One of the hallmarks of the new class of female comedies is to subvert the “to-be-looked-at-ness” of the female form, begging an audience to gaze upon woman but then exposing the gawkers to the truths below the surface in a physical- almost biological- comedy; Julie (Julie Klausner) publically wets herself in the very first episode of the new series Difficult People; Amy Schumer’s skit “Milk Milk Lemonade” reminds audiences that the sexy booty fetishized in music videos is, in reality, “where your poop comes out”; the explosive diarrhea of food poisoning ruins the extravagant rite of wedding dress shopping in Bridesmaids. The body is no longer a Lacanian reflected ideal, it is a biological mess that often exists beyond anyone’s control. The effect of this convention is two-fold–a bait and switch of expectations but also the creation of a sense of biological sameness: man or woman, everybody poops. By placing the body in a biological space instead of a symbolic one, physical comedy is questioning the visual tendencies of subconscious desire. No longer do audiences expect to walk into a theater or turn on a TV and be greeted with a vision of feminine perfection; now they might be subjected to blood, sweat, tears, and all other kinds of bodily fluids of not just the female form but the human one. The body is an object but not one strictly made for pleasure (yet pleasure is nice too, of course).

In Broad City the character of Ilana (Ilana Glazer) sets the mood propping up mirrors, putting on make-up, prepping herself to be a vision of desire (Season 2 Ep. 8, ““Kirk Steele””). She turns on her vibrator, and some porn, and is ready for some self love: she is not here to please anyone but herself. When Danny (Chris Messina) opens the drawer of Mindy Lahiri’s (Mindy Kahling) nightstand in The Mindy Project and proclaims “Mindy has the same neck massager as Ma,” (Season 3, Ep. 8 ““Diary of a Mad Indian Woman””) not everyone might understand the implication (pssst, pharmacies sell vibrators in disguise). New female comedy isn’t presenting sex as a males want toward females; it is showing sex as a thing all genders desire, even to the point they make it happen alone. Self-love in female comedy could potentially feed into the male gaze, making him even more afraid of castration or exciting him through pleasurable moans, but what is also occurring is a normalization of female sexual pleasure. Sex and the City led the way and now movies like Appropriate Behavior (full of bi-sexuality, threesomes, and a strap on!) and Trainwreck (even if Apatow is undeniably a slut shamer!) are reminding audiences that women use their vaginas for things other than birthing and male satisfaction. These comedies are creating what Laura Mulvey calls a “new language of desire” (where the controlled and the controller are interchangeable between genders, quietly inserting the fact that this dynamic has, in actuality, always existed).

Much like the voice-over in 90s comedies that presented a personal and omniscient guide to female protagonists (Sex and the City, Mean Girls, Clueless, and Election), flashbacks are now the go-to convention used to expose the inner and past lives of women. Desiree Akhavan’s Appropriate Behavior is a flashback in its entirety, slowly showing the steps that led to the opening break-up between Shirin (Akhavan) and Maxine (Rebecca Henderson), a slow methodical break-down of motivations and personal histories. In 30 Rock, a nerdy child Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) speaks German in a short moment of memory, a happening common in the series with the young Liz sometimes played by Fey’s real life daughter. The characters of OITNB have constant, harrowing flashbacks that connect their present to a long receding past, in Sophia’s (Laverne Cox) pre-transition flashback her character is played by Cox’s real life twin brother. How can one see a character as a hollow, empty image when they are created with an entire life? A life that sometimes even edges into their fictional world? Women are not, as Mulvey says, “Freez[ing] the flow of action.” They are, and have always been, part of the action, whether recognized or not. The stories of women remain untold and the reminder that lives exist beyond their simple image, even in a fiction, is an enormous step forward in terms of making an active female figure rather than a passive one. Herstory isn’t a joke, it is a thing that roots woman in the world, it makes women makers of meaning and not strictly bearers of it.

And then come our good, old friends satire and parody! Comediennes are taking the unattainable expectations and fears of the male gaze, pointing at them and laughing as hard as possible, exposing the ridiculousness in objectification and shaming the power struggle into submission- it is almost like an S&M relationship with the status quo. When Liz Lemon does promos for her show “Dealbreakers” (Season 4 Episode 7, “Dealbreakers Talk Show,” a show that points out the faults in men that make them un-marriable: yas!), she ends up becoming so nervous about her appearance she is reduced to crying from her mouth after off-brand eye surgery. When Amy Schumer consults every possible man in her life, from doctor to mailman to boy scout, on whether she should go on birth control, it is hilarious but it is also not too far from the truth. When Annie (Kristen Wiig) wakes up early to apply make-up and return to bed before her sex friend wakes to give the illusion of flawlessness, it is a joke, and it is also, unfortunately, not a joke. Satire is a powerful way of exposing questionable societal norms, ridiculous attitudes, and insane standards; it is a socially acceptable way to challenge the patriarchy and air our grievances. If we collectively confront the male gaze through satire those in power can no longer turn a blind eye to the true absurdity that exists.

