Ellen Ripley – Bitch Flicks

Rise of the Women?: Screening Women in Science Since 2000

This guest post written by Amy C. Chambers originally appeared at The Science and Entertainment Laboratory and an edited version appears here as part of our theme week on Women Scientists. It is cross-posted with permission.

One of my major issues with the most recent addition to the Planet of the Apes franchise, Dawn of the Planets of the Apes (2014), were the roles available to women – both human and ape. In an article I wrote about the film, immediately after its release, I noted that (the very few) female characters were only “represented as child bearers and care takers.” The fabulous Judy Greer, a former dancer who studied simian movement and motion-capture for months in preparation for the role, gets barely any screen-time playing the wife of Caesar (Andy Serkis). Cornelia doesn’t actually get referred to by name so you have to look to the posters or IMDb if you want to know it; interestingly her name is a reference to Cornelius the male chimpanzee from the first three Apes films released in the late-1960s and 1970s (Planet of the Apes, Beneath the Planet of the Apes, and Escape from the Planet of the Apes). The female human, Ellie (Keri Russell) is the only scientist in the film. She is revealed to have worked for the CDC as a research scientist and medic, but in the film she is only given the opportunity to use her medical skills to treat Cornelia’s post-natal complications after she births another boy for Caesar. Ellie’s medical intervention essentially diffuses male aggressiveness and reinforces lazy stereotypes. The women are background characters, barely involved, and overshadowed by their male companions.

I am interested in thinking about how women have been represented in recent Hollywood/American science-based fiction cinema and whether we have really moved beyond relying on stereotypes, sex, and spectacle. Female scientists are increasing in frequency in Hollywood, but they are not being given adequate representation – they are often secondary to their male partners. Any discussion of women in science fiction will often look to the 80s hero, engineer Ellen Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in Alien (1979). Ripley wields her guns, her attitude, and her brains with pride and power, and she blurs the boundaries between feminine and masculine character traits and stereotypes. She has no love interest, she doesn’t need rescuing, and makes better decisions than her male counterparts. She is a young, educated woman, a survivor, and a hero – her gender is not the most important or interesting thing about her. Ripley was originally conceived and scripted as a male character and some of her strength and progressive nature may be attributed to that. But despite the gender-swap history of character, Ripley is still one of the strongest female characters in a science-based movie. I think it is absurd that a character created before I was born is still considered the strongest female character in a science-based movie; it’s 2016, not 1986.

Female scientist characters are often defined by their relationships to men – as a daughter, a girlfriend, a wife, an assistant, or a colleague. Women are rarely presented as having achieved their scientific status and agency without the aid or inspiration of male character. For example, recent blockbuster Interstellar (2014) included two major female scientist characters Dr. Amelia Brand (Anne Hathaway) and ‘Murph’/Murphy Cooper (played as an adult by Jessica Chastain) both of whom are manipulated and inspired by their fathers. Brand is the daughter of the orchestrator of the film’s central mission, Professor Brand played by Michael Caine. But in addition to this relationship, Amelia Brand is willing to sacrifice herself, the mission, and potentially the future of humanity to be reunited with her boyfriend – Dr. Wolf Edmunds. Interstellar’s male lead ‘Coop’/Joseph Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) abandons his daughter Murph and for much of the film she is shown as a woman consumed with anger towards her father. She holds a grudge that spans decades, seemingly unable to appreciate that her father left on a mission to save humanity. Her scientific career and brilliance is apparently driven by her emotion, rather than her own ambition.

I have lots of issues with the Star Trek reboot, and it seems vaguely unfair to pick on just one of them. But let’s talk very briefly about Dr. Carol Marcus (Alice Eve), a Star Fleet Science Officer with a PhD in applied physics and a specialism in advanced weaponry who features in Star Trek Into Darkness (2013). Marcus is ultimately defined by her position as the daughter of Admiral Alexander Marcus – the head of Starfleet. She initially hides her true identity by using her mother’s maiden name: Wallace. Yes, Carol does indeed do some science and saves Kirk, but in one scene this potentially brilliant female scientist is simply, and frankly unnecessarily reduced to a sexual object. It’s a short scene played for laughs, but when one of only two major female characters in a huge science fiction franchise — the other being Zoë Saldana’s Uhura, now in a relationship with Spock — is shown in her underwear (for no reason) you have to wonder about how and why filmmakers incorporate female scientists, and female characters more generally, into their films. This brief sequence feels as similarly out of place as the scene at the end of Alien when Ripley strips down to her underwear. As Xan Brooks comments in an article about Ripley as a revolutionary heroine: “It is as though the makers were so alarmed by what they had unleashed that they tried to rein her back at the last minute.” It was out of place in 1979, and it is unacceptable now.

These are just a few poor examples that caught my eye and they are based upon my own viewing, so I asked my social media hive-mind to help me with producing a list of female scientists in Hollywood films released since 2000. It was not extensive. Interestingly, I could find far more female scientists in films released during the 1990s. We will have missed some, but it should not be that difficult to come up with a list of female characters that took on prominent scientist roles in the last 5, 10, or 15 years.

Excluding Brand and Murph from Interstellar, Carol Marcus from Star Trek Into Darkness, and Ellie from Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, we came up with: evolutionary biology student Karen (Brit Marling) in I Origins (2014), archaeologist and paleontologist Dr. Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) in Prometheus (2013); medical engineer Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) in Gravity (2013), geneticist Dr. Marta Shearing (Rachel Weisz) in Bourne Legacy (2012), astrophysicist Dr. Jane Foster (Natalie Portman in Thor (2011) and Thor: The Dark World (2013), veterinarian Dr. Caroline Aranha (Freida Pinto) in Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011), xenobotanist (studying alien plant life) Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver) in Avatar (2009), genetic engineer Dr. Elsa Cast (Sarah Polley) in Splice (2009), and botanist Corazon (Michelle Yeoh) in Sunshine (2007). Of the women listed here few are, besides Elizabeth Shaw in Prometheus and Ryan Stone in Gravity, their film’s central protagonist. For example, in Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Caroline Aranha is a thinly drawn scientist character and love interest who assists Will Rodman (James Franco), and in Bourne Legacy, Marta Shearing is a brilliant but dangerous geneticist working in a secret lab who becomes a love interest and damsel in need of rescue for/by Aron Cross (Jeremy Renner).

In Thor (2011), Jane Foster is an astrophysicist rather than a nurse, as she appeared in Marvel’s Thor comics. She is apparently given an intellectual upgrade and a sassy non-scientist female intern named Darcy (Kat Dennings). Jane was changed from a nurse to a research scientist following discussions between science advisors provided by the Science and Entertainment Exchange and the filmmakers, who wanted to update the character for a 21st-Century audience. Portman prepared for the role by reading the biographies of women scientists and was interested in creating a female scientist that could extend beyond the clichés of what a female character could be and do.

“I got to read all of these biographies of female scientists like Rosalind Franklin who actually discovered the DNA double helix but didn’t get the credit for it, the struggles they had and the way that they thought — I was like, ‘What a great opportunity, in a very big movie that is going to be seen by a lot of people, to have a woman as a scientist.’ [Jane]’s a very serious scientist. Because in the comic she’s a nurse and now they made her an astrophysicist. Really, I know it sounds silly, but it is those little things that makes girls think it’s possible. It doesn’t give them a [role] model of ‘Oh, I just have to dress cute in movies.” – Natalie Portman

The decision to make Jane Foster an astrophysicist was motivated by a desire to incorporate references to ‘real’ science and to incorporate a female scientist who might act as inspiration for future female scientists. It is indeed great to see a major female character in a blockbuster movie franchise as a scientist. But in the presence of Thor (Chris Hemsworth), Jane just goes googly-eyed and her scientific career and research become secondary to this new love interest (who just happens to literally be a god). She accepts his framing of science as magic without questioning (as any leading scientist would) and her research seems to ultimately become about finding him after the Bifröst Bridge is destroyed at the end of the first movie. In a great scene from Thor: The Dark World (2013), Jane is on an awkward blind date that she cuts short when Darcy crashes the date with new findings and readings that had previously preceded the arrival of Thor. Jane was framed as “the woman of science” in the film’s 2010/2011 marketing campaign, but in the film itself, her scientific prowess has NO influence upon the plot. Jane’s advanced understanding of astrophysics and her research is seriously under-used and so is the character who given little chance to develop beyond being Thor’s human love interest.

