Comedy – Page 16 – Bitch Flicks

‘Earth Girls Are Easy’ and Charming

This guest post by Libby White appears as part of our theme week on Cult Films and B Movies.

I’ve loved Earth Girls Are Easy since I was a child. My mother and I would watch it together regularly, even though many of the sexual moments went beyond my comprehension at the time. Having become an adult in the 80s, my mother was a big fan of shows like In Living Color, and Star Trek: The Next Generation. And Earth Girls Are Easy can best be described as the love child of both.

Campy, with over-the-top 80s style, and catchy, but ridiculous, musical numbers, it was a box office flop that faded into obscurity for many years. But it prevailed and has recently reemerged (thanks to DVD and the Internet), and has become a fledgling cult classic.

Taking place in San Fernando Valley, California, the movie revolves around Valerie Gail (Geena Davis), a love-sick manicurist who is desperate to please her unfaithful fiancé, Ted. A classic Valley-girl and hopelessly devoted, Valerie is shocked when a spaceship carrying three aliens suddenly lands in her pool one morning. When she realizes the three creatures are harmless, she takes them to her salon to be made over by her friend Candy (Julie Brown). Sheared of their colorful fur, the two women are delighted to realize that underneath, the aliens appear like normal, even attractive, human men. They decide to take the aliens out on the town, and end up at a crowded club, where Zeebo and Wiploc (Damon Wayans and Jim Carrey), become hits with the club’s women. Mac (Jeff Goldblum), has his eyes set on Valerie, however, and the two share a quiet moment together on the roof.

When Valerie finally takes the men back home, Ted is there waiting, and demands that the three men leave his house. Valerie reminds Ted that he no longer is welcome due to his cheating, and the police come and take him away. In an attempt to console her, Mac follows Valerie to her bedroom, and the two end up making love.

The next morning, Mac, Wiploc, and Zeebo repair the spaceship, and Mac announces that they will be ready to leave shortly. Valerie is visibly crestfallen, but is interrupted by an apologetic phone call from Ted. Unbeknownst to Valerie, Mac overhears her trying to work things out with Ted. Meanwhile outside, Woody, a pool-boy, comes by and convinces Wiploc and Zeebo to go to the beach with him to pick up women, and the three get caught up in an accidental robbery, a police chase, and a forced trip to the hospital. Valerie and Mac team up to break them out, using the aliens’ otherworldly powers to fool Ted, the attending doctor, and escape.

When they arrive back at home, Mac, believing Valerie to still be in love with Ted, uses his powers to distract her while he and his comrades move onto the now-working spaceship. Valerie snaps out of it however, and admits to Mac that she has fallen in love with him, and jumps onto the ship to join him. Candy happens by just as they take off into the sunset, and Valerie waves goodbye.

The casting for Earth Girls Are Easy is one of its best attributes, and it feels as if each character is essential to the movie. Each actor brought with him or her a special spark to the film from his or her own personal styles; Damon Wayans and Jim Carrey being the comedy, Jeff Goldblum the smoldering seduction, Julie Brown the music, and Geena Davis, the charisma.

Geena Davis is a long-time advocate for the fair representation of women in media, and has been a feminist icon for decades. And while Earth Girls was filmed several years before her rise into activism, Valerie Gail is a good female character (despite such stereotypical flaws as occasional air-headedness and thinking marriage will fix all of a relationship’s problems). She is the voice of reason to Candy’s party-girl recklessness with the aliens, and is as loyal as they come to those she cares about. And the chemistry between Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum is palpable. Considering the two were married at the time of filming, it’s easy to believe that Valerie could meet and fall in love with Mac all within a day. Damon Wayans’ and Jim Carrey’s characters are adorably hilarious as well, stealing scene after scene with their constant troublemaking.

Julie Brown is truly at home as Candy, having both written and produced Earth Girls Are Easy based off of one of her original songs. She went on to make a stage show version of the film as well, clips of which can be found online. Several of Brown’s songs are included in the movie, either as major musical numbers or as background music. And while her “Valley Girl” characters are a defining part of her career, underneath the 80s slang, Brown is a triple-threat of talent. It is no question that without her, Earth Girls would have lost its fun spirit.

Being set in the Valley in the 80s, the film portrays much of the vapidness and consumerism popular at the time, with two of the film’s songs, “Brand New Girl,” and “’Cause I’m a Blonde,” focusing on changing or criticizing women’s appearances. “’Cause I’m a Blonde” is purposely satirical, however, and really serves more to make fun of the blonde “Valley Girl” stereotype than to support it. There is even a cameo from a long-forgotten social icon, Angelyne, which furthers the movie’s mocking of itself. Angelyne, while only briefly seen, was nominated for a Raspberry Award for her performance in Earth Girls, demonstrating the underlying level of petty hatred the public had for her and the lifestyle she represented. Still, Earth Girls itself almost tries to up-play the vapidness of its characters as a parody, as if trying to get the audience to laugh at the incredulousness of their behavior, while simultaneously rooting for them. More than 20 years later, I can only guess that the film originally provided a sense of escapism to the curious. A dose of supposed “Valley life” for those on the outside.

At times the movie can feel jarring; the most notable scene being when a conversation by the pool suddenly cuts to the musical number, “’Cause I’m a Blonde.” This was done to make up for several scenes that had been dropped from the final cut, and ends up leaving certain transitions into scenes overly noticeable.

Like every cult classic, Earth Girls Are Easy isn’t without its flaws. Luckily, its charm outweighs its imperfections. And while its high-energy goofiness may not be for everyone, it nevertheless has slowly been climbing the ranks of Cult Classics as it is rediscovered by old and new generations. If you ever need a shot of perky and fun energy, Earth Girls is the perfect film to deliver it.

Libby White is a self-proclaimed cinephile and Volunteer Firefighter who currently works as a Guard for Nissan’s headquarters in Tennessee.

Cult Truth: Why The Raunchy ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’ is Hilariously Humanizing

When the movie begins we’re introduced to Brad, a hero (Barry Bostiwck) and Janet, a heroine (Susan Sarandon), two straight-laced representations of the all-American, white middle class Christian boy and girl who are suddenly thrown into a den of loose morals and provocative dancing. At all turns, we’re blatantly reminded of their status as a proxy for a nice boy and a good girl, and it’s reinforced with every cliché possible.

Written by Rachel Redfern

It doesn’t get more cult classic than the most cultish of all films, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. In fact, I would assert that RHPS (Rocky Horror Picture Show to fans or the “Unconventional Conventionalists“) is the first great cult film.

While many cult films have fan websites and forums, and even conferences and gatherings, they probably haven’t been shown in a movie theater continuously since 1976 (making the RHPS the longest running theatrical release in history), and they most probably are not shows with audience participation. A true showing of RHPS has a script for audience members in response to certain phrases and cues from the film, and some showings even include props, such as toast, frankfurters, confetti, toilet paper, rice, a whistle, a flashlight, newspapers, water guns, and more.

If you haven’t seen the movie, here is the summary my mother gave to me when I first learned of the film in high school: Dr. Frank-N-Furter is a transvestite who really wants to get laid and creates himself a man with “blond hair and a tan.”

If you haven’t seen it, most of this review might seem like the crazed wanderings of a feminist mind, but only because the film is the crazed wanderings of some kind of mind. And while the Glee tribute episode was well done, it can never compare to the sheer raunch and random hilarity of the original.

The original had a young, unheard-of Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in one of the most amazing performances of all time; his full-bodied commitment (pun intended) to the part of a flamboyant drag queen is fantastic. I weep a little every time I watch it at the realization that Tim Curry looks better in a corset and garters than I do, and he is rockin’ it with a confidence that would make Lady Gaga jealous.

[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/lwUjJXxoGy4″]

RHPS talks a lot about illusion vs. reality, time vs. space, meaning vs. nonsense, all while mockingly, and seriously, parodying the science fiction genre, having been intentionally set up as a parody of B-movies. But the film is also a gender-bending festival of sexual exploration embodying the sexual awakening of the 60s and later, the 70s, when the Western world was coming to grips with their new social mores: the film is an obvious exploration of the incorporation and aftermath of the feminist movement and sexual freedom.