By choosing how we are looked at and creating comical stories beyond the marriage plot, we are making an enormous reclamation of our bodies and ourselves: power lies in choice. Alternative ways of seeing and being seen are created with each new story told, a visibility that is only just starting to be explored as we struggle to be better represented in mainstream media. Contemporary comedies with female leads are now ruled by countless types of desires as we are stick out our tongues at the gazing males frozen in the audience. Raising our laughter is just another form of raising our voices for change.

References

Mulvey (1975). “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” Screen, 16.3 Autumn, pp. 6-18

Donna K. is a cultural critic, film festival consultant and creative producer based in Southern Vermont. She is a member of the Women Film Critics Circle and a writer for Hammer to Nail. You can follow her musings about visual storytelling on her blog Gravity Was Everywhere Back Then.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

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

Angry misogynist murders women at showing of film by feminist comedian; police worry “we may not find a motive.” and Did right-wing attacks on “Trainwreck” inspire John Russell Houser’s shooting rampage? by David Futrelle at We Hunted the Mammoth

Proof That Jane Austen and Amy Schumer Would Have Been Friends by Audrey Bilger at Ms. blog

Review: Does Trainwreck Live Up to Its Own Feminist Standards? by Carolyn Cox at The Mary Sue

10 Female Directors of Color You Should Know Now at BET

A Short Film Series Gives Female Athletes the Star Treatment They Deserve by Sarah Mirk at Bitch Media

5 Ways Marvel Movies Keep Screwing Up Female Superheroes by Kathy Benjamin at Cracked

Hollywood, It’s Time to Retire the ‘Loveable Misogynist’ Movie Hero by Lindsay Ellis at IFC

Jurassic Park: High Heels Edition gives everyone the shoes of a “strong female character” by Caroline Siede at A.V. Club

Can a “Feminist Hero” Save ‘True Detective’? by Heather Havrilesky at Dame Magazine

Which of These 3 Emmett Till Projects Will Be Made First? Will Smith & Jay-Z Have Gotten Behind One of Them by Tambay A. Obenson at Shadow and Act

Filmmaker Mag Names 25 New Faces of Independent Film; Pippa Bianco and 10 Other Women Featured by Laura Berger at Women and Hollywood

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

Seed & Spark: Funny, Feminine, and F*cking Fantastic: Funny Women Who Make Me Want to Woman the Bejeezus Out of My Writing

But lately there’s been a surge of female writers who inspire me. Not only for their individual writing styles, but also for their ability to be so unapologetically female. Which, as my writing partners and I launch into production of our web series ‘Supporting Roles,’ means everything.

This is a guest post by Shannon Hollsten.

For the longest time I’ve said, “I don’t want to be recognized as a good female writer. I want to be recognized as a good writer who happens to be female.” It was a huge distinction for me. Because up until recently, “female” has been a qualifier that somehow had – and to some degree still has – a negative connotation. Like, somehow whatever fantastic writing/acting/directing/cooking/etc. we’d created was still lesser than anything any dude attempted.

But lately there’s been a surge of female writers who inspire me. Not only for their individual writing styles, but also for their ability to be so unapologetically female. Which, as my writing partners and I launch into production of our web series Supporting Roles, means everything. Seeing the success and variety of funny female writers in Hollywood just means that the “X” in my chromosomal makeup is one less thing I have to worry about as I put pen to paper.

(Or rather, keyboard to Microsoft Word. Same thing.)

Tina Fey

As if she wouldn’t make the top of this list. If she had come into the forefront before I was an adult, I’d absolutely want to be her when I grew up. (Truth: I still do.) She was the first female head writer on Saturday Night Live and then decided to dominate TV because she could. I’m not sure how she does it, but everything she writes is quotable and is like an inside joke that you think you probably might be in on.

And she made Kenneth immortal. Brilliant.

Mindy Kaling

Honestly, I wasn’t the biggest fan of Kelly Kapoor on The Office. For whatever reason, the character just didn’t resonate with me. So when I found out Mindy Kaling was getting her own series, I was just like, “but….why?” About two minutes into the first episode of The Mindy Project, I got it. And I immediately and happily jumped on the Mindy bandwagon. Her comedy has a lot of subtlety baked into the big moments, and more often than not it’s the details that amuse me the most.

