Erin Fenner – Page 2 – Bitch Flicks

Surprise: Rich White Men Dominate the Cinema

I don’t want to see the film Oliver Stone will want to make about Romney

Here is my draft of an open tweet I am working on for directors and producers of Hollywood who continue directing and producing movies mostly about rich white men:

@WealthyDirectors&Producers I know ppl r told 2 “write what u know” & the nxt logical step 4 filmmakers would b 2 “film what u know.” But, stop, we’ve had enuf of rich men.

So, an open tweet might not be the best format to address my frustration with Hollywood and the seeming upsurge in rich-white-man-falling-from-rich-graces story arc. And, it might not be practical to address it to a made-up twitter handle. But, when the system is so dang exclusive, I got to get by with my gimmicks.

Our whole movie-making industry fits comfortably into the laps of well-to-do white men between the ages of 18-35. So, even though great films are coming out, the ones that are – during a recession for Christ’s sake – are falling radically at the ends of a spectrum at around poverty porn or bewailing the epic fall of an epic hero.

Why is it, for instance, that we had to endure another Oliver Stone movie – a sequel to Wall Street – Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps? While it touched on some pretty timely issues – i.e. it followed our fall into economic crisis – it only looked through wealthy characters. These characters’ flaws were pretty solidly greed and excessive ambition. Help me out here, but that is just not where most Americans are at right now.

The two highest grossing movies of this year both feature obscenely rich playboys wielding their pocketbooks to fight crime. Tony Stark in The Avengers, is brilliant, but can only functionally be a superhero because he’s wealthy. While Bruce Wayne, in The Dark Knight Rises, would still be pretty badass without the money, he wouldn’t have gotten far in challenging Gotham’s worst without his high-tech gadgets and his martial arts training obtained overseas.

Past the summer blockbusters, even Oscar-chasers are focusing mostly on the stories of the rich and prestigious. Black Swan followed the story of a woman, (yes, a woman!) but she was a ballerina (not exactly an art form available to the middle-class budget) whose fall was connected with her ambition and rise to enormous success. The Great Gatsby is coming out in 2013, and while a great story on the failures of the “American Dream” it is still about the fall of a rich white man.

It seems like directors are pretty fascinated with the greed and corruption that led to the desperate state of our current economy. But, what about the result for the majority of Americans? You know, the big group of folks who are now dealing with tight budgets and un/underemployement? And why is the more pertinent entertainment not accessible to the groups who could relate to it? Why was Death of a Salesman only on Broadway? Doesn’t that seem like a good thing to send to theaters? I mean, if we have to look at the woes of white men – can they at least be struggling with culturally relevant strife? Why is Lena Dunham’s show Girls centered around the stories of struggling twenty-something (white) women, such a big hit on HBO and not a network? As in: why is a show about financially struggling young people available on a station that only people who can afford cable can watch.

Of course we’re not completely sunk. The third highest grossing film was The Hunger Games – a film featuring a strong young woman fighting the powers that be that continue to disenfranchise her and her society.

We need more people making film who aren’t obsessed with wealth and power. We need to address themes other than those concerning megalomaniacs. Wouldn’t it be a relief to see some blockbusters where the audience can actually relate to the problems the characters face?

—

Erin Fenner is a writer based in Portland. She likes film and feminism and alliteration.

Presidential Debate Update: Where Are the Women(‘s Issues)?

The first presidential debate between Mitt Romney and Barack Obama

The first presidential debate between Barack Obama and Mitt Romney was much less intriguing than every pundit and media ogler alike was hoping for. We wanted zingers and gaffes, but had to settle for the mildly miffed, but embarrassingly unassertive, Jim Lehrer. The NewsHour host may have gotten memed even more than the candidates since the debate. But, sorry Big Bird, even an outraged PBS isn’t that interesting.

Yes, many media followers, long for the days of primary debates when tom-foolery and missteps abounded. Those were the days when follow-up commentary was bountiful and hilarious. The Ricks, Herman Cain, and Newt Gingrich may have outraged feminists, but damn they made our job of dissecting dickery easy.

Yes, the debate was “wonky” but all three men involved didn’t seem keen on bringing up the social issues that have been driving political discourse this year.

So, we feminist bloggers have to talk about what wasn’t talked about. And, frankly, there’s only so much fascination I can draw up from between the lines. Women’s health was not just glanced over, but completely ignored. And that was a disappointment – not for gossip’s sake, but because our candidates should be representing these issues as valuable. No, women’s health and reproductive rights should not be categorized as a distracting issue, but should be recognized as fundamentally intertwined with the issues determining the health of our country.

See, our candidates seem to consider economic and health care issues separate from social issues. But, marginalized folks understand via experience that they are not. Moderate Romney and Moderate Obama both stuck to taxes and the role of government while referencing the Affordable Care Act (ACA) and Dodd-Frank but not addressing how social issues are connected.

Discounting social issues and focusing on the “real” issues like the economy misses the point that these issues are not exclusive. No, the economy is not more real than women trying to cover the costs of their health insurance while looking for work in a bad economy.

The ACA makes it illegal for insurance companies to discriminate among genders when providing coverage. And it makes contraception more easily accessible. It basically stops allowing the practice of treating men as the generic sex – as in; people should get good coverage for the same costs regardless of gender and/or sex. This is a pretty important aspect of the ACA that was not looked at during the debate.