Why is it that so much of our ideologies and idiosyncrasies are revealed in parody and satire? Richard O’Brien (Riff-Raff in the film), who wrote and composed The Rocky Horror Picture Show, has been an outspoken advocate for removing cultural norms of establishing gender in children, since he himself identifies as transgender.

the_rocky_horror_picture_show_2 — Brad and Janet before sex

For example, Janet faints and screams at the slightest noise and speaks in a breathy, sweet voice; she’s sexy, but also the girl next door. She’s obviously sexy because she doesn’t know she is, until she begins her own seduction of Rocky and sings out, “Touch me! I wanna be dirty!” in her very own musical number.

Brad is confident and protective, placing his arm around Janet and calming her, leading Frank-N-Furter to remark, ““How forceful you are Brad, such a perfect specimen of manhood,” and he is, of course, absolutely heterosexual until Frank-N-Furter crawls into his bed and the two have a happy, little romp, followed by a good smoke. By the end of the film, Brad’s staunch conservativism is belied by the women’s dressing gown he wears and the lyrics of his last song, “It’s beyond me/help me Mommy/I’ll be good you’ll see/take this dream away/What’s this, let’s see/Oh I feel sexy/What’s come over me?”

Juxtaposed, however, with the happy minion of dancers and their choreographed “Time Warp” dance moves (my dream party) is the intense violence of Eddie’s death, and then his subsequent cannibalism. Eddie’s death is a mercy killing according to Frank-N-Furter because while charming, his muscles weren’t very nice.

As much as I enjoy the film, it is legitimately disturbing in its overtones of rape (toward Janet and Rocky), cannibalism, and gruesome violence. But in the midst of all the destruction, Frank-N-Furter turns to the camera and quips, “It’s not easy having a good time. Even a smile makes my face ache,” biting his finger coyly. It’s such a brilliant, meta moment of recognition for power and privilege and the way that terrible things are acted out in service to his desires.

RHPS-LobbyCard1L — The ending: Lingerie and Confusion

The climax of the film is “The Floor Show,” a confessional performance for each of the characters, held in an empty theater, there revealing their lusts, desires and insecurities. As the performance culminates, and Frank-N-Furter strips off his makeup, vulnerable, and bows to an imaginary crowd, it becomes apparent that everything has been just one big, grand performance. Dr. Scott remarks that, “society must be protected” and Frank-N-Furter removed, and thus, the pretension must go on.

It’s actually a fabulous narrative to couch the ideas of sexuality in, since admittedly, much of sexuality, in terms of preferences, sexual performance, orientation, pornography, and gender roles, are performances of stereotypes and long-held expectations.

‘Slumber Party Massacre’: Deconstructing the Male Gaze

Slumber Party Massacre came up while I was searching for female directors in the exploitation genre. Although it came off as yet another sensationalistic and gory 80s slasher, it stuck out, mainly due to its ridiculous title or the fact that most of the characters were female. Upon viewing it, what shocked me was not so much the gore and violence, but I was surprised by the clever humor, the funny characters, and most of all the incredibly veiled feminist satire.

The women of Slumber Party Massacre in the locker room — The women of *Slumber Party Massacre* in the locker room

This guest post by Emanuela Betti appears as part of our theme week on Cult Films and B Movies.

Slumber Party Massacre came up while I was searching for female directors in the exploitation genre. Although it came off as yet another sensationalistic and gory 80s slasher, it stuck out, mainly due to its ridiculous title or the fact that most of the characters were female. Upon viewing it, what shocked me was not so much the gore and violence, but I was surprised by the clever humor, the funny characters, and most of all the incredibly veiled feminist satire.

The movie was written to be a mock parody of exploitation movies, as well as a satire of masculinity in the slasher genre. However, the movie was marketed as a straight slasher movie, which ended up causing a lot of mixed opinions: while reading through reviews, some critics brushed off the movie as a boring slasher with gratuitous T&A, while others actually caught the humor and satire, and revered its feminist perspective. Slumber Party Massacre is actually a very feminist movie, and it’s a biting satire of the male gaze that exists in cinema. Through its witty and clever humor, the movie deconstructs the prevailing sexism and masculinity in the slasher genre, offering one of the most entertaining feminist exploitation movies ever made.

Slumber Party Massacre is very women-centric: both in the characters and the women behind the scenes. The film was directed by Amy Holden Jones, one of the few female directors to delve into the exploitation genre, and written by feminist Rita Mae Brown. This fact alone should make you want to pay attention to the small details, which in this movie are actually not that small but thrown right into your face.

The story revolves around Trish, a young high school girl who throws a slumber party at her house, and Valerie, Trish’s neighbor, who doesn’t attend the party and spends a boring evening at home. As you can already guess, the girls at the slumber party are eventually harassed by a silent killer. The movie begins in a typical suburban neighborhood, and we are introduced to Trish’s bedroom. Trish is the stereotypical image of innocence and femininity: her bedroom is full of plush toys and fluffy pinkness. We then move to a school setting in which we are introduced to Valerie, who is somewhat of an outsider to the popular group of girls led by Trish, but is an essential character in the story.

She doesn't see the dead body — She doesn’t see the dead body

One of the first scenes that made me raise an eyebrow was the shower scene: after gym class, the girls are in the school showers, where we see a lot of T&A, and not even in a clever or artistic way. That scene confused me—I couldn’t understand why a movie directed and written by women would objectify the female body in such a demeaning way. Maybe, at the end of the day, the director just wanted to make a buck? And didn’t really care? I later realized that nudity (and objectification) is actually a very important element in the story, along with sexual innuendos. An example is the killer’s weapon of choice, a 12-inch drill which he sometimes holds in suggestive places (like his crotch, as a phallic metaphor). Also, there are countless instances in which boys from Trish’s high school, or the killer himself, are staring, spying, or quietly watching the girls. I realized that the gratuitous nudity was not so much for the gratuity, but to directly point out how this group of girls is the target of a voyeuristic threat, and are purposely being objectified through these male character’s gazes to show that they are in fact the victims of the killer’s drill, but also of the male gaze. There is a scene that says it all, in which the kids walk past a dumpster where the body of one of the victims is lying in the trash, unnoticed. The movie is about what we see and what we don’t see, or more specifically, knowingly watching and unknowingly being watched. This is the basis for the concept of the male gaze in cinema, which is finding pleasure in looking at a person as an object, who becomes the unwilling or unknowing victim of the gaze.

What makes this movie such a clever satire is the twist placed on the male gaze, which we see in Valerie. The objectification of Trish and her friends is emphasized by the contrast with Valerie and her younger sister Courtney (probably the most interesting female character in the whole movie) who are actually the ones doing the objectifying. During the evening, Courtney pulls out an issue of Playgirl from under her sister’s bed, and later on, both girls casually look at full-page spreads of naked men. Trish and Valerie are opposites, not only in their personality and social life, but also in their role with the gaze. Throughout the movie, we never see Valerie naked, and there’s a good reason why; while Trish is the passive victim of the gaze, Valerie is the bearer of the gaze, she enjoys looking at pictures of naked men and is immune to the killer’s gaze. Valerie is the true heroine of the movie, and she saves the day by finding an equally phallic weapon (a machete) and “chopping off” the killer’s drill, basically castrating him metaphorically.

If there were are any doubts on whether Slumber Party Massacre is an intelligent feminist satire or just a regular slasher, all questions are answered when finally, after the killer goes on a bloody rampage without speaking a single word, he finally utters some of the most horrifying lines: “All of you are very pretty… I love you,” and “you know you want it, you’ll love it.” Those seem like the words of a rapist, and although the killer didn’t rape any of the girls, he did violate them: just like a rapist victimizes a woman by violating her body, the male gaze, which roams rampant in Hollywood cinema, violates women on the screen by turning them into objects.