Katie Dippold

The genius behind The Heat, some of your favorite Parks and Recs episodes and now the already hyped female reboot of Ghostbusters. Her comedy is sharp and has its own recognizable charm to it, which isn’t a bad way to get your career going. She jumped from critically acclaimed TV to blockbuster movies in, like, 30 seconds (on the fame clock). WHO DOES THAT? Oh, that’s right. Katie does.

In the time it took me to write this caption, she probably completed Pitch Perfect 3 like it ain’t no thing. — In the time it took me to write this caption, she probably completed *Pitch Perfect 3* like it ain’t no thing.

Kay Cannon

Anyone with 30 Rock on their resume instantly gets an honorable mention. 30 Rock + New Girl + Pitch Perfect 1 and 2? Now you’ve made it right smack-dab on the list. The Pitch Perfect movies combine everyone’s guilty pleasure, A cappella, with strong characters, great dialogue, and humor. More than anything I want all my dialogue to be something that Fat Amy would say. And to be partially in harmonizing song.

Jillian Bell and Charlotte Newhouse

These two ladies are getting a spot on the list because I recently discovered – and discovered I love – their web series (or, TV mini-series as it’s listed on IMDb) Idiotsitter. It combines with outrageous characters with an absurd premise but in a way that’s oddly relatable and very funny. Watch it. You won’t be sorry. Or uninspired.

Yes, Amy, I did just write all those nice things about you! Can we be besties now? — Yes, Amy, I *did* just write all those nice things about you! Can we be besties now?

Amy Schumer

Finally (for this list at least), Amy F-ing Schumer – the “F” in this case standing for “Feminist.” Between her Emmy nominations and the successful opening of her comedy Trainwreck, she is now a fully active and hilarious member of the Hollywood’s A-list. Her comedy is perfectly on point for today’s culture. She’s self-deprecating but self-aware, not afraid to be feminist but not trying too hard to be one. She has brought her A-game to every part of her career this year. I really can’t wait to see what she does next. (No pressure, Amy.)

I know I am missing a few dozen amazing female writers. But, like inviting guests to a wedding, the list has to cut off somewhere or it’s just gonna get ridiculously out of hand. And these women are the ones who very specifically make me want to stand up and declare, “I am a female writer!”

I mean, I won’t. That’d be weird for my coworkers who have no context for that kind of outburst. But in my head I’m Norma Rae-ing this moment so hard right now. So hard.

Shannon Hollsten is an Austin-based amateur karaoke singer who is waiting oh-so-eagerly for the day they miniaturize elephants so we can keep them as pets.

Raunchy and Unfiltered, Amy Schumer Talks About ‘Trainwreck’ at the Apple Store

She’s gotten into hot water for political or cultural reasons because of some of her jokes recently:

As I’ve been having more eyes and ears on me, I realize that I have more of a responsibility. Even like a musician gets bigger, like, little girls look up to you; you can’t be showing your asshole at an awards show. They’re like, “No, it’s not my fault they look up to me!” I’m like, okay, people are listening to me, and my words might hold weight for some people, so I’m not going to do that stuff anymore. I haven’t done jokes like that for a couple years.

This is a guest post by Paula Schwartz.

“Don’t tell them I said this, but sometimes they’re smug at the Genius Bar,” Amy Schumer told the audience last week at the Apple Store in SoHo to talk about her new movie, Trainwreck, which she wrote and in which she stars. Directed by Judd Apatow, Schumer plays a young career woman who is commitment phobic because her father (Colin Quinn) told her and her sister as children that “monogamy is unrealistic.” Even more unusual for female leads in film, her character unapologetically likes sex.

“Hey guys, were you just in the neighborhood? Did you come here for this or what? On purpose? Okay, cool,” Schumer told the standing-room only crowd.

Trainwreck opened Friday and earned 10.7 million at the box office by the next day, another example of the fallacy that films with female leads can’t make money.

Following are highlights from Schumer’s raunchy and hilarious conversation at the Apple store.

On whether she always knew she was funny:

AS: I was always making people laugh, but I didn’t think it was a good thing. It kind of bugged me because it felt like they were making fun of me, but it was explained to me—I did a production of Sound of Music when I was five—as Gretel…

Every time I would come onstage, people would laugh, and I would cry. And the director was like, “No, it’s great if people laugh. That means they love you, and you made them happy,” and I was like, “Oh.” But yeah, people would laugh, and I embraced it. So my sister would dress up like princesses and like, characters that already existed. There was always one bite missing out of all the apples in our fridge, ‘cause she would be like Snow White, take a bite of it. We had a glass coffee table and she would lay under it until somebody like, came and kissed her. And I would just make up these like, strange Eastern European characters. I was like, “I’m Madame Levitschky, come see me and I’ll tell your fortune,” and I don’t even know where they came from.

