Comedy – Page 19 – Bitch Flicks

Dear, Daniel Tosh: You Know What’s Even Less Funny than Rape Jokes? Rape Threats

English: Daniel Tosh at Boston University

By now I’m sure you’ve heard about Daniel Tosh and his misoynistic douchebaggery as he verbally attacked a female audience member.

But just in case you haven’t or if you need a refresher, the woman called Tosh out amidst his performance at The Laugh Factory. Here’s what the woman told her friend who posted it on her blog which has now gone viral:

“So Tosh then starts making some very generalizing, declarative statements about rape jokes always being funny, how can a rape joke not be funny, rape is hilarious, etc. I don’t know why he was so repetitive about it but I felt provoked because I, for one, DON’T find them funny and never have. So I didnt appreciate Daniel Tosh (or anyone!) telling me I should find them funny. So I yelled out, “Actually, rape jokes are never funny!”

“I did it because, even though being “disruptive” is against my nature, I felt that sitting there and saying nothing, or leaving quietly, would have been against my values as a person and as a woman. I don’t sit there while someone tells me how I should feel about something as profound and damaging as rape.

“After I called out to him, Tosh paused for a moment. Then, he says, “Wouldn’t it be funny if that girl got raped by like, 5 guys right now? Like right now? What if a bunch of guys just raped her…”

Wow. What. The. Fuck. Rape jokes are never funny. Ever. Making a rape joke is bad enough. But attacking an audience member who calls bullshit on said rape joke?? Calling for her to be gang raped?? Horrifying and disgusting.

Tosh gave a half-ass apology on Twitter:

all the out of context misquotes aside, i’d like to sincerely apologize j.mp/PJ8bNs
— daniel tosh (@danieltosh) July 10, 2012

the point i was making before i was heckled is there are awful things in the world but you can still make jokes about them. #deadbabies
— daniel tosh (@danieltosh) July 10, 2012

But honestly, I don’t give a shit that Tosh apologized. He shouldn’t have said it to the woman in the first place.

Of course, Tosh is the same person who incorporates physical assault against women into his comedy, encouraging viewers to videotape sneaking up behind women and touching them non-consensually. Tosh obviously has no problem encouraging people to act out his comedy. Or of course calling for a woman to be gang raped in public.

This whole situation has raised the issue of rape jokes and if they can be funny and if so, how to make them funny. As I’ve said before, rape jokes aren’t edgy. They’re lazy, misogynistic, insensitive and violent. While humor can be a great way to confront tough issues, rape jokes trivialize survivor’s painful plight.

Fem2pt0’s Soraya Chemaly discusses the problem with rape jokes:

“That’s why the problem isn’t the jokes or who’s telling them. It’s that so many, many people think that stories about degrading and violating women, the more violently the better, is laugh-out-loud entertaining.”

Melissa McEwan, Shakesville Editor and Founder, asserts rape jokes aren’t ever funny (agreed) and rightfully labels Tosh “an enforcer of rape culture”:

“Rape jokes are not funny. They potentially trigger survivors, and they uphold the rape culture. They tacitly convey approval of rape to rapists, who do not appreciate “rape irony.” There is no neutral in rape culture, and jokes that diminish or normalize rape empower rapists. Rape jokes are pro-rape.

“If you incite rape, you are an enforcer of rape culture. If you argue that inciting rape is harmless, you are an enforcer of rape culture.”

While I have a massive problem with rape jokes, I have a much bigger problem with the way Tosh handled the situation. What might have started as a joke Tosh was telling as part of his act quickly spiraled into endangerment and verbal assault.

As I’ve written before, I’m a staunch supporter of freedom of speech. I vehemently disagree with people wanting to censor music, gory films or violent videogames. Many writers have pointed out that no topics should be taboo for comedians. And that humor is used to tackle painful topics and “to call bullshit” on idiocy and injustice. But that’s not what Tosh was doing. Tosh crossed the line from merely expressing his thoughts as part of his comedy routine to inciting violence.

Vanessa Valenti, Feministing Editor and Co-Founder, points out why what Tosh did wasn’t humor and how he should be held accountable:

“Tosh threatened an audience member with rape. This should not be a conversation about where to draw the line (as much of the media is asking around this). There is a very, very clear line here…This conversation should be about holding public figures accountable for the impact they have on larger culture.”

While I disagree that rape jokes can be funny, I absolutely 100% agree with The Nation’s Jessica Valenti (and Feministing Co-Founder) that there’s a huge difference between “pointing out the absurdity” of rape and sexism — like George Carlin, Sarah Silverman and Wanda Sykes — and actually threatening someone with assault, which Tosh did:

“But here’s the thing: threatening women with rape, making light of rape, and suggesting that women who speak up be raped is not edgy or controversial. It’s the norm. This is what women deal with every day. Maintaining the status quo around violence against women isn’t exactly revolutionary…

“If you are this attached to jokes about raping women – if they mean this much to you – it’s time to look inward and think about why that is.

“Because at the end of the day, the misogynist fervor behind the defense of Tosh doesn’t isn’t an impassioned debate over free speech or the nature of humor. It’s men who feel entitled to say whatever they want – no matter how violent – to women, and who are angry to have that long standing privilege challenged.”

If you read through the tweets defending Tosh (and I definitely don’t recommend you do unless you want to gouge your eyes out from sheer anger and disgust), you’ll see a lot of inane comments about how people can’t take a joke or need to lighten up. Or of course there are the gems about how women need to shut the fuck up, that the woman attending the show deserves to get raped, or that Tosh should’ve shaken his dick in the woman’s face. I shit you not, there’s some doozies from some real Mensa candidates here.

Defenders of Tosh are using smoke and mirrors to defend his abhorrent words saying she was a heckler. That she asked for it. Hmmmm….where have I heard that before? Oh that’s right…in victim blaming when we talk about rape. Yes, she interrupted him. But she didn’t attack him. Does that mean she deserves for him to humiliate and violate her? No.

Jezebel’s Lindy West debunks the most common arguments supporting Tosh, including those who say Tosh’s humor is okay because he offends everyone:

“…Being an “equal opportunity offender”—as in, “It’s okay, because Daniel Tosh makes fun of ALL people: women, men, AIDS victims, dead babies, gay guys, blah blah blah”—falls apart when you remember (as so many of us are forced to all the time) that all people are not in equal positions of power…

“It’s really easy to believe that “nothing is sacred” when the sanctity of your body and your freedom are never legitimately threatened.”

Yes, freedom of speech allows you to say whatever you want. BUT! There are consequences. Just like you can’t yell “fire” in a crowded theatre. That’s not an infringement on freedom of speech, it’s public endangerment. So is what Tosh did.

Tosh verbally assaulted this woman. Due to white privilege and male privilege in our patriarchal rape culture, Tosh possesses societal power. He exerted his power and dominance to belittle, intimidate and humiliate this woman. To shut her up and put her in her place.

Comedian and Hello Giggles and Huffington Post writer Megan O’Keefe, in her must-read post, points out that most people who laugh at rape jokes don’t truly appreciate the wordplay, satire or critique. They find humor in “hurting and sexually dominating a woman against her will.” She also shares how the problem transcends Tosh and rape culture is to blame:

“Rape is disturbing and horrible. It’s one of the horrors that we should keep at bay with humor, not encourage. Right now, the woman who posted the complaint about Tosh is receiving legitimate death and rape threats from his fans. So, his “joke” didn’t diffuse pain or horror — it sparked it.

“…The problem isn’t Daniel Tosh. The problem is that our society is still a rape culture where a large percentage of people think that rape’s OK and that a girl in a short skirt is asking for it and that it’s funny to assault someone. Not for the sake of satire, but for one person’s amusement over another person’s real life victimization.”

We live amongst a rape culture that normalizes violence and misogyny against women and objectifies women’s bodies. Society teaches people how to avoid rape rather than to not rape, putting the blame on the victim/survivor. The media berates women and brushes off rape survivors’ claims, putting the blame not on the rapist or abuser but with the survivor who comes forward.

All of this coalesces to foster and fuel sexism in the media and misogynistic “humor.” Time and time again, our society condones rape and violence. So when a white male makes a misogynistic comment or threat, there’s more happening than just what’s on the surface. It trivializes rape and misogyny. And it reinforces — both covertly and overtly — that violence against women is okay.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m sick and tired of rape jokes. But whether you think rape jokes are funny or not, it stopped being a “joke” the moment Tosh harassed and threatened a woman with violence.

And there’s nothing fucking funny about that.

LGBTQI Week: Women Empowerment and LGBT Issues in ‘Scott Pilgrim vs. The World’: Strange and Nonexistent

This is a guest post by Marla Koenigsknecht.

*As a note, I am not including anything about the comic series, only the movie.
*Synopsis from imdb.

!!SPOILER ALERT!!

Probably most women can say they’ve had their share of “evil exes.” Sure, your past may come back and bite you in the butt, BUT I’m also sure it’s never come back in the form of super-powered henchmen with quirky names. I’m also sure it’s never happened in the style of an arcade game, either. Well, that’s what happens in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. And while watching Michael Cera kick butt is super entertaining, and we all think Cera’s shrimpy (yes, shrimpy) voice is adorable, the movie doesn’t do women any justice. I find this to be Cera’s most misogynistic role because his character is…well…an asshole to women.

It all begins with 22-year-old Scott and his new high school girlfriend, Knives Chau. He says that he likes dating someone 5 years his junior because it’s simple. However, everyone else advises him to break up with her (he’s also only using her to get over his ex who cheated on him). But that doesn’t stop Scott, who begins cheating on Knives once he meets Ramona—a funky, hipster chick. Before he can begin dating Ramona, he must defeat her seven evil exes in fights to the death. The movie is filled with tons of funny quips and witty, fast-paced jokes—and I’ll be honest, I loved it the first time I saw it. But the more times I watched it and thought about it, I realized that Scott Pilgrim is too much of a “guys’” movie—something rather disappointing, in my opinion.

