Damsel in Distress – Bitch Flicks

‘Dragonslayer’: A Disappointing Attempt to Update the Princess and the Dragon

‘Dragonslayer’ attempts to modernize the tale by diminishing the hero and splitting the princess into two women who are both brave at first glance, but it ultimately reinforces traditional roles. … Valerian’s fall from village leader (in disguise as a man) to hero helper, and finally damsel in distress that can only be rescued by the losing of her virginity (itself a patriarchal construct, often “used to control women’s sexuality”), is a particularly depressing character arc.

This guest post is written by Tim Covell. | Spoilers ahead.

Dragonslayer (1981) is a dark ages fantasy, written by Hollywood veterans Matthew Robbins and Hal Barwood, and directed by Robbins. Marketed in some areas as a Disney film, it is unusually mature for Disney, and was a co-production with Paramount, in the days before Disney formed Touchstone to handle more mature films. Dragonslayer draws on the long history of dragons in western folk literature, eventually linked with Christians in the legend of St. George and the Dragon.

In the purest form of this story, identified as ATU-300 in a folktale classification system, the hero rescues the princess from the dragon, kills the dragon, and marries the princess. These are traditional gender roles with a vengeance. Dragonslayer attempts to modernize the tale by diminishing the hero and splitting the princess into two women who are both brave at first glance, but it ultimately reinforces traditional roles.

Twice a year, the King of Urland conducts a lottery, selecting a virgin girl to sacrifice to a fire-breathing dragon. In exchange, the dragon leaves the kingdom alone. A group of villagers, unhappy with this arrangement, find and hire an older sorcerer (Ralph Richardson) to kill the dragon. The king’s men, following the villagers and determined to maintain the status quo, demand a test before they will allow someone to come and “stir things up.” The test results in the death of the sorcerer. His young apprentice, Galen (Peter MacNicol, making his film debut) takes on the role of dragon slayer/hero, and joins the dubious villagers.

Galen soon learns that the boy leading the villagers, Valerian, is in fact a young woman (Caitlin Clarke). The revealing swimming-hole scene, with brief and non-exploitative shots of male and female nudity, is sometimes cut from television showings. Valerian justifies her deception by noting that the lottery is rigged, and only chooses girls from poor families. This injection of class conflict and official corruption is an attempt to make the story more character driven, but it remains largely faithful to the mythic form.

On arrival in Urland, Galen enters the dragon’s lair, a cave accessed by a damp vertical cleft. We later learn that the dragon is a mother, and deeper in the cave is a lake. A teenage boy exploring a dark and dangerous cave is clear symbolism for male coming-of-age, and suggests the dragon represents female sexuality (and in a negative light). The association of the dragon with virgin girls supports this interpretation. However, the film refuses to let viewers ponder this symbolism too much. Some characters suggest the dragon is the negative aspect of magic in the world, while others argue that it is a manifestation of Christian evil, and still others claim that it is simply a flesh and blood monster. The dragon is individualized by its name and its age-related moodiness. While its death appears to be brought about through magic, cross-cut editing shows the villagers being baptized during the final battle, and there are fleshy and bloody remains. It is entertaining for the nature of the dragon to be in dispute, but the lack of resolution weakens the story.

Galen uses a magic spell to create a landslide, sealing the dragon in its lair. With the threat apparently removed, Valerian comes out as a woman. Her father remarks that “she was twice the man of anyone else in the village, and now she’s twice the woman.” As a man, she led villagers on a long and challenging journey to find a hire a sorcerer, and demanded his assistance after initially being turned away. As a woman, she emerges quietly and shyly from her home in a delicate dress. Galen grabs her arm, drags her into the shocked crowd, and calls for music, legitimizing her existence.

Galen is arrested and imprisoned, while the king waits to see if the dragon is truly dead. The princess comes to see him, and defend her kingdom’s approach to the dragon. She is surprised by Galen’s claim that she is excluded from the lottery. He escapes in the chaos of the dragon’s rampage.

The king declares a special lottery to restore order, but Princess Elspeth rigs it so that she is selected. She publicly defies her outraged father, and tells the kingdom that her sacrifice is necessary to certify the lottery. The king steps into his traditional role, and asks Galen to save his daughter.

Valerian’s father is a blacksmith, and supplies Galen with a spear. On his way to rescue the princess and battle the dragon, Galen meets Valerian. She presents him with a concave shield made from dragon scales, to protect him from the fire. The presentation of the symbolically female magical protective object, often a sheath, is a traditional female folktale role. To give credit where credit is due, many tales of sword and sorcery ignore the role and symbol, excluding women completely. King Arthur’s sword Excalibur is widely known, but its unnamed sheath, which protects the wearer from injury, is rarely mentioned.

Valerian demonstrated bravery in obtaining scales for the shield. But in conversation with Galen, she becomes an insecure girlfriend, assuming Galen plans to rescue the princess out of love inspired from her bravery in sacrificing herself. Valerian also laments her virginal status, which leaves her vulnerable in future lotteries. A kiss, a cut, and a passage of time suggest that “problem” is resolved.

Removing yourself from the lottery by losing your virginity as quickly as possible is an obvious solution, noted by critics from Roger Ebert to Mad Magazine. In Wayland Drew’s novelization, he added backstory, and among other things clarified that lack of virginity does not remove you from the lottery. Valerian’s mother is one of many missing mothers in the film, but in Drew’s version she was sacrificed to the dragon. While the sacrificial victims are female, the dragon has also killed men who provoked it, including the king’s brother and an ambitious priest.

One of the king’s soldiers is at the lair, to ensure the sacrifice of the princess proceeds without interruption. Galen kills him, but is unable to prevent Princess Elspeth from walking to the cave. She is promptly killed and partly eaten by baby dragons. The princess is brave and independent, but it remains hard to celebrate her defiance of her father and the hero, and her dedication to her kingdom, when this results in her death. It is too reminiscent of the movie cliché of killing or otherwise punishing the rebellious/independent woman. Nor did the princess need to die to establish the evil nature of the dragon; the structuralist death of innocents has already been shown. However, Princess Elspeth’s death does draw attention to the impotence of the hero.

Galen kills the baby dragons, yet he is unable to defeat their mother (more impotence). Galen and Valerian resolve to run away together (he still gets the girl). Then Galen realizes the sorcerer prepared himself to be reincarnated, at the lair, to battle the dragon. When the two return to the lair, Galen warns Valerian of the scary environment, and she defiantly claims that she is not afraid. “After all, I was a man once, remember?” The words are no sooner said than she is frightened by the sight of the dismembered and bloody princess, and retreats in fear.

The sorcerer uses magic to destroy himself and the dragon together, with Galen and Valerian providing minor assistance. The villagers arrive to thank God for their deliverance, the king arrives to claim victory for defeating the dragon, and Galen and Valerian ride off into the sunset on a magically procured horse.

Dragonslayer is visually impressive. Many scenes were shot in Scotland and Wales, and the design and fully practical realization of the dragon (including 16 puppets) holds up well in this CGI era. Author George R.R. Martin (A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones) claims Dragonslayer has “the best dragon ever put on film.” Unfortunately, the attempts to add moral complexity and character motives to myth, without addressing the underlying assumptions about gender roles, only succeed in making the story uncertain. Valerian’s fall from village leader (in disguise as a man) to hero helper, and finally damsel in distress that can only be rescued by the losing of her virginity (itself a patriarchal construct, often “used to control women’s sexuality“), is a particularly depressing character arc. The arc of the hero is not much better: his path to maturity is killing one bad guy and having sex with a woman.

The film did poorly at the box office and in hindsight, perhaps the film makers should have been braver with their characters. For example, Valerian could have stayed brave, and been the hero instead. That approach worked for Robert Munsch, who published The Paper Bag Princess in 1980. A related option would have been to extend a backstory plotline Drew introduced in the novelization, where Valerian, in her disguise as a young man, had a close relationship with another girl. As it stands, Dragonslayer merely hints at the possibilities for updating myths, before retreating to traditional sexist approaches.

Tim Covell has degrees in English Literature, Film Studies, and Canadian Studies. He studies film censorship and classification systems, which are largely about managing representations of sexuality. More at www.covell.ca.

Star Wars’ Rey: Feminist Heroine or Mary Sue?

The heroine of the story turned out to be Rey: a lone scavenger using her brain and her strength to survive. … In a world of fantastical male heroes, is there not room for a legendary woman? Isn’t the whole point of a fantasy story some sort of wish-fulfillment? An epic triumph over evil rarely achievable in real life?

This guest post written by Amy Squire originally appeared at Fanny Pack. It is cross-posted with permission. | Spoilers ahead.

If you haven’t heard of the latest Star Wars movie, Episode VII: The Force Awakens, you might want to check your pulse. The latest installment of the space fantasy franchise has so far taken $1.5 billion at the global box office, a total which is still climbing. Expectations were high, yet with little information leaked and deliberately vague trailers, no one knew quite what to expect from the new episode.

For all its success, the film has received mixed reviews from critics, being both lauded and criticized for the same reasons, namely that it’s a retro movie for the fans that doesn’t introduce many new ideas and actually repeats old character archetypes and plot devices. Yet, I found myself massively enjoying it, and for one major reason: its variety of female characters – both heroic and villainous. But the hero Rey is a victim of her own success. She has been criticized for being too much of a Mary Sue; an ordinary girl who excels at whatever she tries her hand at: engineering, fighting, flying, using a lightsaber, and of course her fledgling use of the force. She even seems to show more talent and power for a new Jedi than Luke did.

Like most people, I expected the male protagonist Finn – the former stormtrooper who found he had a heart – to be the lightsaber-wielding hero, and the mysterious woman in the trailer to be a supporting character. Just another kick-ass woman who nevertheless needs rescuing by the male hero and inevitably starts to fall for him. I was delighted to be wrong.

The heroine of the story turned out to be Rey: a lone scavenger using her brain and her strength to survive. Her world is turned upside-down when she finds the droid BB-8 who holds the key to finding the last Jedi in the universe – the now mythic Luke Skywalker. Despite Finn’s exciting start rescuing a rebel fighter pilot, Rey soon takes over, using her engineering, fighting, and flying skills to get them through one trial after another.

The film actively strives to playfully and knowingly break the Damsel in Distress trope that seems to have annoyingly survived in modern blockbusters. On Finn’s first encounter with her, Rey is in the midst of fighting off two attackers. Finn leaps into action to help but by the time he reaches her, she has already dispatched them. In one of my favorite moments of the film, Finn and returning hero Han find their damsel-rescuing skills yet again redundant when she is captured. Instead they discover her climbing out of the cavernous First Order base to safety, having used her new-found Jedi powers to escape, blissfully unaware her friends are behind her panicking in their search to rescue her. She eventually defeats the dark warrior Kylo Ren in a lightsaber duel and sets off at the end of the movie to attend her destiny (leaving Finn behind completely): to find Luke Skywalker who will presumably guide her in the force.

However as this author points out, would these amazing new skills be so unbelievable if Rey were male? Or would we just assume the character has previous experience of flying, or that men make natural pilots? Was Luke criticized for being too good at being the hero?

In a film series so rooted in the power of mythology and mysticism, I don’t believe it’s too far a stretch to believe Rey could have messiah-like ability in the force. Legends of the Jedi are famous in their world and so her already knowing what new powers she has at her disposal, such as mind-control, is a given. When Kylo Ren, a dark agent of the force, connects to her mind to get information out of her, both she and he are surprised to find she can do a little delving of her own, so who knows what kind of secrets she found inside him. We don’t know how her future will pan out but it’s clear she is destined for great things in a universe where the Jedi have become almost extinct.