So we can hope that we see these discussions happen in upcoming debates. Hopefully our candidates and moderators don’t shy away from these issues. Candy Crowley, we’re looking to you.

Reagan as a Role Model in ‘Bedtime for Bonzo’

Diana Lynn and Ronald Reagan in Bedtime for Bonzo

I believe the GOP is using Bedtime for Bonzo as a template for how to govern the U.S.

The Republican National Convention brought out the best of the “we built it” catch-phrase slinging moralists. And they – in front of a crowd that was comprised of a high proportion of restrictive-gender-norm-appreciators– sought to influence a constituency by pushing the idea that “traditional values” and laissez-faire capitalism are inextricably connected.

This is how I get to Bedtime for Bonzo. It involves both the god of trickle-down economics and a fictional experiment that proves traditional gender roles are necessary for raising a good human being. Or, raising a good ape for that matter.

Bedtime for Bonzo is one of those antic-filled flicks where the protagonist inevitably yells out the name of the main pet/animal/kiddo in a prolonged agonized tone. It was released in 1951 and starred Ronald Reagan. That means, among other indignities in the movie, our 40th president is featured whining angrily at a chimpanzee, “Bon-zo!”

Mr. President Protagonist, Peter Boyd (Reagan), is a psychology professor at Anytown University. To impress his should-be father-in-law he aims to prove that nurture has more sway than nature by teaching an emotionally distraught chimpanzee, Bonzo, the difference between right and wrong.

And, boy does he. Through lessons in table etiquette and much finger-wagging, Peter helps Bonzo becomes a good upstanding citizen. But, implicit from the beginning is that Bonzo needs a “mama” to make the shift between unruly depressive (we first meet Bonzo trying to commit suicide by jumping off a building) to a healthy contributing member of society.

The “mama” that Peter finds is pretty-young-thing, Jane (Diana Lynn). She maintains a peppy version of the maternal ideal while also swinging her impressive bust-waist-hip ratio into the role of romantic (can you say Fa-Fa-Freud?) interest.

Through Jane’s sensual domesticity and Peter’s academic masculinity – the pair manages a successful experiment and domesticates the ape by the power of traditional values.

Which brings us back to the RNC.

The conservative agenda remains consistently exclusive to Leave it to Beaver norms. This maintains a strong unified base that continues to vote in an obviously broken economic system. To keep up the agenda and unity, the GOP needs to also keep up the myth of “tradition=virtue” and make that appealing to women voters.

This year both parties knew they would have to talk about those notorious “women’s issues.” The Democrats lined up an obviously pandering (but still appreciated) group of women speakers highlighting the values of equal pay and reproductive rights. Republicans did not go the same direction. But, Ann Romney did speak on behalf of her husband. And she delivered a cozy message about how women are super important. As long as they have reproduced.

“It’s the moms who always have to work a little harder, to make everything right. It’s the moms of this nation – single, married, widowed – who really hold this country together. We’re the mothers, we’re the wives, we’re the grandmothers, we’re the big sisters, we’re the little sisters, we’re the daughters,” Romney said.

This does at least two things: reiterates the conservative narrative of women as relational beings (existing only as supporting characters) and pushes the notion that motherhood itself is more effective in its traditional state.

See, the GOP needs a “mama” to keep its base complacent and well-behaving. And “mama” is just the outmoded ideal of motherhood and womanhood.

The Good, the Bad and the Perpetuation of a Hilariously Unrealistic Ideal of Masculinity and Individualism in the GOP

It’s sexy to regard subjective truth as hooey

Clint Eastwood strolled out on the stage at the Republican National Convention on August 30 amidst applause and the theme music from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. This man is the emblem of Republican masculinity. He has the squinted glare and appropriate strut of someone with a concealed weapons permit. Clint Eastwood’s personal ideology doesn’t really match the traditionally conservative perspective (he is a-ok with abortionand same-sex marriage). But, he is a swaggering symbol of the individualism that permeates every Young Republican’s wet dreams.

Eastwood was the GOP’s mystery speaker who brought out the swoon in Libertarians and Republicans alike. And, in his 12-minute, mildly coherent speech, Eastwood revealed that the conservative fantasy of manhood is just as wild and absurd as the premises of Western movies with a sharp-shooter who can save a friend from a hanging with circus-skill aim.

One of the first things Eastwood said for his speech at the RNCwas, “I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, what’s a movie tradesman doing out here?”

Good question, Eastwood. And he made it clear that inviting a symbol out to make a speech at a pretty important national convention was a bad idea. Eastwood’s talking to an empty chair imploded the internet. He was onstage, a conservative fantasy of manliness, talking to the conservatives’ fantasy of a sniveling socialist Obama.

But, as delusional as Eastwood’s speech was, the platform and policies of the GOP are even worse – one moment advocating for personal freedom and the other moment insisting on restricting access to reproductive healthcare and cutting in on civil liberties for an ethnocentric sense of national security.

See, the narrative of the GOP looks a lot like the narrative of Eastwood’s early films: trumped up notions of individual-driven justice and society. Hell, there are even bootstraps in some of Eastwood’s films – real bootstraps. And yes, in these films it’s the people with bulges in their crotches who get to make decisions. Lady-folk mostly get flung around.