Knives Chau (played by Ellen Wong)

I’ll start with Knives. Not only do they repeat the fact that she’s only 17 over and over, but it’s definitely apparent she worships the ground Scott walks on; yeah, so I dated an older guy at a young age. It’s exciting—but Knives doesn’t have enough self-respect to leave a guy who doesn’t respect her. She even becomes obsessive and stalker-ish, changing her looks to look more like Ramona and trying to make him jealous. She is portrayed as crazy, and we’re supposed to roll our eyes and laugh. She even says, “I hate her stupid guts!” like Ramona ruined her love life, when Scott’s the one stringing Knives along in his game. Ramona didn’t know that Scott was cheating on Knives with her and shouldn’t be blamed for stealing Scott when he lacked the nerve to break up with Knives. It’s just another way to pit girls against one another, acting like Scott is the victim, and therefore okay for him to hurt a vulnerable teen because he’s in love with Ramona. Following this scene, one of the evil exes “punches the highlights” out of Knives’ hair because she tries to stand up for Scott, and it’s clear then. No one respects this poor girl. And her lack of respect from others is reflected from her own lack of self-respect. The biggest issue I have with this is that she never finds her own self-respect either. It is never resolved in the way I would like it to be, which would be Knives finding self-respect on her own. Instead it’s given to her from Scott (more on this later).

As for Ramona, I personally love the character at first. She seems really strong, but then after Ramona’s exes arrive she’s just a girl in a man’s world. In this movie, Ramona isn’t the love of someone’s life, but a prize to be won. It is even stated that they are “controlling the future of Ramona’s love life.” She waits around while Scott fights these battles for her, when really all she should have to do is tell them to stop. At one time she says, “I’ve dabbled in being a bitch.” So, standing up for herself means she’s a bitch, and that means she has to wait for Scott to kill all her exes before she can be “free” of her past baggage and over-controlling exes. In the end fight, her most recent ex Gideon Graves is shown petting Ramona like a dog (before he eventually fights Scott). Before the fight, Scott “gained the power of self-respect.” But why does Scott need to be the one to gain self-respect? Why not Ramona? She deserves to get rid of her own baggage, not have Scott kill it for her. She even stands up and fights Gideon, but says, “Let’s both be girls.” She can only fight someone when the person is a “girl” (figurative or not). Again, girls against each other. Which leads me to my next point.

Gideon (Jason Schwartzman) and Ramona (Mary Elizabeth Winstead)

Roxy is one of Ramona’s exes, when she was “a little bi-curious.” Before the fight actually begins, Scott finds it hard to believe that Ramona dated a girl, even though his roommate Wallace is gay. He doesn’t question that. Maybe Scott has this idea in his mind that Ramona is this perfect, exactly-what-he-wants, girl. But does that mean that a “perfect girl” is one with no previous baggage, especially in the form of another woman? His disbelief in her bisexual past indicates a lack of freedom for women. Perhaps Scott is threatened by her sexual past, because it might mean he as a man is not needed to fulfill her expectations. Especially because Ramona is a decently strong woman when we first meet her. Wallace is free to explore other men, but Ramona is unable to have a bisexual past without it being laughed at. At this point, before Roxy hits Scott, Ramona steps in. So, she can fight against a woman, but not a man? And who doesn’t love a good cat fight?! (sigh, rolls eyes, gag, etc.) My personal favorite is that Ramona grabs Scott and uses him as a puppet to hit Roxy because Scott says, “I don’t think I can hit a girl….They’re soft.” Roxy yells, “Fight your own battles, lazy ass!” to Scott. Oh, the insufferable irony. To Scott, the man who is fighting Ramona’s own battle at that moment. As if Ramona couldn’t do that the past how many years? Of course not, she’s a girl.

Homosexuality is also portrayed weirdly in this movie, in the case of Wallace and Roxy. Wallace (the roommate) has the power to turn straight men around him gay, and several times does the audience see this happening. It makes being homosexual seem like a fad–which seems rather insensitive. The end of Roxy’s fight is rather odd as well. Ramona tells Scott to touch the back of Roxy’s knee, and it makes her orgasm to death (literally, she blows up). That, and when Scott says, “You had a sexy phase?” about their relationship reminds me too much of how men find lesbians hot together and makes me want to gag. Her battle scene just seems like a comic relief fight from the real action. If you compare Roxy’s fight to Lucas Lee’s (another evil ex) fight, you’ll notice several differences (ignore the snowflakes and Spanish subtitles in the second video). First, you’ll notice the obvious gender differences: the lowered voice, built body and facial hair for Lucas…the smaller body, pigtails, and higher voice for Roxy. It makes you aware of which one to take seriously. Second, in Lucas’s fight, Ramona sits and watches. And third, notice that Ramona gives a back story to Lucas (she does that for all of the ex-boyfriends), and Roxy doesn’t because being a lesbian is a joke here.

Everyone is okay at the end of the movie. And only because Ramona’s exes are dead and her bad past is defeated (courtesy of Scott, not herself), he and Knives have reconciled, and Scott gets the girl. But only because Scott apologized. And while I like that he did find some kindness to apologize, I’m still irked by this. I don’t think the girls in this movie should have needed Scott to apologize just to feel okay in the end. I wish they would’ve been given more empowerment to find respect for themselves without Scott–especially because these girls could have been portrayed as strong and able to stick up for themselves.

Honestly, I like that this movie attempts to show triumph over mistakes, but I hate that it requires Scott’s self-respect before the women’s. Because I feel the women have been wronged most in this movie, I wish that they had found their own self-faith before he did. Personally I have found in relationships—and in life—that strength comes from my own faith in myself and then having faith in another person. I wish the women of Scott Pilgrim had the same empowerment Scott had earned. That they wouldn’t need Scott’s self-assurance to have their own. That they would’ve been able to say, “Screw you, Scott!” or “Screw you, deadly exes!” or “Screw you, misogynists!” I mean… it’s all the same, right?

———-

Marla Koenigsknecht is junior at Michigan State University. She is an English and Professional Writing student. She also is the Assistant Editor of The Offbeat, a literary magazine on MSU campus.

LGBTQI Week: Stranger in a Queer Land: How ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’ and Susan Sontag Defined My Trembling Identity

This is a guest review by Eva Phillips.

It might come off as a bit absurd, even an effrontery to some, to suggest that a film in which RuPaul must resist the titillation of a faux-fellatio on a pitchfork and bigotry is gleefully bellowed in the hate mantra “Silly faggots, dicks are for chicks!” is the very film responsible for one of my most pivotal coming-of-age realizations. But rarely do we get to choose the moments or media that have the greatest impact upon us. And such was the case with But I’m A Cheerleader.

What was most profound and even revitalizing for me the first time I watched—quite literally hunkered in my basement as if I was viewing a contraband edition of Cannibal Holocaust (for which I would provide a link, but I think the title alone is umbrage enough to the nature of its content)—But I’m A Cheerleader was not that it featured a panoply of beautiful shots or striking cinematography, nor that it was steeped in witty yet complex banter. Before it seems like I’m vilipending the film, I certainly don’t want to underplay it’s merit—it’s terribly amusing, sneakily provocative, peculiarly heartwarming, and, OH, YEAH, IT HAS RUPAUL AND CATHY MORIARITY IN THE SAME DAMN CAST. However, the film instantly became my most cherished nugget of queer cinema for reasons that pertained to the movie’s machinations in my life outside the film, and it’s hand in my self-construction of a queer identity. But more on that shortly. The film’s diegesis is certainly worth exploring and even worth praising. Jamie Babbit–who would later go on to direct such Sapphically scintillating films as Itty Bitty Titty Committee (a film which also appealed to my naughty nursery rhyme sensibilities, though I was disappointed it was not some salacious re-envisioning of a Dr. Seuss universe)—emerged from her short film cocoon to direct, and conceive of the story for, Cheerleader, her first feature length released in September of 1999. And, my, what an ostentatiously-hued emergence it was. Centering around the foibles and frustrations of an ostensibly “normal” (or, heteronormal, as the film exploits) high school cheerleader Megan, the narrative rests on the peculiar, raspy-throated charm of Natasha Lyonne.

Let’s pause for a moment to give due reverence to Miss Lyonne. Yes, she’s had her fair share of indecencies aired as fodder for the public eye in the years since Cheerleader and American Pie. But if ever there was an underappreciated icon for blossoming queer sexuality, it’s Lyonne, at least for my money. She’s got the vibe of that moderately unbalanced, untraditionally gorgeous upstairs neighbor who knows every Dario Argento film that you encounter when you first arrive to Chicago, downtrodden but full of potential, who fearlessly flirts with you and subtly teaches you how to be audacious and open in your amorous and creative passions. (Sometimes I go on run-on tangents when I imagine my future….). She made the gravely-voiced-teen rad long before Miley Cyrus and her “I’ve-been-chain-smoking-for-30-years-even-though-I’m-17” droning. And she has a Rufus Wainwright song penned in her honor. Come on. Give the girl a shot.

But I digress. Megan, who lives in an ultra-saturated world—filmed brilliantly with an idyllic tint that gives the perfect every-town suburbia a feel of being all too artificially ideal—begins to show the terrible, if not purposefully clichéd, symptoms of Lesbianitis. She ogles her fellow coquettish cheer-mongers, she loathes the kiss of her quintessentially-90s-studly beau (although, his frenching finesse leaves a lot to be desired), her locker is adorned with images of other gals, and, if those weren’t sufficient red flags, she’s a Melissa Etheridge enthusiast (Yes. It’s perfectly acceptable to grimace. Subtlety is not a bosom buddy to Babbit or screenwriter Brian Wayne Peterson. But that’s sort of why I love it.). After being confronted by her disconcerted parents (cast as the drabbest Norman Rockwell caricatures imaginable) and haughty, disgusted friends (wait a minute, is that Michelle Williams??? Could this movie be any more deliciously 90s??), Megan is shuttled off to a reparative therapy camp—which, with it’s flamboyant heteronormative decadence, must’ve been a throwback to Miss Lyonne to her days on the Pee Wee’s Playhouse set—despite her refusal that she is “plagued” by homosexuality. Megan is brusquely welcomed by the equally sandpaper-toned Cathy Moriarty as the Hetero-Overlord Mary Brown, and told she must accept her sexuality so she can begin to overcome it. From then on much merriment at the expense of heteronormative parodying ensues: Megan meets her fellow recovering homosexuals—including the blithe Melanie Lynskey (and heavens knows I adore Kate Winslet, but I can’t help but feel a twinge of anguish that Lynskey’s career didn’t flourish as brilliantly as Winslet’s post-Heavenly Creatures)—goes through a series of absurd therapy treatments, including Edenic-Behavioral 101; and falls in love with Graham, played by the utterly incomparable Clea DuVall. Without delving much deeper into a plot analysis, let’s just say the film has the gayest of all endings. Think Cinderella in the back of a pickup-truck.