For a genre that is defined by its futuristic otherworldly framework and its potential to imagine alternate societies and power relations, the cultural politics of the science fiction genre have been consistently Earthbound. Movies reflect the period in which they are created and they often present both hopes for progress as well as revealing deep-seated prejudices. Filmmakers often fail to fully realize their attempts at progress – although this can be due to a number of reasons across the production process, including interference from the studio, and in the reception of the film that is outside of the director’s control. As feminist science fiction writer and critic Joanna Russ famously noted, science fiction narratives present a type of “intergalactic suburbia,” where Western society is presented with only a few futuristic additions, tending towards showing “an idealized and simplified” past that retains traditional power relations. The world has undergone huge advances across STEM but traditional, binaristic gender relations remain in tact. Russ’s comments criticize not only gender representation but also race and class by recognizing the preservation of traditional structures in futuristic and near-future narratives.

Is it possible to change perceptions of women in STEM through better and more pervasive representation of women in science-based popular cinema? Would more female scientists in popular cinema help to encourage young women to pursue STEM careers? Several groups are working to improve the representation of science, and women of science in the film industry. For example, The Science Entertainment Exchange “is a program of the National Academy of Sciences that connects entertainment industry professionals with top scientists and engineers to create a synergy between accurate science and engaging storylines in both film and TV.” They work to create a stronger relationship between the industry and experts in order to present a more realistic image of science and scientists, both women and men, on-screen. The Scirens promote the need for increased science literacy in the general public and consider how women can be ambassadors for this cause. One of the Scirens, Taryn O’Neill, wrote an interesting piece on this subject called “Actresses for STEM“ that inspired the project; it is worth a read. They have all worked to improve representation by encouraging a movement away from clichés in order to engage and retain audiences.

A study published in 2005 by Jocelyn Steinke looked at female scientist representation between 1991 and 2001. She found that about 30% of scientists in the movies released in her survey time-frame were female and that those women tended to be sane, eschewing the “mad evil scientist” stereotype, and tended to avoid questionable scientific experiments. Although in more recent cinema, Elsa in Splice and Marta in Bourne Legacy do use science in an ethically problematic fashion, with Elsa splicing together the DNA of different animals to create new hybrids for medical use, and Marta experimenting upon and maintaining genetically altered super assassins. Despite these two recent examples, women scientists on-screen are generally positive figures. At least until you consider how restrictively they are packaged – as Eva Flicker notes in her Public Understanding of Science article “Between Brains and Breasts“:

“[The female scientist] is remarkably beautiful and, compared with her qualifications, unbelievably young. She has a model’s body – thin, athletic, perfect – is dressed provocatively and is sometimes ‘distorted’ by wearing glasses.”

An interesting example of this from recent TV is computer scientist Felicity Smoak in Arrow (2012-) – she wears glasses in the lab and removes them when she goes undercover as ‘the beautiful woman’ allowing her to slip into venues unnoticed. She’s more than just a bit of sci-candy as her abilities are integral to the mixed gender team she works with, but it is intriguing that she still falls into a visual classification that can be applied to the representation of female scientists since the 1930s. Although arguably, female scientists and highly-intelligent female characters should be allowed to be both beautiful and brainy, shifting away from the idea that beauty and brains are mutually exclusive, Hollywood is still offering a restricted image of the gifted woman. Science can be as the European Commission recently campaigned ‘a girl thing!’ – but there must be scope to communicate the notion that science is for everyone regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation, age, disability, or class (Alice Bell wrote a brilliant response to the European Commission campaign).

Some major future-dystopia film franchises have shown the potential for multifaceted female characters. The Hunger Games and Divergent do provide smart female protagonists: Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and Tris (Shalene Woodley). But these women are fighters and leaders, not women of STEM. Both of these franchises are based upon young adult (YA) novels and therefore do not necessarily work well as comparisons to the adult science-based narratives I have been discussing. The rules are different for YA adaptations; since the immense success of The Twilight Saga teenage girls have become a major market for Hollywood and films are made to specifically cater for this influential and profitable group. The problem seems to be adult women. The idea that women, and perhaps even some men, might want to see a film with a female lead and a cast with more than a few token women is seeming incomprehensible for contemporary Hollywood. The desire for big opening weekends and early high profits has possibly created a culture of stereotypical gender representation, and a tired narrative cinema that relies upon reboots, sequels, and reaffirming traditional structures. Rise of the women? Not really.

Amy C. Chambers is a postdoctoral researcher at Newcastle University in the UK researching the intersection of science and entertainment media. Her newest project explores the representation and the projected futures of women within scientific cultures in science fiction. She blogs about her research and interests at the Science and Entertainment Laboratory and The Unsettling Scientific Stories Project, and you can follow her on Twitter at @AmyCChambers.

Ripley, Sexism, and Classism in ‘Aliens’

However, it was not until 1986 that her status as a female badass was truly confirmed in the follow-up, ‘Aliens.’ Yet, in-universe, it took Ripley much of the movie to gain any respect. The mix of classism and sexism Ripley faced is something that I think made many women identify with her even more.

This guest post written by Adam Sherman appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s.

One of the most enduring female action heroes in the eighties is Ellen Ripley. In the 1979 movie Alien, we were introduced to her as a competent, no-nonsense space trucker who survived where the rest of her crew did not. However, it was not until 1986 that her status as a female badass was truly confirmed in the follow-up, Aliens. Yet, in-universe, it took Ripley much of the movie to gain any respect. The mix of classism and sexism Ripley faced is something that I think made many women identify with her even more.

Ripley’s struggle to be taken seriously began almost as soon as she wakes up from cryosleep. As soon as she recovers from her physical injuries, she’s sent in front of the Weyland-Yutani board to account for the loss of her ship. If the titular Alien’s reproductive cycle is a metaphor for rape, then that scene is possibly a metaphor for the often hostile legal process survivors of rape go through. Ripley is thrown into a room with overtly hostile men (and one hostile woman), where they pick apart every detail in her story.

Her one (not very vocal) defender in that room is Carter Burke, a low-level board member. The first time I watched Aliens (I think I was in high school,) I thought he was a decent guy… until he stabbed everyone in the back, of course. Now, rewatching the movie for this article, I realize that he wasn’t. From his introduction, he reeks of corporate pandering. His way of speaking seems to be straight-talk, but upon closer inspection, it seems like just a bunch of buzzwords thrown together to make Ripley do what he wants. Speaking of buzz words and manipulation, compare his recruitment of Ripley to how for-profit-schools recruit students. Throwing the shame of working at the docks in her face and reminding her she used to be a lieutenant on a starship is some pretty good use of pain points.

Speaking of “the shame of working at the docks,” the way Burke treats Ripley parallels how our society treats blue-collar workers. It makes sense. After all, her previous job was basically being a trucker… IN SPACE! While not glamorous, Ripley seemed to think that job was fine, just like dockwork was fine. And if Burke was going to look down on her for that… well, she would just tell him what to do with his classism and Scrooge McDuck piles of money. The only reason she returned to LV-246 was that people were in danger.

That brings us to the marines. Despite a surprising number of female marines in the team, they are obviously fueled by hyper-masculinity and testosterone and, in Sergeant Apone’s case, nicotine. Of course, some of that aggressive bravado might just be for show. After all, it is hinted that nothing they do is completely safe. On the ride down, it is subtly suggested that their drop ship could blow up randomly.