The fetishized stoicism of Eastwood’s Westerns and his white-man-saves-the-dayisms of some of his more recent work (Gran Torino – cough cough) play in super swell to the conservative narrative of the U.S. dream. But, when presented on a stage sans script and with an attempt at getting close to reality, it looks awesomely out of touch.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Week: Whedon’s Binary Excludes Bisexuality

Joss Whedon wants to be the champion of bringing “Strong Female Characters” into the mainstream. He also has intentionally woven stories of lesbian characters into his plots to normalize same-sex relationships. It is well-intentioned.

But, Joss Whedon is a cisgender white straight guy, and his arcs appear clueless at times.

Yes, it’s time again in the feminist-verse/Whedon-verse to talk about Willow Rosenburg. It is possible that Willow gets more attention in the feminist community than Buffy. This is probably because she identifies as a lesbian, because her character is arguably more interesting and also because her development is a tad more revolutionary than Buffy’s. She starts out as a timid and withdrawn character who uses magic and sexuality to embrace a prouder and more solid identity.

Willow is Whedon’s version of the answer to the underrepresented gay community. But, Willow appears to have had a healthy sexual relationship with her boyfriend Oz, and there is no hint at otherwise. She also pined for Xander for years. Both men. We see her gradually start a relationship with Tara, but she never talks about or reflects on her sexuality or coming out. We see that she is nervous about whether her friends approve. But, it doesn’t get much deeper than that. No characters have a deep conversation with her about her orientation. It’s not a thorough exploration. She goes from being with men to exclusively being with women and identifying as a lesbian. This is fine for Willow, but because there are really not many open gay or lesbian characters within the entire series we are dependent on her narrative alone.

No one, not even Willow, ever bring up the possibility of bisexuality for her or any other characters. Willow isn’t the only one who seems misplaced at one end of a sexuality spectrum.

Buffy, for instance (in the eighth season comic books), has ostensibly good sex with a woman. These things hint at a spectrum of sexuality, but it is never explored. Buffy’s experience seems to be reduced by Whedon as “experimenting.” While self-identified straight people exploring the boundaries of their sexuality is perfectly legitimate, Whedon’s frame seems to stem from obliviousness to the experiences of the LGBT community instead of intentional development.

Fans became excited about the possibility of Buffy coming out as bisexual.

Excerpt from season eight of Buffy the Vampire Slayer

But, Whedon didn’t appear to see it that way.

“We’re not going to make her gay, nor are we going to take the next 50 issues explaining that she’s not. She’s young and experimenting, and did I mention open-minded?” he said in an interview with the New York Times.

He’s appearing open-minded in this statement except that he’s perpetuating the binary excluding the possibility of bi people. Buffy can be more than just straight or gay, obviously. There’s a whole spectrum of sexuality that he’s ignoring.

To be clear: I would not question how an individual chooses to identify when it comes to sexuality and gender. People have a right to claim whatever label fits them personally, and to have others respect that identity. But, Willow and Buffy aren’t real people. They are characters created by a cisgender straight white guy (as mentioned before.) And their choices in self-identification don’t seem to be the result of personal exploration, but straight-white-man-well-meaning obliviousness.

Whedon leaves out a huge group of people. Namely, the big percentage of folks who are neither straight nor gay. While he is trying thoughtfully to include different voices and backgrounds in his plots, Whedon needs to bring in more diverse writers to accomplish this.

‘Red Dawn’: How Not Crying Will Defeat Communism

Wolverines!

In Hollywood action flicks, hypermasculinity is a key tool for survival. The folks who have zombie-apocalypse bunkers and piles of military-grade weapons last longer – if they never cry. It’s reinforced in Red Dawn, the 1984 movie starring Patrick Swayze and directed by John Milius.

Milius’s Red Dawn adoringly plays with the premise of an occupied U.S. What if the Russians, Cubans and Nicaraguans successfully invaded? Apparently they would start with rural middle-America and send paratroopers to attack a high school. While this may not seem like a practical strategy (considering the U.S. is large both in actual size and military might) it actually works out pretty well for the invaders of Red Dawn.

This movie romanticizes unexpectedly-skilled kids forfeiting life and well-being for country and vengeance. A group of teens become guerilla warriors and name their group after their high school mascot: the Wolverines! (I feel compelled to put an exclamation point after each use of “Wolverines!,” because I am pretty sure yelling is part of the official pronunciation.) This movie looks like how an eighth-grader might conceive war: its premise is grand, unrealistic and the values are oversimplified and packed with hormones.

And, guess what? This jacked-up fantasy is being redone. There’s a new Red Dawn on the horizon. Dan Bradley, who is known mostly for his stunt coordination work, is redoing the film that was the first to get a PG-13 rating. (Aimed at kids, yet rife with violence.) While I want to jump on the ridiculous 2012 trailer, I have to go back and explain why it’s even more ridiculous to produce now, considering the badness of the original Red Dawn.

To start: Milius’s Red Dawn was already absurd when it came out in 1984. Sure we had just warmed up from the Cold War. But, the idea that the Cuban army would be occupying a small U.S. town and launch its first attack on a high school: this movie was made to be laughed at. If it had merit it would be that it’s an excellent satire of nationalism. Unfortunately, that merit is based on wishful imagination on my part.

