Tag: Bechdel Test

‘Farah Goes Bang’: A Love Letter to Female Friendships

Farah Goes Bang movie poster
Written by Amanda Rodriguez
Spoiler Alert
“I wanted to do something I hadn’t done before. Change the world and be awesome.” – 17 year-old female John Kerry Campaign Volunteer in Farah Goes Bang
Meera Menon’s Tribeca Film Festival award-winning Farah Goes Bang is a lot of things: it’s a coming-of-age and sexual awakening story, a road trip narrative, a political tale, a multicultural expression, a chick flick, and a love affair with all the beauty and grit of the American experience. The strongest facet of this film, however, is its unflinching depiction of the strength and intimacy of female friendship.
The story centers around three young women who’ve just finished college and decide to take a road trip together as volunteers on the John Kerry presidential campaign. Our heroine, Farah, is tired of her pesky virginity and wants to lose it on the campaign trail. On the road, both Farah (Persian) and her friend Roopa (Indian) encounter racism along with its companions stereotyping and bigotry. Menon talked in an interview on KeralaNext.com about the culture clash the women encounter:
“Their odyssey through the heartland of America is meant to demonstrate the ways in which these girls are often not seen as American, though they are as American as any other. I really wanted the film to integrate their faces and races into a new sense of American identity, one that embraces the hybrid, cross-cultural form that I have experienced in my own sense of citizenship.”

All I have to say is: YES. As a feminist woman of color, this kind of representation of my experiences (and the experiences of countless women just like me) is invaluable. Showing these women as rounded human beings with troubles that are not so foreign or alien as white culture would have you believe is something we desperately need as part of a movement toward inclusivity, toward acceptance and the embracing of those our society typically marginalizes and others.   

“I think [the scarf] looks pretty, kinda like it belongs on you.” – KJ  “That is so racist.” – Roopa

Farah Goes Bang passes the Bechdel test all day long. The core of this film is the connection between these three women and how it supports them, gives them strength, allows them their fluidity of identity, and is fun as well as necessary for each of their unique journeys. Menon says, 

“The film, at its heart, is about the importance of female friendships during the rapid period of personal growth that is your twenties. I have learned so much through my friends, particularly female, about who I am and the woman I hope to be. This film is a love letter to how formative those relationships are when you are young.” 
Near the end of the film, Farah finally gets her hook-up on the much anticipated election night. It’s dark out, so we never clearly see the man she seduces, nor do we learn his name. (The seduction itself is a pivotal character shift because, until this point, Farah had always been meek and incapable of owning her sexuality.) After they have sex, she goes back to the cabin where her friends are, wanting to spend the rest of this meaningful night with the people who are most important to her: her girlfriends. It is the bond of friendship that sees these young women through the crushing disappointment of the election and the very adult realization that the world isn’t very easy to change.
KJ, Farah, and Roopa enjoying a special night of anticipation and fireworks.
Though the film is a bit rose-colored and unrealistic with some of its themes (Roopa’s lack of internal struggles render her one-dimensional when compared to her two friends, KJ’s cathartic conversation with a military vet, and Farah’s empowering encounter with a drag queen followed by her ideal one-night-stand with a beautiful, nameless stranger), it turns out it’s still nice to watch a movie about women that doesn’t involve a rape or murder (especially a women-on-the-road story), where the women don’t necessarily all get what they want, but they come out the other side together, happy, and ready for the next challenge.

The Lifelike, Feminist Choreography of ‘Frances Ha’

Frances Ha movie poster.


Written by Leigh Kolb
Spoilers ahead!

“27 is old.”

Frances Ha is a love letter to that idea–that 27 is old, but is, at the same time, the beginning of everything. For this generation, 27 is at that cusp between youth and adulthood and it is painful, terrifying and full of misery and joy.

The film captures that moment perfectly, and its bare French New Wave style allows the story,  which focuses on, in the words of director Noah Baumbach, “That period in your 20s where you’re necessarily having to separate yourself from a kind of romantic idea of yourself,” to be on full display.

In addition to capturing that moment, Frances Ha also has at its center a friendship between two women. It easily passes the Bechdel Test, and was co-written by the actor Greta Gerwig, who plays Frances.

“I’m not messy, I’m busy.”

In an interview, Gerwig says that the film and its focus on evolving relationships and changing is about that “moment when you’re exiting your youth and you really only know it when it’s gone. It doesn’t announce that it’s the last day of youth, it just leaves…” While these kinds of stories are not rare, seeing the focus placed on a woman’s life and female friendship is.

Frances Ha is one of those rare films that makes a feminist’s heart grow three sizes in an hour and a half.

The female protagonist and her best friend, Sophie (Mickey Sumner), are engaged in the most important relationship on screen. Frances and her boyfriend at the beginning of the film break up (he wants to get cats and for her to move in with him; she wants to keep living with Sophie), and Sophie has a relationship with the kind of guy who wears a ball cap and says, “I have to take a leak,” but the central relationships are Frances and Sophie and Frances and herself.

Frances and Sophie’s friendship is incredibly realistic.

Frances is an aspiring modern dancer (she’s an understudy and teaches dance lessons to children at a dance company), and anyone with minimal knowledge of the dancing profession knows that 27 is likely far too old to have any hope of joining the company, yet Frances hopes. She’s sure that this is the year she will be chosen for the company and at least get to tour.

Sophie moves out to live with an acquaintance in Tribeca, where she’s always wanted to live. Frances haphazardly becomes a roommate to two “rich kid” young men (an artist, Lev, and a writer, Benji, with wealthy parents), and she doesn’t get asked to dance in the Christmas productions, much less be a part of the company. Frances’s life–which hasn’t yet felt like it’s begun–is unraveling.

Frances, Benji and Lev.

When she goes home for Christmas, she lies in a bathtub full of water as her mother pounds on the door: “Frances, how much longer?” she pleads.

The length of her life seems short and long, and the next step is elusive.

Through it all, Frances perseveres. She doesn’t break down, she doesn’t quit moving, even if her moves sometimes feel clunky–and real.

In what’s arguably her lowest moment, when she’s attending a dinner party with her temporary roommate who doesn’t seem to like her, Frances does break–in her own way. She drinks a bit too much and when she learns (from strangers) that Sophie is moving to Japan with her fiance, Frances decides to go to Paris.

Frances dances through the streets to David Bowie.

“Sometimes it’s good to do what you’re supposed to do when you’re supposed to do it,” she says. At this moment, she means going to Paris–even on a charge card–and having a worldly experience. It’s disappointing, as most of those experiences that we are “supposed” to have often are. Frances is left feeling empty, and more lost than when she began.

She makes sure to be home on Monday, because the head of the dance company had requested a meeting with her. Frances–charmingly delusional–thinks she’s going to ask her to be a member of the company. Instead, she’s offered an office administration job. Frances says no. She’s not ready to move into that part of her life, where she no longer has that unfettered hope of being who she thought she was going to be.

She returns to her alma mater to be an RA during a summer dance camp (where she discovers she’s not even allowed to take dance classes) and a server for special events. It’s during this experience–the juxtaposition of her life and the college students’ lives, and her being an adult in a place of youthful potential–that something changes. She runs in to a drunk Sophie at a fundraiser. Sophie is belligerent and stays over in Frances’s dorm room. Their roles are reversed that night. Frances seems to have it all together and Sophie is falling apart.