Along with sharp satire and sharp commentary, Slumber Party Massacre is full of clever humor. There’s the scene where Valerie is relaxing at home, watching an old slasher movie while she’s a character in one herself (and the events on TV seem to sync up with what’s happening next door). Then there’s Courtney grabbing a drink from the fridge without noticing a dead body inside, or one of Trish’s friends eating a slice of pizza over the delivery boy’s dead body. Amy Holden Jones and Rita Mae Brown do a wonderful job at providing entertainment and humor, alongside a refreshing and sharp feminist viewpoint. If there’s any movie that made me respect cheesy exploitation movies, it’s this wonderfully cheesy slumber party slasher full of pizza, nudie magazines, and girls chopping off metaphorical penises.

Emanuela Betti is a part-time writer, occasional astrologer, neurotic pessimist by day and ball-breaking feminist by night. She miraculously graduated with a BA in English and Creative Writing, and writes about music and movies on her blog.

‘Enough Said’: The Ex-Wife, the Masseuse, and Her Lover

James Gandolfini as Albert and Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Eva

This is a guest post by Heather Brown.

The only other Nicole Holofcener film I had seen before Enough Said (2013) was Walking and Talking (1996), a delightful indie movie about Gen X-ers trying to navigate love and friendship in NYC. Though there are many fans of the movies she made in between these two—and many compelling reviews—I wasn’t sure I needed to hurry up and watch them. I figured that I, like many viewers, pretty well know that rich, white people have problems just like the rest of us. Granted, most of us generally slog through life without quandaries like having to worry about why the maid insists on putting the hairbrush in the silverware drawer. But now that I’ve seen Holofcener’s latest you can bet that I’ll be moving other films like Please Give (2010) and Lovely and Amazing (2001) up on my Netflix queue.

Enough Said is set against the backdrop of people in L.A. with economic and social privilege that goes unremarked upon, but Holofcener does not dwell on these factors and instead shines a light on the flaws and vulnerabilities of middle-aged single parents in a way that is sympathetic and tender. It doesn’t hurt that one of these characters, Albert, is played by the late James Gandolfini, whose slobby charm is made even more winsome by fact that this was one of his final film performances. Albert is about as sweet and low-key as Tony Soprano was fierce and explosive, and it’s easy to see how the earthy masseuse Eva (played by Julia Louis-Dreyfus) finds him endearing.

Catherine Keener as Marianne and Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Eva in Enough Said — Catherine Keener as Marianne and Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Eva in *Enough Said*

As the story goes, Albert and Eva are introduced at a party, and later he asks her out to dinner. Unbeknownst to them both, the party that brought them together also put Eva in conversation with Albert’s ex-wife, Marianne, played by Catherine Keener. Marianne is a poet, which Eva finds intriguing. And as it happens, Marianne is also in need of a good masseuse. You know what happens next. Would that Albert and Marianne’s separation was an amicable one, perhaps there would be nothing to discuss about her ex as she lay prone on the massage table as Eva works her magic. Not so, of course. Once Eva realizes that the man she finds herself growing more and more attracted to is the very man Marianne can’t cease to skewer during each massage, trouble starts brewing.

What follows is Eva eagerly drinking in Marianne’s ire about Albert, as she reads Eva a list of his faults. Unsurprisingly, many of these shortcomings involve his eating, hygiene, dress, and home décor tendencies. (As Marianne tells her, “My ex-husband and I had zero in common, and I was completely repulsed by him sexually.”) Eva can’t seem to trust her own feelings and judgment and gets deeper into a one-sided friendship with Marianne, whose narcissism is almost too obvious for Eva to notice.

All that said, the plot really turns on Eva’s relationship with her daughter Ellen (Tracey Fairaway), and her impending departure to college on the opposite coast. Eva is having a difficult time losing her daughter to this inevitable next step (and indeed, so is Albert, whose daughter Tess, played by Eve Hawson, is also on her way out of the nest). Because we follow Eva’s story the closest, we, too, are put through the emotional ringer of seeing Eva express her desire to pull Ellen tighter by proxy of Ellen’s friend Chloe (Tavi Gevinson), who feels closer to Eva than she does her own mother. Ellen resents her mother’s misplaced neediness, and their conflict is handled with nuance and grace. And it’s not as if Eva’s married friends Will and Sarah (played by Ben Falcone and Toni Colette) have it figured out; Sarah, for instance, is obsessed with rearranging the furniture, which Will finds perplexing. Their exchanges are especially amusing, as is much of the film overall.

Still from Enough Said — Still from *Enough Said*

What I found most compelling about this film is Eva’s obsession with Albert’s physicality, but not for the reasons you might expect. Yes, Albert is clearly overweight and could stand to show up to a second date with a button-down instead of a T-shirt, but it’s the way that Eva tallies up his faults that shows her to be the one who could stand to do some work on herself. Audiences are quite used to seeing relationships in romantic comedies wherein men and women’s attractiveness is asymmetrical (see: almost every Judd Apatow film). If you’re like me, you find this troubling and tired and yet another example of Hollywood’s gendered double standard. But Enough Said calls into question Eva’s superficiality and preoccupation with Albert’s physical flaws (from his caloric intake to his loud, labored nose breathing) rather than condone her attitude as a reasonable response. Holofcener offers a subtle yet powerful critique of women’s tendencies to promote amongst themselves an ethos of moral superiority as expressed in physical health and well-being. After all, the central irony of Eva is that while her livelihood is to provide a healthful touch, she will not allow herself to be the recipient of the same tenderness. Practicing massage requires acceptance and kindness toward the body—something that does not come easy to her when it comes to letting herself connect with Albert.

Without spoiling the ending, let’s just say Enough Said leaves us with a sweetly unresolved last scene. It’s rare that a romantic-comedy hints that in fact, yes, it is possible for people to come together without the expectation that one or both people need to change in order to win the other’s affection. Holofcener’s film makes a refreshing case for suspending judgment for the sake of trusting one’s gut feeling—and the importance of following your own way.

Heather Brown lives in Chicago, Ill., and works as a freelance instructional designer and online writing instructor. She lives for feminism, movies, live music, road trips, and cheese.

Margaret Cho: On Topping Trans* Queer Political Correctness

Let me begin by saying I’m queer-identified. I have trans* family, but it’s impossible for me to speak for trans* people of experience. I can share concepts, however. Too, my general line of thought in terms of sexuality, gender identity or personhood is that no matter how often your definition changes, you “are” what you tell me that you are.

“I refer to myself as gay, but I’m married to a man.”

– Margaret Cho

I’m the One That I Want: Can Queer and Trans* Folks Really Reclaim the Word “Tranny?”

Along with Stephen Fry, I feel that language and politically correct linguistic constructs can at times become as bullying, domineering and “victimizing” as those who claim to be victimized by language. What with people being as individualized and fluid as language is, sometimes experience does indeed trump the words we use to describe and protect it.

All Margaret Cho Everything

Margaret Cho (“Drop Dead Diva,” “I’m The One That I Want”) is as scrappy as she is electric.

She’s “scrappy” because she’s taken so much guff, sharing her multiple talents on and off-screen (she acts, sings, directs, writes, designs clothes, and is a walking-tattooed work of art and standout standup comic, for starters). Cho’s speech can transition from elegant purrs to lioness’ growls without hesitation. She’s electric because she sings the body electric: she’s sensual, naughty, flirtatious, often bawdy and ultimately playful.

If you’ve seen her comedy flick “I’m The One That I Want,” the efforting in her journey to long-term success is palpable. You get the sense she’s had to claw her way all the way up to the glass ceiling, brace herself with her back up, and kick the glass away with a pair of steel-toed Doc Martens just to disappear the whole damn thing. As she unfolds her own narrative in this cathartic and she-larious comedy film, we discover that now she’s not even in the friggin’ building. So, damn a glass ceiling anyhow.

Cho doesn’t “play the queer card” or the race card. Rather, she is always and forever queering play. She is queering entertainment. When cameras roll as you share minute details of your open relationship on morning chat shows, segue seamlessly into outing fellow celebs, put the world on notice that you will happily eff anything that moves as you like/when you like (just like men do), and always leave ‘em laughing…if anything, you could say Cho plays “the laugh card.”