Wrapped up tight in that too-sincere-nationalism is tradition and subsequently: traditional gender roles. But, what’s interesting is its push for hypermasculinity – not just for the boys in the film, but also for the girls. So, while there are “when men were men” attitudes, the stereotypical role of women are cut out even for the female characters. I guess there’s not a lot of room for femininity in spastic red-blooded propaganda flicks.

Yes, the Wolverines! are equal-opportunity in their stereotypically male stoicism and aggression. They don’t discriminate between genders when it comes to muddy survivalist tactics and the refusal to cry, ever.

The boys’ dad (Harry Dean Stanton) tells them to not even think about crying.

Crying was very specifically pointed out as an action not to be taken by survivors. When the main characters of the film Jed and Matt Eckert (Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen) find their Dad (Harry Dean Stanton) in a prison camp he imparts advice that is repeated throughout. He doesn’t give them tips on how to survive, or even a trying-to-be-poignant call to cling to hope. Instead the boys’ dad tells them, “I don’t want either one of you to ever cry for me again. Don’t ever do it. Not as long as you live.” I am sure that’s the most important thing he could have told his kids who were hiding in the mountains from an invading army. Don’t worry. Mr. Eckert follows this up with a prolonged “Avenge me!”

Again, Red Dawn fails at practicality. But, it wins at perpetuating a narrative of strength via glamorized old-school warrior manhood.

I want to address the women of Red Dawn. But, frankly it’s hard to talk about any of the characters in the movie. There’s just not a whole lot of character development. Erica (Lea Thompson) and Toni (Jennifer Grey) join up with the boys after hiding from would-be-assaulting enemy forces. We actually meet the girls as their guardians reveal them by pulling up a hatch in the floor. The two have been hidden and we first see them as they are crouched, looking upward and eager to melt into the bland multi-personed-character of Wolverines!

Toni and Erica (Jennifer Grey and Lea Thompson) in Red Dawn

Toni gets pretty much no development. She laughs and carries an assault rifle – like the rest of the group. She blends into the steely amalgam. Toni doesn’t stand out, but neither do the boys, really.

Erica on the other hand gets one of the few lines acknowledging gender difference. Matt (are we surprised that it’s Sheen’s character who says this?) tells Erica she should do the dishes. Erica reacts viscerally and says, “You wash it! We’re never doing your washing again! Me and her is as good as any of you!” She also (spoiler alert) gets to be one of the few remaining survivors. This was the 80s after all, a time when we were celebrating women’s equality, but that equality looked a lot like redistributing stereotypical masculinity.

So from Milius’s Red Dawn we learn that the key to being a successful militia is having seemingly endless access to big-ole weapons and suppressing emotion. This is very possibly true. What’s makes the premise not-so-likely is that a high school quarterback, his visiting-home brother and their buddies would probably not have the aforementioned weapons, the skills to use them and the ability to root out emotion. What is even less likely, is that Cuban and Nicaraguan armies could make their way across the U.S. and successfully invade because they had magical Russian weapon technology. It’s hilariously unrealistic. But, the old premise might be more believable than what’s coming next.

Not only are we sticking to a pretty ridiculous idea (except now it’s North Korea who’s the even-more-unlikely invader), it looks like this round of Red Dawn could come with an extra dose of unnecessary sex appeal. One thing to appreciate about Milius’s Red Dawn was that, while there was a creepy crush thrown in, the movie didn’t go out of its way to exploit romance. Milius was too busy with gratuitous violence.

But, in Bradley’ Red Dawn trailer we have clean made-up characters and obvious moments of sexy-slow-motion-kissing time. It’s not clear exactly how gender will play a role in the upcoming redo. But, with rapid cuts to gunfire, explosions and car wrecks – it seems like hyper-violence inspired masculinity will probably continue to play a role.

Why "It Was Just the Times" Doesn’t Cut It When Challenging Sexism in Older Films

Here’s something I have run up against repeatedly when challenging sexism in older films and media (for the sake of the argument I will just discuss sexism, but this applies to all shapes and sizes of bigotry):

“It was just the times…”

To be clear about this “the times” theory: in various old movies, blatant sexism percolate and penetrate. But, when these bigotries are pointed out by a riled-up feminist, many distance themselves from the debate entirely. They don’t argue that there isn’t sexism, but that it is irrelevant because the time period in which the film was produced was sexist and ergo all media resulting from it is exempt from criticism on the basis that it could only be un-sexist if it was “ahead of its time.” As in: it is unfair to call out bigotries in an “old” movie because those bigotries were so ingrained in the culture that no media could escape the influence.

Firstly, this presumes that sexism exists in the mythical “back then.” It suggests sexism was a problem in “the times” when women were expected to stay home, weren’t considered for the same jobs as men and/or couldn’t vote. Sexism existed when people still thought ridiculing people based on their gender was funny. Or it was when women weren’t paid fairly for their work. It existed before abortion was legal – when politicians still thought they had more of a say over what a woman did with her body than a woman did. Those nasty generalizations and gender-based misbehaviors belong to our grandparents or parents or older siblings: not us. But, if you noticed: Women still don’t get paid as much as men. Our right to bodily autonomy is regularly challenged by politicians who presume to know what’s best for a person’s uterus. People are still singled out and/or demeaned for their gender. This is a feminist blog, so I don’t feel the need to go into detail. But, here’s a list of sexisms that still flourish today: slut-shaming, fat-shaming, cat calls, assault, sexualization, objectification, old boys’ club disassociation (aka employment discrimination), lack of media representation, gendered interpretations, overall debasement, pink&blue aisles and more and more and more.