Whether she’s the same in person as her character on her Comedy Central’s show Inside Amy Schumer:

AS: No, I’m not. I’m like Daniel Day-Lewis. I leave here, and I put on a top hat and I garden, and that’s me. That’s what I picture he does. Yeah, no. The difference is, I am a little bit of an introvert; I get overwhelmed in crowds and don’t get like, really wasted that often. I did this week, but it was because I was in Akron. (Trainwreck premiered last week in Akron, Ohio, the hometown of LeBron James who also appears in the film.) Like, what are you going to do there? Yeah, I don’t have sex very often. Hopefully that’s going to change. Can I just also say—somebody tried to hack me because they assume I have lots of naked photos, but joke’s on them because I have never put my face in them, and I haven’t taken them for like, ten years because I’m aging. They sent this detective guy over to my house this weekend to help me secure all my shit, and they knew him, they’re like, “We’re sending this guy over to you,” my business manager, and he got there, he buzzed, I didn’t even brush my teeth, and I rolled out of bed. He was so hot. Like, wouldn’t you give your friend a heads-up? You’re like, “Okay, just know that this guy coming to your house, is like, so hot. You’re going to want to at least brush your teeth. Just something! Just do something!”

How she and Judd Apatow came to make Trainwreck:

AS: The movie started because I met with Judd, and we kind of came armed with an idea just in case. We did a meeting and he was like, “Well, if you ever have an idea, the door’s open,” and I was like, “Well, I have an idea,” like, seize the day. I’m a lot like Christian Bale in Newsies. Um, I for some reason cannot do an interview without mentioning Newsies. I don’t know what it is. But, open the gates! No, that idea I wrote, it was a little broad.

Then he was like, “What’s going on with you right now?” And I was falling in love, so the story was happening. I wasn’t enjoying it. I was just scared. And you’re like, chemically altered when you’re falling in love. It’s not even fun; you feel sick. You feel sickened. And you’re just scared about what you’re going to find out about the other person or that they’ll catch you in a bad light, like in Clueless, “Did I stumble into some bad lighting?” So my references are very updated. I’m at the cutting edge about every movie. Remember that ice skating one? Chemistry! But um, then we made the movie! Next question! No, I wrote scenes. Scenes in no order, and then Judd and I would kind of—we would write out the beats. Oh, you see her in the office and talk to her dad. And I wrote a draft pretty quickly, in I think a little over a month. I’m just a psycho. I go under and do it.

She wanted to write a character who had a lot of sex and was not judged for it, which is not a thing we typically see in movies with women leads:

AS: I feel like with my standup, I’ve done this kind of [thing] where I’ll talk a lot about sex a lot, but just because it’s funny, not because I’m so much of it. I’ll always say—and I mean—I love the show Sex and the City like everyone else, but the character of Samantha, I didn’t experience her as the “fun one.” If my friend was behaving like that, I’d like, take her to the hospital, you know? And I don’t think, I’m not like, “You should be able to fuck as much as you want, and you love it!” I think that’s nuts. Yeah, it’s a self-destructive thing to do. I would say when I was a sophomore in college that was my behavior. I was in so much pain, and I had lost all of my self-esteem, and I was like, “I’m just going to not get attached to one guy and I was like, maybe I’ll be the girl that sleeps around.” I tried that, and it was horrible. Just like when you break up with someone and you’re younger, and you’re like, “I’m going to sleep with someone else,” you’re in so much more pain than you would’ve been in. But then there’s this other thing where—I’ve mostly been in long relationships, and in between them, I’ve slept with a person or two, and I like to tell stories about it onstage because something ridiculous or awful always happens. So just from a woman being onstage talking about sex, I’m saying things like—there’s a kid here. Do you want to maybe earmuffs this part? I’m just recommending that to you, I don’t know your parenting technique, but I say, like, I’ve had anal, no one’s ever come on my face, that’s true, but just saying those things and broaching those subjects, people are just like, “Oh, she’s the sex girl. She’s a whore, bet she’s down to fuck,” and it’s like, no, I just want to talk about it. And so I’m really proud of what we were able to do with this movie because I think you learn a lot about someone rather than just a snap judgment of like, “That girl’s slutty.” You’re like, “Oh, well this is where this is coming from, and this is what’s going on with her.” So I hope people leave it a little less ready to judge a woman who’s sexually active outside of wedlock or in order to conceive a child.