“Your blog looked so happy,” Frances says after Sophie says she’s been miserable and won’t be marrying her fiance. They both had been struggling to do what they are supposed to do when they are supposed to do it, but it’s not working. They must separate themselves from that “romantic idea” they’d had of themselves, their “story of us” that included taking over the world, to move forward.

Frances does so by taking the administrative job at the dance company, and is able to continue choreographing. Her eyes glisten with happiness in the control booth as dancers on stage perform her choreography. As the gorgeous, disjointed dance goes on, the camera pans through the audience, focusing on all of the people in Frances’s life who care about and support her. The company owner compliments her work, gushing over the performance. Frances briefly talks to one of her old roommates, Benji, and it is clear that something might develop between the two of them. But the person she’s “making eyes” at is Sophie, her best friend.

The framing of Frances’s life around a dance career is perfect, because dance is a profession that one ages out of, and it’s so much, on the surface, about performance. Frances, as she perceives herself getting older, feels like she needs to perform to choreography not her own. When she realizes she can make her life work in another way, she’s rewarded.

In an article at Forbes, Dina Gachman notes the importance of Frances’s career trajectory, and the lesson that there’s something in between getting exactly what you think you want or settling for less:

“That doesn’t mean you should meander all over the place without a plan waiting for success to rain down on you, but one of the great things about Frances Ha is that it’s saying: It’s OK that your life and career aren’t picture perfect. Maybe the picture is just different than you imagined.”

In the end, Frances is moving into her own apartment, a sign of success, since her living arrangements have always been cause for stress and uncertainty. She’s able to work and make a living in the dance world. She’s everything she wanted to be, just in a different way.

Frances dancing in a grown-up pencil skirt.

As she goes to put her handwritten name plate onto her mailbox, her name is too long to fit. She folds it neatly, and “Frances Ha” peeks out from the window. She did what she needed to do to make it fit, much like she did with her life. When she does figure out how to make all of the pieces fit, she gets everything she needs and realizes what she wants.

In “Why Frances Ha is the Must-See Feminist Film of the Year,” Imran Siddiquee says,

“While capturing the hilarity, awkwardness and anxiety all of us might face in our late 20s – gaining and losing best friends while pursuing what feels like an increasingly impossible dream – Frances Ha says something very specific about gender. It shows us that women can be messy, graceful, sad, funny, artistic, ambitious and caring all at once. You know, human.”

The sheer humanity on display throughout Frances Ha feels much more groundbreaking than it should.  The women and men in the film are not people you aspire to be, but they are people, on some level, who you are and who you know.

After watching the film, I immediately told my best friend she had to watch it. The depiction of female friendship and the muddy misery of the mid-20s was breathtaking. There are so many art-house and Hollywood films that center on men’s coming-of-age stories, and so few about women’s. Frances Ha shows that it can be done, and it can be done well.

That moment when you are in the control booth of your life, which may not look how you thought it would, but it’s just how it’s supposed to be? That’s a great moment.

When a flawed and wonderful woman is having that moment on the big screen? That’s a great moment for all of us.

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

Does Uhura’s Empowerment Negate Sexism in ‘Star Trek Into Darkness’?

Lt. Nyota Uhura (Zoe Saldana) in Star Trek Into Darkness

Written by Megan Kearns | Warning: Spoilers ahead!

Yes, I am a Trekkie. I’ve been a huge fan of Star Trek ever since I was a kid. The camaraderie of Star Trek: The Original Series, the intellectual and moral conundrums on Star Trek: The Next Generation, the political intrigue and exploration of social issues on Deep Space 9 — I love them all.

I really enjoyed JJ Abrams’ Star Trek and Star Trek Into Darkness. Both are fun, gripping movies paying homage to the original series. While I enjoy the nostalgia and revisiting these characters, I can’t ignore Star Trek Into Darkness’ vacillating depiction of empowerment and sexism.
In the 60s original TV series, Lieutenant Uhura was a ground-breaking role. It was one of the first time audiences saw a black woman on TV who wasn’t a maid or a servant. She was also part of the first interracial kiss on TV, although that always bothers me as it was against her wishes due to mind control. Uhura’s occupation as the Enterprise’s Communications Officer inspired women (Dr. Mae Jamison, Sally Ride) and African-Americans (Dr. Mae Jamison, Guion Bluford) to become astronauts. We can’t be what we can’t see, one of the reasons media impacts our lives so deeply.
Yet the original Star Trek didn’t exactly delve deeply into Lt. Uhura’s personality. However, we can glean a few things about the Communications Officer. Adept at languages, she was ambitious, climbing through ranks to eventually become a Commander. She enjoyed music and loved to play instruments and sing. She doesn’t really have a tangible persona, not compared to roguish and rebellious Kirk, rational and logical Spock or emotional, metaphor-spewing Bones. So it’s great to see the extremely talented Zoe Saldana — who I will seriously watch in anything — imbue the iconic character with more complexity and depth as an opinionated and assertive woman.
In the original series, Kirk, Spock and McCoy form the central trio. But in Star Trek Into Darkness, Uhura replaces McCoy so now there’s a woman of color in the triad. A lady broke through the boys’ club barrier!! But won’t her ladyparts contaminate the brotastic bond??
Is Uhura in Star Trek Into Darkness a strong-willed, intelligent, assertive badass? Or merely relegated to the role of a dude’s girlfriend? She’s both.

Spock (Zachary Quinto) and Uhura (Zoe Saldana)
Uhura and Spock share an effortless chemistry. As we saw in the first Star Trek film, despite their difference in rank, they appear to be equals in their romantic relationship. Uhura possesses agency, despite her romantic involvement. She’s the one who demands Kirk let her negotiate with the Klingons rather than shooting first. She’s the one who insists on being beamed down to help Spock in the film’s climax. No one is making decisions for her. She’s making them. She’s not afraid to voice her opinion. When she’s pissed at Spock, thinking he held little regard for his life, she’s unafraid to confront him even though Kirk, her boss, is present.
Part of me loves that Uhura, a black woman, is the one in the romance. Too often we see white women play out that plot. Black women often remain on the sidelines as the feisty sidekicks, giving their white friends advice on love. Lucy Liu recently lamented about racist stereotypes in Hollywood, how people don’t think of her in a romantic comedy. While not a rom-com, it’s great to see a woman of color get the guy.
But it pisses off another part of me that Uhura’s role in Star Trek Into Darkness is ultimately defined by her relationship to a man, even though that relationship often takes “a back seat to the bromance between Spock and Kirk.” Uhura’s role as girlfriend exists to convey Spock’s humanity. Uhura is upset at Spock that he seems so cavalier in a life-threatening situation, not giving their relationship a second thought. He assures her that he cares deeply but doesn’t want to endure the anguish of fear. They have a genuine conflict that I wish had been explored more. In the emotional climax, Spock loses control of his emotions due to his feelings for Kirk, not Uhura. Again it feels like it’s all about a dude.
Even though the other female character in the film Dr. Carol Marcus, a weapons specialist for chrissake, she’s ultimately defined by her relationship to a man too — her father, an ambassador and head of Starfleet. She’s also been called the worst damsel in distress ever. Not sure I’d say the worst but yeah it’s pretty bad. Oh and of course we see her in her underwear, for no reason other than to show Kirk ogling her. (In case you’re not familiar with original Star Trek, Dr. Marcus also happens to be the mother of Kirk’s son — another way her character is defined by a man — although she’s also the creator of the Genesis Project, which is pretty badass. But who knows if this will even transpire in the subsequent reboot series.)
Dr. Marcus’ gratuitous half-naked, eye-candy shot has rightfully pissed off a ton of people. Screenwriter and frequent Abrams collaborator Damon Lindelof recently responded to the criticism, proving he doesn’t fully comprehend sexism or misogyny:

