Clint Waters – Bitch Flicks

Women and Gender in Musicals Week: ‘Chicago’

This is a guest review by Clint Waters.

“From just some dumb mechanic’s wife, I’m gonna be Roxie. Who says murder’s not an art?”

Roughly ten years ago, the Broadway musical Chicago was adapted for the silver screen by Bill Condon and directed by Rob Marshall. This film is oh-so appropriate for Women and Gender in Musicals Week because it explores the darker side of an era when First-Wave Feminists had recently won the right to vote and were continually fighting for equality. However, instead of picket lines and hunger strikes, the women of Chicago manipulate sexuality and violence to gain the upper-hand over their male counterparts and for a myriad of other less-than-pure intentions.

Roxie Hart, our lady protagonist played by Renee Zellweger,

dreams of stardom and celebrity whilst toiling away the hours at home as a housewife. For this reason, the songs and dances within Chicago take place on the fantasy stage within her mind. She enters into an affair with a man who says he can get her into show business. However, the deal goes sour. Very sour. Eventually, he tires of her constant hints and nudges and reveals he was just stringing her along to get into her flapper dress. She proceeds to shoot him with her husband’s gun, wailing “You lied to me!” This begins a trip down a glitzy yet slightly sleazy rabbit hole of fame. Apparently, before television, the citizens of Chicago relied on actual murder stories and court hearings for their daily dose of drama. For this reason, Roxie’s trip to the Cook County Jail provides her a slew of new murderous friends, including Vaudeville star Velma Kelly (played by Catherine Zeta-Jones).

Roxie also crosses paths with Mama Morton (played by Queen Latifah).

Mama Morton is a fascinating facet of femininity, as she appears motherly and kind. However, not long after meeting her do we find that she manipulates her inmates’ needs for affection and contraband (cigarettes, magazines, etc.), as well as the city’s desire for court drama by charging the murderesses for phone calls to lawyers. As her big solo song goes, “When you’re good to Mama…Mama’s good to you.” She is a shrewd businesswoman to say the least, allegiances and favoritism leaning where the money flows.

An unforgettable number, “The Cell Block Tango,” occurs during Roxie’s first of many nights in Jail. As the lights go out and she sobs herself to sleep, the cells come alive with individual sounds that form a Stomp-esque intro to the song where several inmates detail what brought them there. Each of them is in for the murder of a lover or husband.

Here, we have an interesting blend of shades and hues labeled “femme fatale.” Most are revealed to have killed for seemingly silly reasons and others for being scorned by adulterers. What makes the number unforgettable is their sheer crassness toward their victims, yet they still cling to their pleas of not guilty: “I didn’t do it, but if I done it, how could you tell me that I was wrong?” This scene also has some very striking visuals and imaginative uses for red cloth representing blood/death:

(“Some guys just can’t hold their arsenic.”)

Not that female murders are anything new, but I enjoy that Chicago features nothing but. While we’re on the subject, there are exceedingly few main male characters in the film (one being Roxie’s dope of a husband and the other being a smarmy lawyer out for money), which is awesome and doesn’t happen all that often in movies dealing with murder. Let alone a musical movie dealing with murder. However, where I believe the film falls short is the fact that none of these characters has redeeming qualities. Although lovable and down-right cool for their sass and attitude, the main three women of the film don’t really have that much depth. Both Roxie and Velma have committed their crimes, but the film reveals them to be less bloodthirsty killers and more attention-grabbing children. All of their actions are motivated by this desire to hog the spotlight. One scene has Velma asking Roxie to do a duo act with her, which could be seen as a bit of verisimilitude, but it’s really just her pining after Roxie’s soaring fame. Eventually, in the end, the two girls learn to get along and reap the benefits of being accused of murder and getting away scott free…which is oddly to become stars of the stage what kind of people lived in 1920’s Chicago anyway?!).

However, this is a cheap bit of characterization and more of a resolution to their movie-long catfight than it is anything deep.

I don’t mean to say that I dislike this movie. In fact, you will never hear me say that. I LOVE this movie. Although it may not be the deepest of films, it knows what it is and does it well. Aesthetically speaking, it is a gorgeous film with gorgeous women and takes a lot of strides to make everything look and feel Vaudevillian. As I mentioned earlier, the songs take place in Roxie’s mind, so the creative directors spared no expense on blending stage effects with surrealism. (For example, the audience, while played by real people, sits motionless like wax figures because after all, the show is about Roxie. In another scene the members of the media are literally represented as the puppets that they are.)

Personally, I enjoy the fact that it is a female-centric film that doesn’t fall into the Chick-Flick, Feel Good or Romcom genres. It’s about women who know what they want and beg, borrow, steal, sing and kill to get it.

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Clint Waters is a creative writing major, German minor at Western Kentucky University. He is in his final year and hopes to pursue any career that remotely deals with writing in a creative fashion. Visit his blog at redintooth.tumblr.com.

Women in Science Fiction Week: Why Olivia Dunham on ‘Fringe’ Is My Favorite Female Character on TV

Olivia Dunham (Anna Torv) on Fringe

Guest post written by Clint Waters.