On shooting her first sex scene:

AS: Did you guys watch the show Delocated? Jon Glaser’s show? It was on Adult Swim. My first sex scene was with Eugene Mirman, and he was supposed to be losing his virginity to me. We were supposed to be wasted, and at the same time he’s having his first orgasm, he finds out that his dad died, so he’s kind of like, scream-crying and drooling and coming, and I’m under him. I was trying to make him comfortable because he was shy, and I was like, “Oh my god, don’t worry,” and whatever, and then I was like, “He’s comfortable,” and then when it—I was walking down the stairs at the end of the shoot day and I was like, “My acting teacher told us some days you’d just be playing the girl who gets fucked,” and then when I went to the premiere party for the episode, I’d been fully cut out. Like, you could tell that somebody was getting rammed, but you couldn’t tell that it was me. It was like, “Oh yeah, we’re on Adult Swim, we’re not allowed to show that.” And I was like, “Did you maybe think about not shooting that? Maybe a body pillow would’ve been cool?” But the sex scenes in Trainwreck were easier than that. Most of them.

Asked about all the prep work she must have done for Trainwreck:

AS: That sounds like I fucked a lot.

On keeping a balance in writing and acting in emotional scenes in the film that are also funny:

AS: There’s nothing that makes me personally feel more vulnerable than having a person that I’m attracted to and interested in in front of me, telling me they like me. Because feeling deserving of love has been a definite obstacle that I was going through when I was writing this movie. I go through it all the time. So there’s another scene where he says that he read some of my stuff, and you know, if somebody’s like, “I read your [work],” you’re just like, can I become a puddle on the floor? I was feeling really vulnerable in that scene, and especially, I went into that scene just thinking, I’m going to tell him that it’s over and he’ll be like, “Okay, cool!” He really threw me off my course. It was fun to be surprised by someone. You know, that’s rare.

How does she find the courage to be so damn funny?

AS: Um, just ignorance. Yeah, I don’t know. I think something’s wrong with me. I’ve always been an asshole.

She’s gotten into hot water for political or cultural reasons because of some of her jokes recently:

AS: I’ve gotten very famous lately, you guys. It’s very weird, it’s very new. And when that happens, you’re kind of treated like a politician, like little Ariana Grande, is like, publicly apologizing for eating a doughnut. But it’s like, all of a sudden, “Where do you stand on capital punishment?” You’re like, “What? I have a lower-back tattoo.” So when I started out, I was telling jokes that were racist, and I was really good at writing them, against everybody. Everybody got some. Part of my thing was to play kind of a really irreverent idiot, and that was a character. I was a character onstage all the time. Now I talk like myself a lot more. In my hour special, I was starting to be more of myself, but I still had some jokes in there; they were a little shocking, and it didn’t look like I was going to say stuff like that, and I got a good response from it. As I’ve been having more eyes and ears on me, I realize that I have more of a responsibility. Even like a musician gets bigger, like, little girls look up to you; you can’t be showing your asshole at an awards show. They’re like, “No, it’s not my fault they look up to me!” I’m like, okay, people are listening to me, and my words might hold weight for some people, so I’m not going to do that stuff anymore. I haven’t done jokes like that for a couple years. If I think of a great one, I’m going to say it to my friends. So I don’t regret any joke I’ve ever told; I don’t apologize for my jokes. They got me where I am today, and it was all very worth it. You know, I feel a little bit naive, and I feel silly. I kind of thought that I could maybe bypass that. I was like, “Can we maybe not do the thing where you guys burn me at the stake for some miscommunication? Can we not do that? I’m a comic.” And they were like, “No. This is how we do it.”

How she deals with the backlash:

AS: I was not surprised about that stuff, and I’m just going to do my best with it. I learned from my friends, who are successful comics and actors, not to answer back, not to address it. And I wish I could, because I love communicating. I love having an open door, and if someone asks me a question or if they’re offended by a joke, I’d just like to say, “What was it? Let’s talk about it.” But yeah, it’s just been explained to me that you can’t answer. So that’s like, a sad new thing.

While she has this public attention, she wants to talk about things that matter to her, especially progressive feminist ideas:

AS: I’m just going to try to use it for good. But nobody’s going to be perfect, you know, and it’s like, if I’m doing 90 minutes of jokes and everything’s funny and you’re laughing, and I say one that hits a little too close to home for you, of course you have a right to be offended by that one thing; you can feel however you want, but like, what about the rest of the time? Is that fair to say, “Well, I don’t like you now.” If you don’t like one song, do you stop listening to that musician? There’s just more pressure on comics now, but I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing always and saying stuff that I think is funny. You know, just more and more it’s about injustice and things that I think are unfair. I also just like dumb jokes still, just stupid shit. Yeah, I’m handling it the best I can, and if some arbitrary fact, something happens, and I wind up having to take the fall for it, I feel like it’s totally out of my hands.