I copped to the fact that we should have done a better job of not being gratuitous in our representation of a barely clothed actress.
— Damon Lindelof (@DamonLindelof) May 20, 2013

We also had Kirk shirtless in underpants in both movies.Do not want to make light of something that some construe as mysogenistic.
— Damon Lindelof (@DamonLindelof) May 20, 2013

 

What I’m saying is I hear you, I take responsibility and will be more mindful in the future.
— Damon Lindelof (@DamonLindelof) May 20, 2013

 

Also, I need to learn how to spell “misogynistic.”
— Damon Lindelof (@DamonLindelof) May 20, 2013

 

While it’s nice that he acknowledges their folly, even after he apologizes, it’s more a half-assed excuse as he mentions Kirk is shirtless. No, no. I just can’t. I’m not going to go into all the reasons why reducing a woman who’s defined by men to a sex object specifically for the Male Gaze is so NOT the same as showing a man shirtless. Just trust me. It’s not the same. At all.
I complained in Iron Man 3 of Pepper Potts’ faux empowerment, essentially fulfilling the Damsel in Distress trope. While others have claimed Uhura becomes the Damsel in Distress too, I disagree. While women overall get a pretty shitty treatment in the film, Uhura’s agency is not stripped away. She voices her ideas, desires and annoyances. Unlike Pepper, Uhura fearlessly expresses her opinions and holds steady to them.
When Klingons surround Uhura, Spock and Kirk’s small spacecraft, Uhura decisively asserts herself. She tells hot-headed Kirk — who of course wants to charge out with guns blazing – that he brought her there to speak Klingon. “So let me speak Klingon.” Uhura wants to be the diplomatic negotiator resolving the situation. Huzzah! Oops, when negotiations go awry things, it’s testosterone to the rescue. And yes, Uhura gets saved by a dude. Annoying. However, in the ensuing melee, Uhura grabs a dagger off a Klingon who was going to kill her and kills him first in self-defense. Later in the film, she asserts herself again when she beams down to help Spock against villain Khan.

Uhura
Star Trek Into Darkness also makes an interesting commentary on stereotypical masculinity. While Ambassador Marcus is aggressive, looking to kill Khan, Kirk learns the importance of following the rules to ensure justice. It initially seems like a denouncement of toxic hyper-masculinity. Ahhhh but not so fast. The climax of the film, the showdown with Khan, isn’t resolved with logic or cunning. Nope, it’s with good old fashioned testosterone as Spock, now in touch with his anger after a Wrath of Khan reversal and the death of Kirk, beats the shit out of him.
Speaking of Khan, while it’s awesome to have an intelligent woman of color featured so prominently in the film, the egregious whitewashing of Khan cannot be ignored. In Star Trek the Original Series and the film Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Khan Noonian Singh was a genetically engineered human augment, a product of the eugenics wars. As a Sikh from Northern India, he was a composite of a variety of ethnicities played by the charismatic Ricardo Montalban, aka one of the awesomest villains. Ever. But in Star Trek Into Darkness, it’s a white dude. Sure Benedict Cumberbatch does an okay job. But this racist whitewashing “is a slap in the face” to the audience as well as Gene Roddenberry’s vision of bringing people together from around the globe and galaxy “by a mission of exploration and diplomacy.”
So why am I going off on a tangent about Khan when this is an article about Uhura? Because the ancillary racism and sexism bolsters the film’s message. The original Star Trek series was groundbreaking in its depiction of gender and racial diversity and exploration of social issues. But we don’t live in the fucking 1960s anymore. JJ Abrams clearly doesn’t want to do anything different or “boldly going” anywhere when it comes to dismantling oppression and heralding diversity.
JJ Abrams created strong female characters in Alias (a female-centric series) and Lost, two of my favorite TV series. He showcased female friendship between Sydney and Francie, Sydney and Nadia, Kate and Claire, Kate and Sun. And Lost would have been female-centric too if the networks hadn’t made him change the leader of the survivors from Kate (whose character was more like Rose) to Jack. However, when you start to look at his treatment of characters of color, sadly most of them die on both shows. But in Star Trek Into Darkness, he seems a bit too concerned with harkening back to the good ole’ days of yore. You know, the ones filled with sexism and racism.

Uhura
Is Uhura empowered? Yes. But does it matter when all other women in the film are silenced, absent or objectified? Does it matter when she’s defined by her relationship to a man?
It’s strange in a film that objectifies women and defines them by their relationship to men, we simultaneously see an intelligent, decisive and opinionated Uhura. Aside from Uhura’s rank as a lieutenant, we see no women in leadership roles. No women captains, no women ambassadors, no women number ones (second in commands to captains). Uhura possesses no female friends. She doesn’t talk to a single woman at all. Not one. Not even underwear-clad Carol.
No, Star Trek Into Darkness can’t pass the fucking Bechdel Test but it doesn’t pass up the opportunity to show Kirk having a threesome. A fucking threesome. Because women are nothing more than fantasies and sex objects. Can’t forget he’s a lady-loving, bad-boy rules-breaking playboy. Now, I love Kirk in all his swagger and bravado too. But if we’re going to show women on-screen, can it please for-the-love-of-all-that-is-holy NOT just be women in their underwear? Can we please not just focus on dude’s friendships, sexual conquests, struggles and tribulations?

As actor and nerd icon Felicia Day says, by Star Trek Into Darkness not showcasing women, “we are telling people that only men are worth centering storytelling around, and that’s just bullshit.” As I’ve written before, the Bechdel Test matters because the overwhelming majority of movies fail, indicating the institutional sexism and rampant gender disparity prevalent in Hollywood.

Yes, Uhura rocks. And yes, she asserts her agency. But no matter how opinionated, smart and fabulous she is, the gains made by Uhura begin to erode when you factor in the incessant sexism swarming around.

As I’ve said time and again, if you depict your female characters, no matter how empowered, as only talking to men and not other women, it reinforces the notion that women’s lives revolve around men. Even when women possess agency and intelligence and a budding career, Star Trek Into Darkness perpetuates the trope that women are not complete or whole unless they’re helping a man, looking sexy for a man, or a man stands at their side.

Bearing the name of an iconic boundary-busting, visionary series, I expect more.

Quote of the Day: Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf
Because I recently wrote a review of the film The Hours, I’ve got Virginia Woolf on the brain. Though Woolf’s last novel was published over 70 years ago, her words as a woman, as a writer, and as a feminist still echo their truth in our contemporary world, despite its insistence that gender inequality is a thing of the past. Because Woolf speaks her mind with such eloquence and veracity, I’ve no need to paraphrase her words, and I’ll just let her wonderful quotes speak for themselves:
“The history of men’s opposition to women’s emancipation is more interesting perhaps than the story of that emancipation itself.

Woolf’s indictment of femininity and womanhood makes me incredibly happy:

“Anything may happen when womanhood has ceased to be a protected occupation.” 

 And, finally, a reminder that Woolf was savvy to the Bechdel Test long before it existed:

“‘Chloe liked Olivia.’ Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen. Sometimes women do like women…All these relationships between women, I thought, rapidly recalling the splendid gallery of fictitious women, are too simple…And I tried to remember any case in the course of my reading where two women are represented as friends…They are now and then mothers and daughters. But almost without exception they are shown in their relation to men. It was strange to think that all the great women of fiction were, until Jane Austen’s day, not only seen by the other sex, but seen only in relation to the other sex. And how small a part of a woman’s life is that.”