Yes. We’re laughing. But to what end?

Well, they don’t call it “gender wars” just because.

Margaret Cho’s comedic M.O. doesn’t feel like a manipulation. Rather, it’s a weapon.

As she’s currently promoting her latest comedy project The MOTHER Tour, thoughts and themes come to mind about Margaret Cho’s presence in the world.

Yes, We Recruit: She’s All About Her Funny Business

Cho is forever quotable (damn skippy, and Bitch Flicks knows it) and impossible to ignore.

Case in point: In Conan O’ Brien’s documentary Conan O’ Brien Can’t Stop, the uber-successful talk show host and fellow comedian makes it a point both to “ignore” and dismiss Margaret Cho. On film.

An ever-irrepressible social sharer and networker, Cho was waiting to have a little comedic kiki with O’Brien as he slunked away, cheating to camera as he let us know he had to ditch her because he didn’t “want to get Cho’d.”

This sarcastic film bit could have been classified as gag reel material if O’Brien hadn’t spent the rest of the film kiki’ing it up with cameos by Jim Carrey, John Hamm and Jon Stewart, along with his cast and crew. (He preferred to be Carrey’d Hamm’ed and Stewarted.)

No doubt, comedy is a cutthroat business: Cho and O’Brien still work together and socialize, but O’Brien’s production choice and life decision in his own docu-pic is a telling one. So-called avoidance and disgust is attraction’s twin. C’mon Conan, fess up! Fully-embodied and empowered women carry with them a transformative energy that cannot be controlled. People can often find that to be at-once infuriating and hot.

There’s Some Tranny Chasers Up In Here

“ A few words about ‘trannychasing.’ I am not a trannychaser. Ok, actually I am a trannychaser. No I am not. I am a trannycatcher! Just kidding!”

– Margaret Cho

As a self-confessed “tranny chaser,” Margaret Cho’s taken a good amount of flak for expressing her trans* chasing feelings and affirmative desires without too much apology. It’s a tough concept to think about, as she’s done so much brilliant work and she’s really been out there on the road, touring with Ani DiFranco and Lilith Fair, indie all the way for decades on end, fearlessly advocating for trans* and queer rights, feminist and race equality, and respect of her own in the entertainment industry.

Making Visibility Sexy

Margaret Cho and Ian Harvie — Ian Harvie and Margaret Cho – Promotional Photo by Kevin Neales

There’s no doubt Cho is sex positive (she’s on the Good Vibrations board, and her activist and fund-raising work is notable).

She is queer-identified and trans* inclusive: she directed the highly acclaimed “Young James Dean” video by Girlyman, featuring trans* peers and allies covering lyrics about coming up in the world as genderqueer.

Her comedy routines, filmic work, creative projects and writing boast a high trans* visibility ratio, including her clearing the floor for trans* folks, often guys, to speak and co-create with her. These men need to be mainstreamed, as success for trans* persons of experience is exceptionally important and more common than we’re led to believe. Trans* folks face harrowing odds when attempting to begin any new business or creative venture, even if that enterprise was something they’d become successful at and mastered pre-transition.

Margaret Cho big-ups trans* men regularly, and we don’t see this enough elsewhere in the world in terms of proactive, high profile allies doing so. Cho supports fellow trans* comics and entrepreneurs and leverages her celebrity to help folks earn a steady income who might not do so otherwise, or as quickly. She will tweet, promote, and help to encourage business ventures for others—often tirelessly so. Her podcasts likely do much more for her regular indie artist guests than other shows whose DJ isn’t a comedy diva who reigns supreme.

Community leaders and others have voiced concern about Cho’s humor and “tranny chaser” (or catcher) jokes and statements. Cho has formally explained her views, stating these are just jokes based on reverence and respect, and that people are taking things out of context—too seriously.

Writer/filmmaker Tobi Hill-Meyer states Cho is objectifying trans* men like cis gender men often do with trans* women, fetishizing them and changing people into “things.”

“Trans IS a legitimate gender” is one trans* man’s defense against such an idea, posited by Cho’s comedic peer and BFF, Ian Harvie. Harvie wrote, “ If you believe Transgender IS a legitimate gender, how can you argue that it’s wrong to eroticize Trans people? If you do not see Trans as a legitimate gender, then what’s wrong with you?! I’m Trans, I’m Butch, and identify as a Trans man, regardless of my given biological sex. I absolutely believe it’s okay to be attracted to, exoticize, fetishsize, and eroticize any and all Trans people. After all, a fetish is something that we desire or that turns us on.”

Too, RuPaul penned the song “Tranny Chaser” as a declaration of sexuality, desirability, and a playful take on the concept. “Do you wanna be me?” That’s how the song’s bridge begins. Fully aware of the seduction in the words, RuPaul goes on, “That don’t make you gay. Or do you wanna [beep] me? That don’t make you gay….”

It’s hard to laser-focus down to one “right take” on topics like trans* and queer sexuality when so many folks in-community with so many different experiences feel empowered by erotic aspects of being queer or trans* as well as desired. Other bloggers and commenters have called Cho’s tranny chaser phraseology disgusting. Meanwhile, she is blowing heteronormative minds open simply by sharing these concepts, matter-of-factly and without shame. No one has accused RuPaul of anything similar.

Seemingly pointless rhetorical questions arise: is it better to be vilified or romanticized? Dehumanized, or eroticized? If we’re all “in on the desire,” is it wrong? Is there a happy medium that requires no context or linguistic boundaries and protections when you’re speaking to heterosexual or heteronormative folks?

Cho grew up in San Francisco, which could better explain matters somewhat. In the City (at least in most LGBT circles), you are what you say you are. Period. Middle America doesn’t quite resonate with such a mindset (yet?).

Issues of class and power can’t be ignored. Though they all had challenging beginnings in their careers, now relatively better-paid or well-paid performers Cho’s, Harvie’s and RuPaul’s experiences differ by definition from that of a queer or trans* man or woman who doesn’t have the same means or sense of empowerment to feel okay leading with sexuality or identity. Harassment is much more difficult, to say the least, when you don’t have financial or social resources to work your way out of it or away from it.

When these issues and conundrums arise, I consider them to be a gift: because they grant us the opportunity to be honest with ourselves about them, regardless of political correctness.

We have to name and claim the final word(s) about our experience. We have to find our own ways to survive and to thrive in the world.

“Bitch,” Please

In a previous Bitch Flicks Quote of the Day update, Margaret Cho waxes fantastic about the word “bitch.” Have a look: you don’t want to miss it.

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The first draft of this post appeared at Gay Agenda online.

‘Afternoon Delight’: Don’t Hang Your Shame on Me

Let’s face it: many of us feminists will pay lip service to sex workers’ rights while at the same time hold within us a mess of conflicting feelings around the subject. In fact, many of us are probably a bit more repressed about sex than we’d care to admit. The idea that there are women who voluntarily seek out such work has long been a feminist conundrum. But perhaps the bigger problem is the paternalistic impulse of feminists trying to rescue sex workers. Jill Soloway, the writer and director of Afternoon Delight knows this all too well. As she says in an interview about the film, “It’s not just about rescue. If you’re into rescue go rescue the garment workers. It’s about amping up your own relationship to your own shame around sex.”

Afternoon Delight movie poster — *Afternoon Delight* movie poster

This is a guest post by Heather Brown. [contains spoilers]

Let’s face it: many of us feminists will pay lip service to sex workers’ rights while at the same time hold within us a mess of conflicting feelings around the subject. In fact, many of us are probably a bit more repressed about sex than we’d care to admit. The idea that there are women who voluntarily seek out such work has long been a feminist conundrum. But perhaps the bigger problem is the paternalistic impulse of feminists trying to rescue sex workers. Jill Soloway, the writer and director of Afternoon Delight, knows this all too well. As she says in an interview about the film, “It’s not just about rescue. If you’re into rescue go rescue the garment workers. It’s about amping up your own relationship to your own shame around sex.”