The marines are also quite dismissive of outsiders. They complain that the colonists they are supposed to rescue are “morons” who probably broke the transmitter by accident; either that or the emergency is actually that “their daughters need to be rescued from their own virginity.” Ripley, at the start, is treated dismissively, as if she’s merely rambling about aliens. During her briefing, it is readily apparent that the marines think she is wasting their time. They start to warm up to Ripley when she shows that she’s ready to roll up her sleeves and get dirty alongside them by piloting a power loader to arm the dropship. (By the way, this is a nice bit of foreshadowing to the final battle. But I probably don’t need to tell you that.)

The marines are also particularly disdainful of their fearful leader, Lieutenant Gorman. During the drop (which was established as dangerous) he annoys his subordinates by showing fear and his lack of experience. But his worst crime before setting down was refusing to eat with the marines, as if he’s better than them. Instead, he sat with the two civilians, conveying his elitism.

On the other end of this spectrum is Vasquez. Vasquez is one of the three female marines, yet she appears to be attempting to be the most stereotypically masculine. While most of the other marines groggily awake from cryosleep and put their clothes on, Vasquez is already doing chin-ups, using the ship’s structure as a gym. She also adopts her comrades’ prejudices to a greater degree. Before Ripley is accepted, Vasquez is one of her harshest critics. She also goes so far as to attempt to beat an unconscious Gorman, only restrained by her fellow survivors.

Yet underneath much of the marines’ seemingly emotional outbursts is a cold logic. Cowardice is despised because when one person panics, others will quickly follow. And if the person panicking is high enough in rank, like Gorman, lives are more likely to be lost. Both points were proved effectively in the masterfully shot first battle between the xenomorphs and the marines. They are quick to call for the incompetent Gorman and the treacherous Burke to be executed because both men proved to be a liability. They distrust civilians because, well, civilians don’t know anything about military operations. The marines eventually listen to Ripley not only because of her prior experience, but also because of her quick thinking and decisiveness; she fits the mold they believe makes a good leader.

Ripley eventually earns the marines’ respect. The first sign, as stated before, was Ripley’s willingness to step up and get on the power loader when the least-liked Marine, Hudson, refused. What really earns their respect, however, is Ripley taking control of the APC to save the marines, despite Gorman’s orders to wait. If Ripley hadn’t acted, all eight of the marines who went down into the xenomorph nest would have died. Losing almost sixty-three percent of the combat-ready troops may seem unsustainable (which it was). But you have to remember: it was better than what Gorman could have done. Ripley is even able to keep the momentum of her victory going by coming up with a plan to survive after the destruction of the dropship. In doing that, the only person who could legitimately challenge her leadership would be Hicks. Between the two of them, they manage to mount an effective defense against a highly intelligent foe that both outnumbered and outmaneuvered them.

This journey from marginalized victim to survivor to respected leader is I think one of the more subtle reasons why people love Ripley. People will talk about her killing xenomorphs, or her motherly instincts towards Newt, or that awesome gun she jerry-rigged together when fighting the queen. Yet people don’t always discuss how Ripley earned the respect of people who previously dismissed her. Many of us believe that if we can be smart enough, strong enough, funny enough, creative enough, talented enough, or some other simile for good enough, everyone who ever doubted us will be forced to accept us. Ripley isn’t just an action hero in Aliens, she’s the embodiment of that belief. And so many of us love her for that.

Adam “T4nky” Sherman is the writer of Nowhere Island University and also doessemi-related blog stuff. You can also follow him on Twitter @NowhereIslandU.

Did Gender Alter the Tone of the ‘Alien’ Series? Narrative Implications of Femininity

It is science fiction fact however, that Ellen Ripley should not have been “Ellen Ripley” at all. Dan O’Bannon’s original script for ‘Alien’ stated: “The crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men and women.” … In ‘Aliens,’ both Ripley and the alien are further solidified as female. …We come to an implied understanding that is wholly complicit in their both being mothers, adding a subliminal layer that would not have been present had either Ripley or the alien been male.

This guest post written by Kayleigh Watson appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s. | Spoilers ahead.

When Ridley Scott cast Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in Alien, he created The First: The First Action Heroine; The First Female in a Science Fiction Film That Did Not Have To Be Rescued or Was Not Brunch for a Swamp Monster. Such titles may as well be monikers attached to her name. Ripley was important, and still is, her legacy living on in many an action heroine that followed: Buffy (the Vampire Slayer), The Bride (Kill Bill), G.I Jane, Trinity (The Matrix), Furiosa (Mad Max: Fury Road) and Sarah Connor’s transformation in Terminator 2.

It is science fiction fact however, that Ellen Ripley should not have been “Ellen Ripley” at all. Dan O’Bannon’s original script for Alien stated: “T he crew is unisex and all parts are interchangeable for men and women.” In the climate of the time, it is wholly plausible that Ripley was intended to be a male, as despite the script’s stated gender ambiguity, the original name for the character was still “Martin Roby.” So far so standard for horror and sci-fi, for the genres had always been male-dominated whether it be characters on-screen or in literature or those who create them. After all, it was not until the New Wave of sci-fi that women began to truly stake their claim on the genre, birthing feminist science fiction and writers such as Margaret Atwood, Joanna Russ, Marge Piercy, Ursula K. LeGuin and the singular entity that is Octavia Butler — C.L. Moore and Leigh Brackett being exceptions in the “Golden Age,” and Brackett went on to contribute to the screenplay of The Empire Strikes Back.

O’Bannon once stated that:

“I don’t see it as that revolutionary to cast a female as the lead in an action picture,” said O’Bannon. “It didn’t boggle me then, and it doesn’t boggle me now. My conception from scratch was that this would be a co-ed crew. I thought there was no reason you had to adhere to the convention of the all-male crew anymore.

After all, Star Trek had already had a mixed gender crew for years, and Ridley Scott had a similar reaction when the prospect of making the character female was pitched to him (“I just said, ‘That’s a good idea.”’). Scott later said in an interview:

“My film has strong women simply because I like strong women… It’s a personal choice. I’m no male chauvinist, nor do I understand female chauvinism – I just believe in the equality of men and women. It’s as simple as that.”

In Alien itself, Ripley – portrayed by the then largely unknown actress Sigourney Weaver – blended into the background of the team of the Nostromo crew; she was straightforward in conduct, voicing her opinion, making decisions, contributing to physical work and not waiting for someone else to save her. It can be intrinsically interpreted that these factors are entwined with the fact that Ripley’s character was intended to be male and, should “Martin Roby” have existed in her place he would have led the way as a main protagonist, one that is ultimately smarter than crewmembers with more authority.

Except nobody expected that of Ripley, solely because she was female. She was the ultimate unexpected protagonist, with the audience wholly expecting her to be snuffed out somewhere between the second and third act – because they had been conditioned their entire lives to do so. Her gender made her disposable – one only has to recall the aforementioned damsel vs. swamp monster scenario to consider how this should have played out. Yes, Ripley was female, but she was not feminine. That is the distinctive line here; she was not overtly sexualized (until she strips to her underwear near the culmination of the film: you can’t have it all, it seems), she fought back, she did not need to be rescued by a male, she wielded weapons: she defeated the “bad guy.” Due to the duality of the writing, Ripley became an androgynous entity in a fictional universe so symbolically enveloped in gender.

The Alien universe is primarily constructed around the perception of the “monstrous feminine” and plays into a lot of male-centric fears to do with gender alienation, with an aesthetic to follow suit. Renowned artist H.R Giger was in charge of designing the alien and set, and his explicit and sexually symbolic imagery can be viewed throughout, with phallic monsters hiding in a womb-shaped interior ready to pounce on unsuspecting victims. The Nostromo is the monstrous womb that births death, the gestation of that alien creature involving male rape – orally, impregnation and birth via the destruction of the male body; who can forget that iconic scene mid-film where the baby alien bursts through John Hurt’s chest, takes a look around at the crew’s horrified faces, before scurrying off into the unknown?