Painting of Virginia Woolf

And how small a part of a woman’s life is that. Yes, Virginia; how small indeed.

The Ten Most-Read Posts from February 2013

Did you miss these popular posts on Bitch Flicks? If so, here’s your chance to catch up.

“A Post About Community‘s Shirley? That’s Nice.” by Lady T

“Bitch Slapped: Female Violence in Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters“ by Rachel Redfern

“The Complex, Unlikable Women of House of Cards“ by Leigh Kolb

“Feminism and the Oscars: Do This Year’s Best Picture Nominees Pass the Bechdel Test?” by Megan Kearns

“The Women of The Walking Dead: A Comparative Analysis of the Comic vs. TV” by Amanda Rodriguez

“Heroic Black Love and Male Privilege in Django Unchained“ by Joshunda Sanders

“2013 Academy Awards Diversity Checklist” by Lady T

“5 Female-Directed Films That Deserved Oscar Nominations” by James Worsdale

“Thoughts on The Mindy Project and Other Screen Depictions of Indian Women” by Maryna Przybysz

“Beasts of the Southern Wild: Deluge Myths” by Laura A. Shamas

"You won’t be the first pig I’ve gutted!": The Women of ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’

Written by Amanda Rodriguez
I unabashedly adore Guillermo del Torro’s Pan’s Labyrinth. It’s beautifully rendered between two dark, cruel worlds. Our heroine, Ofelia, wants to escape the foreignness and brutality of her new life as the stepdaughter of “The Captain,” a cold and violent military officer hunting down rebels as part of Franco’s fascist regime in 1944 Spain. Though full of magic and possibilities, the fantastical Underworld to which she so desperately wants to escape (in which she is a lost princess whose father has searched eons for her) is also full of horrors, danger, and death. The story of this lost young girl striving to be brave and good, striving to believe in a better world despite all the pain and darkness is heartbreaking.
Pan’s Labyrinth passes the Bechdel test while showcasing three unique female characters. There’s young Ofelia herself along with her kind, mild, and beautiful mother, Carmen, and finally Mercedes, the housemaid who is secretly a rebel spy. All these women are depicted with compassion and depth, but let’s examine them each more deeply to see how they fare under a feminist lens.
First we have Ofelia. 
Ofelia is an imaginative girl who loves books and her mother. Not only that, but she is a courageous and loyal tomboy who is willing to sacrifice her life as well as her mythic destiny for love of her infant half-brother. At first glance, Ofelia appears to be a strong feminist representation, but as I wrote about in my previous Bitch Flicks review “Brave and the Legacy of Female Prepubescent Power Fantasies”, things aren’t always as they appear. I say Merida from Brave and Ofelia from Pan’s Labyrinth (among others):
“[are] actually situated within a somewhat prolific trope of female prepubescent power fantasy tales. Within this trope, young girls are allowed and even encouraged to be strong, assertive, creative, and heroes of their own stories. I call them ‘feminism lite’ because these characters are only afforded this power because they are girl children who are unthreatening in their prepubescent, pre-sexualized state.”  

When Ofelia meets the faun, he insists that, though he’s certain she is the immortal princess, she must undertake three tasks to prove her “innocence” is intact and that she has not truly become mortal yet. Metaphorically speaking, these tests will ensure her virginity; the implication being that if she is no longer a virginal child, she will not be pure enough to take her rightful place as heiress of the Underworld. In fact, when Ofelia must retrieve a dagger from the child-eating monster, her willful indulgence in two grapes nearly sabotages her bid for immortality. The carnality and unnatural appetites of the child-eating monster coupled with the beautiful, forbidden banquet in his chamber set the scene for a reenactment of Eve’s apple eating and the ensuing Fall of Man. The tasting of the forbidden fruit is synonymous with the awakening of sexuality, and when he learns of Ofelia’s inability to control her appetite, the faun cruelly rebuffs her, yelling that she has ruined her chances to return to her true home.
“You would give up your sacred rights for a brat you barely know? You would give up your throne for him?” – The Faun
Though Ofelia is the princess, the faun dictates all her rules and tasks, appearing and disappearing as he pleases and demanding she obey blindly. These traits are paralleled with The Captain’s black-and-white thinking as well as his cruel capriciousness. Both worlds are governed by cold patriarchal forces that this young girl must navigate, where she has no power to change the rules or the worlds themselves.
Next there is Carmen, Ofelia’s mother.
Carmen is a gentle and kind woman in an unenviable plight who we watch become drained of hope and life. Her husband, a tailor, dies, and she is left alone to care for her daughter in an uncertain, war-torn city, so she marries the unaffectionate, nearly inhuman Captain Vidal and becomes deathly ill carrying his child. Her poverty and the desperation of her situation are insinuated when Carmen says to Ofelia that The Captain, “has been very good to us. You have no idea.” However, the primary reason she gives Ofelia for marrying The Captain is, “I was alone too long.” Her sexual and relationship needs, the film insists, trump her dire straits. This is a unique characterization of a woman in that her needs as a woman governed her choice, and despite the catastrophic outcome, the film never blames or judges her for being human.
However, Carmen’s defining attribute is her beauty. While she sleeps, Carmen’s adoring daughter speaks to her little brother through Carmen’s belly saying, “She’s very pretty, you’ll see. Even though she’s sad some of the time, when she smiles, you’ll love her.” Not only is Carmen’s beauty of paramount importance, she is primarily concerned with superficial things like pretty dresses, clean shoes, modesty, and that her daughter grow up into a proper young woman. This, in combination with the way she languishes in such a difficult pregnancy, define Carmen as “mother.” Being pregnant with the offspring of such an evil man threatens Carmen’s health and ultimately kills her. Though this tale is magical realism, I’m uncomfortable with the “beautiful vessel” implications that are inescapable in Carmen’s characterization. However, her troubled pregnancy can also be interpreted as her loss of hope. When the story begins, Carmen is full of expectations about how life will be once she and her daughter settle in with The Captain at his base. By the end of her pregnancy, though, she says through lips bleached of life, “As you get older, you’ll see that life isn’t like your fairy tales. The world is a cruel place. And you’ll learn that even if it hurts! Magic does not exist…not for me or anyone.” This is a tragic woman who’s tried to conform to society’s expectations of her by being beautiful, soft-spoken, and proper, but she has still not been afforded a decent life with even a meager offering of happiness.
Lastly, we have Mercedes, the housemaid rebel spy made of steel.
My…effing…hero…
Mercedes has infiltrated The Captain’s base, feeding information, supplies, and letters to a secret rebel camp in the forest. She and Ofelia form a bond where Mercedes is at once a maternal figure and a co-conspirator. Despite reproaching herself for the cowardice of her silence, Mercedes suffers the indignities The Captain inflicts upon her without complaint because she is a guerrilla soldier, fighting against a tyrannical political regime with nothing but her wits and her small, dull kitchen knife.
When Mercedes is discovered, The Captain ties her up in the storeroom, preparing to torture her. He insists all his guards leave him to the task, sneering, “For God’s sake, she’s just a woman.” Subtly, Mercedes warns him of his grave underestimation of her, “That’s what you always thought. That’s why I was able to get away with it. I was invisible to you.” The Captain continues to disregard her, and before he realizes it, she’s escaped using her dull kitchen knife to cut the ropes and to stab him repeatedly. When he is at her mercy, she says, “I’m not some old man! I’m not some wounded prisoner! Sonofabitch! Sonofabitch! Don’t you dare touch the girl! You won’t be the first pig I’ve gutted!” She fish hooks him, permanently disfiguring his face.
“You won’t be the first pig I’ve gutted!” – Mercedes the Supreme Figure of Badassery
All there is to say is, “Wow.” This pivotal scene shows Mercedes as full of strength, compassion, and unshakable resolve. She asserts her power as a woman, defying not only the gender binary that subjugates women, but defying her class and the military state authoritarian structure as well. She tells The Captain that women aren’t weak like old men or wounded prisoners, and she even cites the power her trade as a kitchen maid has given her before viscerally showing him that power. Even in the height of her rage, Mercedes is still thinking of the welfare of Ofelia, who is her friend, surrogate child, and ally.
The way Mercedes wields her power is starkly contrasted with the way in which the patriarchal figure of The Captain wields his. All three women have a more complex world view than The Captain. Even Carmen who seeks love in the unlikeliest of places because she is full of naive trust appreciates that emotional well-being is of paramount importance. Though Ofelia is only a lost child caught between harsh reality and dark fantasy, even she recognizes the imperative of morality and self-sacrifice when faced with the choice: do evil to gain a reward or do good and lose everything. All three women are flawed, multifaceted characterizations of unique women in a situation made terrible by an oppressive patriarchal force as represented by Captain Vidal. Though the three could be woodenly interpreted as mother, maiden, and child, their individual depth coupled with their oftentimes unexpected strength and clarity give them value in a feminist reading of Pan’s Labyrinth. As feminists, we don’t ask for idealized portrayals of feminist heroines; we ask for complexity, realistic representations of women, and a critical approach to the patriarchal paradigm. Pan’s Labyrinth gives us all that and more.