It would be wrong to say Rey is the perfect heroine though. She has her own weaknesses and fears. When she experiences visions of her future she tries to run. She’s afraid of her powers and leaving her old life behind. She’s effectively an orphan, wondering if her family will return and why they even left her in the first place. She also visibly wants to take a job with Han and learn more from him. And don’t forget this is just the first part of her story. She has at least two more films to make mistakes.

A feminist hero isn’t just tokenism in a ‘PC world gone mad,’ it’s pretty sound business sense. People want to relate to as well as admire their heroes. I’ve seen all the Star Wars films and I’ve always been a sci-fi/fantasy fan, but I was never that impressed by Luke (perhaps because he did exactly what was expected of him), and the less said about the prequels the better. With The Force Awakens, I feel a whole new young, female fanbase opening up for the franchise who may not have been interested before. Instead of being told, “Star Wars isn’t for girls,” or “You can be the princess,” little girls can now batter their brothers’ action figures with their very own Rey ones (provided they can get hold of one… #WheresRey).

In a world of fantastical male heroes, is there not room for a legendary woman? Isn’t the whole point of a fantasy story some sort of wish-fulfillment? An epic triumph over evil rarely achievable in real life? The world certainly has its share of Gary Stus, the inexperienced yet perfect male hero. Captain America, Batman, and Harry Potter could all be described as Gary Stus if we put Rey in that pigeonhole. However I think she has the experience to back up her achievements. She has had years to hone her mental and physical skills on Jakku. She, along with everyone in the Star Wars universe, knows what a Jedi is capable of. She doesn’t rely on anyone else to rescue her because she has never had anyone around to look after her before. Still, her emotional weaknesses and willingness to learn show she isn’t fully-formed yet.

It remains to be seen if the latest trilogy can develop beyond the nostalgia for episodes 4, 5, and 6, but I think Rey is the fulcrum for this. She has so much room to turn further stereotypes on their head. Personally I would love to see her character develop with no love interest whatsoever. She is a born leader, a path beset with pitfalls. I’d find it far more interesting to see how she develops in her Jedi training, find out if she is tempted by the dark side, and see how her abandonment backstory is played out. Screenwriters, take note!

Amy Squire is a Fanny Pack contributor. She is from Essex and works in London. Raised a feminist in an all-female household (much of the time in her mother’s student digs), her approach is that feminism is inclusive, common-sense, and applicable to all our daily lives. Her passion for equal rights and opportunities for women and the next generation of girls developed during her midwifery training. She learned about women’s issues such body image, domestic violence, and female genital mutilation and how they often come to a head during childbearing. She now wants to use her writing to spread the positive message of feminism.

The Lois Lane ‘Batman v Superman’ Doesn’t Think You Can Handle

Lois Lane represents a more achievable kind of strength for us mere mortals. Tenacity, self-reliance, and quick wits – these are the weapons of choice for the archetypal career woman bent on “having it all.” … Any writer that reduces Lois Lane down to little more than human Kryptonite thoroughly misrepresents her rich 75-year history as an important pop cultural icon to women.

This guest post written by Hannah Collins originally appeared at Fanny Pack. It is cross-posted with permission.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice may have been a disappointment to many, but I think most comic book fans – and feminists – can agree that Gal Gadot’s strong performance as Wonder Woman was a much-needed bright spot. It’s a shame, then, that the film’s other significant female character – intrepid reporter Lois Lane (Amy Adams) – doesn’t get the same treatment. Though she plays a fairly significant part in advancing the story, and enjoys some (weird) bath-time fun with Clark Kent (Henry Cavill), that’s pretty much all she’s there for – little more than a plot device, a shoulder to cry on, and even worse, a constant distraction to Earth’s greatest hero.

This may seem like a trivial complaint but as someone who fell in love with comic books before feminism, Lois Lane – along with Wonder Woman, Catwoman and Storm – was instrumental in shaping my understanding of what it meant to be a woman in a man’s world. And in a world filled with Gods, magic, time-travel and President Luthor, you’ve got to be one heck of a dame.

Here’s why The Daily Planet’s ace reporter is far more than just Superman’s victimized girlfriend.

A Damsel Not in Distress

The ‘woman in peril’ theme is one that has unfortunately persisted throughout literature and pop culture, from ancient Greek maidens like Andromeda and her hero Perseus, right the way through to Princess Zelda and her hero Link in Nintendo’s Legend of Zelda. It’s no surprise then that the Superhero genre – the modern-day equivalent to Perseus – has also been oversaturated by the damsel/hero dynamic.

Superman is the world’s first Superhero and Lois Lane his eternal damsel in distress. No matter how many Pulitzers she wins or oranges she juices at her Daily Planet desk in her personal war on cigarettes, that core underpinning will never change. But throughout her 75-year history, her determination to fight this definition has never waned.

From her solo comic title, Superman’s Girl Friend, Lois Lane (1954-1974) to her top billing in TV’s Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman’(1993-97), and recent YA novel series Fallout by Gwenda Bond, Lois has proven that she is not only a superior journalist to Clark Kent and Superman’s equal partner, but can carry a story on her own. More often than not, when Lois finds herself in need of rescue from the Big Man in Blue, it’s from a sticky situation of her own making. Rather than wait around to be scooped up by a dragon like a hapless medieval maiden, Lois seeks out trouble in the name of journalism.

Even better is when – thanks to a mix of her “military brat” upbringing and some Kryptonian martial arts – sometimes she gets to even save herself.

[youtube_sc url=”https://youtu.be/5Q8SkwskHPM”]

Because Women Are Strong as Hell

Ever since William Moulton Marston blessed us our first feminist superwoman, Wonder Woman, the Superhero genre has been filled with gutsy, gladiatorial women. But whilst these goddesses represent a masculinized ideal of brute force, Lois Lane represents a more achievable kind of strength for us mere mortals. Tenacity, self-reliance, and quick wits – these are the weapons of choice for the archetypal career woman bent on “having it all.”

But Lois Lane’s fierceness didn’t just grow from the necessity to reflect the changing role of women in society; creators Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel embedded it within her character from the very start. Her personality was borrowed from fast-talking fictional reporter (and owner of The Most 1930s Name Ever) ‘Torchy Blane’ who starred in a series of Warner Bros. films in the 1930s. Her tagline was ‘The Lady Bloodhound with a Nose For News!’ and she was one of the few positive examples of career-driven women on American cinema screens at the time that rivaled – or bested – her male equivalents.

Also woven into Lois’ DNA was real-life pioneering journalist and inventor Nellie Bly. Not only did Bly famously travel the world in a record-breaking 72 days, but also she feigned mental illness in order to write an exposé on life inside a mental institution – redefining investigative journalism and making the rest of us feel desperately lazy.

From Meg in Disney’s Hercules to Spider-Man’s Mary-Jane Watson, every “feisty” damsel worth her salt owes a debt of gratitude to Lois.

Lois Isn’t Holding Out for a Hero

Saying that Lois and Clark are one of your favorite couples in fiction is kind tantamount to saying the same about Romeo and Juliet. In other words, woefully mainstream. But as much as I really do believe they deserve a place amongst literature’s greatest love stories, Lois has proven many times that she can function perfectly well without her fated other half, as the panel above illustrates.

This was exemplified on-screen recently in the much-maligned Superman Returns (2006). Picking up after Superman II (1980), the film starts with Superman (Brandon Routh) returning to Earth after a 5-year absence to find that Lois (Kate Bosworth) has not only moved on to someone else, but also raised a son with him.

Inevitably as the story progresses, Lois finds that her feelings for the Man of Steel are not as buried as she’d thought, and I’m sure the abandoned sequel planned for 2009 would have seen my favorite reporting duo back together. Nonetheless, I was still impressed that rather than pull a ‘Bella Swan’ and throw herself off of a cliff in a fit of angsty despair, Lois Lane wipes away her tears, wins her damn Pulitzer, finds another great guy, raises a child, and foils Lex Luthor’s dastardly plans.

Because not even Earth’s strongest hero can break her that easily.

Keep Lois Out of the Refrigerator

Despite her development over the years into a competent and important player in the DC Universe’s canon of heroines, too many landmark stand-alone stories in Superman’s history hinge not on the strength of Lois Lane, but on her death. Kingdom Come, Superman: Kal, Flashpoint, and Injustice: Gods Among Us all sacrifice Lois (in some pretty fucked up ways) simply to motivate Superman to lose his shit. And judging from the teasers nestled in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, we may be in danger of seeing one of these stories on screen soon.

This is a variant of the ‘Damsel in Distress’ trope known as ‘Women in Refrigerators,’ coined by comics writer Gail Simone to “describe the trend of female comic book characters who are routinely brutalized or killed-off as a plot device designed to move the male character’s story arc forward.” (The term originates from Green Lantern #54, in which Green Lantern discovers his murdered girlfriend’s body in his fridge.)

Look, I get it. Superman only has two weaknesses: Kryptonite and Lois Lane. (Well, three weaknesses if you include his susceptibility to magic.) Same goes for practically every other superhero trying to balance saving the planet with getting laid. It’s a character-building shortcut that’s become inherent to the genre. But the problem with this is that while the male character (and they are nearly always male by default) benefits from this dynamic by having his big, brooding ego balanced with a touch of human emotion, the female character gains nothing other than bearing the weight of the inevitable choice he will have to make between her life and the lives of others. What does it tell you about the value of a female character if she adds more to the narrative in death than in life? Plus, this constant stream of stories that use violence against women as a plot device harmfully perpetuates the real-world stereotype of women as helpless victims and men as their patriarchal saviors.

Any writer that reduces Lois Lane down to little more than human Kryptonite thoroughly misrepresents her rich 75-year history as an important pop cultural icon to women. I can only wait and hope that Snyder’s future Justice League movies treat her a little better than just a sacrificial lamb with a reporter’s badge. In the immortal words of Kate Beaton (of Hark, a Vagrant fame): “If Lois isn’t super rad all the time, then I don’t even want to hear about it.”

Hannah Collins is a London-born writer and illustrator fascinated by the intersection between pop/visual culture and feminism. Her interest in the movement grew during her time studying Fine Art & Creative Writing at Lancaster University where she discovered writers and artists such as Laura Mulvey, Orlan, Marina Abramovic and Donna Haraway, who opened her eyes to the huge significance – often detrimentally – that the artifice of gender plays in our culture and society. In particular, Haraway’s Cyberfeminist Manifesto linking gender to science fiction had such an impact on her that she constructed the bulk of her dissertation around it. On the blogging scene, Hannah has attracted over 1 million readers to her blog on gender representation in pop culture. By day, she is currently a freelance illustrator for children’s books and comics, and by night (and any other available hour) she contributes to the Cosmic Anvil and Fanny Pack blogs, as well as her own.

‘Mr. Robot’ and the Trouble with the White Knight

This guest post by Shay Revolver appears as part of our theme week on Masculinity.

You’ve probably seen the poster art for Mr. Robot everywhere in the past few weeks. It’s pretty good show and it deserves the attention.

Poster for Mr. Robot Starring Rami Malek — Poster for *Mr. Robot,* starring Rami Malek

From the very first scene of Mr. Robot you are hooked. You find yourself invested in Elliot’s life. You feel connected with him and you hope that he succeeds. It’s a strong opening for what I feel will be an amazing show. The wait between the sneak preview and the next episode has been torture so I’ve watched the pilot more than once with my partner and my son because I can’t get enough. But somewhere in between each of the viewings I’ve had some thoughts that in some way take a part of my love away. The problem with loving good storytelling and being aware of the varying forms of patriarchy or misogyny in some stories is that once you’ve had a chance to digest a piece of media, you find yourself questioning all the little things that you find problematic and sometimes you can’t tell if it’s just you over analyzing or if there really is a problem there.