But to fully appreciate why this film is the most important piece of queer cinema for me, it’s necessary to ponder for a moment its Sontag-ian merit. That’s right, Susan Sontag, or S-Squared as nobody calls her. Even typing it I acknowledge how flimsily pretentious it seems to throw her name around–it’s like the fledgling English major who arbitrarily wedges Nietzche into every conversation, or that one guy who insists on wearing tweed and skulks in the shadows of your dinner party only to utter things like “You don’t know jazz. You can’t until you listen to Captain Beefheart. He teaches you to HEAR sound.” But Sontag, a stellar emblem of queer genius, and the extrapolations she makes on the aesthetic of “camp” are particularly fitting when unpacking Cheerleader and why, to this day, it still holds such a prized place in my heart. Sontag was a woman who had her fingers in many pies (which is not necessarily meant to be innuendo, but in her case the tawdry joke is also applicable), and her theories like that on the role of modern photography on cultural memory solidify her as one of the preeminent minds of the 20th century. She also had a longtime romance with Annie Leibovitz. And she had an affinity for bear suits.

But her groundbreaking insights on the style of camp, (a fully fleshed out adumbration of which can be found here) are most manifest in Cheerleader. A sensibility that is dependent on the grandiose, on double-entendres, and on the flamboyant satire of normalcy, camp is a rampant in Cheerleader. RuPaul teaches outdated masculinity adorned in the skimpiest shorts imaginable (and rightfully so, with those sensational gams); Cathy Moriarity barks, in one of the film’s many remarkably self-reflexive moments, “You don’t want to be a Raging Bull Dike!”; Megan woos Graham with a saccharine cheer at the mock hetero-graduation. Furthermore, the film’s style and wardrobe was inspired by John Waters, the reigning Emperor of camp and anemic mustaches. But what left such an indelible mark on me was the film’s campiness and the world of artifice it created that gave me a safe space to explore my identity. Certainly, it was ludicrous at the moment. But often times the preposterousness of it made it much more provocative to me. Moreover, the films tinkering with style and double meanings lit a spark in my fourteen-year-old cinema-phile self that led to my passion for film criticism, for the Mulvey’s and Sontag’s of the world that could offer me a deeper appreciation of cinema, and most critically, ignited the feminist fervor in me that has served me so well to this day.

But attesting to the notion of safe-space, outside of the film’s beloved campiness, But I’m a Cheerleader is my unrivaled top piece of queer cinema because it was the first film I felt secure watching, enjoying and acknowledging images of sexuality that I had previously abnegated. My existence up until that point had been one of self-imposed exile in a very dismal, skeleton littered closet, in which I, like Megan, vehemently denied the glimmers of “alternative attractions” that flittered (and by flittered I mean stampeded) across my mind daily. I firmly believed that if I were to witness any acts of same-sex canoodling or affection, I would instantly be emblazoned with some Scarlet-Letter-esque marker, so that all my peers would know I’D SEEN THE GAY AND NOW I WAS ONE OF THEM (fear not, I’ve evolved). The closest I came to queer cinema prior to Cheerleader was when I superimposed my own ideations on particular scenes in the film Nell in a hotel room in Florida, only to have to flee said hotel due to a hurricane besieging the coast. I thought the elements were literally chasing the queerness out of me. But then I mustered up my courage and watched But I’m a Cheerleader. And then I watched it again. And again. And so on. And so forth. And I had the epiphany that I was not meant to be punished for queerness, and that there was a place, even if I felt my feelings to be ineffable, where I could watch and develop my own sensibilities without the fear of judgment that I so often quaked in the shadow of. I give Cheerleader absolute credit for this. So, sure, it’s brash and occasionally tacky. Sure, the soundtrack has the insufferable whine of so many 90s queer-cinema-compilations. But it’s got moxie and balls (neon, tightly-clad balls). And it gave me the queer sanctuary I so desperately needed at fourteen.

And if nothing else, YOU GET RUPAUL.

———-

Eva Phillips may or may not be the unapologetic leader of the Milla Jovovich Adoration Army. When she is not studying every one of Madam Jovovich’s films, she is earning her degree in English at the University of Virginia. With an affinity for film, obsessive alphabetizing, and listening to infomercials for possible auguries of the impending apocalypse, she also cherishes writing poetry and convincing everyone of the merits of rescuing physically handicapped felines (of which she’s adopted several). She is not ambidextrous and is damn bitter about that, too.

LGBTQI Week: The Kids Are Terrible, The Sex Is Worse

(Pour me another … this is going to be a long night.)

This is a guest review by Nino Testa. When The Kids Are All Right came out in 2010, it was widely considered one of the best films of the year. (I happen to think the movie kind of sucked, but there is no accounting for taste.) The film was written and directed by Lisa Cholodenko, who is best known for her 1998 film High Art, perhaps giving Kids queer cred in LGBT and straight circles. Kids tells the story of two queer mothers, Jules and Nic (played by Julianne Moore and Annette Bening respectively), whose annoying teenage children initiate contact with the donor whose sperm was used to impregnate each of the women. The mothers begrudgingly allow the contact, and in the middle of the movie Jules begins an affair with the sperm donor, played by the calm, cool and scruffy Mark Ruffalo. The emotional crux of the narrative revolves around Nic’s discovery of the affair, her subsequent emotional breakdown and the restoration of family tranquility as Nic decides to salvage her marriage despite Jules’ infidelity. Also: this is supposedly a comedy.

The film wasn’t just lauded as a cinematic achievement, it was also celebrated as a “positive” and “honest” representation of quotidian lesbian life in an age where gay marriage dominates any discussion of LGBT people. In addition to multiple Academy Award nominations—for acting, writing, and best picture, but not, interestingly enough, best director—the film has 93% positive reviews on rottentomatoes, so pretty much everyone who gets to decide that movies are good told us that this one was worthy of our time. Many of the reviews focus on the film’s supposedly groundbreaking “realistic” depiction of lesbians (I guess these people have never seen The Hunger.) Eric Snider from film.com refers to the characters as “realistically portrayed.” A.O. Scott from the New York Times writes: “The performances are all close to perfect, which is to say that the imperfections of each character are precisely measured and honestly presented.” Tom Long of the Detroit News called it “one of the year’s most honest and endearing films.” (“Honest” is the key word in all of these reviews. We might want to think about what it means to call a work of fiction “honest.” To say that it is “honest” means that it confirms, in some way, our worldview; it proves something we think to be true.) And then there is this gem from The Wall Street Journal, which really sums up the self-congratulatory, progressive reviews of this film: “The basic joke here, and it’s a rich one, is that the dynamics of gay marriages differ little from those of straight marriages.” This is, of course, the ultimate compliment that the mainstream press can make about queer people—that they are just like straight people. Judging from the film, what seems to be at stake is whether or not gay married couples can be as unhappy and passive aggressive as straight married couples, thus making them more deserving of legal protections.

In a Shewired.com article by Kathy Wolfe, the founder of Wolfe, the world’s largest exclusive distributor of lesbian and gay movies, Wolfe sings the film’s praises for its place in lesbian film history, calling it, without a shred of irony, “The Lesbian Brokeback Mountain”:

For a variety of reasons, The Kids Are All Right will be the most widely distributed lesbian-themed mainstream movie in history. Like that beloved yet sad gay cowboy movie, it has major stars in the gay roles: Julianne Moore and Annette Bening as lesbian moms. This ensures that the film will reach a wide audience. Most exciting of all — with its entertaining yet ultimately politically powerful message of putting a lesbian family front and center — the film will open hearts and minds very much like Brokeback did on its theatrical release.

Let’s read that statement again: “the politically powerful message of putting a lesbian family front and center.” What makes the film a positive political intervention, for Wolfe, is that lesbians exist as subjects, never mind the content of the film. Wolfe goes on to discuss “how far we’ve come” in the representation of lesbians in cinema and express her gratitude for the wide release of this film—suggesting that the sheer existence of LGBT-themed films by LGBT people (Cholodenko is queer-identified) is an unquestionably good thing for LGBT people, no matter what the films are about.

OK—so that’s the story about the film. Now, what of the film itself?

Let’s start with perhaps the most memorable scene in the movie, which finds Jules and Nic trying to make whoopee, but unable to get into the groove. They call in the big guns, as it were, and pop in some outdated gay male porn to get their juices flowing. Nic watches the porn while Jules—completely covered by bedding, because, you know, why would anyone want to see themselves having sex with Julianne Moore? So much for realism—takes care of business. Their annoying son catches them in the act and has a few questions about their choice of aphrodisiac. The entire sexual encounter has been a letdown from the get-go, but the interruption by the annoying son ensures that nobody will be getting off tonight. In one of the film’s funniest scenes, Jules comments on the “realism” of lesbian pornography, suggesting that it isn’t erotic because the women in the film aren’t lesbians, which is, I’m assuming, a kind of joke about the film we are watching, in which two A-list straight actors are playing gay. What is so interesting about that joke is that it complicates the film’s own politics of representation (as articulated by Wolfe): Jules’ comment debunks the myth that any representation of queerness is as satisfying (sexually or otherwise) as any other.

(Headache? Great. I hate having sex with women.)

Contrast this underwhelming sex scene with the two opposite-sex sex scenes in the film. At the risk of generalizing and making normative claims about what constitutes good sex, both of the opposite-sex sex scenes—one with the Hulk and Julianne Moore, the other with the Hulk and Yaya DaCosta—are, objectively speaking, super f’ing hot. I mean, they are legit sex scenes. People are naked. People are getting off. Bodies are touching. There are noises. And rhythms. When Mark Ruffalo has sex with women, it is sweaty, passionate, multi-positioned, ass-baring, the-hills-are-alive-with-the-sound-of-heterosexuality sex; when Jules and Nic have sex, it is sad, lifeless, awkward and unsatisfying for literally everyone involved. It is unsatisfying for the women, who have a grin-and-bear it look on their faces; it is unsatisfying for the audience if they came to see cunnilingus so realistic that it would make them regret going to see the film with their parents (luckily Black Swan also came out in 2010); and it is unsatisfying for the women’s children, for whom their moms’ sexuality is a perpetual source of embarrassment: their porn, their toys, their PDA all elicit disgust from their children. And not just the typical “Ew gross my parents have sex” response, but legitimate mortification that the movie suggests feeds the children’s desire to meet their sperm donor. Their parents, according to the narrative, just aren’t enough for them—and they certainly aren’t enough for each other.

(Lesbian heartthrob, Mark Ruffalo.)