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

Written by Megan Kearns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No man may have me": ‘Red Sonja’ a Feminist Film in Disguise?

Written by Amanda Rodriguez
True confession: 1985’s Red Sonja was my first lesbionic crush as a small child of four. I was in love with this strong Amazonian woman with her long red hair and big ol’ sword. It may be her fault that I wanted my dark brown hair to turn red and that red became my favorite color. I became completely obsessed with movies/TV shows starring women, especially badass babes, and I refused to watch anything that didn’t meet that criteria. As an adult, I’ve gone back to Red Sonja to see if it holds up to a feminist critique, and though it doesn’t always succeed, the film fares shockingly better than most contemporary action films starring women.
Firstly, Red Sonja passes the Bechdel test with flying colors. Though there aren’t many female characters in the film, Red Sonja speaks to most of them or they speak to each other, and they never talk about men. Not only that, but the great task of the film is to destroy the Talisman, an artifact that the “god of the high gods” used to create the earth that has since grown so powerful that it must now be destroyed or risk the destruction of the world itself. The Talisman can only be touched by women. The hierarchy in place dictates that priestesses protect the Talisman, but the High Lord (Kalidor played by Arnold Schwarzenegger) is the one who decides whether or not it is to be destroyed. This hierarchy certainly privileges men over women, but throughout the course of the film, men are repeatedly rendered obsolete (if not completely obliterated) when they encounter the Talisman. Men’s inability to touch the Talisman not only makes them impotent, but it makes women the major players who will determine the fate of the world. 
Badass barbarian babes Red Sonja and Queen Gedren go head-to-head over the Talisman
The characterization of Queen Gedren, the villainous lesbian played by Sandahl Bergman, is a bit more complicated. On the one hand, having a main character of a film be a lesbian is a pretty bold move, especially in a film that was made nearly 30 years ago. Gedren is shown to be a powerful, if tyrannical, figure who commands an army of men with ease.
In essence, Queen Gedren is the victim of a hate crime, and Red Sonja is the perpetrator. Gedren expresses her interest in Sonja, wanting them to “rule the world together.” Sonja rebuffs Gedren by slashing her across the face with a mace. The movie takes the side of Red Sonja here, claiming her “disgust was complete.” This somehow justifies the permanent disfigurement of another woman.
Queen Gedren wears a golden mask to conceal the scar left from Red Sonja’s attack
Gedren retaliates by burning Red Sonja’s house to the ground, having her soldiers gang-rape Sonja, and murdering her family. Of course, it’s difficult to feel sympathy for a woman of dubious intentions who shows up with a troop of armed men who end up raping Sonja and wholesale slaughtering her family. Interestingly, the original comic character upon which Queen Gedren is based was a man. The filmmakers deliberately altered the character into not only a woman, but a lesbian. I examined the implications of this exact cinematic choice in the character of Admiral Helena Cain from Battlestar Galactica. In both cases, the rendering of a lesbian as power hungry, brutal, and morally bankrupt indicates a fear of women in power, rendering them paradoxically weak and “womanish” slaves to their emotions as well as overly masculine.
And as usual, the evil lesbian is punished with death
In order to give Red Sonja the vengeance she so craves, a warrior goddess imbues her with mystical powers of strength and skill at weaponry. Though the idea of a female deity choosing a human woman as her champion has some “girl power” qualities, I’m disappointed that Sonja doesn’t earn her fighting prowess the way her male counterpart Conan does. Both characters are the creations of fantasy writer Robert E. Howard, but the cinematic version of Conan spends much of his youth enslaved, growing strong by pushing the Wheel of Pain around in circles before he is intensively trained for the gladiator arena with multiple disciplines of martial arts. The implication is that the only way a woman could be as physically tough and skilled as a man is through magic. However, Red Sonja has also taken a vow. “No man may have me unless he has beaten me in a fair fight,” she says. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Kalidor, of course, feels compelled to challenge that vow. He cannot beat her. They are equally matched and fight until they both collapse in exhaustion. Hoodoo influences aside, the cinematic depiction of male and female leads being equals on the battlefield is rare.     
Arnie muscle can’t fight the power of the Kentucky waterfall mullet
Many viewers have complained about the shortage of Arnie scenes in this film, but though he got top billing and is way more prominently featured in the movie poster (above), Kalidor is truly a supporting character. In fact, Kalidor takes a back seat to Red Sonja throughout their journey to Burkubane, the Land of Perpetual Night. He appears periodically throughout their quest, helping as needed, then eventually joining the group before the final showdown. Proof of the supporting nature of his role is in the fact that Arnold Schwarzenegger is never topless throughout this movie. Maybe that seems like a silly observation, but think about how many movies Arnie starred in during the 80’s where he showed his man boobies at some point. The answer is: all or most. The heroine is actually the lead in Red Sonja. She alone can destroy the Talisman. She alone defeats her enemy in single combat and saves the world. How often do you see that happen in a movie? 

All in all, Red Sonja was a formative film for me, a girl child of the 80’s. Its representation of the evils of lesbianism is inexcusable, but as a queer woman, I confess that I still love to watch the malevolent, beautiful Queen Gedren in action. It is, perhaps, sad that queer female characters in film and TV are such a rarity that I and so many others will take whatever we can get. Bottom line: The character of Red Sonja is strong, independent, and an expert in a traditionally male area of skill. She cannot be beaten by a man, she calls all the shots, and, in the end, she saves the world. It ain’t perfect, but I feel fortunate that the film was there to help shape my youthful feminist inklings.  
If you’re feeling frisky, check out my drinking game, Rye & Red Sonja on my Booze & Baking site. 