That space is where I find myself after seeing and loving Mr. Robot. Rami Malek plays the shy and socially awkward Elliot well. In the beginning of the show he takes down a pedophile and you root for him. Throughout the show he seems to inwardly clash with any of the Alpha males that surround him. Mr. Robot (played by Christian Slater) is as much of an embodiment of a man’s man as Brad Pitt/ Tyler Durden was in Fight Club. This statement is true, minus the Fight Club part, with most of the other men in his life, but they seem express all of the “masculine” traits you’d expect from a cis white male. Elliot, on the other hand, gives off a sense of humanity that makes you feel connected almost instantly as you join him on this adventure through his world. Elliot isn’t your typical male. He doesn’t exude all of the traits that you’d expect in a show’s lead. He’s not incredibly charismatic, he doesn’t put out an err of bravado, he doesn’t even have that uber masculine sense of entitlement. He’s not out swilling beer or doing any of the things you would expect. He is in no way a “man’s man.”

The problem doesn’t come from the viewing of this show, it comes from the aftertaste. Elliot is a traditional lone wolf type of man. He has his own rules and own mind and lives his life according to his own ideals. This makes him a nice contrast Amanda’s boyfriend. He’s the uber masculine type of guy that uses niceness as a weapon. He’s smarmy and even before we got into his indiscretions you couldn’t help but not like this guy. He has all the trademarks of a cis white male frat boy. He oozes all the traditionally masculine character traits that are the hallmark of the patriarchy. He has a sense of entitlement and this cloud of arrogance so thick you could choke on it.

Watching Elliot interact and rebuff him makes you feel like you’re on his side. This is where things start to get a little tricky for me. The thing that feels homey about Elliot is that despite his social awkwardness he generally cares for other people like his best friend Amanda (played by Portia Doubleday) and his therapist Krista (played by Gloria Reuben). The problem isn’t with the caring, the problem is with the way he shows it when they’re not around. In this regard he exudes a hyper masculine sense of over-protectiveness. During one of his exchanges with Amanda’s jerk of a boyfriend, Ollie (played by Ben Rappaprt), you find out that Elliot has been cyber stalking him. He discovered fairly early on that he was cheating on her and had been since shortly after they exchanged “I love yous.” But Elliot hasn’t told her yet. His reasons are self-serving–he doesn’t want to deal with the mess she’ll become after another break-up and he feels like he can “manage” him better than whatever guy she’ll find next. So instead, he keeps this secret from his best friend. This behavior runs parallel with the fact that every time that Amanda seems to be faltering at work, he swoops in to save the day and defend her from anyone who tried to make her seem less that capable. He can’t help himself from trying to save the day, from being a “White Knight.”

Gloria Reuben as Elliot's Therapist Krista — Gloria Reuben as Elliot’s therapist, Krista

I have long had a problem with this archetype both in media and in real life. To me this whole phenomenon of men feeling the desire to swoop in and “Save the Princess” seems to be more of a hindrance to feminism than a companion. Women are not helpless creatures who need protecting, at least not in the White Knight type of way. There is always an undertone in their actions that seem to convey the message that they’re just letting us have our way and will wait in the wings until they have their moment and can save us from ourselves. One of the biggest shows of Elliot’s underlying muber masculine White Knighting actions was him deciding to frame the CTO of E-Corp because he was rude to Amanda. In that moment he had the choice of two envelopes, one leading to the real culprit in the hacks, the other leading to the CTO. He was set to turn in Mr. Robot and his crew until the moment that the CTO kicked Amanda out of the room. Elliot took issue with that and in an effort to “protect” her and “defend her honor” he sets the CTO up to take the fall. I will give the writers credit for what they choose to do with Amanda’s character. To her credit, she calls Elliot on his choice to jump in during a meeting with their bosses to cover for her, she didn’t know to what extent he tried to defend her. But, the scene seems in a way that the show is aware of this element of the dynamic and makes sure that we know it too.

Elliot (Rami Malek) Seemingly Confused That Angela (Portia Doubleday)

Unfortunately, the problem with the White Knighting doesn’t end there. Elliot is fond of his therapist, Krista, and feels sorry for her and her relationship issues, mainly her trouble finding a suitable man after her divorce. His solution to facilitate keeping her safe and teaching her “to read people” involves him digging up dirt on her current online dating love interest. This is a side note in the pilot episode. Toward the end of the episode, shortly after you realize how awesome this series is going to be, he finds the dirt that he as looking for. Once again, instead of telling her himself, he chooses to confront him and blackmail him into telling her the truth about himself and breaking up with her. In the next scene that his therapist appears in she’s obviously shaken and appears to have been crying. He knows that his plan has worked. She is now “safe” and he seems pleased with his work.

Elliot and Mr. Robot Talk Business — Elliot and Mr. Robot talk business

This is another one of the problems that I have with White Knight syndrome. The types prone to exhibiting this behavior tend to have a lower opinion of women that than their outwardly sexist counterparts. White Knights take up the causes of the women in their lives and speak out for them, but it is usually done in a manner that seems to suggest they think that these women are incapable of speaking up for themselves. Elliot unfortunately seems to be as textbook as it comes in this regard. In some ways he seems more sinister in his actions because he seems so nice and unassuming , these traits make it so you don’t realize he’s moving pieces around in the lives of the women in his life.

He is resolute in his thinking that he knows what is best for them and will “protect” them from themselves by any means necessary. He does all of these things from the shadows while outwardly expressing genuine concern.

I can’t tell if Elliot’s behaviors are a sign of the times or if they’re his true feelings left out exposed like a nerve , a gift from the writer expressing the realism of White Knights, and I’m not sure where the show will go from here. I love the premise; the show itself comes off as a cross between Fight Club and Hackers–two of my favorite films–and the writing, direction, and camera work are amazing. I hope that in future episodes the women speak out more and he proves himself as less of a panderer and more of a genuine person whose actions toward the women on the show relay the words that he speaks to them. It’s hard to tell where this characters interactions will take the story, but I hope Elliot evolves into something better than the anti-hero that he is now because, as I said before, the show I plan on watching is phenomenal.

Elliot Does a Victory Stance After Taking down the Man (because the man was mean to Amanda) — Elliot does a victory stance after taking down the man (because the man was mean to Amanda)

Shay Revolver is an inked vegetarian, mom, feminist, cinephile, insomniac, recovering NYU student, and former roller derby player currently working as a Brooklyn-based microcinema filmmaker, web series creator, and writer. She’s obsessed with most books, especially the Pop Culture and Philosophy series and loves movies and TV shows from low brow to high class. As long as the image is moving she’s all in and believes that everything is worth a watch. She still believes that movies make the best bedtime stories because books are a daytime activity to rev up your engine and once you flip that first page, you have to keep going until you finish it and that is beautiful in its own right. She enjoys talking about the feminist perspective in comic book and gaming culture and the lack of gender equality in mainstream cinema and television productions both on screen and behind the camera. She prides herself on using all (or damn near close) to an all female crew because it’s harder for women to build up their reel. She also thinks that everyone should check out the weekly @bitchflicks twitter chat about feminism and media every Tuesday at 2 because it’s awesome and she loves engaging with other women.

Twitter : @socialslumber13

Tumblr : Shay Revolver

Women with Disabilities: The Undiscussed Horror Staple of Female Characters

The slut, the virgin, the bitch, the girl next door, the mother, the creepy old lady, the evil little girl, and the final/survivor girl. Female archetypes and stock characters within the horror genre are rampant and well known. From a movie poster alone, we can often times figure out exactly what a woman’s place and purpose is in a horror film. However, there’s another “type” of woman that we frequently see in horror films that no one seems to want to talk about.

This guest post by BJ Colangelo previously appeared at her blog Day of the Woman and is cross-posted with permission.

Physically, sensory, or mentally disabled women have been popping up in horror films from the very beginning. The Man Who Laughs is often regarded as the first horror film, and the female lead was a beautiful, blind woman. From the very beginning of the horror genre, the damsel in distress character was the quickest way to write a story. “Girl needs saving from someone or something, man saves girl from someone or something, girl is indebted to man and thanks him by kisses or marriage, the end.” Whether it was because male writers needed to make their female characters SUPER vulnerable or whether they needed an excuse to make a woman “weaker,” adding a physical/mental/sensory disability to a woman became a quick way to differentiate female characters from the usual damsel in distress. The beginnings showcased disabilities as a major reason for the demise of female characters. 1959’s The Tingler had a creature that could only be killed by screaming. The death in the film that acts as the catalyst for the entire movie was centered around a woman who was a deaf/mute, and therefore, could not “scream for her life.” We can’t have a woman be brave enough not to scream when frightened, so we must make her mute.

Physical disabilities appear in many films as a way to hinder otherwise “strong” female leads. The 1979 midnight movie The Visitor showcases a woman forced into a wheelchair by her evil daughter in order to prevent her ability to escape her child, and to make her a weaker target for her boyfriend to impregnate her. More recently, we’ve been exposed to a protagonist who uses a wheelchair in Curse of Chucky, who also plays the only character with any sort of intellect and moral compass. Putting a character in a wheelchair completely raises the stakes. Stairs are out of the question, speed is a major concern, the ability to hide is greatly reduced, and the fact someone could easily come behind and control the movement and direction of a character is horrifying. However, throwing a wheelchair on a character immediately develops a sympathetic relationship between the character and the audience. We immediately understand the difficulties that can be present for being in a wheelchair, and before anything happens, we immediately feel for her. This concept presents itself regardless of the age of the woman in the wheelchair. Would You Rather contains an elderly woman in a wheelchair and from the very beginning of the film; she is immediately the character the victims of the game of “Would You Rather?” want to protect.

This then brings us to the characterizations of amputees. In horror films, amputated women seem to fall into two categories. We have women who have been amputated as some sort of a punishment, and women who have turned their amputations into something of empowerment. In Jennifer Lynch’s controversial directorial debut, Boxing Helena, we see a woman who is amputated solely so she cannot run away. In Saw VI, Tanedra Howard’s character must amputate her own arm to survive one of Jigsaw’s traps, and is later shown in Saw 3D as a painfully angry victim who, although survived death, has been forever punished as a one-armed woman, only gaining a positivity in the form of better parking at the mall. To counteract these women punished with amputation, we have characters like Cherry Darling in Planet Terror who have taken a very Ash J. Williams approach to amputation by replacing the missing limb with a weapon. Her machine gun leg has made her character an iconic figure and one of the most recognizable women with a disability in horror.

Sensory disabilities (blindness, deafness, muteness) are often used as a catalyst to further along story lines. Ms. 45, The Eye, The Beyond, Julia’s Eyes, and even Orphan included either sensory disabled protagonists or supporting characters. The loss of sight, sound, or speech is something that many people fear to begin with, so much like having a character with a physical disability, presenting a major character unable to see, hear, or speak immediately raises their stakes. Female characters are often blind or deaf, giving the freedom for story tellers to write circumstances they would normally be unable to construct. Why can’t Ms. 45 call the cops and find justice for her attack? She cannot speak. Why can’t little Max tell when her adopted sister Esther is plotting her demise? She cannot hear. Characters in horror films vitally depend on their senses for survival. Taking one of their senses away change the way the protagonist must play the game to be alive at the end of the film.