The contrast is, of course, the point. Jules and Nic are in a marriage-funk—Lesbian Bed Death and all that—thus Jules’s decision to look for new sexual thrills. I don’t think there is anything wrong with showing an unsuccessful or disappointing sexual encounter between queer women. I don’t think there is anything wrong with the fact that in a movie about queer women, the women need gay male porn to get off, or even that they desire and engage in sex with men, something to which some LGBT blogs and writers took exception (“girl, do you” pretty much sums up my philosophy on consensual sexual activity in movies or real life). But it does give one pause that a movie ostensibly about lesbians cannot imagine the possibility of satisfying sex between women, even as opposite-sex sex is portrayed as reliably orgasmic (newsflash: it ain’t). This film, which is being called the “the Lesbian Brokeback,” is organized almost entirely around the rise and fall of Mark Ruffalo’s penis. The narrative is phallocentric in much the same way as pornography featuring a male-female-female threesome (or any hetero-aimed porno) is phallocentric: the man’s penis is depicted as the most satisfying sexual toy, the most direct line to women’s pleasure. Sure, women can do some stuff to each other…but it’s basically foreplay, if it amounts to anything at all.

Further proof of the film’s phallocentrism comes from a quick search on IMDB where the plot key words listed for this film are:

Sperm | Sperm Donor | Biological Father | College | Restaurant

There is no mention of lesbians, motherhood, marital problems, or women at all. The fact that Mark Ruffalo’s character owns a goddamn restaurant seems to have more relevance than the fact that this is a movie about queer women. Moreover, the title of the film, which is the name of a Who song, emphasizes the well-being of the children—(See, gay moms can produce annoying, maladjusted and ungrateful teens, just like you!)—and deemphasizes the women who are supposedly kept “front and center.” For a movie that is being called a crowning achievement of lesbian cinema, lesbianism always seems to be not quite the point.

(They are the worst.)

Now, a movie about lesbian moms and the grown children who resulted from their insemination could, one would imagine, take on many forms. What we should be asking is: why this form? Why this story, and why this story as the one that we elevate to an enshrined place in lesbian cinema (It made the top 30 on an IMDB list of the “Best Lesbian Movies”). When critics call the depiction of lesbians “honest” what worldview has the film confirmed for them? It seems to me to confirm the lesson espoused by another “classic lesbian-themed” film, Chasing Amy—that all lesbians really want, all they really need, is sex with men. And none of this would bother me nearly as much if people didn’t talk about movies like this as “changing hearts and minds” and battling homophobia. It’s Glee-syndrome. If everyone involved in the movie—including the critics who reviewed it and the audiences who raved about it—weren’t so self-congratulatory, you might just be able to experience this as the mediocre film it is and relish in Annette Bening’s mastery of awkward tipsy dinner conversation.

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Nino Testa is a doctoral candidate in English at Tufts University, in Medford, Massachusetts. He also works at the Tufts Women’s Center and LGBT Center.

LGBTQI Week: Everything You Need to Know About Space: 10 Reasons to Watch (and Love!) ‘Imagine Me & You’

Movie poster for Imagine Me & You (2005), directed by Ol Parker

This is a guest review by Marcia Herring.

I was still a baby queer in 2005 when Imagine Me & You hit theaters in limited release. I’m sure I had recently watched Lost and Delirious, as baby queers do, and was traumatized by it, as baby queers are, but that didn’t deter me from wanting to see the star, a faux-British Piper Perabo in what looked like the cutest movie ever. I remember watching and re-watching the trailer and flailing around like Agnes in Despicable Me: SO FLUFFY I’M GONNA DIE.

It never came to the sleepy little town where I went to college, at least not on the big screen. But when I got my hands on a DVD copy, I wore that sucker out. I swooned over it in my dorm room. I screened it for the GSA. I made all my friends watch. I left it playing on repeat while I cleaned, crafted, or did homework. I still do.

Directed by Ol Parker, Imagine Me & You is a relatively by-the-book romantic comedy. It starts with a wedding, where lovely Rachel (Piper Perabo) has pre-ceremony jitters, but they’re nothing a bit of pomp and circumstance and a quick pee at McDonald’s can’t cure. Her husband-to-be is picture-perfect Heck (Matthew Goode) who is shy, stuck in a job he hates, and willing to let Rachel take the lead on just about everything. The other shoe is left dangling after the vows are vowed and Rachel meets wedding florist Luce (Lena Headey) who rescues her from a minor predicament involving the ring and a bowl of punch. As Rachel attempts to navigate married life, she keeps returning to Luce and that puzzling little detail called attraction. There. The other shoe. It goes as romantic comedies do, building to the emotional climax where after all loose ends are neatly tied with a bow. There aren’t a lot of layers to unravel, images to deconstruct, and on an objective scale, it might not be the most unique or dazzling piece of film-making. But I’m not ashamed to feature it on my movie shelf no matter how you might feel about romantic comedies, and here’s why.

Note: the following contains links to TVTropes.com (a black hole time suck), spoilers for Imagine Me & You, and spoilers for several other gay-spectrum movies & television, including…. A Single Man, Bend It Like Beckham, But I’m a Cheerleader!, Friends, Kissing Jessica Stein, Lost and Delirious, Notes on a Scandal, Sunshine Cleaning, and Whip It.

They’re just friends. Very cuddly friends.

10 – Marriage Isn’t Happily Ever After

The film realistically introduces the idea that not all women who marry men 1) stay married to them, 2) stay heterosexually identified, and 3) are happy in those marriages. I recently showed the film to a married lesbian couple, one of which had previously been in a relationship with a man. She told me it was refreshing to see that, to see her story reflected on screen. In addition to questioning her sexuality, Rachel also struggles with the expectations of her mother, and then her husband to procreate. Coop brings up the question of whether sex is better after marriage, under the expectation that it continues.

The fact is that real marriage, whether or not one of the parties involved is questioning their sexual orientation, has problems. Through Luce’s profession, we see several people, including Heck, use flowers as a kind of healing balm for the myriad troubles of life. But as Heck discovers, if something actually is wrong, flowers won’t do a damn thing.

9 – It’s Funny!

Oh, Coop. What a sad figure of arrested development. He’s played for laughs as he continues flirting with a known lesbian who, we know, will never give in to his insisting that he’s great in bed. Perhaps he even grows up a little by the end, realizing that getting involved with married folks isn’t as cut and dry as he hypothesized.

There’s Zoey, too, Luce’s sassy gay friend, there to encourage Luce to get out there and date and to point out the sexual tension between Luce and “Barbie-heterosexual” Rachel. As if we didn’t know already.

8 – Lesbian Panic

It’s nice to see a realistic example of this very real phase. After all, Rachel can’t be gay! She just got married to a man! But her denial doesn’t run so very deep (But I’m a Cheerleader!, anyone?) that she isn’t willing to at least entertain the idea. In Imagine Me & You, lesbianism isn’t treated like some disease (Friends) to distance one’s self from. Instead, Rachel tentatively examines the possibility that she might have an attraction that she had previously ignored. She even uses research – very reasonable indeed!

Of course, that doesn’t stop the panic by 20th Century Fox, which cites the same-sex romance as “shocking” on the DVD blurb.*

7 – “Older” people have sex and relationships!

While we might linger in the No Older Gays trope, the film does an excellent job of showcasing “older” romance and the stigmas that come with it. The marriage between Ned and Tessa has grown cold after the birth of their younger, “surprise” daughter. She tends toward verbal abuse and he’s, well, less than exciting. Luce’s mother Ella is on the other side of the spectrum. Depressed either because of or despite being left by Luce’s father some years ago, she expresses interest in finding a life of her own, and a frustration that it should be expected to fit into a certain box of activities appropriate for a woman her age. A “shocking” revelation comes early on – these older characters have and desire sex! – and any discomfort with the idea fades as the humanity of the characters shines through whatever preconceived notions of what a relationship should be.

6 – Lesbians Are People, Too!

While Imagine Me & You doesn’t do much to challenge the way viewers accept how women look (this, I think, isn’t the story to drive home a point about butch presentation or androgyny), it also avoids coding either female lead as lesbian. When we first meet Luce, she comes across as somewhat non-sexual. Her look is shaggy-casual, but she works as a florist!

The film also comfortably side-steps gender roles with Rachel and Heck. Rachel has a professional writing job. Heck, currently working in finance, longs to be a travel writer. Rachel is the one who cheats. Heck is the one who has an emotional breakdown. (And more about Heck in #4.)

It isn’t easy to identify Rachel or Luce as butch/femme, or even as the “man” or “woman” in the relationship.

5 – Not the End of the World

There is absolutely a time and a place for films and media that explore the times when It Doesn’t Get Better; sometimes it’s nice to see a film where coming out isn’t the end of the world. Part of the reason this works in Imagine Me & You is the relationships built between characters. I’ve been told I’m not supposed to use the Bechdel Test when dealing with lesbian movies (hah!) but I think it’s important to point out that there are several scenes between women in the film, not discussing men or the love interest – regardless of gender. The strength of cross-generation connections is one of the highlights of the film, for me. Luce has a wonderful, nuanced, and open relationship with her mother that is a delight to see on screen. This sort of story can offer hope, amusement, escapism and a relatively non-threatening introduction to lesbians for the uninitiated (in fact, I plan on showing the film to my romantic comedy-loving mom).

Of course, the film could also be accused of over-simplifying things. Rachel makes the jump to coming out as gay both quickly and without contemplating the bisexual label (which might make more sense here). But then again, Rachel doesn’t shy from coming out, neatly avoiding the assumption that she might only be gay for Luce.

4 – The Dude Is Not a Douche

While there are times when Heck’s actions and motivations slip dangerously close to that of the Nice Guy(TM), he consistently knows better and when he is behaving like an ass, he takes steps to correct it. After all, Heck is the kind of guy who dances with kids at his wedding, who stands up to his “arse” of a boss, who seems happiest when his wife is taking charge, and who — in a moment I know I connected with — is afraid to ask Rachel if something is wrong because, what if it is?

The suggestion is there, if you look for it, that the hetero-romantic comedy wedding finale isn’t the happily ever after those films would have you believe.

3 – The Stars

Taking a moment to be shallow if I may: Imagine Me & You is a really pretty film. The direction is simple, but filled with clear lines and sharp colors. And the stars aren’t bad to look at either. The supporting cast features British staple Celia Imrie (random fact: she played the first female fighter pilot in a Star Wars film!) and familiar face Anthony Head (Giles on Buffy the Vampire Slayer). Matthew Goode, who plays Heck, is no stranger to gay film, having played the dead boyfriend in A Single Man, and the not-naked dude in Watchmen (:cough:).