Paula Schwartz is a veteran journalist who worked at the New York Times for three decades. For five years she was the Baguette for the New York Times movie awards blog Carpetbaggers. Before that she worked on the New York Times night life column, Boldface, where she covered the celebrity beat. She endured a poke in the ribs by Elijah Wood’s publicist, was ejected from a party by Michael Douglas’s flak after he didn’t appreciate what she wrote, and endured numerous other indignities to get a story. More happily she interviewed major actors and directors–all of whom were good company and extremely kind–including Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Morgan Freeman, Clint Eastwood, Christopher Plummer, Dustin Hoffman and the hammy pooch “Uggie” from The Artist. Her idea of heaven is watching at least three movies in a row with an appreciative audience that’s not texting. Her work has appeared in Moviemaker, more.com, showbiz411 and reelifewithjane.com.

‘Trainwreck’s Unexpected Dose of The Feels

‘Trainwreck’ made me cry. As in weep. I’m not talking about my eyes welling up, or having to furtively swipe a single tear off my cheekbone, but full on is-there-snot-leaking-from-my nose CRYING. I’m sitting there in the theater wondering if there was some alternate trailer for this movie cut to “Everybody Hurts” that I missed. And hoping I’m not ruining my eye makeup. [I did.]

Amy Schumer and Bill Hader in 'Trainwreck' — Amy Schumer and Bill Hader in ‘Trainwreck’

Trainwreck, WE HAD A DEAL. I go see you opening weekend instead of Ant-Man, you provide me with two hours of an effervescent blend of rom-com sweetness and dick jokes. Nowhere in this negotiation was there any discussion of GENUINE EMOTIONS. I didn’t sign up for this.

Trainwreck made me cry. As in weep. I’m not talking about my eyes welling up, or having to furtively swipe a single tear off my cheekbone, but full on is-there-snot-leaking-from-my nose CRYING. I’m sitting there in the theater wondering if there was some alternate trailer for this movie cut to “Everybody Hurts” that I missed. And hoping I’m not ruining my eye makeup. [I did.]

Things start off promising. I laughed out loud when we saw that Amy had a job writing for a magazine. Job in publishing is the free space in Rom-Com Bingo. That Amy writes for a grody men’s magazine called S’Tuffed signaled to me we were gonna get all the rom-com tropes but subverted in the same way our hard-drinking sexually-capricious heroine deviates from your standard female lead. That doesn’t happen. Hardly any other spaces on Rom-Com bingo get filled. There isn’t even a Meet Cute.

Amy doesn't like spooning. — Amy doesn’t like spooning.

Amy and her romantic interest Aaron (Bill Hader) Meet Normal when she interviews him for a story for the magazine. They interact like normal humans who genuinely get along (well, exceptionally funny normal humans). They start dating, and there are some hiccups because Amy isn’t used to Real Relationships, but those hiccups don’t even result in any wacky misunderstandings. When Amy and Aaron get to their necessary third act near-breakup, it looks like a real relationship struggling because of interpersonal differences. Ugh, real life.

Meanwhile, in Trainwreck‘s most striking departure from the rom-com model, Amy has lots of stuff going on her life aside from dating this dude. Most notably, her complicated relationships with her family. Amy and her younger sister Kim (Brie Larson) get along, but Amy has trouble relating to Kim’s stable family life, with a square husband (Mike Birbiglia) and an oddly well-behaved stepchild. There’s further conflict between Amy and Kim as they deal with moving their father, who has multiple sclerosis, into assisted living. [Perhaps you can guess where the weeping kicks in.] The sister relationship in Trainwreck is as real and recognizable as the romance, if not more so. Schumer and Larson really nail the complicated interplay of jealousy and judgment between Amy and Kim.

There are also dick jokes. Trainwreck is very funny. Amy Schumer brings her magic, and the supporting cast is full of delightful oddball characters. I particularly liked a (TAN!) Tilda Swinton as Amy’s sociopathically brash editor and LeBron James as an extremely sensitive and supportive best friend to sports doctor Aaron. [Bill Hader is quite notably the straight man throughout, but he’s Bill Hader so he still gets in some big laughs.]