However, the most problematic portrayal of women in horror lies in the representation of mental illness and mental disabilities. Unfortunately, society already has a stigma in place for mental illnesses, and artforms reflect this poor mentality. In 2012, Bitch Flicks ran an AMAZING piece by Megan Kearns titled “That ‘Crazy Bitch’: Women and Mental Illness Tropes in Horror” that encompasses everything that I could possibly write about this topic. My favorite quote from the piece states:

“And the Crazy Bitch trope helps perpetuate mental illness stereotypes. It has many sister tropes infesting horror too. Like the Hysterical Woman, where female characters are depicted as overly emotional and irrational, The Madwoman in the Attic, a trope where a character with mental illness is locked away, isolated from society, and the Nervous Housewife, where men doubt women’s paranormal experiences and patronize them. Jen Doll at The Atlantic Wire gives us “10 tropes about women that women should stop laughing about,” including “the crazy.” As Doll astutely observes, calling someone “crazy” is a way to put people (often women) down and for the accuser to feel better about themselves, all while being insulting to those who who struggle with mental illness.”

Ultimately, it appears that the growing awareness of ableist behavior is changing the way we treat people with disabilities in cinema, especially with female characters in horror films. Female tropes and archetypes will always exist, but gaining a stronger educational grasp on why characters are written the way they are is the most sure-fire way to learn how to provide better portrayals and influence less offensive media. I must thank comic artist and Day of the Woman reader Shannon LeClerc for suggesting that I tackle this topic. Of course I in no way scratched the surface of disabled women in horror films (is there a book on this subject?), but the best way to make a change and gain a better understanding is to open a dialogue and actually discuss the situation. Women with disabilities are a prominent character type, and we will only gain a solid understanding if we talk about it.

BJ Colangelo is the woman behind the keyboard for Day of the Woman: A blog for the feminine side of fear and a contributing writer for Icons of Fright. She’s been published in books, magazines, numerous online publications, all while frantically applying for day jobs. She’s a recovering former child beauty queen and a die-hard horror fanatic. You can follow her on Twitter at @BJColangelo.

Cool Robots, Bad-Ass Monsters and Disappointment in ‘Pacific Rim’

Pacific Rim movie poster.

Written by Leigh Kolb

Spoilers ahead!

The theme at the core of Pacific Rim is that collaboration and trust lead to success. And while the sweeping visuals of human-team-led robots (Jeagers) fighting with ocean monster-aliens (Kaiju) left me surprisingly entertained and satisfied, the dialogue and plot relied heavily on tired tropes.

Pacific Rim, directed and co-written by Guillermo del Toro, treads lightly around commentary on humans’ environmental abuse of Earth and allowing women in combat roles, but the bulk of the plot relies on trope after trope to support the larger-than-life action sequences between the Jaegers and Kaiju.

Overall, the film works, and it continues to get great reviews; however, it could have worked so much better had the writers tried a little harder to stay away from clichés.

The film takes place just a decade in the future, in a world that’s been rocked and partially destroyed by the Kaiju coming from the depths of the Pacific Ocean and attacking cities. The international government is halting the Jaeger program (which puts two pilots–who must share a “neural handshake” mind-meld–in the driver’s seat of an enormous robot), and the crew has one more opportunity to fight the Kaiju. Marshall Stacker Pentecost (Idris Elba) leads a crew that includes his hand-picked choice of Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam) and, eventually, Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi).

Stacker Pentecost.

Each of these three characters has an emotional weight–Pentecost feels protective of and responsible for Mori (he rescued and adopted her when her family was killed by the Kaiju), Becket lost his brother to the Kaiju while the two were mentally connected and fighting as co-pilots in a Jaeger, and Mori lost her family to the Kaiju when she was a little girl and has spent her life studying and training to become a pilot–and she’s “one of our brightest,” Pentecost says.

In his leadership position, however, Pentecost is concerned that Mori’s vengeance and difficult memories will impede her abilities to be a pilot, so he limits her career. Becket–who was literally in his brother’s mind when his brother was ripped from their Jaeger and brutally killed–and his memories are of no real concern to Pentecost.

Mako Mori.

While Pentecost’s fatherly feelings of protection and concern are justifiable, Becket is forceful in his desire to have Mori as a co-pilot. Her test numbers are strong and she fights him as an equal, which none of the male candidates could. With trepidation, Pentecost allows Mori to be Becket’s co-pilot.

The larger idea that women are “too emotional” for combat positions has been pervasive throughout the debate of women serving in combat positions (which the American military officially accepted in January 2013). Mori does get caught in her memories in her first major flight simulation with Becket; however, if she’s had hands all around her wringing about that possibility, certainly her anxiety over it would have helped push her over the edge. When anyone is told, over and over again, that she is fragile and emotional–chances are, some of that will be internalized.

Pentecost angrily dismisses her after her memory drift almost causes mass destruction (in fact, she asks to be dismissed, as she “respects” Pentecost, which she tells Becket is different than being “obedient”). Becket–after seeing her memories–tells Pentecost, “You rescued her, you raised her… now you’re holding her back.”

Mori is an equal to Becket.

Mori’s respect/obedience is troubling at times, but overall she is a strong female character. She’s excellent at what she does, and she is persistent at succeeding and meeting her goals. In fact, when Becket gets in a fight when another pilot is disrespectful to Mori, it feels odd and out of place–“nonsensical” and “unnecessary,” as Zev Chevat says at The Mary Sue. Otherwise, Becket is her greatest champion and leads with experience without being condescending.

And while the plot ebbs and flows in regard to its depiction of women (and I use that term broadly–Mori is really the only female character with lines), the film comes close to satisfying my desire for diversity and empowered female roles, but then it quickly regresses into tired tropes.

Becket is happy to see Mori is his co-pilot.

Becket seems to be the protagonist (and I almost thought at the beginning that there would be some interesting commentary on masculinity and military culture–from the monstrous masculine robots to the fact that Becket has to work in a dangerous menial construction job before being reassigned), but Mori is more fully developed, in terms of her memories and motivations. The two share a clear bond, and whether or not it’s a romantic one depends on the viewer (del Toro wasn’t totally sure, either).

At the end (after Pentecost has figured out that they need Mori and he asks her to “protect him”), Becket and Mori travel into the depths of the Pacific to Save Humanity. Once they get there to drop the bomb, their oxygen levels plummet and Becket tells Mori to retreat into a protective pod so he can drop the bomb. “I can finish this alone,” he says, giving her his oxygen.

So he does. His motivations are pure, but it still seems like a letdown to the viewer after all that Mori has accomplished. The final blow that does, indeed, Save Humanity, is dropped by our white male protagonist (the black man has sacrificed himself, and the Asian woman is protected in a little bubble).

I would have loved to at least see Mori giving Becket CPR to save him in the aftermath (instead of him just waking up), or something to level the heroism. Her role feels diminished at the end.

Becket and Mori are both heroes, but Becket is the default protagonist.

I don’t need a female protagonist in every film. However, when a film like this focuses on and develops the female lead without giving her the satisfaction of being a clear hero, something feels off. Either more needed to be done with Becket’s emotional baggage, or less with Mori’s. As it stands, the film perpetuated the notion that women’s emotions could be a hindrance in combat, and men’s emotions translate to strength in battle. Stuffing Mori into a pod at the climax of the film is symbolic of trying to shoo women back into their protected spaces so they don’t fly too close to the sun. I don’t think Becket as a character would have approved of that idea, nor would del Toro, probably. But that scene certainly left that taste in the viewer’s mouth–let the white guy finish the job!

I can’t stress enough how entertaining and well-done the visuals of this film are–and again, that’s coming from someone who did not expect to feel exhilarated while watching monsters fight robots. The lightly developed characters and don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it female empowerment, however, left much to be desired. And while the optimistic ending and refreshing lack of American exceptionalism reinforce the idea that everyone–different ethnicities, genders, and races–needs to work together to succeed, the lackluster writing and reliance on tropes still sends the message that women’s emotions can be a hindrance and that they need to be protected.

Mori is instrumental in helping save the world–but she doesn’t get to set off the bomb. She’s not fully treated as a damsel in distress, but she comes too close for comfort. Maybe, just maybe, next time Becket can retreat to the pod while Mori fries the enemy.

In addition to having an almost-not-really female protagonist, Pacific Rim really only caters to the female gaze, in terms of mild sexual objectification. I guess I am simply perpetuating this.

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

‘Splash’: A Feminist Tail Tale?

Splash movie poster

Written by Amanda Rodriguez

I was completely in LOVE with Ron Howard’s 1984 film Splash when I was little. I was then and continue now to be obsessed with mermaids. My child brain even thought that in the way hair color changes as you get older, I could become a mermaid as naturally as all that. It’s probably even why I like swimming so much. For a brief moment while doing the butterfly, I can pretend I’m Madison diving into the ocean. Too bad my dolphin kick is for shit.

Jeepers, mermaids are cool.

When I thought about reviewing Splash, I latched onto some of its more surprising, potentially feminist qualities, but upon rewatching it, I found it was a more deeply layered film than I’d realized. One feminist aspect of the movie is that Daryl Hannah’s mermaid Madison overcomes her inability to speak (as dictated by Hans Christian Anderson’s original The Little Mermaid story) through her remarkable intelligence and adaptability.

We watch Madison fall in love with the human world, and her innocent joy humanizes a potentially exotic character while making the audience take another look at many of the things we take for granted: speaking, dancing, ice skating, the gritty beauty of urban landscapes,

“What’s that? Pretty.” – Madison

the satisfaction of a fine meal,

“That’s how we eat lobster where I come from.” – Madison

and the luxury of a hot bath.

For fins: Add water, table salt, and land-legged mermaid.

Most interestingly, though, Madison shows us how influential media is in our perception of who we are and how we fit into our culture. Her first word is “Bloomingdale’s.” A saleswoman (Madison’s first interaction with another woman) even says of an outfit Madison touches, “I couldn’t get one leg in there. My daughter, on the other hand, is lucky; she’s anorexic.” Madison’s first internalization is of society’s definition of femininity, and that internalization goes hand-in-hand with commerce and capitalism. She proceeds to spend the entire day at the mall, buying things, learning English, and aerobicizing with Richard Simmons, using the televisions at an electronics studio. Madison’s first day as a human woman shows us that media dispenses our culture’s expectations, and we must buy into them literally.

Another feminist aspect of Splash is that she doesn’t give up her world to be with a man, though she nearly does (because Tom Hanks’ Allen Bauer character refuses to let her go gracefully, he instead yells at her and derides her). Instead, Allen joins her underwater paradise, and Madison gets to be herself, fishtail and all, which I find intriguing because they make much of her sexual appetite and of how frequently she and Allen have sex…don’t see that happening anymore in the usual way.

Underwater makeout scene.

Most importantly on the feminist front, Madison repeatedly rescues Allen. He is generally the damsel in distress, a complete novice in her world where he faces drowning without her. She rescues him twice from drowning and once from his sickhearted loneliness coupled with the complicatedness of a human world where he never really belonged. From Allen’s youth, he’s shown as a romantic, a dreamer. His adult life and the obligations of being a small business owner have distracted him from the simplicity of love and his soulmate, Madison. Even the way he talks about marriage is all about sidestepping immigration regulations and blood tests; the institution itself is just another symbol of the bureaucracy regulating his life. In the end, Madison frees him from that when she gives him an underwater kiss that allows him to breathe and be “safe.” Yes, it’s problematic to have a woman symbolize a lifestyle or quality of life toward which a man gravitates at the end of the film.

Madison and Allen look on at her underwater civilization.

Do I think the film was intentionally critiquing consumerism and the capitalist, American ideal of femininity? Probably not. Ultimately, the film showed us the wonders of our world through fresh eyes, while drawing attention to its glaring faults (for example, the military force that studies Madison against her will and plans to dissect her). Madison’s goal throughout the film may have been love and a man, but it’s important to note that she began her journey to land only planning to spend a single week with him, valuing her life and home under the sea more than love. Even in love, she was always the strong one, never angry, hurtful, or vindictive as Allen was. Madison is a heroine. She saves people. She’s kind, sensitive, intelligent, motivated, and strong enough to rescue a man or fend off military attackers in scuba gear. She is most definitely not the perfect female heroine, but our heroines should be flawed and can be vulnerable. Regardless, Madison is hands-down the best mermaid EVER depicted on-screen, and that makes her my hero.

