What’s shaping up to be the forefront theme in ‘Orphan Black’ season two is reproductive rights. Of all the clones, Sarah is an anomaly because she was able to give birth to Kira when all her clone counterparts are infertile. The seemingly impossible birth of Kira has the forces of science and religion both vying for access and control over clone bodies.
I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I continue to be a fan of Orphan Black into its second season. My review of season one—Orphan Black: It’s All About the Ladies–focuses on the strength and wide range of female characters that the show revolves around (not to mention Tatiana Maslany‘s formidable acting talents as she portrays all of the clones). In season two, the compelling female relationships continue to be integral to the heart of Orphan Black‘s plotlines. In particular, we see a deepening of Cosima’s connection to and lingering distrust of her monitor, Delphine.
Can Cosima trust her lover and monitor Delphine?
We also delve into the dark past of Sarah’s foster mother Mrs. S, full of secrets, violence, and questionable intentions.
Is Mrs. S helping or hurting Sarah and Kira?
We also meet a new and powerful clone, Rachel, who works for the dubious cloning research corporation, Dyad, and who doesn’t seem to feel a kinship with her fellow clones.
Clone-Off: Sarah and Rachel
We also see more of Sarah coming into her own as a responsible, present parent for her medical miracle daughter, Kira. Though Felix is not a woman, his close relationship with foster sister Sarah and his queerness seem to get him into the inner circle of Clone Club, and it’s always a pleasure to watch scenes where he calls Sarah on her shit, is nurturing to Kira, is hilarious, and remains fabulous the whole time.
Felix: King of the Smart Asses
What’s shaping up to be the forefront theme in Orphan Black season two is reproductive rights. Of all the clones, Sarah is an anomaly because she was able to give birth to Kira when all her clone counterparts are infertile. The seemingly impossible birth of Kira has the forces of science and religion both vying for access and control over clone bodies. Yes, a pitched battle between science and religion is mounting over the reproductivity of female bodies. Sound familiar? Art imitating life perhaps…
The Prometheans, a religious cult, attempt to bind Helena to their cause
Both the Prometheans (religious nutjobs) and the Dyads (cold, calculating scientists) are deceptive, selfish, and don’t see the clones as autonomous human beings. Our heroines must navigate these treacherous forces that seek to exploit them. Even more remarkable is the way in which the clones fight back by using these forces for their own gains by gathering, stealing, and manipulating resources and information in order to better understand themselves: their origin, DNA, and purpose. From within a system that attempts to abuse and dehumanize them, these woman are making their own way, living by their own rules, and relying on their collective strength to survive. Now that, my friends, is a feminism.
Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.
We agonize over the lack of female anti-heroes in film and television as if women have never been afforded the opportunity to be good and bad on screen. It clearly wasn’t always this way. And in a time when the regurgitated remake rules Hollywood, perhaps it’s time for producers to dust off some old scripts from the 1920s and 1930s so we can get some fresh, progressive stories about women on screen.
Norma Shearer in The Divorcee
Written by Leigh Kolb as part of our theme week on The Great Actresses.
An Upworthy post is making the rounds in which Shirley MacLaine, in 1975, is telling an interviewer that the disappearance of the Hays Code in the 1960s was when women stopped getting good, solid roles in Hollywood. While it’s an interesting observation–that if the bedroom was off-limits, filmmakers had to get creative–this viral meme is ignoring the crucial fact that before the Hays Code (or Hollywood Production Code) was enforced in 1934, women’s roles in Hollywood were complicated and women were allowed to be sexual, not just sexy, and have sexual agency.
A quick history:
Until 1930, states had their own regulatory/censorship policies that would deal with films.
In the 1920s, Will H. Hays (a Presbyterian elder who was Postmaster General, a former head of the Republican National Committee, and president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America for 25 years) started working on lists and regulations for the film industry to follow in the interest of “decency.”
In 1929, two male leaders in the Catholic church developed a “code of standards,” and studios were expected to adhere to it. The religious overtones in the “Code” (good must prevail over evil and strict rules about morality) were clear.
For five years, the Code had no “teeth,” and filmmakers still, for the most part, did what they wanted.
In 1934, however, the Production Code Administration (PCA) was formed, and all films released from July 1 onward were required to be approved by the PCA before release.
This was what Hollywood studios adhered to until 1968, when the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) moved to a rating system, which is still in place today.
The years that spanned 1927 (when The Jazz Singer, the first feature-length film with a synchronized soundtrack and dialogue, was released) and 1934 (when the Production Code was officially enforced) saw feature films that had themes and scenes that would seem shocking and progressive today.