Sexism isn’t something that is over. And if we look at contemporary media, we see it there as well. Disney movies didn’t stop featuring childish and passive female characters after Roe v. Wade. Romantic comedies didn’t stop perpetuating the notion that women need to be saved from themselves by a man. Women haven’t stopped being portrayed as sexual conquests in action flicks.

Which ties me into the next point: old film isn’t irrelevant. Some fatalistic viewers may postulate that the media has already been created. Neither the movie nor the culture from which it was created from can be changed at this point, so criticizing sexism is futile.

But, we can’t appreciate contemporary media without understanding what built up to it. Also, viewers don’t stop watching old films after they’ve circulated a certain number of decades. Media lasts, and continues to be a part of the cultural conscience. In many ways, older films can be more relevant than newer ones.

Newer movies are timelier. They play a part in the 24-hour-cycle that automatically elevates import. But, that doesn’t mean they ultimately have more influence than older film, they just have more exposure. Stanley Kubrick’s presentation of women – especially in Clockwork Orange – might be worth noting a bit more than Michael Bay’s presentation – say in Transformers. Both exploit women, but Kubrick’s portrayal comes from a respected and canonized director. Michael Bay’s portrayal comes from a director whose notoriety comes from explosion size.

Another crucial point: critique is not necessarily antagonistic. If anything it’s an expanding of the existing material. Media – like other cultural artifacts – is relative to the culture observing it. Historical context should orient it, but it should not dictate our appreciation of it. And, challenging sexism within it does not devalue it. Instead it can actually make it more worthwhile to talk about. Instead of passively viewing film, we should be active in our consideration.

Calling out sexism gives us a fuller picture of our history. To better understand ourselves, our culture and the film; we need to analyze and point out the flaws. This is why I enjoy focusing on older films: the movies that have been with us a while, and have influenced contemporary directors. I think they are more pertinent the longer they last. Looking back will always give us a chance to reevaluate how culture in “the times” affects culture in these times.

—

Erin Fenner grew up in small-town Idaho where she took solace in cult cinema. Her burgeoning feminist ideals didn’t dampen her approach to viewing even the most obviously gender-norm-dependent films, but created another angle of intrigue. She went to the University of Idaho where she grabbed a Journalism degree. There she was a student blogger, radio show producer and self-described feminist activist. Now she lives in Portland, Oregon, and works remotely for the reproductive rights organization Trust Women where she writes about the state of pro-choice-politics for their blog. She also says she is a poet, but refuses to publish, perform or share lest someone offer “constructive” critiques.

Welcome New Contributors!

You’ve probably noticed some wonderful new writers around here. They’ll each be writing weekly posts, so you’ll definitely want to check back here often to read their fabulous pieces. In case you missed any of their introductions last week, I’ve included excerpts below. Make sure to read their full bios to learn more about them–and then welcome them to the Bitch Flicks team!

Myrna Waldron: I am a lifelong film enthusiast, but my particular passion is animation. (I like live action television too, but I’m fairly picky) Since a young age I have obsessively consumed animation in all forms, whether they be slapstick cartoons like Looney Tunes or abstract experiments like Begone Dull Care. I am particularly interested in American animation (Chuck Jones is my hero), but I have some interest in Canadian (particularly the short films distributed by the National Film Board of Canada) and Japanese animation (mostly from the 90s) as well. It is a pet peeve of mine when people refer to animation as a genre rather than a medium, or, even worse, to assume that all animation is for children – so don’t do it! 😉 [click here to read more about Myrna]

Lady T: If I can describe my approach to feminism in one sentence, it would be this: “There’s always room for improvement.” Occasionally, I blog about media that really grates my cheese, but I’m more likely to criticize and analyze works of media that I really love and admire. I like the female characters on The Vampire Diaries, but I think the show’s portrayal of its black characters leaves a lot to be desired. I love the late, great George Carlin for many reasons, particularly his stand-up about abortion and grammar, but I don’t agree with his opinions on rape jokes. Most works of art that I love have some problematic aspects and I think it’s worthwhile and necessary to analyze our favorite things. [click here to read more about Lady T]

Robin Hitchcock: I’ve been a movie lover since I was a young teen, when my dad instituted “Movie Camp” in our house to fill in the gaps in my cultural heritage. I’ve been a feminist since longer than I can remember. I have a small amount of formal gender studies training in the form of a certificate in Women’s Studies from my alma mater the University of Pittsburgh (2006), but that department was so small they couldn’t even offer a minor in Women’s Studies, much less a major degree concentration. I also have a J.D. from the University of Pittsburgh (2010), but I do not practice as a lawyer. I am always trying to learn more and strengthen my feminist muscles. I find it more or less impossible to see a movie and not want to write about it. Even when I really hate a movie, I still tend to enjoy watching it, thinking about it, and writing about it. [click here to read more about Robin]

Erin Fenner: I love cult films, “bad movies” and directors who try their damndest to say something new in a different way. I love black and white, foreign and Cannes Film Festival. I get excited by trying-to-be-subtle symbolism and am a sucker for allegory. I value the filmmakers who push a feminist agenda, and even those who willingly ignore politics but still manage to convey a message that is keenly relevant. Not to say that I don’t like blockbusters and Oscar nodding. Explosions and played-out sensuality don’t titillate me, but I am fascinated by the process, the message and am obsessed with the mistakes. [To be clear, my notion of “liking” or “loving” something is often interchangeable with most people’s notion of “morbid fascination.”] [click here to read more about Erin]

Max Thornton: I am a third culture kid who grew up in the USA, Kenya, and Great Britain. I am a trans* queer person who gets angry a lot. I am a grad student in theology, which I define broadly as the processes by which people create meaning in their lives, and my especial interest is the interrelationship of politics, culture, and religion.

