Tag: Female Protagonist

Saying Goodbye to ‘Prime Suspect’ and One of My Fave Badass Female Characters

Maria Bello as Detective Jane Timoney on NBC’s “Prime Suspect”
Some argue women fare better on television than in films. The roles are more complex, with more feminist issues explored. One of the most interesting female protagonists I’ve watched in a long time? Detective Jane Timoney on Prime Suspect. A show I love that sadly comes to an end this Sunday night (1/22.)
Prime Suspect centers around NYC Homicide Detective Jane Timoney, played spectacularly by Maria Bello. I’ve been a long-time fan of Bello’s work from ER and A History of Violence to Payback and The Private Lives of Pippa Lee. Bello gives a tour-de-force performance as Detective Timoney, a role she personally identifies with since she envisions herself as Jane, only “nicer.”
It’s a gritty, raw and surprisingly funny show. Detective Exuding strength and keen intelligence, Jane Timoney is tough and self-reliant. She’s fearless and complicated with a big mouth and a bitingly sarcastic sense of humor. She drinks a lot and shoots perfectly at the firing range. She possesses a sharp mind that thinks of scenarios others might overlook when solving a homicide. Timoney doesn’t give a fuck what other people think about her and she’s not afraid to be herself. And that might be the most refreshing aspect of all.
Having a show revolve around a female detective isn’t a groundbreaking concept. Following in the footsteps of the original British series with Helen Mirren playing the lead, it echoes The Killing, The Closer, Saving Grace, Cold Case, Rizzoli & Isles, and Cagney & Lacey. But a show created and written by women, with a strong female lead who’s willing to say fuck you to anyone and everyone? You don’t see that every day.
Female protagonists aren’t often allowed to be unlikeable or do despicable things. Even rarer are the characters who don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of them. The female roles on TV I can think of include Roseanne Conner (Roseanne), Captain Kara Thrace (Battlestar Galactica), Maude Findlay (Maude), Elaine Benes (Seinfeld), Christine (New Adventures of Old Christine), Xena (Xena Warrior Princess) Jackie Peyton RN (Nurse Jackie), Dorothy Zbornak (Golden Girls) and Patty Hewes (Damages). Although, I happen to like almost all of these female characters.
Detective Jane Timoney (Maria Bello) “Prime Suspect”

In the premiere, the sexism Timoney faces jars and appalls. As a woman, she’s entered a perceived male domain. Her male colleagues insinuate and (some outright say) that she doesn’t deserve to be in homicide as she only got transferred to the department after sleeping with a chief. She faces the wrath of her co-worker, Detective Duffy, who accuses her of leading a homicide case only because another detective died of a heart attack.  To their chauvinistic paradigm, she’s transcended boundaries and they’re going to make sure she knows it. When Timoney finds another angle to the case and gets information out of a witness that the previous detectives hadn’t. Calling her a bitch (by implying she’s a witch), Detective Carter snarkily asks her:

Carter: You ever worry that someone’s gonna drop a house on you?
Timoney: Car’s not going to drive itself, is it?
Carter: I guess you don’t.
The original British series premiered in 1991, evolving out of sexism in Scotland Yard. When writer Lynda La Plante discovered only 4 women were Detective Chief Inspectors (DCIs), she created the show. The first season (or “series” in the UK) contends with sexism in the workplace and the hostility that Detective Jane Tennison (Helen Mirren) faced due to her gender.
While the premiere focused heavily on workplace sexism, the rest of the series shied away. Matt Zoller Seitz at Salon reports that Alexandra Cunningham and Peter Berg made a conscious decision to “tone down” the sexism in subsequent episodes. Before the show premiered, Cunningham said:

“Obviously, it’s 2011. There’s no institutionalized sexism. There’s human resources. Women have recourse at work when things happen. “Prime Suspect” [will] try to make it more realistic, because sexism isn’t gone. It’s kind of more subtle and insidious in a modern world, and that’s what we’re going to try to do.”

What? No institutionalized sexism?? I’m not sure what world Cunningham lives in but sexism, both blatant and subtle, still very much exists.

As the show progresses, we see Detective Timoney collaborate with her colleagues. We see the hilarious friendship and banter between Detectives Blando and Calderon. We also see Timoney clash with her co-workers, boss, her loving boyfriend, her protective father and her vegan sister (yay a vegan!). Detective Timoney might be a hard-ass. But she’s also funny as hell. Here are some of Jane Timoney’s quips throughout the season:

Timoney: I love to know where the crime scene isn’t.
­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­
Timoney: Ever seen a duck? Yeah, they don’t chew either. You just ate that hot dog like a duck.
Hypnotherapist: You don’t seem to be in the right head space to quit smoking right now.
Timoney: I don’t just want to smoke right now. I want to shove a pack of cigarettes in my mouth and light it with a blowtorch.
Timoney: You look tired means you look old. You look short. How’s that feel?
Duffy: Do you know what your problem is?
Timoney: Oh, why limit it to just one?

Detective Jane Timoney (Maria Bello) in “Prime Suspect”

In addition to sexism, the show also broached racism. In one of the episodes, 10 of Detective Timoney’s colleagues get pulled from a case of a murdered Latina to work on the murder of a pretty white female who’s an NYU student. Timoney tells the Chief:

“You’re making their point for them. You couldn’t have done it better…When it’s a missing brown girl, from a nobody family, it’s an afterthought.”

While I wish the show had delved deeper, I was thrilled this line appeared at all. Rarely does a TV show with a white protagonist tackle the intersection of racism and sexism.