This narrative decision turns gender roles on its head and plays into male fears of human reproduction and that which they will never experience. It also draws from 1970s fears of “no longer being in control of our bodies,” as film studies professor Mark Jancovich asserted, thanks to “pollution, pesticides, food additives, man-made cancers” causing mutation. Extrapolating and combining the two sure makes for one horrific film. This monstrous amalgamation is culminated in a predatory creature that was designed by Giger to be both vaginal and phallic with a mysterious omnipresence onscreen. No character is sure what it is that they are facing.

Yet gender implications are reinforced in the making of the antagonist – the alien itself – female. Had Ripley’s character been “Roby” and the alien been male, the conflict would have been conventional. Had there been a binary gender-based conflict, e.g. Roby fought a female alien or had Ripley been a woman and the alien been male, it would have played into the perception of the “monstrous feminine” on alternate sides; the alien being primarily grotesque and man eating, with Ripley being similarly so for possessing male attributes of character. However, both Ripley and the alien are female, which makes for an interesting dilemma: both are considered to be “monstrous” and “feminine” despite neither possessing attributes of human femininity. Both are also capable of deploying death, to which men are either a spectator or a victim, which sparks Freudian psychology, simultaneously castration anxiety in males and possession of the phallus in females. So even though Ripley is female, are viewers actually still watching a protagonist that is essentially male?

This crisis of gender is complicated further as the Alien series progresses, as in Aliens – the 1986 sequel directed by James Cameron – both Ripley and the alien are further solidified as female. Cameron pushed the series into being specifically feminist, having Weaver reprise the role in more extreme circumstances. She gained a surrogate daughter – Newt – to protect, more men to fight and an Alien Queen – one who breeds – to defeat. Both the protagonist and antagonist (not the same alien) have graduated from being maidens to mothers. Both have dependents to protect. We first saw this side of Ripley when she went to find Jones – the Nostromo’s cat – in Alien, however it is important to point out aspect was part of the original script and not dependent on Ripley being female. Through the course of the film, we come to an implied understanding that is wholly complicit in their both being mothers, adding a subliminal layer that would not have been present had either Ripley or the alien been male.

By the time Alien 3 rolls around, it is quite clear where we stand, for whilst Alien subverted the genre and Aliens showed itself to be intrinsically feminist, Alien 3 fulfills the cycle of female purpose by casting Ripley as the “crone” of the “maiden-mother-crone” of the Triple Goddess interpretation of the female life cycle. She chooses to perish after discovering she is hosting an alien queen inside of her body, and as such, despite the franchise being perceived as a feminist one, the female protagonist has still been dragged back into a trope. It is an end that feels almost inevitable for the character – one that could have still been plausible had Ripley been “Roby” instead – yet is far more telling: the genre has to regain control of this strong female protagonist. Perhaps, in that manner, the real winner in this is the alien itself, for despite its specified gender, both it and its children continue to persist as a threat to humankind. Perhaps, the alien queen is the true exemption of this 1980s franchise.

See also at Bitch Flicks: Ellen Ripley, a Feminist Film Icon, Battles Horrifying Aliens… and Patriarchy

Kayleigh Watson is a writer and occasional illustrator from the UK. After realizing that her childhood ambition of being a vet would mean she would actually have to cut up pets (ew), she decided life would be better spent absorbing art and telling others about it. Her years spent studying for her BA (Hons) English and Creative Writing also involved music blogging, reading SF, and watching lots of Buffy. She currently writes about music for female-centric site The Girls Are as well as talking film and TV (or trying to) at her new blog Post-Modern Sleaze. A collection of her work can be found at what kayleigh said, and she tweets about all of the above under @kaylwattson. Her GIF game is strong.

Call for Writers: Ladies of the 1980s

There is a deep nostalgia for the 1980s, especially the pop culture of the decade. … Stories with iconic women at their heart flourished in the 80s (‘Working Girl,’ ‘Sixteen Candles,’ ‘The Legend of Billie Jean’). The emerging breed of action heroine born in the 70s came into her own in the 80s (Sarah Connor from ‘The Terminator,’ Ellen Ripley from ‘Aliens,’ Leia Organa of ‘Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back’).

Our theme week for June 2016 will be Ladies of the 1980s.

There is a deep nostalgia for the 1980s, especially the pop culture of the decade. The teen narrative reigned supreme. Tales of disaffected youth and romantic comedies were changed forever once John Hughes put his personal stamp on them in the 80s. The fashion of the era is still famous/infamous, known for hefty shoulder pads and big, stiff bangs. Stories with iconic women at their heart flourished in the 80s (Working Girl, Sixteen Candles, The Legend of Billie Jean). The emerging breed of action heroine born in the 70s came into her own in the 80s (Sarah Connor from The Terminator, Ellen Ripley from Aliens, Leia Organa of Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back).

The ladies of the 80s inspired self-identification in female audience members, from the oft-bespectacled Andie of Pretty in Pink who must make her own prom dress because she can’t afford to buy one to the androgynous car-fixing, drum-playing tomboy, Watts, who is overlooked by her best friend and love interest in Some Kind of Wonderful. Women in the 80s were allowed to be quirky, awkward, nerdy, and unsexualized, while still maintaining the lead role and/or the love interest role.

Television series Golden Girls, Murder, She Wrote, and Designing Women featured all-women casts and older women characters, as well as focused on women’s careers and female friendships. TV series The Cosby Show (now with a “tainted legacy” due to the rape/sexual assault survivors who have come forward accusing Bill Cosby) and A Different World featured a range of Black women characters.

What makes the ladies of the 1980s so iconic, so beloved, so well-remembered? Who are your favorite ladies of the 80s? Looking back with our 2016 lens, were things really so great for women in the 80s? Women in the 80s were usually love interests and even love objects (literally in Mannequin). While white women were frequently leads, women of color didn’t fare so well in the 80s, as they were often completely unrepresented or tokenized. Classic 80s films like Revenge of the Nerds and Sixteen Candles are now being critiqued for their racism and participation in rape culture.

We’d like to avoid as much overlap as possible for this theme, so please get your proposals in early if you know which topic you would like to write about. We accept both original pieces and cross-posts, and we respond to queries within a week.

Most of our pieces are between 1,000 and 2,000 words, and include links and images. Please send your piece as a Microsoft Word document to btchflcks[at]gmail[dot]com, including links to all images, and include a 2- to 3-sentence bio.

If you have written for us before, please indicate that in your proposal, and if not, send a writing sample if possible.

Please be familiar with our publication and look over recent and popular posts to get an idea of Bitch Flicks’ style and purpose. We encourage writers to use our search function to see if your topic has been written about before, and link when appropriate (hyperlinks to sources are welcome, as well).

The final due date for these submissions is Friday, June 24, 2016 by midnight Eastern Time.

Here are some possible topic ideas:

The Terminator

Jumpin’ Jack Flash

Full House

Aliens

The Cosby Show

Sixteen Candles

Mannequin

She-Ra: Princess of Power

The Secret of the Sword

A Different Image

The Breakfast Club

Punky Brewster

Drylongso

Heathers

The Legend of Billie Jean

Working Girl

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

The Women of Brewster Place

Teen Witch

Stakeout

Gleaming the Cube

The Killer in/and the Girl: Alexandre Aja’s ‘High Tension’

But where Victor utilizes the Monster to reject society’s expectations of him (including a traditional, heterosexual union with his adopted sister, Elizabeth), ‘High Tension’s Marie creates le tueur because her desires do not fit within the normative world of the film.

This guest post by Rebecca Willoughby appears as part of our theme week on Violent Women.

Tensions are high between Alex and Marie, the two college-age women at the center of Alexandre Aja’s 2003 film, High Tension.

Violent women in films are seen mostly in two ways: the crazy villainess, characterized as an uncontrollable and unreasonable bitch who wreaks heaps of havoc on unsuspecting (if not always undeserving) folks in her path, and the strong, take-no-prisoners heroine who populates some action and science-fiction genre films, and who—as in the classic case of the Alien franchise’s leading lady, Ellen Ripley—reclaims the roles of motherhood and femininity, showing that it is completely possible for those qualities to exist in the same person.