I love film, books, and sci-fi in any medium, and I have an especial passion for television. My favorite show of all time is Mystery Science Theater 3000; my favorite show currently airing is Community; the list of shows I love is ever expanding with series both new and new-to-me, but among my very favorites are Adventure Time, Archer, Arrested Development, Breaking Bad, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Farscape, Firefly, Freaks and Geeks, The League of Gentlemen, Parks and Recreation, Phineas and Ferb, Pushing Daisies, Spaced, The Thick Of It, Venture Bros, and Wonderfalls. [click here to read more about Max]

Rachel Redfern: While I grew up in California and still consider it home, I’ve moved around a bit since then; currently, I live in South Korea where I teach English and stuff myself with Kimchi and Toblerone bars and watch way too much TV. My tastes extend into the realm of the eclectic and some of my favorites are Arrested Development, Castle, pretty much anything by HBO but specifically True Blood and Game of Thrones (ditto for BBC), and loads of old shows, Star Trek, I Dream of Jeannie, Murder She Wrote, Northern Exposure, most of which are campy and nostalgic (who else loves the original Doctor Who?). [click here to read more about Rachel]

Leigh Kolb: It was only after graduating college and working in the real world (where one male boss actually told me women’s lib was a bad idea) that I realized feminism needed to be a part of my life. I opened my eyes and saw a world of gendered roles and expectations–from the media to the workplace–and I didn’t like it. I embraced the f-word.

My love for pop culture, analysis, argument and feminism created the person at this keyboard. I’ve learned to bring notebooks with me to the movies, keep one handy in the living room when we watch TV, and keep my eyes and ears open constantly to connect representations of gender roles in the media to our culture. [click here to read more about Leigh]

David Lynch’s "Good" Guy vs. Bad Guy in ‘Blue Velvet’

The director David Lynch likes playing with dichotomies. His director’s fetish is portraying opposite worlds that coexist. He carries us from happy-go-lucky settings to dark depths with embarrassingly sincere dialogue, awkward props and too-blunt-to-be-ignored sound design. When writing about Lynch one must incorporate phrases like “seedy underbelly” and “seemingly pleasant.”

While a world of starkly presented binaries is a great place to explore gender roles, this does not always appeal to audiences and critics.

Roger Ebert, for instance, was not pleased with Lynch’s Blue Velvet. He was particularly disturbed by how Lynch presented the character of a woman experiencing abuse. He felt that the contrast between the absurd and evil lent a disingenuous tone to scenes in the film that should have been poignant.

“Either this material is funny, in which case you don’t take advantage of your stars, or it isn’t funny, in which case it shouldn’t have so much campy and adolescent dialogue along with a really powerful sexual scene,” Ebert said in his review of the film.

Blue Velvet movie poster

His argument is a thoughtful one, but it doesn’t fairly represent the message of the film. It doesn’t look like Lynch is trying to be screwy. He’s not trying to make us laugh at the pain others. Instead it seems he is trying to evoke deep sympathy for the foolish-but-kind characters who use “campy and adolescent dialogue.” If Lynch is manipulating the viewer, it is to turn our cynical snark against us and make us respond empathetically.

Lynch is not a master of a feminist message – and while there are good intentions between each line – we are hung up in prescribed roles and never released. His frustration isn’t with the constructs that create a violent world, but simply with the violence itself.

Blue Velvet, released in 1986, is a surreal noir film about a college boy, Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan), who returns to his cheery suburban hometown to tend to an ailing father. He gets mixed up in the dark and violent aspects of his town after discovering a de-bodied ear. He enters this world at his own volition because of his almost-innocent voyeurism. Jeffrey comes by this dubiously ethical curiosity honestly when his friend and romantic interest Sandy (Laura Dern) says, “I don’t know if you’re a detective or a pervert.”

His inappropriate cliché-of-choice response: “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

This is directed at the audience as well. But, we don’t get much of an answer. Lynch portrays Jeffrey as a well-meaning voyeur. But, clearly (and rightfully so), that’s not a culturally accepted characteristic in heroes. Jeffrey treats the discovered ear as if it was an exciting clue instead of evidence to severe criminality. His watching of the following events satiates a selfish desire – however well-meaning.

Through Sandy’s help (her father is the local detective) Jeffrey finds that the ear is somehow connected to a local singer, Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini). He decides his next step is to break into Dorothy’s apartment to find more clues.

What Jeffrey encounters is ultimately a brutal scene. His detective adventure swiftly plunges into twisted horror. He doesn’t panic, though, but just takes it in.