The Women of ‘Man of Steel’ and the Toxicity of Hyper-Masculinity

Amy Adams as Lois Lane in Man of Steel

Written by Megan Kearns.

I’ve never been a huge fan of Superman. Sure I grew up watching and liking the Christopher Reeve films. And I sure as fuck am NOT a fan of Zack Snyder and his frequent faux female empowerment, despite his protestations to the contrary. But I do adore Lois Lane. An intrepid, fast-talking, driven reporter? How could I not?

Lois has had many incarnations: feminist women’s libber, lovelorn damsel in distress, tough business woman. And she’s often a mélange of these traits. She has an extensive feminist history and “she has always reflected conflicting attitudes toward women, especially talented, independent women.” Throughout her history, it seems Lois has always been a crystallization of a woman immersed in a world dominated by patriarchy and sexism. So does Man of Steel give us “a Lois Lane we deserve?”

Lois is a smart, spunky, hard-hitting, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist. In her first scene in Man of Steel, when there’s some bro-tastic bullshit being spewed, Lois replies, “Now that we’re done having a dick measuring contest.” Fuck yeah!! Love this Lois! When Lois is shown her Spartan quarters at a military outpost in the Arctic, she questions, “Where do I tinkle?” Did Lois really use the word “tinkle?” Since it was juxtaposed after her awesome “dick-measuring” throwdown, I believe it’s intended as a subtle commentary on how society views women as weak, coddled and needing lots of amenities. But who knows, maybe I’m giving the film too much credit.

Lois writes a story about the mysterious stranger who saves her in the Arctic, believing he is not of this world. When her editor Perry White (Laurence Fishburne, the first African-American to play the role…and sadly one of the few people of color in the film, which is a shame considering “Superman’s identity as a transnational adoptee”), won’t publish her story, she persists and leaks it to an online site. Lois refuses to let anyone get in the way of her career. And that’s incredibly admirable.

In the Superman films with Margot Kidder and Christopher Reeve, Lois is a better reporter than Clark. He can type faster but she’s a shrewd investigative journalist. He has the brawn while she has the brains. But both share a morality: he wants to save people in danger; she wants to tell stories to inform the public and expose injustice. Because of this, both are fairly equal despite Superman’s superhero, god-like powers. There’s an interesting change in Lois’ role in Man of Steel. In the comics and previous films, Lois suspects but doesn’t know Clark is Superman, or if she does know, Clark erases her memory of his true identity. But here she discovers the truth early on. It puts the two characters on more equal ground.

Lois (Amy Adams) in Man of Steel

Producer Deborah Snyder says Lois and Superman in Man of Steel save each other – he saves her physically while she saves him emotionally. Does that sate my need for equality? Notsomuch. Yes, it’s a step in the right direction. Yet it makes me uneasy as it relegates men and women to stereotypical gender roles. That men handle the “tough stuff,” while women the touchy-feely world of emotions.

I like that Lois makes up her mind and has an insatiable curiosity and is career-driven. Yet her life still revolves around Superman. Now some people will argue with me saying, “But the movie is named Superman, NOT Lois Lane!” Yeah, I know. I don’t give a shit. I want women in films to have their own personalities, their own lives, their own identities. Of course Lois’ path is intertwined with Superman’s or she wouldn’t even be in this film. But why must women continuously be reduced to damsels in distress, sidekicks or love interests? Wielding a gun or throwing a punch, isn’t automatically synonymous with power or agency.

Some will argue that Lois fights, playing a pivotal role in defeating General Zod. And she does. But it’s not her ingenuity or skills that enable her achievements. It’s Superman’s daddy via fancy hologram-consciousness instructing her how to defeat Superman’s enemies. Okay, so she can carry out orders. Is that really an improvement? It’s not her ingenuity or intelligence. And of course Lois still remains the love interest and frequent damsel in distress.

Faora (Antje Traue) in Man of Steel

What about Faora, Superman’s female Kryptonian, man-hating (in the comics) nemesis? She kicks some serious ass with a compelling fighting style. And it’s awesome. But again, she merely follows Zod, a dude, serving as his second in command. Why couldn’t she be in charge as the head villain? While she doesn’t have much personality, she does have an interesting exchange with Superman when she tells him he will always lose because he suffers the flaw of morality which she and her brethren have evolved past.

I initially thought this would be an annoyingly bro-tastic film with guidance and support strictly coming from the men in Clark/Kal-El’s life. But women play an equal role in the film. Unlike Star Trek Into Darkness where women remain mostly invisible or as sex objects, we see women in the military, women journalists besides Lois, and women on Krypton in leadership positions. “All of this may seem relatively minor, but it is rare for superhero movies to feature females in important, non-sexualized, non-damsel-in-distress roles.”

What is interesting though is Man of Steel’s commentary on masculinity. Throughout the film, Clark/Kal-El must wrangle with his emotions of identity and belonging. He wants to help people but his father keeps telling him he must hide his powers for people fear what they don’t understand, further underscoring the themes of immigration and xenophobia. When Clark is a young boy, he gets bullied. But he doesn’t fight back; he merely endures. He tells his father he wanted to hit the boy. His father nods and says that part of him wanted him to hit the bully. His father inquires, “But what would that accomplish?” When Clark is much older, traveling around and bouncing from job to job in anonymity, he again encounters a bully objectifying a female co-worker. He endures the bully’s taunts and walks away. There’s a continually dueling masculinity happening on-screen — a mature, calm and rational male who turns the other cheek and a toxic, aggressive, hyper-masculine male vying for supremacy.

Clark/Kal-El (Henry Cavill) and Martha Kent (Diane Lane) in Man of Steel

Both sets of parents — Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van and Jonathan and Martha Kent — influence their son. Man of Steel shows how Clark/Kal-El benefits from the influence of both his adoptive and biological father and mother. Although it would have been nice to see Lara’s consciousness in the Fortress of Solitude, not just Jor-El. Through much of the film, it’s Jor-El and Jonathon Kent providing guidance. But Martha Kent provides as strong an impact on Clark. She teaches her son to silence all of the chaos in his mind (brought on by his superpower senses of hearing, sight and smell), to focus only on the sound of her voice. In a genre that often features “absent mothers,” it’s great to see the power of motherhood here.

By showcasing the strength of his bonds with his father and mother, the film asserts that men need both feminine and masculine spheres in their lives. Superman finds inner peace when he learns of his past and when Lois believes in him. The men in Clark/Kal-El’s life teach him outer strength while the women in his life teach him inner strength.

The message underscoring the film is choice. That we can choose our destiny, choose the lives we lead. I found this especially compelling considering 2013 is shaping up to be the worst year for reproductive rights and the film’s subtle reproductive justice theme as Jor-El and Lara defy the laws of Krypton to conceive Kal-El/Clark. They choose to defy the eugenics of their society and have a child who can choose his own path, not merely follow the one laid out for him by society. They also choose to jettison their child to Earth in order to save his life. While we get to see Jor-El in all kinds of action scenes, Lara is the one who chooses to push the button launching Kal-El when her husband is threatened. By the end of Man of Steel, Superman must make a choice. He must choose Krypton or Earth. And he ultimately decides through a surprising violent act that runs counter to Superman’s moral code. When he breaks down because of his decision, Lois is there to comfort him.

Lara Lor-Van (Ayelet Zurer) in Man of Steel

While I liked it and it’s by far my favorite Snyder film (although trust and believe, that’s not saying much), it’s kind of a mess with tissue-thin characters and not being able to decide what it wanted to be. While it’s “criticial of hyper-masculinity and the violence it engenders” and “condemns sexual objectification and harassment of women,” the film’s last third contained such an onslaught of non-stop violent action it seems to contradict the theme of the perils of violence and aggression. Yet it’s nice to see a film argue that “choice saves the world.”

What does this mean? That men should choose to be gentle? That they should connect with femininity? That men should choose to use violence only when “necessary”? Perhaps it means that men don’t have to be aggressive bullies. They can choose another way as restraint, compassion and tenderness don’t strip men of their masculinity.

While it’s fantastic Man of Steel reinforces the importance of both femininity and masculinity and attempts to deconstruct hyper-masculinity, it’s unfortunate that the film still says women’s lives revolve around men through its failure of the Bechdel Test. Yeah, I don’t really count one-sided conversations of journalist Jenny saying to Lois, “Come see this,” or Faora instructing Lois about her breathing device. What’s annoying is that these conversations could have been fleshed out, along with the discussion between Martha Kent and Lois who talk to each other…but of course about Superman.

Some have hailed Man of Steel “the most feminist action film of the year.” Yes, it depicts women in various roles, boasts an intelligent female love interest and a kickass female villain, and questions toxic hyper-masculinity. Despite all its strides, can a film truly be feminist if it ultimately revolves around dudes?

Superman (Henry Cavill) and Lois (Amy Adams) in Man of Steel

I’m getting really fucking sick and tired of complaining about blockbuster films, particularly superhero films. I love this genre. I love comic books, sci-fi and action films. I want so desperately to have these films be awesome. And feminist. Which would make them even more awesome.

While we’re seeing more women-centric blockbusters like The Hunger Games, Bridesmaids, Twilight and the upcoming The Heat, we desperately need more, especially women in superhero movies (Wonder Woman, She-Hulk, Black Widow, etc, etc, etc). Hollywood has “pretty much entirely devoted itself to telling men’s stories.” It seems like filmmakers are kinda sorta beginning to listen to audiences’ desire for more empowered women on-screen. Yet I’m continuously annoyed that even when filmmakers claim their female roles will be more proactive or empowered, their attempts at appeasement still fail. They still don’t get it.

Some filmmakers and studios think merely increasing the number of women, featuring a female sidekick, or giving a woman a gun solves everything. How about some real empowerment? How about seeing complex female characters with agency? How about we see their perspective, hear their voice and see their struggles?

Man of Steel gets so many things right. Yet it still fails to portray nuanced female characters with agendas of their own who don’t exist to aid in the self-actualization of the men in their lives — roles Lois, Martha, Lara and Faora all serve. It’s a shame especially when you have an iconic feminist female role already embedded in the story.

Where Have You Gone, Sarah Connor?

Remember Linda Hamilton (playing Sarah Connor) and her guns in Terminator 2?

This guest post by Holly Derr is cross-posted with permission from The Ms. Magazine Blog.

Summer always makes me a bit nostalgic for childhood. I remember fondly the excitement of being out of school, the long days with nothing to do but read and the cool refuge from the hot Texas sun provided by a matinee of a summer blockbuster at the local movie theater.

Unfortunately, this summer’s action movies have left me nostalgic for more than the air conditioning. Only a few of the most highly anticipated movies of the summer feature more than one woman, and those women are primarily co-stars, not leads. After Earth and World War Z have wives who stay home while the man goes on the adventure. Elysium co-stars Jodie Foster as a bad guy, but from what little information has been released on the plot, her weapon of choice appears to be government red tape. Even Monsters University only has one female student—and she’s a cheerleader.