Then there are the leads. Piper Perabo (Coyote Ugly, Lost and Delirious, Covert Affairs) and Lena Headey (Game of Thrones, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles). Maybe it’s just me, but those acting credits speak for themselves.

2 & 1 – NO ONE DIES, ATTEMPTS MURDER OR SUICIDE, OR IS THREATENED OR THREATENING

So yeah. There’s that.

If you haven’t seen Imagine Me & You, you really should. It never fails to leave me with a smile on my face, and no one I’ve ever shown it to has hated it. That’s not a bad batting average.

*I took a quick look at the other films 20th Century Fox imprint Fox Searchlight has to offer and found what might be a coincidence, but also looks a little suspicious. Of the women-centric/lesbian-oriented films under the Fox Searchlight banner, almost all were problematic:

Sunshine Cleaning‘s lesbian scene fell victim to the cutting-room floor
Whip It‘s Ari Graynor cited difficulties in getting roller derby’s queer culture on screen
Notes on a Scandal features a psycho lesbian
Bend It Like Beckham was originally written as a lesbian romance
and feelings about Kissing Jessica Stein range from delight to horror

This is hardly definitive research, but it makes me think harder about Imagine Me & You‘s final scenes. The implication is that Coop and Heck both have sexual happy endings (a child, an in-flight romance) while Rachel and Luce don’t even get to finish the movie with a kiss.

The film is also rated R by the MPAA, something I question because two “fucks,” a few “arses,” and zero nudity hardly adds up to something I wouldn’t allow a 17 year old to see. Even with some sexual discussion and two — count ’em, two — lesbian kisses!

———-

Marcia Herring is a writer from Missouri. She is still working on her graduate degree, but swears to have it done someday. She spends most of her time watching television and movies and wishes she could listen to music and read while doing so without going insane. She previously contributed an analysis of Degrassi, Teens, and Rape Apologism and a piece for the Best Picture Nominee Series on Atonement, and a review of X-Men First Class.

LGBTQI Week: Short Film: Tech Support

This piece by Editor and Co-Founder Amber Leab previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on April 28, 2011.

Tech Support is a short film written and produced by Jenny Hagel. The film has won several awards–including Best Lesbian Short at the Hamburg International Queer Film Festival (Germany), the Audience Award at the Pittsburgh International Lesbian and Gay Film Festival, and Best Short Film at the Fresno Reel Pride LGBT Film Festival–and has been an official selection at 16 film festivals.

Watch Tech Support:

Be sure to also check out Hagel’s very funny Feminist Rapper series: A Lady Made That, Real Ladies Fight Back, and This Is What A Feminist Looks Like.

LGBTQI Week: Transamerica

This is a guest review by Stephen Ira.

“I got a phone call last night from a juvenile inmate of the New York prison system. He claimed to be Stanley’s son,” the trans woman explains, trying her best to articulate herself to her therapist. It’s hard to talk about her life in her assigned gender, because it was such a painful and traumatic time, and it’s doubly hard to articulate herself to her cis therapist, practitioner of a profession that’s been pathologizing trans experiences as long as it’s been talking about them.

“No third person,” says the cis therapist paternally, jumping to her role, which is of course to moderate the way that the trans woman experiences her gendered self.

“My son,” the trans woman agrees, because she is a good trans woman, one which the audience is supposed to respect and admire, except wait–isn’t that Felicity Huffman, who is totally not a trans woman at all? Psyche! You’re watching Transamerica, and director Duncan “wow, trans women really don’t look like Daniel Day Lewis in a dress?!?” Tucker is about to teach all you trans women in the audience how you need to behave in order to become a real woman!

Cissexist ideas are built into the structure of Transamerica. I’ve criticized the trope of the “journey” before in cis narratives of trans lives–cis people love to tell us about our trans “journey.” They love asking how it’s going, telling us how much they support us in it, that whole party line. Now, this movie is literally about a woman going on a cross country road trip so that she can get bottom surgery–and thus, within the film’s cissexist logic, become a “real woman.” She has to do this because she’s got a kid from an affair back when she was still presenting as male, and in order to satisfy her therapist that she’s ready to get surgery, she needs to deposit this kid on the West Coast.

You don’t really have to watch this movie to know it’s going to be a real winner. Just read an interview with the director, then imagine what kind of movie a guy like this would make about a trans woman. He pulls out gems like, “I did a lot of research on transgender women, and most of them don’t look like guys in dresses.” Better yet, that quote is a response to a common query: why on earth cast Felicity Huffman? After all, Calpernia Addams appears in a brief scene, along with a couple of other transgender actresses. Why not cast Calpernia? It’s a mystery. Tucker puts forth that he did his “due diligence” upon discovering that there were “a couple transgender actresses in Hollywood”–what a shock. He also insists that the “couple of transgender actresses” he found “were closeted.” Considering that out transgender actress Calpernia Addams is clearly out, transgender, and in fact in his movie, the mind of Duncan Tucker is simply not to be understood. I will not try. Instead, let’s talk about the real reason Felicity Huffman plays this role.

Tucker says he was looking for “someone who could do stealth–not someone who was going to look like a guy in a dress. . .someone you look at and say, ‘She could be a woman.'” In the context of his casting choice, this quote becomes a kind of post-structuralist gender theory slapstick. Tucker cast a woman, because he was looking for someone who looked like they could be a woman? De Beauvoir called. She wants her famous quotation back. He cast a cis woman specifically, because clearly in this logic, trans women don’t look like they could be women. Or they’re in such deep stealth that they would never want to play a trans woman. The fact that both of these possibilities are disproved by the presence of Calpernia Addams in the film again seems to bother Tucker not at all–after all, he needn’t pay attention to the trans bodies already in the world when he has trans bodies of his own to construct.

Huffman was cast so that Tucker could make her into the transsexual he wanted. He needed a woman, because he is telling a heartwarming story about how Bree–the trans character–turns out to be really a woman after all. Paradoxically, Tucker needs a cis woman, because cis women are the only valid women, to play a trans woman in a movie in which trans women are proved to be valid women. In a story where we’re accepted, our bodies can’t be seen. Only a false version of a transsexual can be accepted, a parody. Tucker’s poisonous brand of “acceptance” cancels our bodies out.

Before Huffman can look plausibly trans, she has to be uglified, and that uglification interests me. The trouble with casting an actual trans person is that we don’t necessarily look like what Tucker has decided he needs a transsexual to look like, but a cis person–Tucker can make her look as hideous as he likes, all in the name of realism! When Transamerica came out in 2005, you may remember how much of the press revolved around the character’s ugliness. Felicity Huffman laughed about how deprecating it was to have to wear all that ugly makeup in interview after interview. In character, she’s caked with goop designed to make her look “trans,” a word which here means, “a little bit manly and a lot aesthetically unpleasant.” In the best example of the film’s “Come See Our Movie About a Hideous Transsexual” school of publicity, the US DVD cover is holographic: tilt it one way, and you have Huffman looking red carpet ready, but tilt it the other and you have her as she appears in the film, frumpy and square-jawed. (Memo for your edification: trans women are frumpy. Duncan Tucker told me.)

DVD cover for Transamerica

This gimmick mystifies me–what’s it trying to say? That at the beginning of the movie Bree looks one way, but at the end she transforms from an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan? Because she doesn’t. At the film’s end, she looks more or less the same, which in itself contradicts the rest of the film’s logic. According to the cis concept of how surgery works, one is not a real woman before and is a real woman afterward. Transamerica supports this narrative in which a trans woman goes under the knife and comes out a different person–Bree’s whole raison d’être is obtaining surgery, and at one point she actually says, and I quote, “Jesus made me this way so I could suffer and be reborn the way he wanted me.”

Sure, at that point she’s pretending to be a missionary, which she really isn’t–this movie’s plot is just as much a gem of shit as the rest of it–but Huffman acts so goddamn much in the scene that we’re clearly supposed to assign a measure of emotional reality to the moment. But after her surgery, there Bree is, looking the same, and not reborn at all, because the film also has to fulfill the cissexist belief that trans people are irretrievably trans, irretrievably ugly, even if we don’t look like Daniel Day Lewis in a dress. The Daniel Day Lewis in a dress comparison, by the way, is an actual Tucker original.

There’s only one major difference between Bree pre-surgery and Bree post-surgery, actually: now she’s fit for the public cis eye. We see Bree at work at the beginning of the film in back of a restaurant washing dishes, and by the end, she’s moved up to waitressing. She even talks to some people! Which is a relief, because it’s established early on that Bree’s only connection with humankind is that horrible cis therapist I mentioned before. Where are that woman’s ethics, anyway? When did it become proper practice to require a trans woman to take her son on a road trip before you write her a surgery letter? I don’t know; I wish I could say I found this part of the movie implausible, but cis people, you never know. The point is that before her surgery, Bree is too hideous to go out in public and make connections, but at least bottom surgery changes that. THANK GOD.

As trans women invariably are when they aren’t fetishized, Bree is desexualized. In the whole film, we see her flirt once, schoolgirlishly–which is fitting with the style of dress the filmmaker has given her. Said style entails a wardrobe like a sixteen-year-old Mennonite who has just left the church and discovered the color lavender, and is milking her newfound glory for all it’s worth. I have never seen a trans woman who dresses like this. I have never seen a cis woman who dresses like this. According to an interview with Huffman, it’s because Bree orders her clothes from catalogues rather than buying them in shops, because as we all know trans women are unable to buy clothes in public? I’m joking–obviously this is an issue trans women face, but I have yet to meet one who dealt with it by dressing like a cross between a nun and the original 1950s Barbies. By the way, it’s heavily implied that she’ll be able to go back to the man she flirts with after surgery and have a Real Relationship at last. This is because if trans people attempt to have a romantic relationship without getting bottom surgery, we combust.

You know Julia Serano’s seminal trans feminist text, Whipping Girl? You know those machines from cartoons where they’d put the good guy in and the evil version of him would come out? Transamerica is what you get when you put Whipping Girl into one of those machines. In her book, Serano talks about the scenes in media featuring trans women where the trans women put on makeup, clothes, breast forms, and how those scenes exist to remind cis people that trans women are not “real.” Well, Transamerica fulfills its Trans Woman Putting on Lipstick Quota within the first twenty minutes, so you know this is a quality production.