Dorothy first finds Jeffrey hiding in her closet and assumes – reasonably – that he was spying on her undressing. She turns the male gaze back on him by making him undress. This is not a moment of female empowerment – nor is it really the living-out of a male fantasy. Instead it is the disturbing result of naïve curiosity clashing with Dorothy’s own sexual dysfunction and delusion. She is masochistic. But Jeffrey views his subsequent sexual interaction with her as an expression of his caring for her. This mismatch in attitudes makes for clumsy moments with troubling demonstrations of affection. Jeffrey never consents to undressing, so their initial meeting and introduction to their sexual relationship is even more unsettling.

Kyle MacLachlan and Isabella Rossellini in Blue Velvet

After this brief encounter, we meet Frank (Dennis Hopper). He knocks on the door and Dorothy rushes Jeffrey into the closet. Frank threatens, abuses and manipulates Dorothy. He has kidnapped her husband and child as a way force her to be sexually compliant. Jeffrey watches as Frank slaps, pokes and mounts Dorothy.

Jeffrey regularly visits Dorothy after the first night, and while maintaining a boyish tone and outward sweetness, ends up slapping Dorothy somewhat in response to her request. It’s “somewhat” because while she begs him to hit her, he doesn’t seem to do so because she asks, but because he is angry at her asking. Because he spends his nights in the ugly side of the world, he has taken on hateful aspects of it. He has seen Frank’s violence and has unwillingly absorbed it. It the morning, as he wakes up in his childhood bed, Jeffrey cries remorsefully. The evil he saw in Frank had changed him.

Frank is the hyper-violent and dominating side of masculinity. Dorothy was forced to be a submissive woman, broken and tormented by being used as a sexual object. Jeffrey and Sandy instead fit into gender roles in a sunny and nostalgic way. Jeffrey is Hardy Boys curious; amiable, but also direct and flirty. Sandy is kind, demure and willing to play a support role to her male lead. They meet their dark and brutal alternatives in Dorothy and Frank.

A particularly controversial scene takes place when Sandy meets Dorothy. Sandy and Jeffrey return from a date and stumble upon Dorothy walking slowly through the neighborhood – arms outstretched – naked. She has bruises on her body and her face is blank. Sandy’s old boyfriend, who had been jealously chasing the couple, retreats and begins apologizing as Dorothy collapses in Jeffrey’s arms.

Ebert said about this scene: “[Lynch] asked Isabella Rossellini to be undressed and humiliated on the screen as few actresses ever have been, certainly in non-porno roles… That’s painful for me to see a woman treated like that and I want to know that if I’m feeling that pain it’s for a reason that the movie has other than to simply cause pain to her.”

He said that because of the “smarmy” dialogue, it was unfair to include such provocative scenes.

Ebert had a point in that provocative imagery should not be used simply for shock value. But, juxtaposing hilarity and tragedy does not necessarily trivialize violence. When using violence and sex, directors should be wary of gratuity and insensitivity. But, this scene forced us into awareness. We can’t choose a tragedy one day and a comedy on the other in Lynch’s world (or the real one). We can’t chose nostalgic gender roles one day, and violent destructive the other. We have to accept that these things feed into each other. We have to address the destructive aspects.

While Lynch isn’t necessarily challenging prescribed roles, he is challenging our perception of them and the resulting violence. He forces us to acknowledge the ugly side. And then also presents us with surprisingly poignant absurdity. The campiness in Blue Velvet isn’t cruel, but touching. These worlds do coexist and it is funny and heartbreaking and beautiful and ugly.

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Erin Fenner grew up in small-town Idaho where she took solace in cult cinema. Her burgeoning feminist ideals didn’t dampen her enjoyment in viewing even the most obviously gender-norm-dependent films, but created another angle of intrigue. She went to the University of Idaho where she nabbed a Journalism degree. There she was a student blogger, radio show producer and self-described feminist activist. Now she lives in Portland, Oregon, and works remotely for the reproductive rights organization Trust Women where she writes about the state of pro-choice politics for their blog. She also says she is a poet, but refuses to publish, perform or share lest someone offer constructive critiques.

New Bitch Flicks Regular Contributor: Erin Fenner

I am that over-enthusiastic participant in the movie theater, friend’s basement or family room. I talk too much, gesticulate and cry out. Passively “enjoying” any form of media doesn’t fly with me. I like reacting and talking throughout film, television and (even more inappropriately) stage plays. Of course, I know how to act polite and keep the proverbial lid on it. But, gal durn, I appreciate having a space where I can be open about the ways in which media affects me and my culture.

And, yes, I am definitely the eager pointer-outer of antiquated archetypes, microaggressions, white-washing, privileged obliviousness and outright bigotry.

So, I am (understatement) happy to become a regular contributor for Bitch Flicks where I can share in my pleasure of vocal enjoyment. (Even if that vocality will take written form.) Here I hope to effectively participate in the meandering and stimulating conversation of media critique.

I love cult films, “bad movies” and directors who try their damndest to say something new in a different way. I love black and white, foreign and Cannes Film Festival. I get excited by trying-to-be-subtle symbolism and am a sucker for allegory. I value the filmmakers who push a feminist agenda, and even those who willingly ignore politics but still manage to convey a message that is keenly relevant. Not to say that I don’t like blockbusters and Oscar nodding. Explosions and played-out sensuality don’t titillate me, but I am fascinated by the process, the message and am obsessed with the mistakes. [To be clear, my notion of “liking” or “loving” something is often interchangeable with most people’s notion of “morbid fascination.”]