Here’s the story: a bored woman named Rachel (Kathryn Hahn) lives in a bright, airy Silver Lake, L.A. home with her app-designing husband and toddler. Rachel doesn’t work but busies herself with event planning and local charities linked to her local Jewish Community Center. We see her in therapy sessions, spinning her wheels to justify and normalize her ennui (“Six months, no sex…I feel like there are a lot of couples who go through dry spells.” Her therapist, played by a wry Jane Lynch, replies, “Not healthy couples”). Her best friend, Stephanie (Jessica St. Clair), suggests that Rachel go to a strip club for a change of pace. She says of she and her husband: “We go there, get all hot, and then we bang each other when we get home.” Then, a night out with friends at a strip club finds her face-to-face with a young woman named McKenna (Juno Temple), who delivers Rachel a lap-dance at the behest of her husband. She’s sufficiently discomfited, but her curiosity is awakened.

McKenna (Juno Temple) and Rachel (Kathryn Hahn)

It’s Rachel’s curiosity that leads her back to the neighborhood of the strip club in the sober light of day, where she happens to see McKenna in the midst of one of those breakups where everything you own ends up in the trunk of a car and strewn on the sidewalk. Rachel invites McKenna to stay with her for a few days, and then offers her the long-term gig of being her live-in nanny. Soon, Rachel learns that McKenna is more than a stripper when McKenna reveals matter-of-factly, “I’m a full service sex worker.” This knowledge changes Rachel’s posture toward McKenna, and she tells her, “If you want out of that life, I can help you.” So it begins: Rachel attempts to take McKenna under her wing, but as the film progresses, we start to wonder exactly who most needs being saved—and all signs point to Rachel.

While the film crescendos with a big “uh-oh” scene, the most compelling moments are those in which women are sharing experiences of raw, ugly honesty. These are instances when shame is pulled back, and we see the guts and blood of their perfectly curated lives. Two scenes are especially haunting (you won’t see these in the trailer).

In the first, Rachel accompanies McKenna on a call to one of her clients. This is a man who enjoys having another woman watch him while he is having sex with McKenna, and Rachel tells her she wants to do it. Rather than giving us just a taste of what happens in a before-and-after editing sequence, Soloway brings us into the room to watch Rachel watch McKenna on the job, as it were. The camera holds the gaze of the client, an overweight middle-aged man with ample body hair, who remains fixed on Rachel as he climaxes with McKenna sitting on top of him.

To me, what’s most troubling is the way that Rachel regards McKenna afterward. She becomes withholding, and in a symbolic rejection, prevents McKenna from babysitting a large group of her friends’ kids so they can have a ladies’ wine night. Rachel blames McKenna for what she has now learned about herself—which is a dehumanizing act. Yet, Kathryn Hahn imbues such a degree of sympathy to the performance that we can almost forgive her. This brings me to the second scene.

Ladies’ wine night: as the night begins, women are talking, laughing, over-sharing in ways that are funny and blunt. Soon, the teeth become wine-stained and—yep—out pours Rachel’s shame. When Stephanie reveals that she’s pregnant (no wine for her), Rachel’s first response is that this now means she’s going to be the only one among them with just one child. Later, as she’s drunker and drunker, Rachel weeps and self-flagellates for never printing out any of the photos of her child (she only has them on the “cloud”).

What I find so amazing about these two scenes (and don’t worry, there’s plenty I didn’t spoil) is that they show how Rachel is so desperate to reveal herself, to be intimately known. But when confronted with someone like McKenna—who is in the business of doing this and lot more—she can’t handle it.

I was reminded of another film after I saw this one: Elles (2011), in which Juliette Binoche plays a journalist writing a profile of French student prostitutes. She becomes involved in their world to an extent that it complicates her relationship to her bourgeois married, family life. There seems to be a subgenre of films featuring women who reckon with—or perhaps imagine—the role of the sex worker. While this can make for intriguing and rich storytelling, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we made sex workers the subject, rather than the object.

Heather Brown lives in Chicago, Ill., and works as a freelance instructional designer and online writing instructor. She lives for feminism, movies, live music, road trips, and cheese.

‘Me and Zooey D.’ Puts a Quirky Spin on Celebrity Obsession

Berkowitz does a great job of consciously channeling the look and mannerisms of Zooey’s persona as a means of illustrating that Alex and Zooey are birds of a feather, but not in the aloof Manic Pixie Dream Girl way that might be alienating. Alex is endearing by sheer force of her naïveté and conviction. You really do root for her to find Zooey, even if her behavior may sometimes teeter on prompting a restraining order. The series’ charm stems from its full-fledged embrace of its own zaniness. One description on the official website declares that Me and Zooey D. “is about believing in your dreams and pursuing them like a stalker.”
Ari was kind enough to do a little Q&A about the show and even teased us with some possibilities for season two.

Me and Zooey D. logo

Written by Erin Tatum.

Admit it – we all fantasize about meeting a celebrity. Some of us are…a little more determined than others. Such is the case with Alex (Ari Berkowitz), a starry-eyed Ohio native who moves to LA along with her friends Haley (Brittany Belland) and Chris (Ben Smith) in hopes of pursuing careers in show business. Alex’s personal and professional aspirations center around becoming Zooey Deschanel’s personal assistant and eventual best friend. Her efforts to track down Zooey are chronicled in Me and Zooey D., a six-part web series available to watch on YouTube.

Alex sings to Zooey with a ukulele at the end of every episode

Berkowitz does a great job of consciously channeling the look and mannerisms of Zooey’s persona as a means of illustrating that Alex and Zooey are birds of a feather, but not in the aloof Manic Pixie Dream Girl way that might be alienating. Alex is endearing by sheer force of her naïveté and conviction. You really do root for her to find Zooey, even if her behavior may sometimes teeter on prompting a restraining order. The series’ charm stems from its full-fledged embrace of its own zaniness. One description on the official website declares that Me and Zooey D. “is about believing in your dreams and pursuing them like a stalker.”

Ari was kind enough to do a little Q&A about the show and even teased us with some possibilities for season two.

Bitch Flicks: First and foremost, what originally attracted you to the series?

Ari Berkowitz: I watch Elf over Christmas every year. I LOVE how Will Ferrel’s character is so unabashedly excited about everything. He’s super naive, but also full of joy! I wanted to try and write a similar character that was so endearing that their obsession ceased to be creepy or weird. And that’s what I tried to do with Alex!

I picked Zooey because I already had her glasses and bangs –so the hardest part was over. It also helped that Zooey was in Elf. I thought she would be a really fun subject matter, and I relish any opportunity to write original songs…to a ukulele I don’t actually know how to play.

BF: What prompted you to use YouTube as a medium for the series?

AB: We picked YouTube because we wanted it to be available to a larger audience. We considered Vimeo, but casual Zooey fans don’t seem to just stumble upon Vimeo webseries.

YouTube was also great because it allowed us to build our own website (or have our baller webdesigner, Alex Lew, build it). Then we just embed the videos! I think WheresZooey.com is fabulous because it allows us to have our episodes, blog, and contact all in one place!

BF: You play Alex, a girl who is more than a little infatuated with Zooey Deschanel. Do you have any celebrity obsessions?

AB: I did a project with James Franco a few years ago, and I was pretty starstruck for the first few months of that. It helped me to be a little calmer with my celebrity obsessions when I finally moved out to LA. Although, I still have a pretty elaborate daydream about becoming BFFs with Amy Poehler. Also, Barbra Streisand.

BF: The last episode ended on quite the cliffhanger! Are there plans in the works for a possible season two?

AB: We would be so excited to do a second season! We had an awesome team working on the show. My director, Hunter Wolk, is an all-star. He and I have talked a little about what we’d like to do with another season. Let’s just say I’ve been working on my Mindy Kaling impression.

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To learn more about Me and Zooey D., check out their website at WheresZooey.com.

The Way We Talk: Cody’s ‘Paradise’ and Hess’ ‘Austenland’

When the trailers for Jerusha Hess’ Austenland and Diablo Cody’s Paradise first premiered, there was a lot of talk about the two young female directors and their debut films. Each woman had good credits, Cody for writing the academy award-winning script for Juno, and Hess for her work on the surprising cult-hit, Napoleon Dynamite.