Rye & Red Sonja

———-

Quote of the Day: Screenwriter/Director Callie Khouri Weighs In On How TV Friendlier to Women

Callie Khouri

In a recent interview with Salon, Academy Award-winner Callie Khouri weighed in on how TV seems to be more friendly to shows about women. Khouri (who wrote Thelma and Louise for that Oscar) is the writer and producer for ABC’s new musical drama Nashville.
Salon asked her about television telling women’s stories and Khouri responded with thoughts that articulate the difficulties in writing feature films about women (adding that “I don’t think any studio in a million years would make Thelma and Louise right now”), and how to properly write stories once you get the green light.

Salon: People who make TV also seem much more comfortable making shows for women than people making movies do.

Khouri: “Because you’re allowed. You’re allowed to make things for women on television and there’s not like … you don’t have to go through the humiliation of having made something directed at women. There it’s just accepted, whereas if it’s a feature, it’s like “So, talk to me about chick flicks.” … I just think it’s insulting that if there is something with women in it, it’s relegated to this kind of trash heap. It doesn’t matter what it is, how good it is, if there is emotion in it, it’s immediately going to be talked down to. And I’m obviously irritated by that. Probably all women are. Certainly a lot of women filmmakers are.…Anyway, I don’t want to just complain about features, but it does seem unduly hard given the number of women that exist in the world.”

On the show not being “about a catfight,” even though it starts out that way:

Khouri: “…You come at things from the place where everybody thinks they know everything about what they are seeing. And then you just slowly peel back the layers until you’ve got very complicated human beings with very different sets of problems, all of them doing something that’s impossibly hard to begin with and trying to make their place in this world. Watching two women go at it is boring. There are so many other shows where you can get that. I want it to be about something more than that.”

The depth and breadth of female characters on TV is stunning right now. Whether the female is the protagonist (Homeland, The Mindy Project, 30 Rock, Parks and Recreation, etc.) or females are strong supporting characters (Boardwalk Empire, Sons of Anarchy, etc.), women’s stories on TV are becoming much less of an anomaly.
Women on the big screen, however… well, we still see a distinct difference, as Khouri notes, between “chick flicks” and “Hollywood blockbusters.” This is why the Bechdel Test has to exist; it’s rare for a film to place value on women’s stories and anything that might, as Khouri says, have “emotion in it.” 
As she goes on to observe, to properly tell women’s stories you have to “slowly peel back the layers” after presenting the audience with a stereotype. Perhaps that’s why it’s easier to do in TV — the sheer time that TV writers have to lure audiences in with character development and storytelling.
It seems Hollywood’s two hours, more or less, just aren’t enough to properly “peel back the layers.”  Are women’s stories really that much more complicated than men’s? Or is the “otherness” of women just so ingrained that a writer would need a few hours to first deconstruct the stereotypes and cultural myths that the audience walks in with?
Whatever the case may be, Khouri is right. This double standard is “unduly hard given the number of women that exist in the world.” Their stories are being showcased in the private sphere of the home, but they just can’t seem to break through to the public big screen. It’s time for that to change.

—

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

Quote of the Day: Screenwriter/Director Callie Khouri Weighs In On How TV Is Friendlier to Women

Callie Khouri

In a recent interview with Salon, Academy Award-winner Callie Khouri weighed in on how TV seems to be more friendly to shows about women. Khouri (who wrote Thelma and Louise for that Oscar) is the writer and producer for ABC’s new musical drama Nashville.
Salon asked her about television telling women’s stories and Khouri responded with thoughts that articulate the difficulties in writing feature films about women (adding that “I don’t think any studio in a million years would make Thelma and Louise right now”), and how to properly write stories once you get the green light.

Salon: People who make TV also seem much more comfortable making shows for women than people making movies do.

Khouri: “Because you’re allowed. You’re allowed to make things for women on television and there’s not like … you don’t have to go through the humiliation of having made something directed at women. There it’s just accepted, whereas if it’s a feature, it’s like “So, talk to me about chick flicks.” … I just think it’s insulting that if there is something with women in it, it’s relegated to this kind of trash heap. It doesn’t matter what it is, how good it is, if there is emotion in it, it’s immediately going to be talked down to. And I’m obviously irritated by that. Probably all women are. Certainly a lot of women filmmakers are.…Anyway, I don’t want to just complain about features, but it does seem unduly hard given the number of women that exist in the world.”

On the show not being “about a catfight,” even though it starts out that way:

Khouri: “…You come at things from the place where everybody thinks they know everything about what they are seeing. And then you just slowly peel back the layers until you’ve got very complicated human beings with very different sets of problems, all of them doing something that’s impossibly hard to begin with and trying to make their place in this world. Watching two women go at it is boring. There are so many other shows where you can get that. I want it to be about something more than that.”

The depth and breadth of female characters on TV is stunning right now. Whether the female is the protagonist (Homeland, The Mindy Project, 30 Rock, Parks and Recreation, etc.) or females are strong supporting characters (Boardwalk Empire, Sons of Anarchy, etc.), women’s stories on TV are becoming much less of an anomaly.
Women on the big screen, however… well, we still see a distinct difference, as Khouri notes, between “chick flicks” and “Hollywood blockbusters.” This is why the Bechdel Test has to exist; it’s rare for a film to place value on women’s stories and anything that might, as Khouri says, have “emotion in it.” 
As she goes on to observe, to properly tell women’s stories you have to “slowly peel back the layers” after presenting the audience with a stereotype. Perhaps that’s why it’s easier to do in TV — the sheer time that TV writers have to lure audiences in with character development and storytelling.
It seems Hollywood’s two hours, more or less, just aren’t enough to properly “peel back the layers.”  Are women’s stories really that much more complicated than men’s? Or is the “otherness” of women just so ingrained that a writer would need a few hours to first deconstruct the stereotypes and cultural myths that the audience walks in with?
Whatever the case may be, Khouri is right. This double standard is “unduly hard given the number of women that exist in the world.” Their stories are being showcased in the private sphere of the home, but they just can’t seem to break through to the public big screen. It’s time for that to change.

—

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

Horror Week 2012: ‘Paranormal Activity’: The Horror of Waiting, of Watching, of Things Unseen

This guest review by Mychael Blinde previously appeared at Vagina Dentwata and is cross-posted with permission.
Please don’t film the demons!
I’m partial to the Paranormal Activity trilogy for three reasons: the clever camera work, the pitch perfect execution of tension building and release, and the films’ focus on women’s stories and histories. (The first half of this essay features only minor spoilers. You will be warned when the spoiler shit gets real.)
The first Paranormal Activity came out in 2007 during the outset of a scary thing called a subprime mortgage crisis. All three films tap into our anxiety about the bargains we make to ensure wealth and prosperity. Coincidence? Maybe.

But probably not.

Katie, Kristi, and Julie
Katie (in the first film), Kristi (in the second), and their mother ­Julie (in the third) all have ginormous houses because their mother/grandmother made a deal with the devil.
Grandma
Each film opens with a display of the sizable house and the occupants’ expensive accoutrements: PA 1 opens with Katie pulling up to the house in a fancy car on a beautiful suburban street, where her boyfriend Micah is filming his big screen TV. In the opening of PA 2, viewers take a tour with newborn baby Hunter and are introduced to multiple living rooms and “man caves,” flat screen TVs, a fireplace in the bedroom, a pool and a hot tub. PA 3 conveys the family’s wealth with both the size of the house and the expensiveness of the multiple cameras (it is 1988, after all).

Each film uses the hugeness of the house to create anxiety about the myriad dark corners and empty rooms. All three films exploit doorways; thresholds are the locus of fucked up shit:

These movies may be about the anxiety of wealth, but they were each made with a small budget relative to their box office intake. They do a lot with very little.