High Tension is a confusing film when contextualized in these terms. Marie, with whom the viewer spends the most time, seems heroic and smart. Her friend Alex, on the other hand, is more traditional and mostly submissive: she retreats to the bosom of her family in rural France to study for exams with Marie, adores her younger brother and seems at ease with the unexciting pace of country living. Later, she appears to capitulate completely to the psycho-killer who invades her family’s home, while resourceful Marie searches for misplaced cordless telephones and succeeds in eluding the killer completely. Viewers see Marie as the Ripley-esque heroine as she endeavors throughout this brisk 90-minute film to save her friend from the clutches of a sadistic sexual predator, one who is shown early in the film to enjoy getting “head” from women’s decapitated heads. Nice pun, writers.

At least, that’s what you think until you get to the end. In the final few minutes, viewers learn that Marie is, in fact, the killer, who has butchered Alex’s family and abducted her due to a frighteningly intense girl crush. Alas. Marie’s close-cropped hair, healthy attitude toward masturbation, and ingenious strategies are now corrupted, since it’s clear that the filmmakers intended for her to be the villain. Not just a violent woman, but a woman who so deeply represses her desires that they literally manifest themselves as an ugly, dirty, stocky man in mechanic’s overalls, who is capable of brutally murdering an entire family to eliminate any signifiers of the world in which she feels…well, not herself.

This story has been told before. Aja and co-writer Gregory Levasseur riff heavily on another case of repression leading to violence: Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. In High Tension, we have le tueur—the Killer—in place of the Monster, who in Shelley’s novel can be read as Victor Frankenstein’s doppelganger, that most famous of psychological devices used to illustrate the violence with which the repressed returns, doing all of the things the typical, well-socialized individual could never dream of doing. But where Victor utilizes the Monster to reject society’s expectations of him (including a traditional, heterosexual union with his adopted sister, Elizabeth), High Tension’s Marie creates le tueur because her desires do not fit within the normative world of the film.

The film’s tagline, “Hearts will bleed,” is a clear nod to this idea. This horror film is, at its core, a love story. Marie is somewhat of a party girl, encouraging her academically talented friend Alex to have a good time, but who also seems consistently left in the dust in favor of Alex’s male sexual conquests. Furthermore, Alex chastises Marie for “acting that way every time a guy tries to talk to you,” and suggesting that Marie will “end up alone” if she does not conform to stereotypical sexual and gender norms. The surroundings in which Alex hurls these ideas at Marie are also stridently traditional: the house in the country, where viewers see Mom hanging up laundry and Dad toiling in an at-home office opposite a glimmering computer screen. The farmhouse is pastoral Southern France in a microcosm—“like a doll’s house,” Marie asserts. Overtly perfect and totally unreal, at least in Marie’s experience.

The terribly hyperbolic rape van that le tueur pilots, and into which Alex is stashed after Marie/Le tueur murders Alex’s family is equally unrealistic, however. It’s laughable that Marie describes it only as “an old rusty truck” when she notifies the police about le tueur’s actions—before she and le tueur are explicitly linked—because it’s so much more. It’s clearly a murder-house on wheels, a Gothicized antique of a vehicle, a faded logo peeling off the side, and an ironic “head” trailer hitch blatantly displayed for all to see. Inside, le tueur has seemingly stashed many a female victim, whose pictures are pasted to the rearview mirror and whose blood cakes the walls and ceiling of the van’s rear compartment. “But those girls were alone,” Marie says as she tries to convince Alex they can escape the van. “There are two of us.” Indeed.

Though at the time of the film’s release, viewers might have been able to see some redeeming aspect in the pure fact of Marie’s true sexuality being represented (at least in the end) on screen, it’s impossible to see this film as progressive. While there’s no explicit representation of heteronormative desire on screen, Alex’s parents, her discussion of her own male partners, and her ultimate rejection of Marie serve this purpose. As such, the family’s dispatch at Marie’s hands illustrates the film’s destructive take on non-normative sexual preference. They literally can’t exist in the same space, even at the rural margins of society. Marie is in the end found to be monstrous, confined to an institution in handcuffs.

And yet. In those last moments, can viewers experience some sympathy for Marie? Imprisoned in an asylum and whispering “I won’t let anyone come between us anymore” over and over, Marie senses Alex on the other side of a two-way mirror and reaches for her. But rather than being tender, this movement is treated as the final, frightening jump-scare of the movie. Marie and her monstrous desire: condemned. Is this a cautionary tale, then? A warning, detailing just how deeply wrong it is for society to impose and police strict ideals of sexuality?

And those Frankensteinian scars on Marie’s face in those final shots, from her “rough with love” ordeal? Coincidence? I think not.

Rebecca L. Willoughby holds a Ph.D. in English and Film Studies from Lehigh University. She writes most frequently on horror films and melodramas, and is currently Visiting Assistant Professor at Susquehanna University in Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania.

#iamnotavessel: Joss Whedon’s Romantic Reproductive Coercion

Whedon and director Jeunet thus systematically demolish Ridley Scott’s original metaphor by consistently representing Ripley’s experience of forced maternity as akin to both chosen motherhood and loss of self, and essentially different from the forced impregnation and reproductive coercion of the male characters.

Ripley, loving her "beautiful, beautiful little baby" — Ripley, loving her “beautiful, beautiful little baby”

Written by Brigit McCone.

The Alien saga offers some of the most powerful images of bodily violation in pop culture, from the metaphorical rape of the facehuggers to the victim’s resulting fatal impregnation. Ridley “Thelma and Louise“ Scott* fostered male empathy by casting John Hurt as the victim of this violation, while Sigourney Weaver’s badass Ellen Ripley defeated the monster. The sequel, Aliens, saw Ripley voluntarily assume maternal responsibility for a young girl, Newt, and fight an iconic battle against the Alien Queen to save her adopted child. In Alien3, Ripley realized she had been impregnated with an Alien Queen, and made a conscious decision to destroy herself and it. Then, in 1997, celebrated male feminist Joss Whedon scripted a fourth film in the series, Alien: Resurrection, which revived Ripley as an Alien/human hybrid clone.

When her identity is challenged, Ripley/Alien smiles, “I’m the monster’s mother,” equating motherhood with forced cloning in a lab. Realizing that Aliens have escaped, Ripley/Alien grins, later clarifying, “I’m finding a lot of things funny lately, but I don’t think they are.” Merging with the Alien has rendered her emotional responses irrational. As Ripley/Alien is anguished at being forced to destroy a room full of fellow clones, Ron Perlman’s pirate snorts “must be a chick thing”, in a franchise founded on transgressive gender-bending. Ripley/Alien weeps openly at the death of the Newborn, an Alien/human hybrid which has already devoured the brains of two people (including the film’s final person of color), which Brad Dourif’s scientist described as her “beautiful, beautiful little baby.” Whedon and director Jeunet thus systematically demolish Ridley Scott’s original metaphor by consistently representing Ripley’s experience of forced maternity as akin to both chosen motherhood and loss of self, and essentially different from the forced impregnation and reproductive coercion of the male characters.

Maternity may be forced, but motherhood is always voluntary. An adopted mother is a true mother, as Ripley is to Newt. An egg donor, a surrogate or a clone is not automatically a mother, as Ripley is not to the Newborn. Reducing the complexity of motherhood to automatic biology also implies that bad mothers are unnatural, rather than flawed humans, which aspiring writers may wish to explore in this Theme Week. As for Alien: Resurrection, Whedon’s ending was changed and he claims “they said the lines…mostly…but they said them all wrong. And they cast it wrong. And they designed it wrong. And they scored it wrong. They did everything wrong that they could possibly do.” However, three aspects of Whedon’s role as author of Alien: Resurrection still deserve scrutiny. Firstly, that it consistently rewrites and undermines the original feminist purpose of Ridley Scott’s Alien. Secondly, that it is only one of numerous dehumanizing portraits of forced maternity in the work of Joss Whedon. Thirdly, that Whedon’s status as a vocal male feminist does not restrain him from perpetuating this trope.