At first, the hype was positive; Cody would hopefully turn out another witty conglomerate of social insight and angsty sarcasm and Hess might bring a quirky, women’s-focused comedy to the table.

Written by Rachel Redfern

When the trailers for Jerusha Hess’ Austenland and Diablo Cody’s Paradise first premiered, there was a lot of talk about the two young female directors and their debut films. Each woman had good credits–Cody for writing the academy award-winning script for Juno, and Hess for her work on the surprising cult-hit Napoleon Dynamite.

At first, the hype was positive; Cody would hopefully turn out another witty conglomerate of social insight and angsty sarcasm and Hess might bring a quirky, women-focused comedy to the table.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Blu3_Mxpimc”]

And then they each released a bit more information about their projects: Cody’s Paradise was a story of a young Christian woman recovering from a plane who decides to sample the pleasures of the world in Las Vegas. And Hess’ Austenland featured an obsessed Austen fan who travels to England to live out her unrealistic romantic fantasies in an Austen theme park.

Instantly, the tone surrounding the two films changed; Paradise would be an edgier piece with great commentary about the loss of innocence, whereas Austenland would be a fluffy rehash of romantic clichés.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbHr8YyjSlg”]

In the world of “women’s film,” the conversation can move quickly from one of support, to one of derision. Even just a film’s association with a topic normally seen as “girly” is instantly belittled and pushed to the background. A shame, since Jane Austen’s insight into social classes and wealth make her still relevant today, and some of her writings included fabulous satire about over-indulgent romantic media. By extension, Austenland had some true potential for meta-commentary about romantic comedies and the dangers of “fandom.”

Unfortunately, both films have disappointed critics, box office sales, and audiences—neither film proving to be original, funny or insightful (or apparently, even well-acted).

But the worst part is, setbacks like these always take female directing down a bit, proving fodder for those who make quippy remarks about how women “just aren’t funny,” and can’t really direct. With only 11% of Hollywood directors being women, we still under-represent half the population going to see movies in a big way, and it’s always sad to see young directors struggling after only one film.

But, hopefully, Hess and Cody won’t give up, and instead, will return with new stunningly original characters and winning comedy. We need it.

What do you think? Did you enjoy Paradise or Austenland? How will this impact female directors in the future? Can they bounce back from these two flops?

‘The Brass Teapot’: A Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

The Brass Teapot is a black comedy with a premise straight out of Aesop or The Twilight Zone: a struggling young couple come to own a teapot that generates cash in exchange for pain. How much hurt will they inflict on themselves and others for money?

The Brass Teapot is a black comedy with a premise straight out of Aesop or The Twilight Zone: a struggling young couple come to own a teapot that generates cash in exchange for pain. How much hurt will they inflict on themselves and others for money?

John and Alice Macy (Michael Angarano and Juno Temple) are a young married couple clearly in love despite their relatable 20-something struggles to find employment and manage their finances. The teapot comes into their lives after Alice steals it from the site of a minor car accident (rigged by the previous owner of the teapot to generate a payday on the drivers’ pain). She discovers the teapot’s powers after accidentally burning herself with a curling iron, and continues to injure herself until they have enough to pay the bills and then some.

A lot of the first act of the movie treads dangerous waters by depicting self-harm and quasi-consensual partner violence and BDSM sex with a decidedly lighthearted and quirky tone set by director Ramaa Mosley. I can easily see this triggering some people. I was able to buy into it as twisted dark comedy, but your mileage may vary.

Of course the teapot’s cruel bargain becomes more and more vicious. Alice and John find diminishing returns on their own pain, so they bring the teapot around others in pain (cue hijinks like crashing a maternity ward). Then they have to turn to emotional pain, and so they lay all their cruel thoughts and marital indiscretions out on the table to make rent. Finally they contemplate inflicting violence on others to keep the teapot’s magic going.

There is so much in The Brass Teapot that makes it sound like the movie will be painful (appropriately enough) to watch. There are plenty of things to cringe at even if you can get past the pitfalls of the premise. The film unfortunately employs some racist caricatures, like poor Stephen Park as Dr. Ling, who attempts to save the Macys from the teapot by employing his ancient Chinese wisdom, as well as a bizarre subplot about the Hasidic nephews of the previous owner (who do at least bring about one hilarious joke toward the end of the film). The Brass Teapot dabbles in class commentary (Alice and John are middle class kids unable to capitalize on their privilege, and we see that their high school social circle has divided into the haves and the have-nots), but it is never properly developed as the plot focuses on the more simple moral questions presented by the teapot.

Given some of these sensitivity shortcomings, I became particularly worried as the plot carried forward that Alice was going to become the Eve to John’s Adam and he was going to be the innocent man seduced by her greed. Fortunately I think The Brass Teapot sidesteps that trope. While Alice is usually the one to raise the stakes to get more money out of the pot, she also pulls back in at least one crucial scenario where John was ready to bring the pain. The character works because Juno Temple balances her admirable willingness to play an unsympathetic character with her ample charisma, so you end up at least being willing to continue to watch Alice on screen if not outright liking her.

Overall, I feel The Brass Teapot demonstrates the value of commitment in storytelling. Even when it is to the film’s potential detriment and the alienation of its audience, this movie doesn’t shy away from the horror of its premise. I found myself completely in this movie’s grip, absolutely believing that anything might happen as the stakes got higher and higher, while somehow still able to root for the characters and laugh at the comedic moments. It is the kind of movie I’d enthusiastically recommend if I thought my experience was universal, but I realize this movie is probably—oh no, someone please stop me, don’t let me say it—not everyone’s cup of tea.

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa, and she is terribly sorry for that last sentence.

‘Ass Backwards’: A Refreshing Buddy Comedy With No Regrets

They hitch a ride from a biker feminist who takes them to an all-women’s commune (“We live in a world very far removed from beauty pageants,” they say, after releasing Kate and Chloe from “the fraudulent chains of patriarchy”). There are some silly stereotypes in this scene, but Kate and Chloe are the tone-deaf ones (as always), and the older feminists are sympathetic and admirable. When they worry about their lack of appeal to the younger generation, Kate and Chloe step up to help them with a business plan–and they don’t know what they’re talking about. They just make fools of themselves, and don’t understand the consequences of their actions. (Could this be a criticism of third-wave feminism? I’d like to think so.)

“We’re not losers.” “We’re Kate and Chloe.” – Ass Backwards

Written by Leigh Kolb

Ass Backwards is a purposefully uncomfortable ride that follows two best friends–Kate and Chloe–as they attempt (and consistently fail) to get somewhere with their lives. The road-trip buddy comedy follows the two as they deal with internal and external road blocks on their way back to their hometown. The destination? To compete in a 50th anniversary beauty pageant that they’d lost as children. “If we go back there, we will win,” they confidently say as they disregard an eviction notice from their Manhattan apartment.

June Diane Raphael and Casey Wilson co-wrote and co-star in the film (as Kate and Chloe, respectively), and their acting skills shine. The comedy has its moments of brilliance, but doesn’t seem as strong as it could be, given the duo’s talent. A strong supporting cast (a wonderful Alicia Silverstone, Vincent D’Ornofrio, Jon Cryer and Bob Odenkirk) gives a strong backbone to a sometimes-wobbly film.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W23rE3u1ce8″]

Ass Backwards has been receiving pretty negative reviews since it was released on VOD on Sept. 30 (its theatrical release is Nov. 8). The film has a number of rough spots (the bunny subplot and children in the woods, I’m looking at you), but I can’t help but wonder if our discomfort at seeing delusional women who humiliate themselves without a shred of self-awareness is partly to blame for audiences’ reactions.

This isn’t something we’re used to–seeing women characters embrace their failing lives with pride. The two have “dead-end” jobs (Chloe dances at a nightclub, and Kate is a “CEO” of her own business, which is selling her eggs to infertile couples), but they are proud. Their lives are spiraling downward, but they love themselves, and one another.