LeBron James as LeBron James is one of the comedic highlights of ‘Trainwreck’

Somehow, Trainwreck pulls off segueing between the risque comic bits we all came for and its unexpected side of pathos and heartbreak. While Judd Apatow’s confident direction deserves some of the credit, I think the most important factor here is Schumer’s impressive acting chops. She’s charismatic and funny enough that she should be a movie star even if she can’t really act, but she can. I hope this is the first of many Amy Schumer movies.

But next time I see one, I will adjust my expectations and bring along a pack of tissues.

Robin Hitchcock is a writer based in Pittsburgh, where there was a rather chilly reception to the scene where LeBron James talks about how great Cleveland is.

The Feminist’s Box Office Call of Duty

Confession time: I really want to see ‘Ant-Man’ this weekend. But I feel it is my duty as a feminist to go see ‘Trainwreck,’ and moreover, to NOT see ‘Ant-Man.’

Confession time: I really want to see Ant-Man this weekend. But I feel it is my duty as a feminist to go see Trainwreck, and moreover, to NOT see Ant-Man.

I’ve got a busy weekend. It’s my wedding anniversary, I’m performing in two shows, plus your standard weekend social obligations. At best I can squeeze in a Sunday matinee. There can be only one.

And I must see Trainwreck to support women in comedy, specifically the rising stardom of Amy Schumer, whose Comedy Central series is refreshingly, delightfully, overtly feminist. I must do my part, spend my $10.50, help prove that female-driven movies can kill it at the box office. That romcoms can be summer tentpoles. I don’t know how sex-positive Trainwreck will turn out to be, but I should find out, and write a timely new-release Bitch Flicks piece about it. I must answer the call.

Ok, ok! I'll go see 'Trainwreck' — Ok, ok! I’ll go see *Trainwreck*

Conversely, I must reject Ant-Man. Not only to highlight the relative (hopeful) success of Trainwreck (my guess is Minions will carry the weekend again anyway). Because Ant-Man is the tipping point in Marvel’s frustrating over-reliance on white male superheroes, trotting out C-list characters before Captain Marvel and Black Panther (both flicks pushed back to accommodate the utterly pointless third go at Spider-Man, blerg), and with no Black Widow movie on the horizon. Because the #JanetVanCrime of fridging Wasp, a founding member of the Avengers. Because a sympathetic portrayal of Hank Pym might actually make my blood boil (OK, well, not literally, but it could spike my blood pressure to dangerous levels).

Janet Van Dyne aka Wasp named the Avengers, but she's being erased in the Marvel Cinematic Universe — Janet Van Dyne aka Wasp named the Avengers, but she’s being erased in the Marvel Cinematic Universe

But I wannnnaaaaa see Ant-Man. I love superhero movies. And heist movies. Ant-Man is both. Matt Zoller Seitz, possibly my most trusted critic at present, says it is really good. It’s got some Honey, I Shrunk the Kids perspective stuff, which is always fun (probably less fun when it relies on CGI, but still). I’ve had a crush on Paul Rudd for 20 years. Twenty years! TWO THIRDS OF MY LIFE. And the post-credits sequence teases Captain America: Civil War, which I have been eagerly anticipating since, well, the post-credits sequence of Captain America: The Winter Soldier*. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist the Marvel machine.

Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.

So I start talking myself into how it is OK for me to go see Ant-Man. The superhero movie bubble is going to pop, but I’m not ready for that to happen yet. Not before Captain Marvel and Black Panther start filming. And Hera forbid this spilling over into the DC side of the superhero movie industry before Wonder Woman.

And if I had to pick the pin that would pop the bubble, it would be the new Spider-Man, or as I like to call it, Spider-Why. Three white boy Peter Parkers in 15 years? WHY. WHY. WHY. (I said it three times even though that’s painfully redundant. See what I did there?) So I should support Ant-Man to make the new Spider-Man look worse. That makes sense, right? OK, I’m really grasping at straws.

I'd rather see the superhero movie bubble pop with the third white boy Spider-Man — I’d rather see the superhero movie bubble pop with the third white boy Spider-Man

As I wrestle with which wide-release big studio movie I am going to see, I am reminded of the heroic efforts of some feminists to ONLY support female-directed or written movies. Or at least actively seek them out and promote them, instead of drinking whatever sand Hollywood just poured over the masses. I recognize applying feminist critiques to mainstream movies isn’t enough. This conundrum I’ve imposed on myself highlights the cracks in my feminism. (For what it’s worth, Amy Schumer wrote the screenplay for Trainwreck, so even though its advertising says “From the guy who brought you Bridesmaids” [also written by women!], I think it is fair to call Trainwreck is a film by a woman.)