Sixteen percent of pregnant women surveyed by Lindsay Clark M.D. had been subjected to reproductive coercion (the sabotaging of birth control or the use of threat by male partners to force pregnancy). In a survey of women using family planning services, fully 35 percent of those who experienced partner violence had also been subjected to reproductive coercion. Glenn Close’s Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction is an iconic representation of terrifying reproductive coercion, but I can think of no equivalent portrayal of reproductive coercion by male characters targeting women, despite its staggering frequency in reality. Nobody wants to confront the possibility that a child might be unwanted, especially by their own mother. However, if we can’t admit that an acid-spitting, brain-eating Alien-child might ever, possibly, be unwanted, our denial has become dehumanizing. Male-authored horror, focusing disproportionately on women as victims of supernatural possession, almost invariably implies that women can be drained of selfhood and controlled by reproductive coercion, supporting the ideology of real-life abusers.

In The Omen, Gregory Peck’s father must confront and attempt to destroy his demon spawn while, in Rosemary’s Baby, Mia Farrow’s mother gently rocks her demon spawn’s cradle with a tender smile. Paternity is an emotional bond mediated by rational judgment, while maternity inevitably entails loss of the rational self. Some female directors have challenged this trope. In Lynne Ramsay’s We Need to Talk About Kevin, a mother’s love is alienated by her child’s sadism, joining the conflicted but humanized mothers of Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook, and Kimberley Peirce’s reimagined Carrie. Meanwhile, Roman “Rosemary’s Baby” Polanski, self-confessed rapist, has stated publicly that the birth control Pill “chases away the romance from our lives.” While celebrated male feminist Joss Whedon probably wouldn’t endorse that statement, his romanticized reproductive coercion nevertheless reflects that ideology.

Sady Doyle has praised Whedon’s Dollhouse for its exploration of the sinister implications of reducing women to manipulable male fantasy. As Doyle argues, Dollhouse can even be read as an interrogation of Whedon’s own role, as a writer who converts living actresses into creations of his fantasy. However, Doyle also highlights problems with the second season episode “Instinct,” which suggests that Echo’s being forcibly imprinted, to believe herself a mother, produces a biological response that cannot be erased, even though the woman’s entire personality can be erased, “because the Maternal Instinct has magical science-defying powers of undying devotion which are purely biological and not at all circumstantial” (Doyle’s words). Although the show’s entire point is the essential creepiness of depriving a human of consent, ‘Instinct’ suggests that the maternal instinct is capable of converting forced maternity into a positive experience. Nor is Dollhouse the only example of this.

Dawn, in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, is conceived by monks reprogramming the characters’ memories and emotions, echoing Dollhouse‘s premise. Since Dawn is an innocent and vulnerable being, Buffy’s decision to protect her is consistent with her established character as a natural rescuer, akin to Ripley’s decision to protect Newt at any cost. However, the show barely allows Buffy five minutes of outrage over the monks’ traumatic violation of her memories and emotional self (without even considering the implications of her fake robot pregnancy in the comics, or Black Widow’s becoming “monster” by sterilization because… dude). Like Echo’s positive experience of forced maternity, Buffy’s maternal instinct towards Dawn effectively cancels out the violation of Dawn’s conception. In the third season of Whedon’s Angel, the evil Darla’s entire personality alters through pregnancy, as she becomes mysteriously infected by the soul of her Prophecyfetus, recalling Ripley’s personality shift through Alien impregnation. Not only is Darla/Prophecyfetus redeemed by an explicitly unwanted pregnancy, but expresses her redemption through self-annihilation, staking herself to allow her baby’s birth.

Self-annihilation is likewise the ultimate expression of Buffy’s maternal instinct, the heroine killing herself for Dawn, her corpse bathed in the hopeful light of a new dawn (subtle). I can’t recall any comparable example of voluntary, fatherly self-annihilation as redemptive in the work of celebrated male feminist Joss Whedon (and even Michael Bay gave us Armageddon). Simon’s sacrifices, as adopted father-figure (and safeword-wielding controller) of sister River Tam, are rewarded with Kaylee’s love in Serenity, while Angel heroically chooses to wipe his son’s memory when paternity becomes too troublesome, and Giles dramatically rejects Buffy when she becomes too independent. Sure, there are complex undercurrents of male self-loathing and idolized female sacrifice going on here, but I can’t see how that actually empowers Whedon’s (routinely mind-controlled) women. As Angel points out in Angel‘s fourth season: “our fate has to be our own, or we’re nothing.” By this measure, Whedon’s women are constantly reduced to “nothing” by maternity.

When it comes to reproductive coercion, nothing beats the treatment of Cordelia Chase on Angel. Already forcibly impregnated by mind-controlling demon spawn in the first season’s “Expecting,” Cordelia agrees in “Birthday” to become half-demon herself, as an act of self-sacrifice to spare Angel from head-splitting visions. She eventually “transcends love” to become an omniscient “higher being” of pure light, but finds herself “so bored” by this power, echoing the vocal dissatisfaction of Whedon’s Ripley, Call, Buffy, Willow, Faith, and River Tam. If Whedon’s superstrong women didn’t all commiserate with each other about the terrible burden of power, they’d barely pass a Bechdel. In Season Four’s opener, Angel is trapped at the bottom of the sea, hallucinating visions of happiness with Cordelia. In one vision, Cordelia pledges her love as self-annihilation, foreshadowing the amnesia inflicted on her when she rejoins Angel, “I can’t remember what it was like, not knowing you”, before Angel vamps and drains her blood. At another vision’s cheerful feast, Cordelia exclaims “kill me now before my stomach explodes,” foreshadowing her next demon pregnancy, in which Cordy’s mind will be possessed yet again by the soul of her Doomfetus, just as Darla/Prophecyfetus and Ripley/Alien were.

Jasmine, the possessing being, forces Cordelia to seduce Angel’s son, Connor, primarily to provoke conflict between the male heroes, but also to conceive Jasmine’s Doomfetus vessel. Appearing in a vision, as the maternal mouthpiece of The Powers That Be, a reproductively purified and ex-evil Darla informs her son, Connor, that the fate of the world now depends on his choice, since Cordelia’s agency has been reproductively annihilated (Darla merely implies that last part). Cordelia is then forced into a coma by the birth of her demon spawn, just as Darla was dusted while giving birth, or Whedon’s Alien Queen decapitated by her Newborn. Meanwhile, Cordelia/Doomfetus has found time to bring forth a Doomsday Beast to destroy the sun (women are great at multitasking), forcing our hero, Angel, to lose his soul for various complex reasons, but mainly to confirm Cordy’s boundless power as mindless maternal mouthpiece. Powerful as she is, Cordelia’s lack of agency nevertheless reduces her, by Angel’s own logic, to “nothing.” Incidentally, Whedon’s treatment of actress Charisma Carpenter did nothing to dispel this impression.