On this space I anticipate I will get to broaden my movie know-how, and I hope to provide insights that are valuable to you awesome readers. Please jump in and provide comments so we can geek out over films together.

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LGBTQI Week: ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’

Movie poster for But I’m a Cheerleader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Motherhood in Film & Television: ‘Rosemary’s Baby’

This is a guest post from Erin Fenner.

Rosemary’s Baby, the Roman Polanski 1968 adaptation of the novel with the same name, uses minimal effects. While it is a horror story about the mother of Satan’s child, we only briefly glimpse the arm and eyes of the feature’s supposed monster. And, while the plot against Rosemary is conceived by a coven of witches, we don’t see bubbling potions. That is because Rosemary’s Baby is not a horror story about Satan or witchcraft.

Rosemary’s Baby is a horror story about being a woman.

Watch the trailer:

Rosemary, played by the waifish Mia Farrow, is a young woman excited for her role as wife and soon-to-be mother. But, even in her acceptance and celebration of traditional gender roles she is exploited, robbed of autonomy, discounted as hysterical and ultimately must give up all control of herself and her body.

Sound familiar? That’s because her terrors are real ones with just a dash of supernatural motivations.

We meet Rosemary when she and her husband, Guy, played by John Cassavetes, decide to move into a new apartment house. She is the picture of a cheerful stay-at-home wife – taking pleasure in decorating the house, filled with bubbling optimism and one who enjoys pleasing her husband. All she wants beyond her currently cozy situation is to become a mother.

She gets her wish when Guy, an ambitious actor, declares he’s ready to be a dad. The audience learns quickly that his motivations aren’t rooted in a comparable desire for fatherhood, but because he’s made a pact with peculiar neighbors we later discover are witches. He gets a shot at success if he delivers them a baby.

While the viewer can deduce this easily, we never see the world from anyone’s perspective but Rosemary’s. We spend most of the film cooped up with her, claustrophobic and powerless, in the apartment house.

The conception of Rosemary’s baby happens in a particularly brutal way – through rape. Guy drugs his wife and takes her to a ritual to be impregnated by Satan. Rosemary is semi-conscious and cries out, “This is no dream – this is really happening!” And, when she wakes up the next morning, Guy casually mentions that he had sex with her while she was sleeping. So, even though upon waking she concludes the rape was a dream, she still considers the conception of her baby as one derived through non-consensual sex. Her first step toward motherhood is one where she is deprived the right to control her own body.

Her journey into motherhood is further hijacked by Guy and her witch-neighbors who insist on her going to a different doctor – one we learn is part of the Satanist coven. Her new doctor, Dr. Sapirstein, played by Ralph Bellamy, demands she ignores the advice of her friends and books, and only listen to his instructions. Whenever she expresses concern about her pregnancy, he shoots her perspective down and shames her for self-education.

Rosemary (Mia Farrow)

We see the already thin Rosemary develop pronounced dark shadows under her eyes and become emaciated. She says she’s in a constant state of pain. It’s only when, during a party with her peers, that she is validated by other women. One of her friends even pushes Guy out of the room so that they can express their support and concern. It’s from this very brief exchange with her friends, where they insist her pain is abnormal, that Rosemary is empowered and encouraged to change doctors and take charge of her own health.

This empowerment is short-lived, because she gives up after a fight with Guy and her pain eases up. She relinquishes to her husband and her body.

Her small rebellions against others’ attempts to control her body – like not drinking the drink her witch-neighbors prepare for her – cease. She falls easily into passivity until she reads a book left to her by an old friend who we can presume was murdered by the coven next door.

The book details the history of the coven that had lived in her apartment house generations before, and helps her conclude that her pregnancy is central to a plot devised by her neighbors, husband and doctor.

With this new realization Rosemary rushes to her old obstetrician, Dr. Hill, played by Charles Grodin, to seek help. After pleading with him for assistance, Dr. Hill brings her into a room for rest, but then returns with Guy and Dr. Sapirstein to sedate her and take her away. She is dismissed as being a hysterical woman: pre-partum.

The next scenes are delirious. Rosemary is sedated, and when awake she attempts to make demands, but is denied. And, when she gives birth, she is not allowed to see her baby and is deceived about its condition.

Rosemary’s only motivation now is centered on her motherhood. It’s the only power she can claim. So, after recovering from giving birth, she sneaks around her apartment house, and finds a hidden passage to the witch-neighbors. There she finds the coven surrounding a satanic crib.

The scene is almost anti-climactic. There is no struggle and no high drama speeches. Rosemary discovers her baby is a monster – the son of Satan. She learns the truth – her husband and neighbors were plotting against her. And then, she resigns herself. She has already lost control of her body long ago and has nothing left but her role as a mother.

Rosemary lives up perfectly to the norm of womanhood. Unlike the women who we begrudgingly expect to be punished in films because they are promiscuous, independent, “bitchy” or uninterested in family life – we would expect Rosemary’s story to pan out positively because she adheres to gendered expectations.

But, Rosemary’s Baby is not a film meant to encourage a fearful narrative about the value of following prescribed roles – instead it is about a woman who is victimized by the very gender roles she had enthusiastically accepted. Rosemary accepts her societal role as a woman. Still, she is punished and suffers. And, because it is so close to reality, it is horrifying.