Seriously, this is one of the most misogynistic films I have ever seen: over and over, we see Bree reduced to her body. And what can be more misogynistic than a woman reduced to her body? At one point we even see how damn irrational that womanly estrogen is making her! It’s spotlit in the dialogue, so you can be sure. I’m not sure if all the readers here have encountered the word transmisogyny before, but it is vital vocabulary, and it’s exactly what this movie is riddled with. Transmisogyny is misogyny that’s directed towards trans women, specifically predicated upon their trans status. Trans women experience garden variety misogyny as well, but transmisogyny is specific. When we decide that a woman has to have a certain type of genitalia in order to be acceptable for public view and human relationships, that’s transmisogyny. When we decide that trans women have to enact 50s Mennonite Barbie gender roles in order to look like women, that’s transmisogyny. When we support transmisogyny, we support misogyny; transphobia is a tool of patriarchy. Gee, it sure is nice up here on this soapbox–I’ll just recommend some blogs that get this on the nose and carry on talking about the movie.

At some point in the movie, there is a plot. It seems to involve a mother/son relationship. Kevin Zegers does a good job as the gigolo son, presumably by spending the entire shoot pretending that he’s playing a disaffected hustler in My Own Private Idaho and not this disaster. Kevin Zegers is also SUPER hot, and his beauty combined with his performance makes him the best part of the movie except for Dolly Parton’s theme tune, “Travellin’ Thru,” which is a song by Dolly Parton and thus flawless by nature.

I do not recommend this film. If you feel you must consume it in some capacity, may I suggest distilling the essential elements of the experience? Call up the most transmisogynistic person you know and have them talk to you about what they think bottom surgery signifies. While they talk, look at pictures of Kevin Zegers looking wounded and hot, and listen to “Travellin’ Thru” in one headphone. All of the Transamerica with none of the hassle!

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Stephen Ira is a trans femme-inist poet and activist. He has poems forthcoming in EOAGH and Specter Magazine and short fiction forthcoming in The Collection from Topside Press. He blogs about politics at Super Mattachine on WordPress.

LGBTQI Week: The Kids Are All Right

Movie poster for The Kids Are All Right

This review by Staff Writer Megan Kearns previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on February 21, 2011.

I was so excited to see The Kids Are All Right. I mean a film with not one, but two amazing female leads as well as a family headed by lesbian parents?? The feminist in me says sign me up! While it exuded potential, I wasn’t so excited after watching the film.

The Kids Are All Right, directed and co-written by Lisa Cholodenko (Laurel Canyon, High Art) centers on Annette Bening (Nic) and Julianne Moore (Jules), a loving married lesbian couple in California who are parents to daughter Joni and son Laser. Joni is a brilliant student about to embark on college; Laser is a confused teen experimenting with drugs and yearning for a male role model. Laser begs Joni, as she’s 18, to contact their “father,” as both their mothers underwent artificial insemination, Mark Ruffalo (Paul) who happens to be the sperm donor for both kids. When Joni and Laser meet Paul, they’re reticent to tell their mothers. Yet they eventually do all meet. While Jules and Joni are pleased to connect with him, Laser feels ambivalence towards him and Nic worries Paul’s arrival will drive a wedge between her and her family. Complications ensue as Paul becomes ever more entwined in each of their lives.

This slow-paced, meandering film possesses some positive traits. The performances, particularly by Bening and Ruffalo, are where the film shines. Bening radiates as the rigid and controlling career woman who feels her world spinning out of control. There’s a beautiful scene, one of my faves in the film, in which the background sounds of a dinner party fade to a muffled din as she sits, alone in her pain. Bening perfectly conveys Nic’s frustrations and emotions. Moore, whom I adore for her chameleon ability to seamlessly meld into a character (except her horrendous Boston accent on 30 Rock), while far from her best performance, does a great job as the flighty free spirit who’s never truly found her calling in life. Josh Hutcherson who plays Laser is annoying; although teens often are so perhaps he does succeed! Mia Wasikowska as Joni gives a solid performance as the teen yearning for freedom. Ruffalo is fantastic as Paul, the well-intentioned yet fuck-up hipster. He’s a pathetic character yet oozes charm in every scene, as he strives to find a meaningful connection. But it’s Nic and Jules’ tender yet struggling relationship, that elicits the most fascination. With its mix of bickering and affection, it feels so real. Just as any couple has problems, so do they. Jules feels she’s not desired anymore and Nic feels her family slipping through her grasp.

The dialogue is sharp and witty yet problematic. For what I had hoped would be a feminist film, the script was littered with assloads of slut-shaming, whore-calling and homophobic F-word dropping. And while these terms do get tossed around in our society, no repercussions or backlash existed in the film; as if no social commentary was being made. Granted, not every film has to make some grandiose statement. Yet I expected better here, particularly as it was directed and co-written by a woman. Luckily, it does pass the Bechdel Test as Nic and Jules often talk to each other about their marriage or about their children.

Despite the great performances and (mostly) great dialogue, the film was mired with too many problems…particularly its plot. If you’ve seen The Kids Are All Right or read about it, you probably know what I’m talking about: the affair. One of the women enters into an affair…with Paul. Yep, a lesbian has an affair with a man. But not just any man…her sperm donor!

As someone who doesn’t consider themselves straight (but not a lesbian either), I truly believe in the fluidity of gender and sexuality. I don’t believe in gender binaries, so I don’t feel that a self-professed lesbian sleeping with a man means she’s either/or: either a lesbian or straight. Nor do I think it necessarily makes her bisexual. But why oh christ why did a man have to be involved?? As it is, according to the Women’s Media Center, men comprise more than 70% of the speaking roles in films. And while we’re starting to see gay men and couples in films and on TV shows, it’s even rarer to see lesbians (as well as bisexual and transgender).

So it pissed me off that a lesbian couple, shown with so much tenderness and depth, had to have their lives invaded by a man. Even the porn film Nic and Jules watch during a sex scene is of two gay men. It’s almost as if Cholodenko is saying all women crave a penis! Perhaps I wouldn’t be so hard on the film if there were more movies made about lesbians. But as this is one of the few films to show a lesbian marriage, I worry that people will judge lesbian relationships based on how they’re depicted here.

Inspiration for the film came loosely from Cholodenko’s life, who came out as a lesbian when she was 16 years old. As an adult, many of her lesbian friends were having babies via sperm donors. When Cholodenko and her wife decided to have a baby, they too sought a sperm donor. Interestingly, co-writer Stuart Blumberg happened to donate sperm in college. These two circumstances coalesced, forming the foundation for the film. Cholodenko also infused the script with anecdotes from her own life, such as the “numb tongue” story of how Jules and Nic meet in the film.

Cholodenko told the LA Times,

“‘That Nic and Jules are a lesbian couple is important to the movie thematically because they are raising a family in an unconventional setting and are more anxious than some parents about how having two moms will affect the mental health of their children. But it could have been the same thing with a divorced couple,’ she says. ‘I always thought we were making a movie about a family, and the threat to the wholeness of the family. It was not about politics. If there was anything calculated, it was how do we make this movie universal — how do we make this a story about a family?'”

Critics have lauded the film for its transcendence from an LGBTQ family into a universal tale about modern families. And that’s one of the components I applaud; that Cholodenko’s message is not about a lesbian family, but of a family, period. Yet I can’t escape the feeling of unease, that critics glossing over the unique experiences and challenges that LGBTQ parents face feels like a slap in the face at worst and negligent at best.

While critics and many movie-goers loved The Kids Are All Right, the film infuriated many lesbians due to the affair. And I can’t blame them, it pissed me off too. Sheila Lambert at the Examiner writes,

“‘Lesbians love it when a married woman has an affair with another woman on film, which is perceived as moving toward authenticity, but we’re not happy seeing a woman in a same-sex marriage have an affair with a man, which to them represents a regression. And raises concerns about whether it adds fuel to the notion that sexual orientation can be changed from gay to straight. Sitting in the audience, I found myself feeling concerned about that as well…'”

Professor Joan Garry at Huffington Post was one of the lesbians angered by the film’s plot. She astutely argues,

“‘It boils down to this: I’m upset because I believe the takeaway from this film will be that lesbians and the families they create need men to be complete.'”

Our patriarchal society continually tells women that they need a man; that their lives aren’t whole or fulfilled without one. But they don’t. Despite the film’s misguided plot, the crux of the film resides in the strength of Nic and Jules’ relationship and their love for their kids. My fave scene and quote in the film is when Nic and Jules attempt to explain to their kids why families fight. Jules says,

“‘Your mom and I are in hell right now and the bottom line is marriage is hard. It’s really fucking hard. Just two people slogging through the shit, year after year, getting older, changing. It’s a fucking marathon, okay? So, sometimes, you know, you’re together for so long, that you just… You stop seeing the other person. You just see weird projections of your own junk. Instead of talking to each other, you go off the rails and act grubby and make stupid choices, which is what I did. And I feel sick about it because I love you guys, and your mom, and that’s the truth. And sometimes you hurt the ones you love the most, and I don’t know why. You know if I read more Russian novels, then…Anyway…I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what I did. I hope you’ll forgive me eventually…'”

Raw and real; it felt as if Annette Bening and Julianne Moore were a real couple fighting to hold onto their family. Usually, you see a film with two lesbians in an affair for men’s titillation, rarely to convey a loving, monogamous relationship. Nic and Jules share a flawed yet devoted marriage, evocative of relationships in real-life. There was simply no need to bring a man into the picture. I wish the film had retained its focus on the couple and their family. It’s such a rarity that we see films featuring lesbian couples let alone two female leads that I had high hopes for, expecting it to be empowering. Sadly, the undercurrent of misogynistic language and male-centrism taints Cholodenko’s potentially beautiful story.

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Megan Kearns is a Bitch Flicks Staff Writer. She’s a feminist vegan blogger and freelance writer living in Boston. Megan blogs at The Opinioness of the World, a feminist vegan site she founded in 2010 which focuses on gender equality and living cruelty-free. She writes about gender and media as a Regular Blogger at Fem2pt0, a site uniting social issues with women’s voices. Her work has also appeared at Arts & Opinion, Feministing’s Community Blog, Italianieuropei, Open Letters Monthly, A Safe World for Women and Women and Hollywood. She earned her B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology from UMass Amherst and a Graduate Certificate in Women and Politics and Public Policy from UMass Boston. You can follow all of Megan’s opinionated musings on Twitter at @OpinionessWorld.

LGBTQI Week: The Good, the Bad, and the Other in Lesbian RomComs

This is a guest post by Gwendolyn Beetham.