Unmarried, pregnant Cordelia Chase is literally demonized

This feels familiar to an Irish viewer. Our feminine ideal, the “Wild Irish Woman,” gave us warrior goddesses, but never prevented pregnant girls being institutionalized as slave labor (a cultural demonizing of unmarried mothers criticized by Dorothy Macardle and Mairéad Ní Ghráda, before Peter Mullan’s The Magdalene Sisters and Stephen Frears’ Philomena drew international attention). Our pirate queen got her nationalist anthem, but our women had their pelvises broken by crippling symphysiotomy until the 1980s without anesthetic, for fear caesareans would encourage use of birth control. We boast history’s second female minister in government, army officer Constance Markievicz, but just last year, a woman raped by the murderers of people close to her underwent forced hydration (she was on hunger strike, becoming suicidal after five months pleading for an abortion) before a coerced C-section (her visa status prevented travel). Believe us, there is no connection whatsoever between celebrating women’s warrior spirit and respecting their reproductive rights. I’m a fan of Buffy. I also understand that teams of writers are involved, though Joss Whedon is ultimately responsible for the content of his television shows. I hate his portraits of reproductive coercion because this ideology repeatedly tortures and kills the most vulnerable women in my country. It’s nothing personal. Images of late-term abortions are commodified by Ireland’s forced maternity lobby, while the faces of suicidal rape victims and the corpses of women who died, denied medically necessary abortions, cannot be shown, ironically out of respect for their personhood; this is why fictional images of forced maternity become a battleground for hearts and minds. Ultimately, this torture of Ireland’s most vulnerable women is also the end goal of America’s forced maternity lobby.

* Yes, I know the rape scene in Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner is problematic. It’s not like the rapid rise in ass-kicking heroines was matched by a rise in female authorship. Time for a “Microscope on Male Feminists” feature?

Brigit McCone writes and directs short films and radio dramas. Her hobbies include doodling, ducking and covering in anticipation of Whedonite backlash.

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.

Women in Science Fiction Week: A Feminist Review of ‘Prometheus’

Noomi Rapace as Dr. Elizabeth Shaw in Prometheus

Guest post written by Rachel Redfern previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on June 20, 2012 and was originally published at Not Another Wave. Cross-posted with permission.

The prequel and spinoff for the classic film Alien has as much feminist food as its precursor did, albeit slightly less groundbreaking, though we can’t fault it for that: Alien did give us the first female action hero in Sigourney Weaver’s portrayal of the irrepressible Ripley.

Prometheus is naturally larger in scale and far more reliant on special effects, a feature that while clichéd is expected in the current sci-fi action genre (not to be solely negative, the landscape was absolutely amazing and the cinematography superb, seriously, watch for some stunning views of Iceland’s Vatnajökull National Park, Hekla Volcano, and Detifoss Waterfall).

And while some of the scenes are admittedly, far more graphic and gratuitous than I think necessary (there is a simple purity to the original Alien death scenes that I think is lacking here), the film featured some thought provoking and disturbing themes, though all backed again by a strong, smart, female scientist-turned-reluctant heroine and survivor, similar to the original Ripley.

The Swedish Noomi Rapace (seriously loving these Swedish actors) and South African Charlize Theron oppose each other brilliantly; Theron as the efficient and disdainful corporate heavy, Noomi as the resistant, believing, courageous scientist out to find some answers.

The film features a hefty score of themes for discussion, including one of the most disturbing abortion scenes I’ve ever seen. That scene is apparently what pushed the film up from a PG-13 rating into an R; if the studio had wanted to ensure a PG-13 rating, the MPAA demanded that they cut the entire scene. However, both director Ridley Scott and Rapace felt the scene was pivotal in Shaw’s intense desire to survive and in her emotional and mental development. If you weren’t pro-choice before, chances are you might be after witnessing this scene.

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Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and it’s intersection, however she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

Women in Science Fiction Week: ‘Avatar’

Guest post written by Elizabeth Tiller previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on February 26, 2010 and originally appeared on the Stilwell Film blog, cross-posted with permission.

Admittedly, Avatar isn’t my thing, I’m not big on James Cameron or any alien films (not only his), I’ve never been interested in Star Wars or Star Trek (though I have seen enough of both franchises to hold a conversation), so I wasn’t planning on watching Avatar at any point in my life. However, this afternoon, I changed my mind when a free screening became available to me. With my original plans canceled and a spare two and a half hours available, I tucked into James Cameron’s latest film.

Well, Avatar wasn’t what I thought it would be, but it wasn’t any better. I spent most of the first half of the movie developing alternate titles ending with “in space.” “Pocahontas in Space,” “Dances with Wolves in Space,” and “Titanic in Space” all sprang to mind. For the most part, it seems Cameron has taken plots from various other films, thrown them together, dyed it blue, and placed it on the fictitious planet, Pandora, to create a science-fiction retelling of the Pocahontas mythos.

[…]

As much as I would like to sit through a movie like this and enjoy it for what it is (ground-breaking sci-fi entertainment that will go down in history), I simply can’t. James Cameron’s attempt to create a more spiritual, natural, and peaceful society leaves me annoyed that once again this idea is filtered through a white, Western, male member of a patriarchal society. Some theorists will consider Cameron’s Alien trilogy feminist, because of Sigourney Weaver’s empowered Ripley (legend says it was written to be asexual–with casting deciding the character’s sex), but she still has to prove her femininity and womanliness by saving cats and small children. I fear that many feminists will laud Avatar as well–for creating a world where the people worship a female entity (“Eywa”), because the Clan leader’s female mate/wife is as powerful as him, and since the female lead is as empowered as Ripley. However, like Ripley, Neytiri too has her feminine trappings, as her power can be explained away through her heritage.

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Elizabeth Tiller is a PhD student researching femme fatales in European cinema. Last year, she founded Stilwell Film, a non-profit that provides free outdoor film screenings to southern Johnson County, Kansas during July. In her spare time, she plays rugby, frequents karaoke nights, and watches high quality films like The Blue Lagoon.

Women in Science Fiction Week: Ellen Ripley, a Feminist Film Icon, Battles Horrifying Aliens … and Patriarchy

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley in Aliens

This post written by staff writer Megan Kearns originally appeared at Bitch Flicks on October 28, 2011.

When I was 10 years old, the scariest movie I ever saw was Aliens. I remember the first time I saw it like it was yesterday. Late one night, plagued with insomnia (perhaps a product of my tumultuous childhood), I heard the TV on in my mother’s bedroom. Sitting down next to her, I began watching too. My mom was watching Aliens. It was the scene where Ellen Ripley goes down the elevator, guns strapped to her, to rescue Newt. Entranced, I watched as encased in a forklift, she clashed with the Alien Queen.

But it wasn’t the gore or even the alien that mesmerized me. It was Ripley. Seeing a strong badass women on-screen left in an indelible impression on me.

With its tense, gritty, noir atmosphere, Alien broke ground spawning numerous imitations in the horror and sci-fi genres. Set in the year 2122, crew of the freighter spaceship Nostromo answer a beacon on the planet LV-426 and encounter a terrifying and insidious creature that attempts to wipe out the crew. Eschewing some of its horror roots in favor of an action-packed bonanza, the sequel Aliens features Lt. Ellen Ripley (the superb Sigourney Weaver), the Nostromo’s sole survivor (along with Jones the cat), warning and advising a group of Marines going to LV-426 to investigate after Earth lost contact with the planet’s colonists.

For me, I can’t separate Alien and Aliens (although I pretend the 3rd and 4th don’t exist…ugh). Both amazing films possess pulse-pounding intensity, a struggle for survival, and most importantly for me, a feminist protagonist. Radiating confidence and strength, Ripley remains my favorite female film character. A resourceful survivor wielding weapons and ingenuity, she embodies empowerment. Bearing no mystical superpowers, she’s a regular woman taking charge in a crisis. Weaver, who imbued her character with intelligence and a steely drive, was inspired to “play Ripley like Henry V and women warriors of classic Chinese literature.”

Sigourney Weaver’s role as Ripley catapulted her to stardom, making her one of the first female action heroes. Preceded by Pam Grier in Coffy and Dianna Rigg as Emma Peel in The Avengers, she helped pave the way for Linda Hamilton’s badassery in T2, Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, Carrie-Anne Moss in The Matrix, Lucy Lawless as Xena, Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy, and Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider and Salt. But Ripley, a female film icon, wasn’t even initially conceived as a woman.

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Ellen Ripley, a Feminist Film Icon, Battles Horrifying Aliens … and Patriarchy

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley

Written by Megan Kearns.

But it wasn’t the gore or even the alien that mesmerized me. It was Ripley. Seeing a strong badass woman on-screen left in an indelible impression on me.