“Sometimes answers lead to more questions.”

If you haven’t been watching Fringe…for the love of science fiction, please start. Full of twists and turns, along with a healthy blend of drama, action and just the right amount of comedy, the plot never fails to deliver an engaging episode. Perhaps the best part of the series is the well-crafted and well-acted characters. As this is Women in Science Fiction Week, allow me to explain why Fringe‘s lead, Olivia Dunham, is everything one can hope for.

And, for that matter, if you haven’t been watching Fringe I urge you once more to go watch it. Go! For I see SPOILER ALERT on the horizon! Ruuuuun. But, no, seriously, from here on out I’m going to be discussing important plot points and reveals so continue at your own risk.

With the disclaimers out of the way, I’d like to say that Olivia is easily my favorite female character in a television series. To put it simply, she is a kickass lady. As an FBI agent turned Fringe Division investigator, Olivia is never afraid to pull her gun out and start kicking down doors (or look fabulous while doing so).

Olivia Dunham (Anna Torv) on Fringe

She often puts herself in harm’s way to protect those around her and is willing to do anything necessary in the name of justice and fringe science (including having electrical equipment embedded in her skull and then being submerged in an isolation tank.

Olivia Dunham (Anna Torv) on Fringe in isolation tank

What I love most is her seemingly inability to be made vulnerable by villains. In several episodes she is rendered unconscious and kidnapped, however, she is hardly ever saved by other people. Although the other members of Fringe are looking for her, she’s the one to smash something against someone’s head or brandish a scalpel as a deadly weapon in order to escape. And it’s not that she busts down doors, guns blazing, but that she knows the appropriate time to do so, or when a lock pick and stealth will suffice.

Olivia (Anna Torv) and her niece on Fringe

That’s not to say she is an emotionless, crime-solving machine. Throughout the series we learn that she has had her fair share of troubles: being experimented on as a child, abused by a stepfather (that she later shoots, still in her childhood), losing her mother and betrayed by anyone she actually lets herself fall in love with. Especially tender are the scenes between Olivia and her niece, as well as those that happen throughout her and Peter’s relationship. However, these emotional problems of the past and current relationships do nothing to weaken her as a character, nor do they manifest themselves in trite explorations of self. In a writing perspective, they are very concrete and rational vehicles of characterization.

Olivia (Anna Torv) and Peter (Joshua Jackson) on Fringe

Many of these plot points and even Olivia’s life in general are confused and muddled by the version of her that lives in the alternate universe: Fauxlivia (as Walter dubs her and later becomes canon). The great thing about Fauxlivia is that she’s not just Olivia in a red wig (although, of course, they are played by the same actress). Lending itself to the suspension of disbelief surrounding the whole alternate universe, Fauxlivia has had a completely different life than the Olivia from our universe. She is more brazen and foolhardy, whereas Olivia is calculated and precise. Essentially, the creators’ of Fringe did something wonderful and gave us two Olivias, one to love and root for, and another to realize how she could be a completely different person/character. What truly amazes me about this is Anna Torv’s ability to play both characters so well. I found myself forgetting that they were the same person in real life, I was so busy glaring every time Fauxlivia appeared on the screen.

Olivia and Fauxlivia (both played by Anna Torv) on Fringe

The show explores this notion as Fauxlivia and Olivia swap places for a few months, Fauxlivia posing and trying to gather intelligence on our universe while real Olivia is trying to escape the alternate one. Perhaps one of the most intriguing parts presented in the show is an Invasion of the Bodysnatchers or The Thing-esque game of not knowing who is who. Once Olivia returns we are presented with a very troublesome thought: how do you go on living your life, living in your house, loving your boyfriend when someone else has been living your life. How hurt would you feel knowing that no one could tell a difference, that you could literally be replaced? Pretty scary stuff. But she makes it through as she always does (with a few enjoyable catty interactions with her alternate self).

Overall, Olivia Dunham is a prime example of what it is to be a heroine in a science fiction world. She can break bones, witness the aftermath of a gruesome fringe event without batting an eye, and go toe-to-toe with mastermind villains, and yet she is not invincible or impervious to emotional situations. Although she is constantly surrounded by extraordinary events and weird circumstances, she is a truly believable character, imbued in verisimilitude. With a fifth season on the horizon (slated for September), I cannot wait to see what is in store for Olivia and her team.

Indie Spirit Best International Feature Nominee: Shame

Shame (2011)

This is a guest post from Clint Waters.

“We’re not bad people. We just come from a bad place.”

Shame, Director Steve McQueen‘s second feature-length film (which he also co-wrote the screenplay for) tells the tale of Brandon Sullivan, played by Michael Fassbender. This is McQueen and Fassbender’s second film working together, the first being Hunger (2008). Mr. Sullivan is a successful bachelor who has struck a tremulous balance between his professional life and his secret addiction to sex. The comfortable routine that he has settled into is disturbed, however, when his sister Sissy Sullivan, played by Carey Mulligan, decides to crash at his place for a few nights.