Anne Hathaway as Catwoman

To make matters worse, the characters who do get in on the action are mostly played by women who cannot believably fight. The Heat is a buddy cop movie starring Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy, but it looks to be more comedy than action. The female hero of Kick Ass 2 is a young girl. And though Gwyneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts in Iron Man 3, Zoe Saldana as Uhura in Star Trek: Into Darkness, Gal Gadot as Giselle and Michelle Rodriguez as Letty in Fast and Furious 6, and Rinko Kikuchi as Pacific Rim‘s Mako Mori are supposedly tough, they are so thin that it’s hard to believe that they’re actually capable of action. In fact, though Uhura is present for two of the fights in the new Star Trek, in the first, she mainly hides behind a wall, and in the second, she merely fires a phaser which, being a phaser, doesn’t even have any kickback.

This trend is disturbing but not accidental: The diets these women go on to prepare for their roles mean that no matter how much training they do, they’re not eating enough to build muscle. To prepare for Catwoman, Anne Hathaway went vegan and was, by her own account, exhausted all the time. Not surprisingly she failed to build any muscle despite intensive training: most scientists agree that the full range of amino acids responsible for muscle growth is only found in animal products. (Think about it–have you ever seen a muscular vegan?) Gwyneth Paltrow published her “elimination” diet in her book, It’s All Good, and indeed it does appear she does more eliminating than eating. And Alice Eve, whose totally unnecessary underwear scene as Carol Marcus in Star Trek: Into Darkness has prompted its fair share of criticism, told Allure that to prepare for the role she ate nothing but spinach for five months. Perhaps that’s why she and her counterpart in the film, Saldana (who clocks in it at a whopping 115 pounds) spend most of the movie looking like they are about to cry.

Ellen Ripley

I say we bring back Ripley. To prepare for her role in Aliens, Sigourney Weaver did dumbbell chest presses, squats, shoulder presses, and rows—all with weights—and she didn’t diet at all. Did you hear that? Not at all. I say we bring back Sarah Connor. In Terminator 2, Linda Hamilton did basic soldier training and ate a high-protein diet, and, indeed, she has guns in her hands and on her arms. Or remember when a 140-pound Jamie Lee Curtis did a strip tease to protect her “cover” in True Lies? Now that was a motivated underwear scene. (Note to J.J. Abrams: Having Eve take her clothes off in the middle of rushing from one place to the next for no reason at all is simply objectification.)

These female heroes of yore were popular not just because they were badass: They were also fantastic characters. Unfortunately, the summer movie with the best female fights (and the most diverse casting) is probably going to be the one that provides the least opportunity for character development. Gina Carrano, an actual Mixed Martial Arts professional, and Michelle Rodriguez did almost all of their own fights for Fast and Furious 6, and those fights are pretty damn cool. But because Rodriguez’s character Letty has amnesia, she moves through every moment of the film when she’s not driving or fighting like she’s in a daze. Carrano as Riley never speaks more than one or two lines per scene.

Saldana, Eve and Paltrow are gorgeous and talented, and the problems with their performances are largely the result of underwritten characters. I don’t mean to body shame this summer’s starlets for being slender, though I do wish they would eat. I mean to shame Hollywood for asking them to starve themselves, and to shame a culture that thinks starving women are beautiful. It’s not a coincidence that many women action heroes are actually children—that’s about as big as Hollywood lets women get these days.

Media-saavy Geena Davis, in an interview about her movie The Long Kiss Goodnight (in which she played amnesiac CIA agent Samantha Caine who, like Jason Bourne, has forgotten who she was but not how to fight), explained why this matters:

Thelma and Louise had a big reaction, there was a huge thing at the time, that, ‘Oh my god, these women had guns and they actually killed a guy!’ … That movie made me realize—you can talk about it all you want, but watch it with an audience and talk to women who have seen this movie and they go, ‘YES!’ They feel so adrenalized and so powerful after seeing some women kick some ass and take control of their own fate. … Women go, ‘Yeah – fucking right!’ Women don’t get to have that experience in the movies. But hey, people go to action movies for a reason; they want to feel adrenalized and they want to identify with the hero, and if only guys get to do that then it’s crazy.

Long live Samantha Caine. Long live Thelma and Louise.

Holly L. Derr is a writer, director, and professor living in Los Angeles. She writes regularly for The Ms. Magazine Blog on theater, film, television and reproductive rights. Her tumblr Feminist Fandom addresses representation of sex, gender, sexuality, and race in the media. Follow her @hld6oddblend.

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

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

Written by Megan Kearns | Warning: Spoilers ahead!

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

I really enjoyed JJ Abrams’ Star Trek and Star Trek Into Darkness. Both are fun, gripping movies paying homage to the original series. While I enjoy the nostalgia and revisiting these characters, I can’t ignore Star Trek Into Darkness’ vacillating depiction of empowerment and sexism.

In the 60s original TV series, Lieutenant Uhura was a ground-breaking role. It was one of the first time audiences saw a black woman on TV who wasn’t a maid or a servant. She was also part of the first interracial kiss on TV, although that always bothers me as it was against her wishes due to mind control. Uhura’s occupation as the Enterprise’s Communications Officer inspired women (Dr. Mae Jamison, Sally Ride) and African-Americans (Dr. Mae Jamison, Guion Bluford) to become astronauts. We can’t be what we can’t see, one of the reasons media impacts our lives so deeply.

Yet the original Star Trek didn’t exactly delve deeply into Lt. Uhura’s personality. However, we can glean a few things about the Communications Officer. Adept at languages, she was ambitious, climbing through ranks to eventually become a Commander. She enjoyed music and loved to play instruments and sing. She doesn’t really have a tangible persona, not compared to roguish and rebellious Kirk, rational and logical Spock or emotional, metaphor-spewing Bones. So it’s great to see the extremely talented Zoe Saldana — who I will seriously watch in anything — imbue the iconic character with more complexity and depth as an opinionated and assertive woman.

In the original series, Kirk, Spock and McCoy form the central trio. But in Star Trek Into Darkness, Uhura replaces McCoy so now there’s a woman of color in the triad. A lady broke through the boys’ club barrier!! But won’t her ladyparts contaminate the brotastic bond??

Is Uhura in Star Trek Into Darkness a strong-willed, intelligent, assertive badass? Or merely relegated to the role of a dude’s girlfriend? She’s both.

Spock (Zachary Quinto) and Uhura (Zoe Saldana)

Uhura and Spock share an effortless chemistry. As we saw in the first Star Trek film, despite their difference in rank, they appear to be equals in their romantic relationship. Uhura possesses agency, despite her romantic involvement. She’s the one who demands Kirk let her negotiate with the Klingons rather than shooting first. She’s the one who insists on being beamed down to help Spock in the film’s climax. No one is making decisions for her. She’s making them. She’s not afraid to voice her opinion. When she’s pissed at Spock, thinking he held little regard for his life, she’s unafraid to confront him even though Kirk, her boss, is present.

Part of me loves that Uhura, a black woman, is the one in the romance. Too often we see white women play out that plot. Black women often remain on the sidelines as the feisty sidekicks, giving their white friends advice on love. Lucy Liu recently lamented about racist stereotypes in Hollywood, how people don’t think of her in a romantic comedy. While not a rom-com, it’s great to see a woman of color get the guy.

But it pisses off another part of me that Uhura’s role in Star Trek Into Darkness is ultimately defined by her relationship to a man, even though that relationship often takes “a back seat to the bromance between Spock and Kirk.” Uhura’s role as girlfriend exists to convey Spock’s humanity. Uhura is upset at Spock that he seems so cavalier in a life-threatening situation, not giving their relationship a second thought. He assures her that he cares deeply but doesn’t want to endure the anguish of fear. They have a genuine conflict that I wish had been explored more. In the emotional climax, Spock loses control of his emotions due to his feelings for Kirk, not Uhura. Again it feels like it’s all about a dude.

Even though the other female character in the film Dr. Carol Marcus, a weapons specialist for chrissake, she’s ultimately defined by her relationship to a man too — her father, an ambassador and head of Starfleet. She’s also been called the worst damsel in distress ever. Not sure I’d say the worst but yeah it’s pretty bad. Oh and of course we see her in her underwear, for no reason other than to show Kirk ogling her. (In case you’re not familiar with original Star Trek, Dr. Marcus also happens to be the mother of Kirk’s son — another way her character is defined by a man — although she’s also the creator of the Genesis Project, which is pretty badass. But who knows if this will even transpire in the subsequent reboot series.)

Dr. Marcus’ gratuitous half-naked, eye-candy shot has rightfully pissed off a ton of people. Screenwriter and frequent Abrams collaborator Damon Lindelof recently responded to the criticism, proving he doesn’t fully comprehend sexism or misogyny:

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

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

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

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

While it’s nice that he acknowledges their folly, even after he apologizes, it’s more a half-assed excuse as he mentions Kirk is shirtless. No, no. I just can’t. I’m not going to go into all the reasons why reducing a woman who’s defined by men to a sex object specifically for the Male Gaze is so NOT the same as showing a man shirtless. Just trust me. It’s not the same. At all.

I complained in Iron Man 3 of Pepper Potts’ faux empowerment, essentially fulfilling the Damsel in Distress trope. While others have claimed Uhura becomes the Damsel in Distress too, I disagree. While women overall get a pretty shitty treatment in the film, Uhura’s agency is not stripped away. She voices her ideas, desires and annoyances. Unlike Pepper, Uhura fearlessly expresses her opinions and holds steady to them.

When Klingons surround Uhura, Spock and Kirk’s small spacecraft, Uhura decisively asserts herself. She tells hot-headed Kirk — who of course wants to charge out with guns blazing – that he brought her there to speak Klingon. “So let me speak Klingon.” Uhura wants to be the diplomatic negotiator resolving the situation. Huzzah! Oops, when negotiations go awry things, it’s testosterone to the rescue. And yes, Uhura gets saved by a dude. Annoying. However, in the ensuing melee, Uhura grabs a dagger off a Klingon who was going to kill her and kills him first in self-defense. Later in the film, she asserts herself again when she beams down to help Spock against villain Khan.

Uhura

Star Trek Into Darkness also makes an interesting commentary on stereotypical masculinity. While Ambassador Marcus is aggressive, looking to kill Khan, Kirk learns the importance of following the rules to ensure justice. It initially seems like a denouncement of toxic hyper-masculinity. Ahhhh but not so fast. The climax of the film, the showdown with Khan, isn’t resolved with logic or cunning. Nope, it’s with good old fashioned testosterone as Spock, now in touch with his anger after a Wrath of Khan reversal and the death of Kirk, beats the shit out of him.

Speaking of Khan, while it’s awesome to have an intelligent woman of color featured so prominently in the film, the egregious whitewashing of Khan cannot be ignored. In Star Trek the Original Series and the film Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Khan Noonian Singh was a genetically engineered human augment, a product of the eugenics wars. As a Sikh from Northern India, he was a composite of a variety of ethnicities played by the charismatic Ricardo Montalban, aka one of the awesomest villains. Ever. But in Star Trek Into Darkness, it’s a white dude. Sure Benedict Cumberbatch does an okay job. But this racist whitewashing “is a slap in the face” to the audience as well as Gene Roddenberry’s vision of bringing people together from around the globe and galaxy “by a mission of exploration and diplomacy.”

So why am I going off on a tangent about Khan when this is an article about Uhura? Because the ancillary racism and sexism bolsters the film’s message. The original Star Trek series was groundbreaking in its depiction of gender and racial diversity and exploration of social issues. But we don’t live in the fucking 1960s anymore. JJ Abrams clearly doesn’t want to do anything different or “boldly going” anywhere when it comes to dismantling oppression and heralding diversity.

JJ Abrams created strong female characters in Alias (a female-centric series) and Lost, two of my favorite TV series. He showcased female friendship between Sydney and Francie, Sydney and Nadia, Kate and Claire, Kate and Sun. And Lost would have been female-centric too if the networks hadn’t made him change the leader of the survivors from Kate (whose character was more like Rose) to Jack. However, when you start to look at his treatment of characters of color, sadly most of them die on both shows. But in Star Trek Into Darkness, he seems a bit too concerned with harkening back to the good ole’ days of yore. You know, the ones filled with sexism and racism.