While the laughs aren’t on par with Dumb and Dumber, it’s a similar concept–two somewhat-but-not-really-lovable morons who don’t understand how relatively terrible their lives are. Audiences love and accept the “loser” male comedy hero, but his female counterpart feels awkward and foreign.

I’m not totally defending Ass Backwards as comedy gold. It has some hilarious moments and many groan-worthy moments (as most comedies do). I value it very much for what it is, however: a film that highlights female friendship, female-centric comedy, and female characters who are remarkably flawed. For all of its flaws, the writers took risks and gave us a comedy that receives an off-the-charts score on the Bechdel Test.

Ass-Backwards-e1359037482685 — Chloe (left) and Kate hitchhike and get the unexpected.

And there are some great moments in Ass Backwards. When the two flash back to their childhood pageant days, Kate is asked in the interview portion, “When you’re a mommy, do you want to enter the work force, or stay at home?” She stumbles, and answers, “Workplaces are where people work.” The pageant host (Odenkirk) calls her a “moron,” and she’s laughed off the stage.

In the talent portion, Chloe (young Chloe is played by the wonderful Ursula Parker of Louie fame) sings/wails, “Stand by your man.”

“Those were the days,” Chloe wistfully remembers as an adult. When Kate looks pained by the memory, Chloe consoles her: “Your answer wasn’t easy, and that scares people.”

The funny, pointed critique of the pageant industry’s problematic relationship with little girls (and expectations of women in general) is clear.

Alicia Silverstone is excellent as Laurel, who won that pageant and has become and a veritable “winner” in adulthood. (Her charity, “Laurel’s Ladies,” gives “makeovers to low-income gals so they can look like me, if only for a day.”) When Kate and Chloe attend her book-signing, she tells them they would qualify for Laurel’s Ladies. They are simply confused; why would they need that?

As they set out on their road trip, there are plenty of hiccups. When Kate drives hours in the wrong direction, Chloe isn’t angry at all. Moments like this highlight the strength of their friendship. Toward the climax of the film, there is some in-fighting between the two, but it never delves into stereotypical cat fight territory–and this is refreshing.

They sing along proudly to a song that isn't quite right. — They sing along proudly to a song that isn’t quite right.

The women continue on, stripping by accident, landing in jail, seeking shelter with their favorite reality star, and finally end up at the beauty pageant (after they’ve released what’s been holding them back).

The pageant scene is as disastrous as we expect, and the epilogue is heartwarming and darkly humorous.

Comedies are hard to get just right, which is evident from the dearth of good ones–especially ones with female protagonists. For that fact alone, Ass Backwards is refreshing and exciting.

During the 50th anniversary pageant, Kate is asked about the strides that women have made in the last half a century. She is flustered, and finally gathers herself. She answers, “I don’t have a fucking clue. I don’t know.” She smiles, and proudly walks off stage.

Sometimes that is the best we can do. Smile, admit we have no fucking clue, and move on. Kate and Chloe aren’t losers, and Ass Backwards isn’t a loser, either. Ass Backwards is Kate and Chloe, and they have no regrets.

I have no regrets, either, having spent an hour and a half with Kate and Chloe. The line “Her ‘mones–she must be off her ‘mones” was alone worth the cost of the VOD rental.

Wilson and Raphael make quite the writing and acting team. As writers, they have sold two comedies (Mason Twins on NBC and DINKS on ABC) for this development season, and are set to be big winners in the world of comedy.

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

We Need A Different Game: ‘Tiger Lily Road’

From Aristophanes’ Lysistrata to contemporary men-are-from-Mars neurobabble, there has been a Western cultural tendency to view male-female relations in military terms, as a “battle of the sexes.” As a veteran of both teams, and even more so as a feminist who disputes gender essentialism, binarism, and cissexism, I find this framing deeply tiresome and hopelessly passé, and it’s hard to know what to with cultural products that revisit it.

“You can’t force him, Louise.”

“Why not? If it was you or me tied up in there, they wouldn’t hesitate. It’s why they join the army, so they can rape and pillage and–”

“He’s not in the army!”

“He’s in the army of men. And he’s a prisoner of war.”

From Aristophanes’ Lysistrata to contemporary men-are-from-Mars neurobabble, there has been a Western cultural tendency to view male-female relations in military terms, as a “battle of the sexes.” As a veteran of both teams, and even more so as a feminist who disputes gender essentialism, binarism, and cissexism, I find this framing deeply tiresome and hopelessly passé, and it’s hard to know what to with cultural products that revisit it.

If this is true, what am I? Benedict Arnold?

This is why I absolutely cannot make up my mind about Michael Medeiros’ film Tiger Lily Road, which is so oddly pitched that I can’t decide how to read it. Medeiros has averred that “Dark comedy can illuminate aspects of the soul usually left in shadow in lighter treatments,” but I’m not entirely sure what aspects of the soul are being illuminated here, unless they’re ones that are hugely more cynical about human nature and gender relations than I am.

The IMDb plot outline runs thus: “Two small-town women accidentally capture a handsome young fugitive.” Blonde, gentle veterinarian Annie and vampish brunette Louise are both middle-aged, single, and disillusioned with romance. When douchey young criminal Ricky stumbles into their lives, they find themselves acting in unprecedented ways.

Both within the film and in the director’s statements, the allusion to Thelma and Louise is made explicit. From Tiger Lily Road‘s Facebook page:

This film, which could not exist without Callie Khouri’s ground-breaking screenplay, Thelma and Louise, asks the question: where are we now? Are we still frozen in mid-air as in Ridley Scott’s boldly edited ending? Or have we crash-landed in some new and twisted territory…

Thelma and Louise is certainly still depressingly relevant some twenty-odd years later: rape survivors still get scrutinized, mainstream films that pass the Bechdel test are still vanishingly rare, men are still inundated with violent power fantasies and women are not. The awesome thing about Thelma and Louise is its portrayal of the titular women’s friendship – as Sophie Standing wrote last year, “nothing is more important than their loyalty to each other, and they are empowered by their freedom and refusal of male domination.” I’m not fully convinced that the women of Tiger Lily Road even like each other. Certainly there’s far more onscreen evidence of bonding between Annie and Ricky than between Annie and Louise.

Not that Annie and Ricky’s relationship is healthy (the Misery allusion might have tipped you off). If this film is meant to be an empowerment fantasy, it’s a creepy and depressing one where women’s relationships with men are cast as either the mother, with blonde Annie’s 50 Shades of Grey emotional fixer-upper thing (“He’s damaged!”), or the whore, with dark-haired Louise raping Ricky using the physical means of Viagra. If it’s a cautionary tale exploring the perils of a “battle of the sexes” worldview, it’s certainly stylishly made, particularly one standout sequence near the end, but it’s very strange tonally.

But then, maybe the point is to unsettle us. Pop culture is full of male empowerment fantasies that are objectively creepy and depressing, but we’re so inured that we don’t take them seriously. Maybe the reason this one discomfits me is because I’m just not used to it. Or maybe because I know the writer-director is a man, and I’m not certain that his portrayal of gender relations is a helpful one.

In the end, even though he’s a nasty piece of work who manipulates Annie’s trust and naivety with film quotes, Ricky perhaps makes the film’s best point. Annie shows him a picture of a co-ed soccer team from their childhood and laments growing up and separating along gender lines: “We couldn’t be on the same team anymore.” Ricky replies, “Maybe you just need a different game.”

Amen to that.

Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax.

Older Women Week: Pretty Little Zombies — The Lure of Eternal Youth in Robert Zemeckis’ ‘Death Becomes Her’

This is the turning point of the movie. All the conflicts revolving around jealousy, beauty, and, of course, youth, are henceforth turned into a spirit of sisterhood. The dependence on Ernest transforms into a friendly co-dependent relationship between the two women. However much of a love-hate sentiment resonates throughout the final part of the movie, friendship and solidarity triumph. The special bond that Madeline and Helen share is still based on the wish for eternal youth, but they have finally turned to each other.

Death Becomes Her movie poster

This is a guest post by Artemis Linhart.