I have a confession: I love bad lesbian romantic comedies. I once had a summer where I watched little else, delighting in the bad hair, worse puns, and silly sex scenes.

Before I begin, I want to offer a point of clarification. When I say that I enjoy “bad” lesbian romantic comedies, I do so because the unfortunate truth is that there is little else (see here). But it is also true that, until we have a bigger pot to choose from, we can’t be too picky.

The bone I’d like to pick here is not regarding bad dialogue or unrealistic sex scenes, but with the depiction of race, religion, and culture in lesbian romcoms to date. And with that, another disclosure: I am not a film critic or scholar. What I am is a queer feminist academic (and self-disclosed lover of bad lesbian film). And what I’ve observed in lesbian romcoms is a noticeable pattern of “othering” when it comes to the acceptance of homosexuality.

There has been a lot of work in feminist and queer theory lately on the concept of “othering,” most prominently with the work on homonationalism, a concept first coined by Jaspir Puar. Without getting too academicy, the concept describes the way in which Western-based understandings of homosexual rights and acceptance are pitted against “other” cultures’ lack of rights/acceptance. It goes without saying that many of these countries themselves (the US is at the top of this list) do not extend full rights to the queer community. However, in positioning themselves against “others,” (white) Western cultures try to promote a more “liberal” and “democractic” showing of acceptance that proves that they are more “advanced” than “other” cultures. I think that this concept has great relevance for the way that lesbian films deal with race, class, religion, and culture.

Movie poster for Chutney Popcorn

The first example I’ll use to illustrate this phenomenon is the 1999 film Chutney Popcorn, set in New York, and centered around the Indian-American Reena and her white girlfriend Lisa. Although Reena’s sister is married to a white man, which their mother accepts, she “draws the line” at Reena’s lesbianism. Lisa’s mother is completely supportive – in a role almost as annoying in its supportiveness as Reena’s mother’s is in its disproval. The dualistic division of acceptance – white = accepting/brown = disproving – is clear.

In the hopes of gaining her mother’s acceptance, Reena offers to be the surrogate mother for her sister’s child. High jinx ensue. I won’t ruin the ending here (honestly it might be worth watching if you haven’t), but let’s just say that the more traditional characters in the film “evolve” towards the “right” way of thinking by the conclusion.

Shelley Conn as Nina and Laura Fraser as Lisa in Nina’s Heavenly Delights

Another example of the “othering” phenomenon is found in the 2006 Nina’s Heavenly Delights. While set in Glasgow instead of New York, Nina’s Heavenly Delights also features an Indian/white lesbian couple. Nina, the Scottish-Indian half of the couple, has returned to Glasgow from London, where she ran away to avoid an arranged marriage. She promptly falls for the white Scottish Lisa (apparently the name “Lisa” is code for white lesbian…), under the disapproving eyes of her family. Again, not to give away the ending, but you might guess that there is an “evolving” understanding of sexuality by the film’s end here as well.

The us/them othering and ethnic stereotyping in this film is all the more disappointing as it is directed and co-written by Pratibha Parmar. Parmar is a documentarian primarily known – in feminist circles at least! – for the 1993 film Warrior Marks, produced by and featuring Alice Walker. (If you haven’t seen that one, you should check it out as well – and watch for the cameo by Tracy Chapman, Walker’s partner at the time.)

The films Saving Face (2004)  and I Can’t Think Straight (2008; and, yes, that really is the title) also feature disapproval from “traditional” families – Chinese-American in Saving Face, and Jordanian and British-Indian in I Can’t Think Straight. Although the films do not feature white partners with which to contrast the lack of acceptance from their families, cultural stereotypes and the process of othering nevertheless abound in both films.

In offering this critique, I do not want to suggest that cultural, regional, religious, class, and racial nuances in understandings of sexuality do not exist, nor do I think that directors/writers should start to gloss over these elements in their films. What I want to stress is that these nuances are not so black and white (no pun intended). The reality is that, sometimes, white lesbians are shunned from their families of birth, and black lesbians are embraced. And some brown lesbians are not rejected from their religious communities, but quite the opposite. These alternative narratives are not reflected in lesbian film.

It is refreshing then, that the pot of lesbian films to choose from is growing. For example, though technically not a romcom, the recent, and critically-acclaimed, film Pariah is a good example of how racial nuances can be dealt with on screen, showing that lesbians do not live in the “all or nothing” world that previous films suggest. We can only hope that the future of lesbian film will offer more realistic depictions of race, culture, and sexuality.

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Gwendolyn Beetham is an independent scholar, the editor of The Academic Feminist, and a semi-professional lesbian film watcher. She lives in Brooklyn. Follow her on twitter: @gwendolynb

LGBTQI Week: Kissing Jessica Stein

Movie poster for Kissing Jessica Stein

This is a review by monthly guest contributor Carrie Nelson.

(Warning: Contains spoilers about Kissing Jessica Stein.)

Ten years ago, I saw Kissing Jessica Stein on a date with my first girlfriend. We liked the movie, but when we walked out of the theater, we laughed and said to each other, “Let’s not end up as dysfunctional as those two!” The irony did not escape us a few months later, when we broke up under eerily similar circumstances as Jessica and Helen, the film’s protagonists. But much like Jessica and Helen, our break-up was the start of our lifelong friendship. I’ve re-watched the film countless times throughout the last decade, and objectively, I don’t think Kissing Jessica Stein is a great movie. It’s filled with too many romantic comedy clichés, and for a film about queer women in a relationship, the film is awfully preoccupied with discussions about men. But in its best moments, it authentically depicts the awkwardness of new relationships, the confusion of unexpected sexual attraction, and the deep friendships that result from failed romances. Kissing Jessica Stein is flawed, but its sincerity and its willingness to address relationships between non-monosexual women keeps me coming back to it, over and over.

Though words like “bisexual” and “queer” are never used, Kissing Jessica Stein is about sexual fluidity. The Rilke quotation mentioned throughout the film makes this theme obvious:

“It is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical will live the relation to another as something alive.” (Emphasis added)

Much like Alyssa in Chasing Amy, Helen places a personal ad in the Women-Seeking-Women section because she “excludes nothing” sexually. When it occurs to her that, in all her sexually adventurous years, she has yet to sleep with a woman, she decides to give it a try – hence the personal ad. But she’s completely unprepared for Jessica Stein – who Helen later calls a “Jewish Sandra Dee” – to respond. As the film chronicles the rise and fall of Jessica and Helen’s romantic relationship, it tackles some big questions: Can a woman who’s only dated men have a successful sexual relationship with a woman? When, if ever, is secrecy in a relationship acceptable? Can a relationship with high emotional connection and low sexual compatibility survive?

Jessica and Helen in Kissing Jessica Stein

Kissing Jessica Stein provides no easy answers to the questions it asks, which I appreciate. The film understands that sexuality is complicated, and not everyone shares the same capacity for fluidity and sexual experimentation. The film also understands that there is no definitive recipe to a successful relationship, because people are different and have radically different priorities when choosing significant others. Jessica and Helen start out coming from similar places – both of them have identified as straight for all of their lives, and both of them want to question that assumption and explore the possibility of dating another woman. In time, they find that they truly are attracted to each other – more than that, they love each other – but that attraction manifests differently in each of them. While Helen has no insecurities about a sexual relationship with Jessica and longs to have the kind of relationship with Jessica that she’s had with men in the past, Jessica is more interested in her emotional connection with Helen than her sexual one. I don’t think this means that Jessica is straight or that she isn’t genuinely attracted to Helen – we never see her in a relationship with a man, so it’s likely that her sex drive is naturally low. Rather than judging Jessica and Helen for their differences, the film shows both women as they are, and it explores the ways in which their differences both cultivate and destroy their relationship.

The biggest problem that I have with Kissing Jessica Stein is that it simply isn’t as queer as it wants to seem. As Stephen Metcalf wrote in his review at Slate, “It’s a shame that a movie about openness regarding sexual preference recycles so many motifs from the pantheon of great hetero-dating movies.” Though Kissing Jessica Stein addresses interesting questions and themes rarely found in your average romantic comedy, it’s also fairly formulaic. The stakes never feel quite as intense as they should; even when it becomes clear that the relationship is about to come to an end, there’s never any doubt that Jessica and Helen will remain the best of friends. And then there’s the issue of men. Neither Jessica nor Helen identifies as a lesbian, and I like that choice – the film does a great job of dismantling the gay/straight, either/or binary. That said, one would think that women who are attracted to other women might want to spend some time exploring that. There’s nothing wrong with Jessica and Helen discussing which male celebrities fall into the category of “sexy-ugly” (and I completely agree with their conclusion that Harvey Keitel is among them), but I found it hard to believe that they wouldn’t spend more time finding common ground on what they find appealing about women as well. It’s as if too much overt lesbianism would make the film hard for audiences to swallow. Too much of the film makes it feel like it was made for primarily straight viewers, and that feels like a missed opportunity.

Jessica and Helen in Kissing Jessica Stein

When I watch Kissing Jessica Stein now, I’m transported back to a very specific time and place. I remember being sixteen and newly out as bisexual. I remember anxiously anticipating my first kiss from another girl. I remember starting to understand that sexual expression can be flexible and doesn’t have to conform to societal norms. It shouldn’t matter whom we love or what we call ourselves – only that we love at all, and that we express that love in the most honest way we can. Kissing Jessica Stein is not the first film to convey this message, nor does it do it as well as some other films. It’s certainly not as risky as Shortbus, or even Humpday. But it captures a feeling to which many can relate. And even when it fails, it feels far more believable than most comedies of its genre.

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Carrie Nelson is a Bitch Flicks monthly contributor. She was a Staff Writer for Gender Across Borders, an international feminist community and blog that she co-founded in 2009. She works as a grant writer for an LGBT nonprofit, and she is currently pursuing an MA in Media Studies at The New School.

LGBTQI Week: ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’

Movie poster for But I’m a Cheerleader

This is a guest review by Erin Fenner. But I’m a Cheerleader, directed by Jamie Babbit, plays with stereotypes. But not like, “haha let’s use broad generalizations to create characters, but never develop them.” No, this film paints everything pink and blue (pretty much literally) and then asks the audience: Really? Is this what gender and sexuality should look like?It’s even in the title. But I’m a Cheerleader is about a teenage girl, Megan (Natasha Lyonne), who’s naïve about her own sexuality because she fits so comfortably into the norm of femininity. She’s Christian, an “all-American girl” and a cheerleader, so she doesn’t suspect that her attraction to women and sexual disinterest with men is a sign that she’s a lesbian.