Uhura

Is Uhura empowered? Yes. But does it matter when all other women in the film are silenced, absent or objectified? Does it matter when she’s defined by her relationship to a man?

It’s strange in a film that objectifies women and defines them by their relationship to men, we simultaneously see an intelligent, decisive and opinionated Uhura. Aside from Uhura’s rank as a lieutenant, we see no women in leadership roles. No women captains, no women ambassadors, no women number ones (second in commands to captains). Uhura possesses no female friends. She doesn’t talk to a single woman at all. Not one. Not even underwear-clad Carol.

No, Star Trek Into Darkness can’t pass the fucking Bechdel Test but it doesn’t pass up the opportunity to show Kirk having a threesome. A fucking threesome. Because women are nothing more than fantasies and sex objects. Can’t forget he’s a lady-loving, bad-boy rules-breaking playboy. Now, I love Kirk in all his swagger and bravado too. But if we’re going to show women on-screen, can it please for-the-love-of-all-that-is-holy NOT just be women in their underwear? Can we please not just focus on dude’s friendships, sexual conquests, struggles and tribulations?

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

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

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

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

Choose Your Own Sexist Adventure: Victim Blaming, Domestic Violence, and the Glorification of the Nice Guy™ in ‘Mud’

Matthew McConaughey all over the movie poster for Mud

Written by Stephanie Rogers, who spoils the entire movie.

I wanted to see Mud because it looked like an interesting film about the cult of masculinity. It is, in fact, a film about masculinity and father-son relationships, but it goes out of its way to avoid offering an actual critique of masculinity. If anything, Mud celebrates the masculine by demonizing the feminine. The women in this film carry the sole responsibility of ruining every dude character’s life, and Mud screams through a megaphone its Women Are Awful message from the first scene all the way to “Help Me, Rhonda” playing over the closing credits. And I thought Side Effects was bad.

I hated that I had to hate Mud; the young boy who plays Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and his best friend Neckbone (Jacob Lofland) blew my mind, and Matthew McConaughey as Mud gave his best performance since Ghosts of Girlfriends Past (ha). Reese Witherspoon somehow even managed to garner sympathy for a second with her ten minutes on screen, a serious feat given the fact that the character she plays (Juniper) gets blamed by everyone for Mud’s predicament as a fugitive in hiding. Ellis’s parents, too, particularly Sarah Paulson (as Mary Lee) of recent American Horror Story: Asylum fame, gave moving performances, and I especially liked Michael Shannon’s three brief scenes as Galen—not because anything other than sexism and man-childness occur—but because he always commands the screen (see Take Shelter and Revolutionary Road). The actors, specifically the two young boys, save this film from entirely shitting all over itself.

Jacob Lofland (Neckbone) and Tye Sheridan (Ellis) in Mud

Matthew McConaughey plays Mud, the title character, and I keep reading everywhere that Mud is a retelling of Huck Finn, so okay. Two 14-year-old boys, Ellis and Neckbone (best. name. ever.), live in a poor yet quaint and lovely town on the Mississippi River. In conventional boys-as-adventurous-explorers fashion, they sneak their small boat off to an island down the river where they find an abandoned boat stuck in a tree. After climbing up there and sifting through a treasure trove of Penthouse magazines (because that’s necessary) and finding a bag of canned beans, they realize someone lives on the boat. Mud! The rest of the film shows men bonding with one another by objectifying women, beating up men to defend the honor of women, and blaming women both for the abuse inflicted upon them by men and for the problems they “cause” for the men around them. It’s a real win-win for the ladies of Mud.

Ellis goes to find Mud on the island

Brian Moylan of Hollywood.com describes the film as follows:

There is not a woman in this movie who doesn’t betray her man, cheat on him, use him, steal his home, rob him of his authenticity, make him move to a boring condo complex in the suburbs, or otherwise force him [out] of his natural and driving male essence … This thing might as well be a river fort with a giant “No Girlz Allowed” sign out front.

Hard to argue with that. Here’s why.

I guess I knew in pretty much the first scene (and in the first lines of dialogue), when Ellis told Neckbone he had a crush on a girl and Neckbone responded with, “She’s got nice titties,” that Mud might walk a fine line between either existing as a coming-of-age tale or offering up a sexist piece of shit under the guise of a coming-of-age tale. It’s a little bit of both.

The freakshow Ellis and Neckbone see when they first meet Mud

The neatly tied up plot goes like this: “Two teenage boys encounter a fugitive and form a pact to help him evade the bounty hunters on his trail and reunite him with his true love.”

Sounds romantic, right? See, I definitely teared up during its most manipulative moments, and I definitely came to care about the characters, and I definitely wanted to leave the theater feeling okay about that rather than feeling guilty for liking a movie that portrayed my gender (and even men), with such simplicity and disrespect. I psychically begged Mud to reverse all its misogyny in the end, to somehow invalidate the sexist ideology it spent nearly two hours enforcing, so that I could write about its complexity and nuance and be all, “Wow, what a smart deconstruction of Southern masculinity!” No dice.

Instead, I get to write about typical Hollywood gender-trope drivel, except it exists in a fucking semi-indie film, and, according to me—a genius—indie films ain’t supposed to rely on Hollywood gender-trope drivel anymore. Let’s begin.

Best Fucking Friends Ever

Every man in this movie tells a story about a woman who wronged him. Every. Single. One. The opening scene (juxtaposed with the “nice titties” comment and the Penthouse porn) shows Galen, Neckbone’s uncle and sole caretaker, getting reamed by his girlfriend. She bolts from his home, whips around to find the two boys sitting on the porch, and says something like, “You make sure you always treat girls like princesses!” We quickly learn that Galen tried something in bed that his girlfriend didn’t like, so when she throws a handful of gravel at him and yells, “I’m a princess!” Galen and the boys (and the audience) laugh at her “irrational” reaction and prudishness. Boys will be boys, honey.

Michael Shannon as Galen, aka Misogynist of the Year

Ellis and Neckbone then leave the house carrying Galen’s book on how to understand the opposite sex (because that’s necessary), and the film officially begins its Women Are Awful message with not even a hint of fucking subtlety or irony: welcome to prudes, princesses, titties, Mars/Venus, hysteria, virgin/whore nonsense, and porn, all within the first five minutes of screen time.

Not surprisingly, we learn that Mud finds himself stuck on an island and running from the law because of Juniper, a woman he fell in love with as a young teenager. The film pulls no punches in its insistence on blaming Juniper for Mud’s situation; she involved herself with an abusive man—a pattern for her—and since Mud lurves her so much, he obviously needed to murder the man responsible for beating her and causing her to miscarry. Juniper’s beating also destroyed her reproductive system (why not?), and that factors strongly into Mud’s decision to kill. The message here, and Mud all but says it, is that robbing a woman of her God-given responsibility to bare children is unforgivable and punishable by death.

I wish that were the only instance of blaming a woman’s reproductive capacity for another man’s misery, but, alas, Tom (a possible former CIA assassin, played creepily by Sam Shepard) can barely stand to interact with anyone ever since his wife and son died during childbirth. He raised Mud as his own son (only Ellis knows his biological father, played by Ray McKinnon), and sits on the river shooting his gun every now and then like a hater. Basically, women are misery-inducing killjoys who suck at performing their duties of procreation.

Sam Shepard waiting to … kill … something?

When women deign to momentarily stop holding hostage the broken hearts of men everywhere, they fall into the coveted category of Desired Object, going from active life ruiners to passive beauty queens.

Reese Witherspoon as Juniper with Smeared Mascara

We first meet Ellis’s girl crush (presumably the one with the nice titties) when Ellis sees an older boy put his hands all over her in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly. May Pearl (the next best character name after Neckbone and Mud) pushes away the sexual harasser, but do you think that stops Ellis from charging through the parking lot with reptilian stealth and jacking a high school senior in the jaw? No way. That would mean not employing the Damsel in Distress trope, and, in turn, allowing women to wield their own authority and agency. But Mud gives no fucks about women other than how they push the male-focused plot forward. As Megan Kearns notes in her review of Iron Man 3:

The problem with the Damsel in Distress trope is that it strips women of their power and insinuates that women need men to rescue or save them. And yet again it places the focus on men, reinforcing the notion that society revolves around men, not women.

That’s Mud in a nutshell, although many reviewers—and most people in the history of everywhere—still manage to confuse misogyny with Nice Guy™ acts of “chivalry.”

The Piggly Wiggly: after-school hangout

Interestingly Upsettingly Predictably, the moment that moves Ellis away from rescuing May Pearl—after she rewards him with a kiss and tells him to call her, in typical Damsel in Distress trope fashion—relies on even more misogyny. The congregation of boys in the lot stops their commotion cold when Juniper suddenly appears—in all her blonde-haired glory and cut-off daisy dukes—and saunters into the Piggly Wiggly. The boys gape at her. The teenage girls squirm all jealous. And my brain jerks from all this Sexist Whiplash.

To rewind and parse: a boy street harasses a girl; another boy saves her from said harassment (Damsel in Distress); she publically rewards him for saving her; Juniper shows up as Desired Object; women become jealous of one another over male attention; and Ellis and Neckbone begin their inevitable lightweight stalking of Desired Object. In the span of three minutes.

Okay.

Juniper as Desired Object with Black Eye

It gets worse, though, way way worse. Later, Ellis and Neckbone find one of Mud’s bounty hunters, who was hired by the father of the man Mud murdered (hi, alliteration!), beating the crap out of Juniper in a motel room off the highway like, “Bitch, tell me where Mud’s hiding OR ELSE.” (Stalking women comes in handy sometimes, for both bounty hunters and young boys.) Naturally, the boys save our resident Damsel in Distress by bursting through the motel room door at just the right moment and pretending to sell a cooler full of fish (ha). The mob thug smacks Ellis down too, though, and that’s when the film finally turns into the Southern gothic crime thriller I’d been hoping for—but not before Juniper rewards Ellis with a kiss for saving her.

LIKE, ARE WE IN FUCKING SUPER MARIO BROTHERS?!?!?!

May Pearl smiles at her knight in shining armor

The abuse of women in Mud, which serves no purpose other than to normalize domestic violence for the viewer, is horrifying in its own right, but I ultimately found the Blame the Victim ideology the most disturbing aspect of Mud. Not only does the film voyeuristically depict the harassment and physical abuse of women at the hands of men with no critique or analysis, but it also shows the male characters verbally blaming women for the abuse inflicted upon them. Tom, who acts as a father figure to Mud, delivers a lengthy monologue to young Ellis all but calling Juniper a no-good whore for getting involved with so many abusive jerks and ruining Mud’s entire Nice Guy™ life. (You know, because Women Are Awful and consequently at fault for all the choices men make, including their choices to beat the shit out of women.)

Sarah Paulson as Mary Lee in Mud

The film’s message devolves even further to insinuate that—because Mud hasn’t been physically abusive toward Juniper and has even heroically punished the men who have been—he has both earned and deserves her love. And so, the audience can’t help but dislike Juniper when the boys catch her slutting it up at a bar with a billiards-playing bro instead of sailing off to Mexico with Nice Guy™ Mud in his fixed up former tree boat. A small part of me waited for the film to pause on Juniper’s face for a moment and toss up an UNGRATEFUL BITCH title card, just to make sure the audience got the point.