Somewhere between Marty McFly and Jessica Rabbit, it became quite clear that one thing Robert Zemeckis’ characters have in common is an utter defiance of the laws of nature. Now, channeling this notion in Isabella Rossellini’s role of Lisle von Rhoman, emerges the ultimate temptress: “Sempre viva – live forever.”

However, for the women of this movie, it isn’t so much the promise of eternal life that entices them to drink the rejuvenating potion offered by Lisle. It is the ever-lasting youthful appearance they are after. For this they are willing to spend all the money they have, which seems to them like a small price to pay. But “the sordid topic of coin,” as Lisle calls it, is not the only price eternal youth comes at; set against the backdrop of a seemingly never-ending thunderstorm, Zemeckis unfolds a lurid tale of (attempted) murder, jealousy and spray paint.

It all begins with the aging starlet Madeline Ashton (Meryl Streep) performing an ill-conceived version of Tennessee Williams’ “Sweet Bird of Youth,” and people stepping on her photograph as they leave the theater mid-show. It is no secret that working as an actress and living as a human being subject to the process of aging don’t go well together – the limitations of which real life Meryl Streep has been known to point out.

Helen Sharp (Goldie Hawn) after Ernest leaves her

As the aspiring writer Helen Sharp (Goldie Hawn) introduces her fiancé Ernest (Bruce Willis) to her long-time frienemy Madeline, their lives start to unravel. Instantly smitten, Ernest loses no time to break off the engagement and marry Madeline instead. His occupation as a plastic surgeon should prove to be beneficial to Madeline’s crumbling career.

“Tell me, doctor, do you think that I’m starting to need you?” she asks him, flirtingly. Her choice of words illustrates the undisputed consensus that, at a certain age, women need to act on the fact that time is taking a toll on their appearance. Retaining a youthful image has become a need like breathing or eating (in moderation, by all means).

Meanwhile, Helen’s appearance undergoes three stages. Starting off as rather mousy and plain, she gains weight after being left by Ernest, resulting in the clichéd cat lady couch potato. The camera mocks her voluminous buttocks on more than one occasion. Due to her inertia as well as an obsession with her rival Madeline, she is admitted to a mental hospital where a doctor yells at her for being overweight. Disregarding the fat-shaming, she plots her revenge. In a cut to seven years later, we see her as what society describes as a desirable beauty, finally having managed to get her life back together. It seems that success and appearance go hand in hand. Her book (titled “Forever Young”) finally sells, as she looks fresher than ever – all thanks to a little magic potion, which Madeline is about to happen upon herself shortly.

Ernest (Bruce Willis) and Helen

Ageism You Can Drink

Madeline Ashton is a regular at a spa where she routinely receives extensive (as well as expensive) facial treatments. It is run by people with European accents, which, in combination with Isabella Rossellini’s character, allows for the impression that the beauty and youth lobby is run by a wealthy Eurotrash elite.

Madeline is told that she cannot undergo a treatment, as her last appointment was only a few weeks ago. Frantic in the face of an employee with “22-year-old skin and tits like rocks,” she begs for a spa treatment, illustrating the obsession with physical appearance women are pressured with.

Upon being offered makeup, she screams, “Makeup is pointless! It does nothing anymore!” thus highlighting a problem many women, especially actresses, face. Once hiding behind a lot of makeup no longer serves the purpose of rejuvenation, more drastic measures have to be taken. In addition, Madeline’s frenzy demonstrates the idea that Botox and collagen treatments as well as plastic surgery often have addictive potential.

Madeline (Meryl Streep), Helen, and Ernest

A staff member apologizes, explaining that they are “restricted by the laws of nature.”

Cue Lisle von Rhoman.

“Screw the laws of nature!” she shouts furiously at one point. Defying every physical law, she is just what Madeline is looking for. Between her twenty-something boyfriend cheating on her with someone his own age, and her husband Ernest having a newfound interest in the now youthful Helen Sharp, Madeline has a nervous breakdown. Youth seems to be all that matters to society, and she has internalized the desire to keep up.

Lisle describes aging as “life’s ultimate cruelty – it offers us the taste of youth and vitality and then makes us witness our own decay.”

Her remedy: “a touch of magic in this world obsessed with science.”

Madeline and Helen

While Meryl Streep was appalled to be offered as many as three different roles as witches as she turned 40, her character in Death Becomes Her now resorts to supernatural powers as an alternative to medical treatments in order to battle aging – when really she should be battling ageism instead.

The women of this movie are consistent with the idea that they are only worthy of success, men, or happiness as long as they are – or appear to be – young. As Madeline watches her body age in reverse after consuming the potion, she exclaims cheerfully, “I’m a girl!”

Hence, womanhood is based on certain physical features defined by society to please the eye. This is mirrored in the character of Ernest who desires whoever looks the youngest, yet accuses Madeline of being cheap for wanting to maintain a youthful facade.

While Ernest is portrayed as a “pushover,” whose domineering spouse makes his life a living hell, we watch his spirit break and his life force dwindle as he is increasingly emaciated and, most notably, emasculated. He is undoubtedly condemned and punished for this until, ultimately, he stands up to Madeline and Helen, which enables him to regain his dignity and lead a decent life after all. Women’s dominance is clearly demonized in Death Becomes Her. It entails depraved moral values, hysteria, and, naturally, a good old cat fight. Helen and Madeline engage in a bizarre brawl that results in a grotesquely comic CGI spectacle. As he lets them lash out at each other, Zemeckis does things to the human body previously only seen in cartoons. The chronic bitchfight based on envy, that the two of them have been carrying out for years in much more subtle ways, has now extended to the physical dimension.

Helen, after Madeline shoots her

Life As We Know It

“It’s alive!” Helen calls out in a nod to Mary Shelley as she sees Madeline’s zombified self happily walking around the house. In a previous foreshadowing analogy, Ernest asks their housekeeper about Madeline, “Is it awake?”, emphasizing his despise for his oppressive wife on the one hand and the objectification of the woman monster on the other.

After shooting a hole through Helen’s stomach, Madeline cheers, “These are the moments that make life worth living.”

And yet, alive is a thing both women are not even close to being. The forces of nature have been tampered with, and disaster is taking its course. Death Becomes Her sends a pretty clear message when it comes to the distribution of power, morality and, ultimately, gender roles. Life, as many a patriarch has come to know and appreciate it, has been turned upside down. Here, a reversal of gender roles results in the collapse of the main characters’ lives.

The moral decay is mirrored in the disintegration of Helen’s and Madeline’s faces. This is where they realize their dependency on Ernest, who has been fixing their lesions with spray paint. Even beyond death, beyond eternal beauty, they still need the plastic surgeon to fix their crumbling visages. “What if it fades? What if it chips? What if it rains? Will he come back for touch-ups?”

As it turns out, he won’t, and they will have to master the skill of restoring their faces themselves.

Madeline’s turning point

Meanwhile, Earnest has been living his life without them, his new motto being “Life begins at 50.” As a man, he can afford this attitude. Earlier on, as Madeline and Helen attempt to convince him to drink the potion and attain immortality, the thought of a youthful appearance never even crosses his mind.

Instead, he contemplates being able to continue his career. Eternal youth is not the determining factor for him. In the light of an everlasting life, in contrast, Ernest refuses to drink it. This goes to show that men, as opposed to women, do not face the terror of the beauty industry in quite the same way.

Helen and Madeline still prevail

In fact, he is rewarded for this decision later on by the pastor at his funeral who asserts that Ernest, just by being a remarkable man who has gone on to found disputable institutions like “The Menville Center for the Study of Women,” he has achieved eternal life. Even after his death he has accomplished eternal youth, as he “lives on in his children.” The irony of this causes Helen and Madeline to get up and leave, not without declaring, “Blaaa blaaa blaaa.”

And yet, as tragic an ending as they face, Madeline and Helen prevail, long after Ernest’s death. Thirty-seven years of interdependent touch-ups later, they now look like bizarre zombie puppets. As they drag their brittle bodies away from the funeral, they fall down a flight of stairs and break into smithereens.

With all their separate body parts scattered across the ground, they are still best friends. This is the actual happy ending – one of solidarity, friendship and emancipation.

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