For example, the first film’s stroke of genius: the timestamp. Fucking brilliant. Here’s how it goes: The camera is on a tripod in the bedroom.

Katie and Micah are sleeping and time is fastforwarding and nothing’s happening, and time is fastforwarding and nothing’s happening, nothing’s happening, nothing’s happening. And then suddenly, the clock switches to REALTIME.
And you think, The clock must have stopped for a reason. Something’s going to happen. And they’re sleeping. And nothing’s happening. Nothing’s happening. Nothing’s happening. Fuck, what’s going to happen? Something’s going to happen! Let it fucking happen already! And then it happens and you’re startled – but the tension is released.
I call that a horrorgasm: tension builds and builds and builds and then finally the horrible thing happens, and it scares you but it feels good. The Paranormal Activity trilogy elicits multiples.

The timestamp from the first film still haunts me. Whenever I wake up in the middle of the night, my mind thinks OH FUCK I’M IN REALTIME WAS THAT A SOUND IN THE KITCHEN?

In the first film, the kitchen isn’t really a locus of horror. It’s featured in the requisite horror fake out: What’s that weird sound? Is it a demon? Nope, it’s the ice maker. Hahaha!

In the second and third film, horrible things happen to women in kitchens. Scary fucking things.

The second film’s genius is the multiplicity of cameras, capturing footage of the front stoop, backyard, the kitchen, the living room, the front door, and the nursery.
Add to that a handheld camera…
I told you, these people have money.

Here’s how it goes: Shot from the front door: nothing’s happening. Shot from the backyard: nothing’s happening. Shot from the kitchen: nothing’s happening. Shot from the living room: nothing’s happening. Shot from the foyer: nothing’s happening. Shot from the nursery: nothing’s happening. Shot from the backyard: nothing’s happening. Oh shit, did that pool cleaner thing move?

It’s tedious and somewhat irritating, but if the goal is to build tension before the real shit goes down, it works. Because boy does the shit go down…eventually.

In my estimation, the third film does an excellent job of utilizing both the timestamp and the multiple cameras – it was smart to use more than one camera like the first film, but also smart not to incorporate as many as the second film. To the cinematic mix, the third film adds an astoundingly effective method of capturing horrifying footage: strapping a camera to a fan. GENIUS.

If horror films have taught me one thing, it is that scary shit awaits behind corners. Liminal spaces are frightening places. The camera on the fan, constantly in motion, is constantly turning corners, showing you awful things, and terrifying you with the horror of the thing you cannot see. This is particularly well executed in a sequence involving the babysitter.
Speaking of the babysitter…let’s talk about the representation of female characters:

[WARNING: HEAVY DUTY SPOILERS AND CRITICAL ANALYSES AHEAD. ALSO NOT AS MANY PICTURES]

The horror genre has a tradition of terrorizing women, of chasing them through the woods and attacking them in houses. It also has a tradition of The Final Girl, a trope that is simultaneously empowering and reductive: the only survivor is a virginal woman who wields a phallic weapon and destroys the monster.

The PA trilogy features a different kind of Final Girl: she doesn’t kill the monster – she becomes it.

Here is the plot of each of the three films: a woman/women/girls are terrorized by a demon. A man puts cameras and captures scary-as-fuck footage until he is killed in a horrible way by a woman’s body powered by demonic forces.

“I’m a man and this is my house and I can protect it if I gain enough knowledge about my demonic adversary. Oh wait, no I can’t.”

Who is responsible for the demon’s success? Well, the demon itself, obvs, and the coven of women who made a bargain with it. But what about the three men who insist on filming the paranormal activity? Their actions certainly don’t seem to help the situation in any of the three films.

Micah (first film) is the cameraman most explicitly responsible for the escalation of the demonic presence. He insists on bringing a camera into their home, and he asks Katie “Do you know of any tricks to uh…make stuff happen?” and asks the psychic “Is there something we can do to like make stuff happen, you know, to like get it on tape?” Katie objects to Micah bringing home a Ouija board, but he does it anyway. He argues against bringing in an exorcist. He tells her, “This is my house, you’re my girlfriend, I’m going to fucking solve the problem.”

Micah’s actions and attempts to chronicle the demonic disturbances only seem to exacerbate those disturbances. James MacDowell at The Lesser Feat argues that Katie is subject to “a persecuted wife melodrama.” Jenn at XXBlaze claims that Micah is “a big stupid douche.” I agree with both of them.

I spent the entire movie thinking, “This asshole’s going to get his girlfriend killed.” But PA 1 flips it around, and it is demonically-possessed Katie who winds up killing Micah.

In the second film, Katie’s sister Kristi, Kristi’s husband Daniel, their toddler son, and his teenage daughter all live in the house afflicted by the paranormal activity. It is Daniel who decides to install cameras all over. He’s not a shithead like Micah; in fact, he isn’t even really excited by the activity. He’s the only one of the three cameramen who is a skeptic about its status as paranormal. He does fuck up by firing the nanny – the only person in the entire movie who actually understands how to engage with the demonic entity – because he doesn’t believe in “that stuff.”

Unfortunately, in Paranormal Activity 2, “that stuff” is real, and it really kills him.

The third film features footage of Katie and Kristi as children living with their mother (Julie) and stepfather (Dennis).

It is Dennis and his friend/employee Randy who take to setting up cameras all over the house. Dennis seems to have the least culpability – he neither desires the paranormal activity like Micah, nor does he deny that anything supernatural is going on like Daniel. Nevertheless, he winds up killed.

I don’t think the PA films suggest that the filmmaking is the catalyst for the paranormal activity, but I do believe they imply that the filmmaking exacerbates the demon’s antics.

In the first film, when Katie is frightened by the increase in the intensity of the activity, she tells Micah “Maybe we shouldn’t have the camera.” (Micah’s response is, “Uh, hello, this is some really golden shit.”)

In the second film, Katie tells Kristi: “It thrived on fear. The more we paid attention to it, the worse it got…You need to ignore it.”

In the third film, when a particularly fucking horrible thing is happening to Katie, Kristie shouts, “Just ignore it! Just ignore it!”

Focusing on the demon in one’s mind goads the demon; focusing on the demon with one’s camera seems to do the same. To varying degrees, each of these films implicates the man who set up the camera(s) – and by extension, the viewer.

See, Micah is an asshole, but we’re just like him: we want to see it, we want to see evidence of an entity. We strain to see it, to see any indication of it. We don’t sit down to see these films hoping to watch a bunch of people sleeping peacefully through the night. It’s called Paranormal Activity, not Paranormal Nothing’s Happening.

Micah winds up dead, and we wind up afraid of our ice makers.

Ironically, it is the physical manifestation of evil – when we see the demon possess a human body – that makes the endings of each of the three films so anticlimactic. The chief horror of these films lies in the visible invisibility of the entity.

Don’t get me wrong: a possessed person can be absolutely horrifying. But in a film so focused on the scariness of not being able to see the adversary, this sudden transition feels…weak.

My co-thinker on the matter pointed out to me that even though the lady becoming the demon (or the demon becoming the lady) kind of demystifies the evil, any visible adversary would have been anticlimactic. She points out that the filmmakers could have really fucked up by trying to show the audience a demon in demon form. I agree with her.

And despite the meh resolutions, the overall message of the trilogy is chilling: the compromises we make to ensure our wealth and prosperity may very well come back to bite us in the ass (or lower back). There Is No Such Thing As A Free Ginormous House.