Juniper, aka UNGRATEFUL BITCH

Moylan of Hollywood.com also talks about the harmful messages Mud sends:

The takeaway to the story seems to be that the only people you can count on in this world are your male friends and your father figure. At the end of the movie, after all hell breaks loose as Ellis and Neckbone’s entanglement with Mud gets crazy and deadly, we see each male character have a touching moment with his father figure. None of them are any good—Ellis’ father can’t make money, Mud’s adopted father is a deadly “assassin,” and Neck’s uncle treats women possibly the worst of any of them—but, heck, in a man’s world it’s the man who teaches you how to man like a man that man man man. And some of the man manning that men masculine you with is hatred of women. Ellis’ father … tells him at one point, “Women are tough. They set you up for some.” Eventually, when Ellis confronts Mud about how much girls suck, Mud replies, “If you find a girl half as good as you, you’ll be all set.” See, a woman can never be as good as a man.

Ellis and Mud talk about Being a Man probably

I can already hear the arguments. Mud exposes the hyper-masculinity present in Southern culture! The boys don’t know any better! That’s just how it is down there! Maybe. But, an intelligent film might consider taking that harmful social construct to task rather than rewarding the male characters for their sexist behavior. Mud presents misogyny as endearing for fuck’s sake, and art—in my opinion—possesses a responsibility to challenge those constructs because it also possesses the power to change them. The dudes in Mud experience no consequences for their bullshit; the film, in fact, revels in their Women Are Awful blues and invites the audience to participate. I’m less interested in whether the depiction of Southern masculinity is authentic. Why not make a statement about how that authentic Southern masculinity hurts women and men?

It never comes close to saying that. But it does manage to deliver a much more cynical message.

Ellis and Neckbone, rightly looking a little terrified of Mud

Halfway through the film, Galen says to Ellis, “This river brings a lot of trash down. You gotta know what’s worth keeping and what’s worth letting go.” Sure, he’s referring to literal trash (as he points to a newly repaired chandelier he found in the river), and he’s referring to Mud, a known fugitive (because he’s seen Ellis and Neckbone hanging out in the river with Mud), but—make no mistake—he’s also referring to women. The film never stops telling us that Women Are Awful, worthless, disposable.

In the end, Ellis’s dad comes to terms with his wife leaving him; Mud finally moves past Juniper; Ellis ogles a new girl (in slow motion!) after May Pearl breaks his heart in public; even Tom learns to leave the death of his wife behind. The men’s collective triumph becomes the fact that they finally learn to let go of The Trash in their lives and hold onto what’s most important—their relationships with other men. So while Mud is a coming-of-age tale in the traditional sense, and coming-of-age tales deliver all kinds of important messages for their young protagonists to absorb, the film mostly wants Ellis to learn that sometimes you just need to fucking drop a bitch.

How sweet.


How sweet, indeed

Is Pepper Potts No Longer the "Damsel in Distress" in ‘Iron Man 3’?

Movie poster for Iron Man 3

Written by Megan Kearns | Warning: Lots of spoilers ahead!

Superhero films often exhibit assertive, outspoken female characters. Yet they often simultaneously objectify women’s bodies, reduce them to ancillary love interests or perpetuate gender stereotypes. So when I heard that Pepper Potts would have a more active role in Iron Man 3, I was excited yet remained cautiously skeptical.

Gwyneth Paltrow eagerly talked about putting on the Iron Man suit and getting tired of the “damsel in distress”:

“I was really hoping that Pepper would be more engaged in this movie…So I was really happy, not only that she was wearing the suit, but that you see her really on equal ground with Tony in their interpersonal dynamic, and as a CEO, and then she’s got all this action… I think in order to move things forward and keep it fresh, you can only be the damsel in distress for so long, and then it’s old.”

Producer and Marvel Studios President Kevin Feige also said they wanted to “play with the convention of the damsel in distress…there is fun to be had with “Is Pepper in danger or is Pepper the savior?” over the course of this movie.” Okay, okay, this all sounds awesome to me.

Now I’m all for subverting gender norms. But is Pepper really empowered? Or does she really remain a rearticulation of the Damsel in Distress trope?

When Pepper puts on the Iron Man suit, it’s not of her own volition. It’s not because she cleverly thought of it. Tony, who can now recall his arsenal of Iron Man suits on command, remotely puts it on Pepper to save her during an attack. Once she’s in the suit of armor, Pepper does make the most of it as she gets scientist Maya (who of course has to have had a sexual past with Tony) to safety and protects Tony from a falling ceiling as well.

Tony Stark

However, when Gwyneth Paltrow discussed putting on the suit, I envisioned an assertive move by Pepper — that she boldly decides to put on the armor so she can go out and save Tony. Not something she passively has placed on her body by a man. What could have been an interesting exploration of Pepper and gender becomes a wasted opportunity.

Just because Pepper donned the Iron Man suit for like two minutes, doesn’t mean she isn’t a “damsel in distress.” She still is for a majority of the film. Archvillian Aldrich Killian kidnaps Pepper and ties her up, using her as bait to lure Tony and blackmail him. Yep, that sounds like a passive damsel to me.

In Iron Man, Pepper is Tony’s personal assistant and according to him, his only true friend. In Iron Man 2, she becomes the CEO of Stark Industries. By The Avengers, they co-exist as a team, partners both in romance and work as Pepper helps Tony develop Stark Tower and the Arc Reactor. In each film, Pepper grows and progresses to have a more important role. So how did Pepper — Tony’s friend, partner and brilliant CEO of Stark Industries — get reduced to an objectified and victimized “damsel in distress” yet again?

Gwyneth Paltrow in Iron Man 3

Discussing the Damsel in Distress Trope in video games, although it’s also completely applicable for film too, Anita Sarkeesian at Feminist Frequency talks about how the trope provides incentive and motivation for the male protagonist. The trope is also a form of objectification and is not synonymous with “weak” but rather a form of disempowering women, even strong ones, while empowering men:

“So the damsel trope typically makes men the “subject” of the narratives while relegating women to the “object.” This is a form of objectification because as objects, damsel’ed women are being acted upon, most often becoming or reduced to a prize to be won, a treasure to be found or a goal to be achieved…The damsel in distress is not just a synonym for “weak,” instead it works by ripping away the power from female characters, even helpful or seemingly capable ones. No matter what we are told about their magical abilities, skills or strengths they are still ultimately captured or otherwise incapacitated and then must wait for rescue. Distilled down to its essence, the plot device works by trading the disempowerment of female characters FOR the empowerment of male characters.”

Surprisingly, as it revolves around Tony, Iron Man 3 passes the Bechdel Test. Huzzah! A brief conversation transpires between Pepper and Maya, the botanist who invented the Extremis virus. Maya laments being naïve about science, just wanting to help people and how her ideals became distorted. Pepper reassures her, telling her that Stark Industries once carried out military contracts so she shouldn’t be so hard on herself. What a nice moment. But don’t get too cozy. This moment of sisterly bonding shatters when Maya betrays Pepper. Sidebar, it’s interesting that Maya has a change of heart not after talking to Pepper but after talking to Tony later in the film.

There’s a telling exchange near the end of the film when Killian tells Tony he injected Pepper with the Extremis virus because he wanted to make Pepper perfect. Tony, ever the good boyfriend, retorts, “That’s where you’re wrong. She already was perfect.” This could have been a nice albeit clichéd message about accepting and appreciating people how they are, rather than trying to change them. But 5 minutes later, when Pepper asks if she’s going to be alright because she’s got the unstable virus in her, Tony says he’s going to “fix” her because that’s what he does, he “fixes things.” Ahhh the mechanic imagery strewn throughout the film comes full circle.

Gwyneth Paltrow in the Iron Man suit

It’s a strange juxtaposition between “she’s perfect the way she is” and “I’ll fix you,” especially in proximity to one another. This dialogue could have easily been altered to show Pepper’s agency — that either she wanted to keep the virus and harness the superpower or have it removed. We could have seen things from her perspective. But instead, it’s all to convey how Tony is decisive and protective of his woman and how he’s grown emotionally.

Taking place after The Avengers, we see a changed Tony Stark. Due to the stress of combating aliens and traveling through worm holes, Tony suffers anxiety, insomnia and PTSD. I was pleasantly surprised at the film’s respectful depiction of mental illness. Although its treatment of people with disabilities is abhorrent. We see the weight of Tony’s obsession creating Iron Man suits straining their relationship. Pepper is frustrated that his suits come before her. But they never resolve their issues. It’s as if Pepper said, “Oh I almost died, got injected with some fiery shit and now you fixed me? Okay, we’re good now!” Um, no.

So what’s the lesson here? Don’t worry, ladies. The right man will fix you and all your problems.

Pepper isn’t an empowered, self-actualized character in Iron Man 3. Instead she’s used as an object for the two dudes to fight over. She’s used to show that Killian is a villain who never really loved her while she’s used as an incentive for Tony to fight and to realize what truly matters in life. Tony and Killian battle it out with Pepper as a trophy to the victor, aka the better dude.

As film critic Scott Mendelson said: “For Potts, the movie was about other men giving her temporary agency/power and then quickly taking it away again.” Despite her intelligence and success, she possesses no agency of her own. Men bestowed power upon Pepper. Any power she appears to exert stems from men. Now some superheroes (Spiderman, Wolverine) have their powers given to them by others, either by accident or against their will. But once they have their powers, they decide what to do with them. They decide through their intelligence or cunning how best to utilize their powers. But Tony and Killian make all the decisions for Pepper. She doesn’t make any for herself. Pepper doesn’t choose to don the suit. Tony does. Killian decides to inject her with the Extremis virus that grants superhero powers. She doesn’t choose to keep the Extremis virus or have it removed. Tony decides to remove the virus. Even though she has a brief romp with superpowers and briefly kicks ass, Pepper somehow remains less empowered in Iron Man 3 than in the other films. Men decide her fate.

Gwyneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts in Iron Man 3

If the film really played with the conventions of a “damsel in distress,” rather than playing out every other superhero trope, Pepper wouldn’t have been kidnapped or if she had, she would have saved herself, rather than needing Tony’s rescue. At the film’s climax, we do see Pepper, injected with the Extremis virus, kick ass and save Tony. Oh and of course she does it in a skimpier, sexy outfit. So even in the shadow of empowerment, Pepper must be anchored as a sex object, intertwining power and sexuality. Again, it isn’t about Pepper’s growth and development. It’s about how Tony sees her.

While she acknowledges it “isn’t perfect on gender issues,” Alyssa Rosenberg posits that Iron Man 3’s “progressive gender play is noteworthy when you consider the kinds of roles actresses in superhero movies usually get stuck with.” But no, no it’s not progressive. Did we watch the same movie? Having women scientists and women CEOs in your film, while a good start, isn’t smashing gender stereotypes if you ultimately reinforce the same old tired gender tropes and clichés. It isn’t actually showcasing powerful women if you continually undercut women’s agency.

While action sequences are enjoyable, fighting is probably not what audiences find empowering. It’s characters’ decisiveness, assertiveness, ingenuity, struggle to survive — all of which can be conveyed through a visual manifestation of action sequences.

Sure, it was nice to see Pepper kicking ass. But let’s be clear here. Just because a female character wields a sword or shoots a gun or uses her fists to punch a villain, doesn’t automatically make her emotionally strong or empowered. Possessing agency to speak her mind, make her own decisions, chart her own course — these are what make a character truly empowered.

The problem with the Damsel in Distress trope is that it strips women of their power and insinuates that women need men to rescue or save them. And yet again it places the focus on men, reinforcing the notion that society revolves around men, not women.

Maybe I’m a greedy feminist but four minutes of ass-kicking does not automatically make an empowered female character shattering gender tropes, nor does it satiate my desire for a depiction of a nuanced, complex, strong female character. Sigh.