Trainwreck promo image says "from the guy who brought you Bridesmaids", even though both films were written by women — Trainwreck promo image says “from the guy who brought you *Bridesmaids,*” even though both films were written by women

The compromise I will make is to see Trainwreck this weekend and hold off on Ant-Man for at least another week. And then seek out some of the latest independent films directed by women. I will fulfill my feminist call of duty to the best of my ability.

Ant-Man gives a thumbs up. — Ant-Man gives my plan a thumbs up.

(*For those of you who think it is ridiculous to want to see a movie in part for its post-credits sequence, well, you are totally right. But let me remind you of a simpler time, before YouTube, when Meet Joe Black got a box office bump just from running the trailer for Star Wars Episode I. Geeks do silly things.)

Robin Hitchcock is a writer based in Pittsburgh who saw Meet Joe Black in the theater for reasons other than the Phantom Menace trailer. She has since improved her life choices.

“[Unbelievably Beautiful] Women Aren’t Funny”: Progress Through Modifiers?

A few months ago I wrote, “Today, no one who is relevant doubts that women are funny, at least not out loud.” And here we are in 2015 and Important Men are making casual declarations that only certain types of women aren’t funny. In this case, unbelievably beautiful women. Progress?

unbelievablybeautifulgoldie — The unbelievably beautiful Goldie Hawn

A few months ago I wrote, “Today, no one who is relevant doubts that women are funny, at least not out loud.” And here we are in 2015 and Important Men are making casual declarations that only certain types of women aren’t funny. In this case, unbelievably beautiful women. Progress?

Michael Eisner, in “honoring” Goldie Hawn last week, said “usually, unbelievably beautiful women, you being an exception, are not funny.” [He at least had the foresight to note, “boy am I going to get in trouble, I know this goes online.” Yes, you are in trouble.] And the media has responded by listing beautiful funny women. We’ve been down this road before.

In 2007, Christopher Hitchens’ infamous Vanity Fair essay, “Why Women Aren’t Funny” was published. People forget the first word in that title, which is a shame, because if anything is more objectionable than the assertion that women aren’t funny, it is the reasons Hitchens gave for that assertion. The essay is gone from the internet, so let me summarize (or you can see Hitchens’ own pull quotes in his 2008 follow-up piece):

Women don’t need to be funny to convince men to have sex with them, so they never develop the talent.
The onus of childbirth makes women too serious to be funny.

These ideas were mostly ignored, a) because they are terrible b) because we were too busy responding by listing all the funny women out there. Listing funny women is a good thing. We should be celebrating all the women in comedy. But the knights of the patriarchy are always going to respond with, at best, “maybe those women are funny, but they’re exceptional.”

Vanity Fair's cover responding to its Hitchens article — *Vanity Fair*‘s cover responding to its Hitchens article

Or they’ll shut it down with the nuclear option: “those women are funny, but they aren’t beautiful.” Because a woman who is not beautiful has no other relevant qualities. She might as well not exist.

This was gloriously satirized in the instant classic television episode Twelve Angry Men Inside Amy Schumer, where the jurors debate if Amy Schumer is hot enough to have her own tv show. This episode expands on an earlier sketch where a focus group is asked about the content of the show but will only talk about whether or not they’d do its star. All evaluations of women are eclipsed by one question: “could she get it?”

So it really isn’t all that helpful to say, “but these funny women COULD get it!” I don’t need your list of beautiful funny women. Even if you do an admirable job including women who don’t all look the same. And even if you frame it as “funny is beautiful.” You’re perpetuating the idea that beauty is the be-all end-all decider of a woman’s worth.

Going back to Hitchens’ horrible reasons for his horrible opinions, the idea that beautiful women aren’t funny (which is distinct from the also-pervasive belief that funny women aren’t beautiful, to be examined at another time) suggests that women only develop their qualities to please men. [Forgive me, this whole conversation is incredibly cis- and heteronormative.] The idea is that beautiful women are empty shells, never bothering to become smart or funny or athletic or good at parallel parking because they’ve already achieved the ultimate goal: fuckability. Goldie Hawn responded to Eisner that maybe she’s an exception to his beautiful funny women rule because she was an “ugly duckling.” Basically, in her early years, she had to bother to cook up a personality, which fortunately stuck around after she became unbelievably beautiful.

In this equation, a woman has no worth if she isn’t doable, but if she is too doable, we must also assume she has no “real” worth.

Listen carefully: A woman is not the way she is because of how appealing that makes her to others. A woman is the way she is because that is who she is. We have complex identities. We are made up by qualities outside of and unrelated to our do-ability. We are people.

Robin Hitchcock is a Pittsburgh-based writer and founding member of the unbelievably beautiful all-female comedy troupe Frankly Scarlett.