Dan O’Bannon and Ronald Shusett, Alien’s screenwriters, wrote into the original script that all of the characters, while written as men (including “Ripley” who was originally written as “Roby”), were in fact unisex and could be cast as either women or men. While they never actually pictured Roby/Ripley as a woman, when producers Walter Hill and David Giler rewrote the final draft of the script, Ripley was indeed a woman…huzzah!

While the original and final scripts differ, particularly in that android Ash isn’t in the original, Roby and Ripley are surprisingly similar, sharing similar dialogue and eventually asserting their authority through decisive actions. Neither character wants to let the injured crewmember (Standard the Captain in the original script / Kane the Ex. O in the final draft) onto the ship as they might be infected. Although interestingly, Ripley stands her ground and doesn’t let him in while Roby caves. Also, both remain the sole survivors of the crew.

While both Alien and Aliens straddle the sci-fi/horror divide, one of the horror elements apparent in Alien is Carol Clover’s notion of the “final girl.” In numerous horror films (Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, The Descent), the resourceful woman remains the sole survivor, the audience intended to identify and sympathize with her. Oftentimes sexual overtones exist with the promiscuous victims and the virginal survivor. While Alien and Aliens display sexual themes (we’ll get to those in a moment), Ripley isn’t sexualized but remains the sole survivor in the first film. She’s also never masculinized as Clover suggests happens to final girls in order to survive.

So remember those sexual themes I just mentioned…well just because Ripley isn’t sexualized, doesn’t mean sexuality doesn’t play a pivotal role in Alien. Swiss artist H.R. Giger designed the alien as well as some sets for the first film with pervasive phallic and vaginal imagery (don’t believe me…take a look; you won’t be able to not see it). Alien took the horror of rape comingled with the “male fear of female reproduction” and put it in space. Rather than maniacal villains attacking women and glorifying femicide, as many horror films do, Alien showed a creature attacking men (and eventually women too). While dangerous sexual elements abound, women weren’t punished for their sexuality.

Ripley never becomes an object merely for the male gaze. In Alien, she strips down to a tank top and underwear before she enters the cryogenic chamber. But rather than objectifying, to me it seemed to symbolize her vulnerability. The alien stows away in her escape pod yet she doesn’t hesitate, immediately slipping into a spacesuit to battle the alien. The script initially intended for Ripley to sleep with Dallas the Captain. Thank god that was never filmed! We need more movies where a woman is not reduced to a sex object. Ultimately, Ripley is not defined by her relationship with a man; she defines herself.

Films rarely feature multiple women; even rarer is it to see various depictions of women. In Alien, Ripley is juxtaposed with Lambert (Veronica Cartwright). While Ripley remains calm and collected, Lambert is an emotional hot mess, unhinged by fear. Time after time, the media pits women against one another. But after initial reluctance, Ripley and Lambert in Alien and Ripley and Vasquez (fiercely played by Jeanette Goldstein) in Aliens, work cooperatively together.

Motherhood exists as a reoccurring theme in Alien and Aliens. A pivotal scene cut from Aliens reveals that Ripley had a daughter. When she returns to Earth, after being stranded in space for 57 years on the Nostromo’s escape pod, Ripley discovers her daughter recently died at the age of 66. She survives to ultimately lose her daughter. Her grief catalyses her connection with the young girl Newt (Carrie Henn). Ripley risks her life to save and protect this little girl, perhaps in an attempt to reconcile her feelings of loss. At the end of the film, Newt hugs Ripley, calling her “Mommy;” she becomes a mother again. Even in Alien, Ripley smashes the computer called “Mother” onboard the Nostromo. Interestingly in Aliens, Ripley isn’t fighting a male villain; she combats a female: the Alien Queen. While the Alien Queen doesn’t equal a human woman, it’s hard to ignore that the film portrays one mother warring against another, both protecting their children.

Of the few truly empowered female film characters, most are lioness mothers: Ripley protecting Newt, Sarah Connor fiercely protecting her son and all of humanity in Terminator and T2, The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo a vengeful mother in Kill Bill. Despite the frequent comparisons made between the two badass women warriors, there’s a crucial difference between Ellen Ripley and Sarah Connor. Connor exists solely to protect her male son from assassination or humanity will be wiped out; she possesses no other identity. While Ripley becomes a surrogate mother to Newt, her identity still remains her own, not solely contingent on another.

A feminist commentary regarding female voice confronted by sexism in society emerges in both Alien and Aliens. In Alien, Ash undermines Ripley’s authority as Warrant Officer as he lets Kane onboard, disobeying Ripley’s decision to follow protocol and quarantine him. Dallas the Captain disregards Ripley’s concerns about not trusting Ash. After Ripley uncovers Ash’s treacherous plot, he stuffs a porn magazine in her mouth, “the film’s most explicit equation of male violence with the desire to annihilate the female voice.”

In Aliens, Ripley tries to warn the Weyland-Yutani Corporation about the danger of the alien and the LV-426 colonists’ impending doom. When she travels with the Marines, they initially discount her testimony. Only when the shit seriously hits the fan do they listen, looking to her as a tactical leader to survive. A futuristic Cassandra, prophesying destruction yet no one heeds Ripley’s warning. Is it because she’s a woman? That seems to be the message. Society continually devalues women, silencing their voices.

The media inundates us with images of male protagonists so it’s refreshing to see women lead…and of course kicking ass! Living in a world dominated by patriarchy, women receive societal cues telling them explicitly and implicitly how to behave, look and speak. Social norms dictate that women should be gentle, nurturing, and caring. Subtly implied lies the assertion that women should support the men in their life, that they should not be too outspoken or too unruly.

In theory, women action heroes break that mold. But in reality, most female film characters don’t shatter gender stereotypes. They rarely lead as heroes, usually serving as props to the male protagonists, and serving as love interests. Rather than showcasing empowerment, researcher Katy Gilpatric found that women in action films ultimately succumb to stereotypical gender roles.

Under the guise of empowerment, most female film characters still play out gender norms where women serve men and stay out of the limelight. That’s what makes Ripley so unique. She subverts traditional gender roles while retaining her female identity.

In an interview in Time Magazine, Weaver talked about Ripley and film roles for women:

“Usually women in films have had to carry the burden of sympathy, only coming to life when a man enters. Doesn’t everyone know that women are incredibly strong?”

Growing up, Ellen Ripley was my role model, a fierce feminist. Alien and Aliens taught me an invaluable lesson. They showed me a woman doesn’t need a man to solve a problem or fight their battles. After recently watching the documentary Miss Representation, which exposes the ways the media objectifies and attempts to strip women and girls of their power, I realize the gravity of seeing strong, confident women on-screen who aren’t valued merely for their appearance. And therein lies the power of Ripley.

While sexist studio execs might not want a 60-year-old Sigourney Weaver to reprise her iconic role, we need more Ripleys on-screen. Weaver said that all women possess “a secret action heroine” inside them. Women don’t always know their own strength. We don’t need to be rescued or saved; we can do that on our own.

We may not live in a world with chest-bursting aliens bleeding acid for blood. But anyone can aspire to be Ellen Ripley.

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Megan Kearns is a blogger, freelance writer and activist. She blogs at The Opinioness of the World, a feminist vegan site. Her work has also appeared at Arts & Opinion, Fem2pt0, Italianieuropei, Open Letters Monthly, and A Safe World for Women. She earned her B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology and a Graduate Certificate in Women and Politics and Public Policy. Megan lives in Boston with more books than she will probably ever read in her lifetime.

Megan contributed reviews of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, Something Borrowed, !Women Art Revolution, The Kids Are All Right (for 2011 Best Picture Nominee Review Series), The Reader (for 2009 Best Picture Nominee Review Series), Game of Thrones and The Killing (for Emmy Week 2011), and Women, War and Peace’s I Came to Testify. She was the first writer featured as a Monthly Guest Contributor.