It takes an intervention and her parents’ sending her to a “pray away the gay” sort of camp, for Megan to realize she’s gay. Her family sends her to the camp “New Directions” hoping she’ll come back straight, but it only instills in Megan a certainty about her sexuality she hadn’t had before. Not only does she realize that being a lesbian is part of who she is, but through falling in love with another girl at the camp, Megan finds out that she doesn’t want to change it either.

This camp, by the way, looks like it came out of Tim Burton’s nightmares: brightly colored, celebrating conformity and bursting with perkiness.

The director of the camp, Mary Brown (Cathy Moriarty), “cures” homosexuality with a five-step-program. This program mostly involves making the collection of not-so-hetero teenagers act out their gender roles. The different campers are encouraged to find the root cause of their homosexuality – usually being a moment in their childhood where they witnessed adults deviating from gender norms. One’s mom wore pants at her wedding. Another’s mother let him play in pumps. Etcetera.

And so, Mary’s process is to push the adolescents into the cartoon versions of manhood and womanhood. The boys work with Mike (RuPaul) by playing football in solid blue uniforms, fixing a solid blue car and acting out war with solid blue weapons. The girls have their own solid pink version of this: changing baby doll’s diapers, cleaning house and painting nails.

And, through this process we can see how outlandish the performance of gender is. The characters themselves don’t fit neatly into their prescribed roles, and that’s what this film has fun with. We are presented with stereotypes that are swiftly debunked.Megan, for instance, is the exemplary feminine teenager: bouncy blonde hair, bubbly and, yes, she’s a cheerleader. But she also happens to be gay. Dolph (Dante Basco) is a jock who presents himself with military formality and is the first to be booted out of the camp for making out with a fellow male camper. On the other hand, Jan (Katrina Phillips) presents herself in a masculine way. She cries out during a group therapy meeting that, “Everybody thinks I’m this big dyke because I wear baggy pants and play softball and I’m not as pretty as other girls, but that doesn’t make me gay. I mean, I like guys. I can’t help it!”The film picks away at our association with gender and sexuality by presenting us with characters across the gender spectrum – reminding us that sexuality isn’t about whether you paint your nails, but who you are attracted to.

But I’m a Cheerleader does fall into some traps. In portraying characters that are outrageous, there are lots of stereotypically flamboyant gay men. It’s less heinous than most portrayals in the mainstream, and seems to at least be trying to have a purpose. We see Mary’s son, Rock, in short shorts dancing around while ostensibly doing landscape work; living up to the most ridiculous and irritating gay stereotype. But, it’s supposed to be over-the-top to reveal the hypocrisy and absurdity of the camp. Also, while the film does a great job challenging the association of gender and sexuality, and presenting a gender spectrum, it doesn’t explore the spectrum of sexuality so much. Bisexuality is invisible.

But overall, the narrative is one that successfully challenges sexism and heteronormativity. Megan’s journey of falling in love and accepting herself looks normal compared to the antics of those who support the camp. It certainly feels more natural and provides a heart to the film that grounds it.

Megan’s romance with Graham (Clea DuVall) has the perfect combination of silly sweetness and teenage angst. While Graham accepts that she’s gay and is sure it is unchangeable, she is willing to stay in the closet to continue getting support from her family. When Graham and Megan are exposed – Megan leaves the camp, and Graham stays.

Reparative therapy has been the butt of many jokes, but it has existed and been validated by hack psychologists who contort research in an effort to prove that being gay is a mental illness. Robert L. Spitzer who published a study that suggested reparative therapy works, recently made an apology to the gay community because the study has been used to back up harmful methodology. But I’m a Cheerleader tackles an otherwise troubling topic, and makes it funny while still remaining critical.

In the film, while some characters make an effort to be straight, it seems clear that all understand it’s a role they are playing to appease their family. The futile effort could be their chance to remain a member of the community they grew up in. Megan knows that choosing to be open about her sexuality could lead to losing her family, but she chooses pride and oh-so-heroically rescues Graham from the altar of straightness (literally.)

But I’m a Cheerleader isn’t trying to be subtle. The absurdity of gender expectations is put on display with a too-bubbly soundtrack. Because: our society’s gender expectations are insane. And, it’s downright crazy to try to force an identity and sexuality on a person. But, But I’m a Cheerleader gives us a little hope at the end of a wacky lace-trimmed narrative. While the camp wasn’t exposed, while the girls weren’t guaranteed their families, Megan still performed a radical action in embracing both her identity as a lesbian and as a cheerleader. She challenged the expectations of her prescribed role, and still got the girl in the end.

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Erin Fenner is a legislative intern and blogger for Trust Women: advocating for the reproductive rights of women in conservative Midwestern states. She also writes for the Trust Women blog and manages their social media networks. She graduated from the University of Idaho with a B.S. in Journalism.

‘The Birdcage’: Where You Can Come As You Are

Dianne Weist as Louise, Hank Azaria as Agador, Christine Baranski as Katherine, and Gene Hackman as Senator Kevin Keely in The Birdcage

This is a guest review by Candice Frederick.

There’s a particularly memorable scene in director Mike Nichols’ big screen adaptation of the 1978 French comedy La Cage Aux Folles that few people talk about. Probably because, like much of 1996’s The Birdcage, the comedy is colorfully nuanced when you least expect it.

The setup: Robin Williams plays gay cabaret owner Armand Goldman, whose life partner is Albert (Nathan Lane), one of the must-see acts down at their drag queen hot spot in Miami, The Birdcage. Armand’s 20-year-old son Val (Dan Futterman) has announced that he’s engaged to be married to his teenage sweetheart, Barbara (Calista Flockhart), and must introduce his dad to her conservative parents, right-wing Senator Kevin Keeley (Gene Hackman) and his wife, Louise (Dianne Wiest). The politician and his wife would be in for an unwelcomed shock, if Armand and Albert hadn’t finally come up with the fool-proof plan to have Albert pose as Armand’s wife (in drag).

The scene: Val is with his dad Armand, fretting over having Albert involved in the farce at all as Albert is apparently far too flamboyant to pull off anything other than the performance du jour over at The Birdcage. As Val continues to fret over it, and exchange a few worries with his father, his insecurities begin to show and some of his comments come off unintentionally insensitive. And Albert just so happens to come in on the tail end of Val’s tantrum:

Oh yes, another jibe, another joke at my expense. You were probably laughing at me with Katherine, too. Well, why not? I’m not young, I’m not new, and everyone laughs at me. I’m quite aware of how ridiculous I am. I’ve been thinking that the only solution is to go where no one is ridiculous and everyone is equal. Goodbye, Armand.


Nathan Lane as Albert and Robin Williams as Armand in The Birdcage

That’s the thing with The Birdcage. It’s more absurd to disguise yourself as someone else rather than to unveil your true self—gay, straight, or otherwise. In other words, Armand and Albert are quite “normal,” despite other people’s projections of them. They are well-off business owners of the hottest spot around, and virtual celebrities in their glamorous hometown. Their swanky penthouse apartment would be the envy of anyone who was lucky enough to visit. They have lover’s quarrels just like anyone in any normal relationship have.

Their abnormality, so to speak, lies in the fact that they are two of the more modern gay male characters, whose sole purpose isn’t simply to enter the scene as the punch line in a mostly straight guy-focused film. Sure, they’re hilarious, their dance moves are enough to make both Beyoncé and Britney Spears blush, and you need a scalpel to remove the amount of makeup Armand has on his face (as Val points out in the movie). But, most importantly, you know their stories. They’re not just the gag.

You do an eclectic celebration of the dance! You do Fosse, Fosse, Fosse! You do Martha Graham, Martha Graham, Martha Graham! Or Twyla, Twyla, Twyla! Or Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd! Or Madonna, Madonna, Madonna!… but you keep it all inside.


Nathan Lane as Albert in The Birdcage

Interestingly enough, the ‘90s offered a hodgepodge of films like this that showed a fully realized story of gay men. In 1993 we saw Tom Hanks as a gay man suffering from AIDS in Philadelphia. And who could forget 1995’s To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar, where Patrick Swayze, Wesley Snipes and John Leguizamo play three drag queens on a road trip to nowhere town USA, where they discover a certain sense of self? Even on the small screen on Will & Grace (which debuted in 1998), we got to watch a gay male lawyer living large in New York City going through the same ridiculous scenarios we all have to endure.

They are a few exceptions, though we still have far to go, where the bridge between gay, straight or otherwise is just a wee bit narrower. And they serve as launching pads to some of the more impressive gay-themed films we see today.

It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to learn that The Birdcage held the highest weekend opening gross with an openly gay male lead for thirteen years until 2009’s Brüno. It’s entertaining, tongue-and-cheek, smart, and fully aware of itself.

Hank Azaria as Agador, Dan Futterman as Val, and Robin Williams as Armand in The Birdcage

Williams fits very snugly into the role of Armand, who’s the atypical gay male character we tend to see on the big screen. As indicated in the quote earlier, he keeps his sexuality a little closer to the heart, unlike Albert. Armand shows an interesting blend of church and state, and Williams balances those traits quite well, without robbing the character. But once he’s challenged, you really get to see his heart become more profound:

Yes, I wear foundation. Yes, I live with a man. Yes, I’m a middle- aged f*g. But I know who I am, Val. It took me twenty years to get here, and I’m not gonna let some idiot senator destroy that. F&*k the senator, I don’t give a damn what he thinks.

It’s simple, and straight to the point. Broadway veteran Lane and Williams have fantastic chemistry. You can tell that many of the most amusing lines from the movie may have showed their keen sense of improv, which makes these actors even more astounding. Not only are the two leads exceptional, Futterman’s fervent portrayal of a guy desperately trying to do the right thing, for everyone, and Flockhart’s wide-eyed sweet girl act are also captivating to watch. Moreover, Hackman and Wiest are a barrel of laughs as the pretentious senator and his gloriously oblivious wife, who both represent the people on the other side of The Birdcage.

The Birdcage is a little film with knee-slapping scenes coupled with thoughtfully acute moments as well. It doesn’t aim to change the perception of gay culture, but it offers a look into one gay family by putting them into an extraordinarily futile situation indicative of exactly what the characters fight against. You see why they’ve created The Birdcage, where everyone can come as really they are and fit right in.

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Candice Frederick is an NABJ award-winning journalist and film blogger for Reel Talk. She’s also written for Essence Magazine and The Urban Daily. Follow her on twitter.