In 1929, Norma Shearer starred in The Divorcee, and kicked off a five-year heyday for women in film. The excellent documentary, Complicated Women(based on the book by Mick LaSalle), delves into the actresses and films of this era. The actresses who brought these complex characters to life–including Norma Shearer, Greta Garbo (both of whom fought hard to play complex characters), Jean Harlow, Bette Davis, and Barbara Stanwyck–would go on to act after the Code, but in roles that were much less daring and progressive. Seeing complex women on screen is essential for audiences to get realistic depictions of women, and of course, playing complex women allows great actresses to work to their fullest potential.
When female anti-heroes (rarely) make it on the big- or small-screen now, we act as if it’s revolutionary. However, if we look to film history–before religious white men got control–there is a strong precedent for the female anti-hero.
Simply looking at the IMDb descriptions of some of films from that era show us a great deal about the powerful stories that made it on screen during this time:
The Divorcee (1930, starring Norma Shearer): “When a woman discovers that her husband has been unfaithful to her, she decides to respond to his infidelities in kind.” (Shearer won the Academy Award for Best Actress for this role.)
Norma Shearer in The Divorcee
Anna Christie (1930, starring Greta Garbo): “A young woman reunites with her estranged father and falls in love with a sailor, but struggles to tell them about her dark past.” (Anna Christie was a prostitute, but she is never “punished” for her past; her story ends happily.)
Red-Headed Woman (1932, starring Jean Harlow): “Lil works for the Legendre Company and causes Bill to divorce Irene and marry her. She has an affair with businessman Gaerste and uses him to force society to pay attention to her. She has another affair with the chauffeur Albert.” (Both the book and screenplay were written by women.)
Ex-Lady (1933, starring Bette Davis): “Although free spirit Helen Bauer does not believe in marriage, she consents to marry Don, but his infidelities cause her to also take on a lover.”
Bette Davis in Ex-Lady
Female (1933, starring Ruth Chatterton): “Alison Drake, the tough-minded executive of an automobile factory, succeeds in the man’s world of business until she meets an independent design engineer.”
Ruth Chatterton in Female
Baby Face(1933, starring Barbara Stanwyck): “A young woman uses her body and her sexuality to help her climb the social ladder, but soon begins to wonder if her new status will ever bring her happiness.”
Baby Face
Midnight Mary(1933, starring Virginia Davis): “A young woman is on trial for murder. In flashback, we learn of her struggles to overcome poverty as a teenager — a mistaken arrest and prison term for shoplifting and lack of employment lead to involvement with gangsters…”
Queen Christina (1933, starring Greta Garbo): “Queen Christina of Sweden is a popular monarch who is loyal to her country. However, when she falls in love with a Spanish envoy, she must choose between the throne and the man she loves.” (The biopic–about Queen Christina of Sweden–features an on-screen portrayal of Queen Christina’s bisexuality, including a kiss between Queen Christina and her lady-in-waiting.)
Greta Garbo, left, in Queen Christina
Torch Singer (1933, starring Claudette Colbert): “When she can’t support her illegitimate child, an abandoned young woman puts her up for adoption and pursues a career as a torch singer.”
Design for Living (1933, starring Miriam Hopkins): “A woman can’t decide between two men who love her, and the trio agree to try living together in a platonic friendly relationship.” (Note: things don’t stay platonic.)
These synopses are fascinating enough, and the fact that these films were released to popular and critical acclaim 80 years ago is amazing. These films are about complicated, complex women who are not punished for their sexuality or their pasts. These women have careers, these women are leaders, these women have agency. Furthermore, the actresses who portrayed these women truly starred in the films–they weren’t simply supporting male leads. Eighty years later, it’s rare to see a Hollywood film with a female character at the center of the action, much less a female anti-hero.
What the MacLaine sound bite is missing is that, while the Code kept women out of the bedroom, its religious and puritanical strictures equated goodness with subservience and purity. Depictions of homosexuality and interracial relationships were also scrubbed from Hollywood when the Code was enforced. From a feminist point of view, we moved backward when the Code, and even the MPAA ratings system, were enacted. There are still remarkable double standards regarding female sexuality on screen, and mass audiences typically have a hard time with female characters who don’t fit nicely into the virgin/whore dichotomy (since for years, that’s all we’ve really been exposed to). Male characters have always been allowed to be “good and bad,” but the Code (and in a sense, the MPAA), just like the religious dogma it reflected, needed women to be out of the bedroom or in the bedroom–never both without being punished.
Weagonize over the lack of female anti-heroes in film and television as if women have never been afforded the opportunity to be good and bad on screen. It clearly wasn’t always this way. And in a time when the regurgitated remake rules Hollywood, perhaps it’s time for producers to dust off some old scripts from the 1920s and 1930s so we can get some fresh, progressive stories about women on screen again.