Although that little synopsis might not sound so riveting, it is McQueen’s writing/direction along with Fassbender and Mulligan’s acting abilities that makes this a truly awesome film. And I don’t mean to say “awesome” in the watered-down, lackluster way that it is used every day. I was literally awe-struck for at least 9/10s of the movie. Although it gets off to a slow start and the narrative isn’t necessarily complicated, the two main characters will put you through a gamut of emotions.

Aside from excellent performances, the cinematography of this piece is responsible for every stricken nerve. This is due to the camera’s unapologetic presence in each scene. Sometimes over the shoulder or sneaking from the side, each shot is generally in the characters’ faces, quite literally.

For example, in a scene where Brandon and his boss (who turns out to be a real sleaze) go to see Sissie sing at a ritzy establishment, the camera is intimately close to her:

Carey Mulligan as Sissy Sullivan

That picture doesn’t necessarily serve the scene justice, as at one point Mulligan’s face is the only thing visible, almost invoking the famous singing lips of the Rocky Horror intro. The camera’s (pardon the pun) in-your-face position subjects the viewer to every minuscule tremor of emotion present in the lips and eyes. It is almost unsettling, as it does not offer a safe place to rest your eyes (which, of course, makes it a magnificent tactic).

You may notice that I use words like “uncomfortable” or “unsettling” a lot throughout this review. The music doesn’t do anything to alleviate the general discomfiting feel of the film. Saying that the score of Shame is sparse might be an understatement. Disquieting scenes are made all that much more upsetting because there isn’t any music to lean upon. However, when instruments are finally introduced it is in the classical style, lending a juxtaposition between the emotionally horrific subject matter and the music we associate with beauty and grace.

Perhaps the film’s most impressive aspect is its treatment of sex. As mentioned above, Brandon is a sex addict. However, there is nothing even remotely “sexy” about the numerous (and I mean numerous) sexual encounters that Brandon achieves. Shame is a masterful character study and is very informative about a subject that we don’t really talk about as a society or that we dismiss readily. People joke that if they had to be stricken with an addiction, sex would be their choice. I would recommend they watch this film before making such haughty claims.

On a very basic level it is a downward-spiral narrative as seen is other addiction-based films. However, unlike a film such as Blow, where drug addiction has its peak then descends into madness and poverty, Shame is one long “all is lost!” moment, degrading from “manageable” to an almost primal need to score (in Brandon’s case, engage in sexual activity). This is where the amazing acting comes into play with Fassbender’s hauntingly hollow and hurt gazes toward the camera, ergo the viewer. It is evident that although Brandon is addicted to the pleasure of intercourse, he doesn’t enjoy it. The addiction has become a crippling factor of his psyche, as he can’t even ride the subway or have access to a computer without actively seeking sex or pornography.

In the first portion of the film’s climax we see Brandon on the subway, looking a little worse-for-wear: flushed and sporting a gash on his cheek. The film takes a risk here, as the otherwise linear narrative breaks apart, allowing us to see just how he made it to this moment. Without giving too much away, allow me to say that when it is revealed how his face got cut, we see the otherwise sympathy-worthy character turn himself over to the addiction and become someone else entirely. Someone sinister and ultimately disgusting. And he doesn’t stop there. By the end of the flashback sessions we find him pull out a last resort and cruise a gay bar/sex den.

I will pause the review in order to address the mild controversy that has arisen from this segment of the film. I will say that although Brandon’s all-time-low is engaging in homosexuality, this isn’t meant to paint a negative picture of homosexuals. Instead, it is only used to illustrate the lengths and personal boundaries that Brandon will sacrifice in order to get his fix. Throughout the film, Brandon is depicted by an exclusively heterosexual man. As a gay man, I rationalized it thusly: for Brandon, having sex with a man is equivalent to a homosexual having heterosexual sex, a.k.a. something uncomfortable and not very enjoyable. If Brandon’s character had been a homosexual, perhaps this rock-bottom moment would be conveyed using a run-of-the-mill night club and some heavy-handed seduction of a lady.

Resuming the review. A mysterious but cringe-worthy aspect of this film is the dynamic between Brandon and Sissie. The quote that I used to open this review is from Sissie on a voicemail to Brandon just before the final gut-punch of the film (which I most certainly will not give away). I think this is a reference to Brandon and Sissie’s shared early life, which may or may not have been sexually abusive. This particular plot point is my only negative critique. Although I don’t oppose including such an element to the character’s back-story (as it would flesh them out and perhaps give another empathetic foot-hold for viewers), instead I am disappointed at how much of a mystery they left it.

Fassbender and Mulligan

There is a particularly nail-biting scene where Brandon and Sissie are sitting on the couch. The camera (of course) is positioned just behind them so their profiles or on either side of the screen, the television just visible beyond them. Within this scene their characters are deepened a considerable amount, as they explore the obligations present in being siblings but overall the responsibilities we have as people. However, the film misses this great opportunity for one of them to mention what about their childhood could turn Brandon into a sex addict and Sissie into a fly-by-night codependent.

All in all, Shame is certainly worthy of any award it is nominated for. The characters are riveting despite the missed chance at depth, the camerawork inspires an almost invasive yet voyeuristic feel and it is one of the very few films that deal with sex addiction in a mature manner.