The vast majority of these films are so cinematically strong (the horror of waiting, the horror of watching, the horror of things unseen) and so committed to the stories of their female characters (whose history is the catalyst for the events that unfold) that I’ll forgive them for their crappy endings.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to forgive Paranormal Activity 4.

I don’t have a problem with the fourth film departing from the first three by jumping forward in time. I think that featuring a woman filming herself via her laptop is a clever next-step in the PA tradition of innovative found-footage cinematography. I’m also glad that they’ve decided to continue keeping the focus on a female character.

So what’s the problem?

Look at the conventionally attractive young woman sleeping in her bed! It’s SEXY scary!

Yes, there are moments in the first three movies when the women are sexualized — but a sexualized woman’s body was never used to sell them.

I’m afraid to watch Paranormal Activity 4, but for the wrong reasons.

———-

Mychael Blinde is interested in representations of gender and popular culture and blogs at Vagina Dentwata. 

Why I Love ‘Adventure Time’

Title Screen for Adventure Time
Warning: Spoilers up to the end of Season 3

Adventure Time is a Cartoon Network animated series that combines surrealistic comedy, fantasy and science-fiction. Based on a 2008 short by Pendleton Ward that went viral, it parodies the tropes, archetypes and cliches of fairy tales, video games and childhood action figure battles. The basic premise is about Finn, the last remaining human, and his best friend/adoptive brother Jake (a shape-shifting dog), going on your typical slay-the-monster-save-the-princess adventures. Now in its fourth season, it’s an enormous hit with all genders and age groups and shows no signs of slowing down. And let me tell you, as a feminist, why I am absolutely celebrating this show.

The main cast of Adventure Time
  • Almost every female character is a princess, but the typical cliche Damsel In Distress and/or romance-obsessed girly-girl are parodied and subverted for all they’re worth. In several instances, the princess characters (Bubblegum especially) show little interest in romance, and far more interest in their own personal hobbies. Even more encouraging is that often the female characters are completely able to rescue themselves, and don’t need Finn & Jake’s help.
  • The characters are given genuine honest-to-goodness flaws. Finn is heroic, but has a terrible bad temper and an impulsive streak. Jake is easygoing, but not nearly as clever or level-headed as he thinks he is. Princess Bubblegum is a scientific genius, but can be incredibly callous about the feelings of others. Marceline is a talented musician, but also has deep insecurities about how her friends perceive her. Flame Princess is astoundingly powerful, but also has dangerously passionate emotions. In all of these cases, there’s no black and white morality. It’s an important lesson for children (since this is a children’s show) to present morality as it really is – in shades of grey.
  • I love all the female characters, including the gender flipped versions of Finn and Jake, Fionna and Cake. My main complaint with the series is that the female characters don’t appear nearly often enough, and especially not together. We eventually do get some Bechdel Test passing goodness (Bubblegum and Marceline don’t get along too well – and people have naturally interpreted this as sexual tension) but so far the three main female characters have not yet all appeared in the same story together. I suspect that the main reason for this is because each story is about 11-12 minutes in total, and there’s only so much time for introducing characters and conflicts.
Jake stretching around the other main cast members
  • Speaking of Fionna and Cake, I can see now why that episode is so astoundingly popular amongst the fandom. It’s easily my favourite one of the series. Fionna is an absolutely adorable character – slightly chubby instead of unrealistically slender, tomboyish instead of traditionally feminine, and she still retains her male counterpart’s bravery and heroicism. She still fights with a sword. For my fellow gamers, think of all the games you’ve played in which a female character is a sword fighter. Not very many, right? But there’s no reason they can’t, and this is one thing I really love about the gender flip episode. I also practically exploded with joy at the final scene where Fionna talks about how she has lots of guy friends, but isn’t interested in/isn’t ready to date them, and that there’s nothing wrong with that. THANK YOU. It’s incredibly frustrating how many people think that somehow something is missing if you don’t have an official romantic partner, or that men and women can’t have a platonic friendship. Shippers could do well to remember this – you can like someone without wanting to bang them. (Also, as a Sailor Moon fan, you can’t imagine my joy at seeing Fionna’s ballgown homage to Princess Serenity’s outfit) At any rate, I hope the Gender Swap episodes happen on a regular basis, rather than a once-a-season deal. Wouldn’t it be nice if we had more shows about an ass-kicking girl and her feline best friend? (*coughcoughSailorMooncoughcough*)
  • This is a fairly obvious point, but I really love how Princess Bubblegum’s interest in science is depicted. She’s an absolute genius – shattering the still pervasive stereotype that the sciences are the domain of men – and she also bucks the stereotype that nerdy/geeky people are unable to have fun or to relate to others. Similarly, Marceline’s interest in punk/indie rock also combats the stereotype that rock is a genre made by and for the enjoyment of men. Girls like to headbang too!
  • The Christmas special, which reveals that pseudo-antagonist Ice King was actually a human antique dealer driven insane by his find of a magic crown, is an interesting way of approaching and explaining his very archetypal tendency to kidnap and try to marry princesses. In the Ice King’s case, it’s not so much a wanting to stick to traditional fairy tale gender roles, but a manifestation of his grief over losing the fiance he used to nickname “Princess.” The Ice King is primarily a comic character, but this episode finally established him as being tragic.
Fionna and Cake
  • I appreciated that, for once, romantic tensions are resolved rather than dragged on, and on, and on, and on. They make it clear that while Princess Bubblegum likes Finn as a person, she feels she’s too old for him, and her sometimes callous treatment of his feelings proves that she isn’t the right partner for him. Flame Princess isn’t the perfect girlfriend either, but at least in their case, Finn and Flame got together very quickly, changing the romantic plotline from “Will they or won’t they?” to “What happens now they’ve got together?” I also like that Jake and Lady Rainicorn’s relationship is loving, positive, literally interracial, and well…adult. (Lady Rainicorn’s dialogue is only in Korean, and bilingual viewers have revealed she says some incredibly raunchy things that only Jake can understand)
  • In the “Memory of a Memory” episode, Marceline’s (ex) boyfriend tries to bully her into traditional gender roles. He even pulls the “Go back in the kitchen and make me a sandwich” bit. She finds out he tried to trick her, and kicks his ass. (Also, dear men who think this joke is funny: Wow. You’re original. YES I AM GOING TO GO IN THE KITCHEN AND I’M GOING TO MAKE LOTS OF DELICIOUS FOOD WHICH YOU CAN’T HAVE.)
  • In some ways, other than Marceline, Lumpy Space Princess is my favourite character. She is absolutely hilarious as a sassy valley girl type who, by most accounts, should not be as confident about her body and her sexiness as she “should” be. After all, she’s literally a purple ball of lumps. But this is an important message – you DON’T have to match cultural standards of beauty to be sexy. It’s all about confidence. I’m a fatass, and I’m friggin’ sexy if I do say so myself. And in her own way, LSP is sexy too. At least to fellow Space Lumps.
Finn
  • The show just keeps getting better every season. The quality of animation has spiked, the character arcs are realistic and well-defined, and the storylines are mature without losing their comedic edge. I’m absolutely hooked on this series, and it’s a refreshing feeling that this year, along with Gravity Falls, I got to watch some great new children’s shows that deserve every bit of praise they receive.
  • Lastly, I love the sense of humour in the show. I’ve always been a fan of surrealism, as well as referential humour. And I’m also a big fan of fart jokes, like the one where Jake morphs himself into a farting cheetah. I’m 25 years old, and fart jokes are still funny.

Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.