Prime Suspect also makes interesting gender commentaries when Detective Timoney interacts with other women. There’s another female detective, Detective Carolina Rivera, who all the men flirt with. She’s coquettish and friendly in return. It’s a stark contrast to Detective Timoney’s no-nonsense, straight-forward style. She doesn’t care if the men like her. She’s there to do her job. Timoney also differs from her boyfriend’s ex-wife, Trish, who she often has to communicate with since her boyfriend and Trish share a young son. Trish often makes snide remarks about her carrying a gun or her line of work, especially when it co. Timoney isn’t a girlie girl. And she’s no pushover. In a great scene, after Trish asks Timoney what happened to her face (which is cut and bruised from fighting with an arrested suspect):


“Listen to me: I work terrible hours, often have to leave things early, I arrive to things late. I get phone calls in the middle of the night and all day long. I’ve never been shot, but I’ve been stabbed. I’ve had lye thrown in my face once, and I’m a homicide detective, Trish. Not a policeman or a policewoman. I’m also not a divorce lawyer, but I know about going to court.”

In “Underwater,” my fave episode so far, Timoney and Duffy go on a road trip to protect a little girl. Timoney grows fond of her, telling her she doesn’t like many people but that she likes her. While she’s close with her father and boyfriend, she has seemingly chosen not to have children of her own. In an episode where a man has beaten his wife and murdered her, he asks Detective Timoney why she doesn’t have children. She replies:

“I don’t know. Lucky.”

It’s rare for a female protagonist not to want children. Films, TV series and ads perpetually tell us all women want to have babies. If they don’t, they must be damaged, deluding themselves or they just haven’t found the right man yet. Because you know silly ladies, our lives revolve around men.

One of my favorite moments occurs in the premiere. In a heart-breaking scene, Timoney comes home to her boyfriend, after a grueling day. The two of them fought earlier. She asks him to hold her even though he’s mad because she had a rough day. In a rare moment of exasperation and tenderness, Timoney quietly cries in his arms. She’s not a caricature. She’s a fully developed, complex character who knows she can’t let down her guard and weep at work.

Detective Jane Timoney (Maria Bello) in “Prime Suspect”

In “The Sad Death of Prime Suspect,” Melissa Silverstein laments Prime Suspect’s cancellation. She also talks about the difficulties of centering a show around a female protagonist:


“One thing this show made me notice is how it is easy to write a TV show starring a man and have female and male supporting characters surround that lead, but that it is way harder to write a show about a female lead and to create a realistic ensemble around her.

“One of the issues with this show is that there were no other female credible characters on the show. It’s too much baggage for the female lead. She has to respond to the pretty cop who comes in and flirts, she has to deal with the crazy demands of her boyfriend’s ex, she has a crazy sister (where did that come from?). None of those women was a peer or someone she could have a decent conversation with to get her away from all the testosterone.”

That’s my one complaint of the show too: the lack of strong and interesting female characters for Timoney to interact with. No female camaraderie. No best friend to vent to. I wish the show contained a multitude of female characters or sexism in the workplace remained a central theme. But who knows where the show might have taken us.
Prime Suspect is a compelling show with a memorable female character. I’ll be sad as I watch the last 2 episodes Sunday night. I’m going to miss Detective Jane Timoney. We need more badass women like her.

In ‘The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo’ Remake, Rooney Mara’s Captivating Portrayal Proves Lisbeth Salander Still a Feminist Icon

Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara) in “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo”
Cross-posted from The Opinioness of the World.

Lisbeth Salander consumes my thoughts. I’ve spent the last year and a half reading, writing, analyzing, debating and discussing the punk hacker. As a huge fan of the books and the original Swedish films, I was NOT excited to see The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo Hollywood remake.

Plagued by sexist marketing that seemed to focus solely on Mikael and depict Lisbeth as a sexpot damsel in distress, I feared Hollywood would wreck one of the most unique female protagonists in pop culture. With trepidation, I watched David Fincher’s take on Stieg Larsson’s epic. While some gender problems arose, I’ve got to admit I was pleasantly surprised. And it all hinges on Rooney Mara’s performance.

For those who don’t know, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, the first part in the global phenomenon of The Millennium Trilogy, features disgraced crusading journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) and brilliant researcher Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara) who unite to solve the mystery of a woman who disappeared 40 years ago. The gritty, tense plot fuses with social commentary on violence against women, sexuality and gender roles.

Do we really need an American remake? Fincher, a notoriously obsessive and detailed filmmaker, creates a gorgeous film evoking a macabre ambiance. Trent Reznor’s eerie and haunting score punctuates each slickly stylized scene perfectly. Phenomenal actors fill the screen: Craig, Robin Wright (who I will watch in absolutely anything), Christopher Plummer, Stellan Skarsgaard, Vanessa Redgrave. While everyone does their best, the remake isn’t quite as compelling as the original. I never really felt invested in any of the characters. Except for Lisbeth. The sole reason to see the film is Mara’s stellar portrayal.

Lisbeth Salander is a role of a lifetime. Both Noomi Rapace (in the original film) and Mara underwent grueling auditions and year-long transformations including haircuts, body piercings (ears, eyebrow, lip, nose, nipple), nudity, kickboxing workouts, and learning skateboarding and motorcycle riding. A sullen introvert, Lisbeth is strong, fiercely independent and self-sufficient. She possesses a razor-sharp intellect and relentless survivor instincts. She’s endured horrific trauma and betrayal yet refuses to be a victim.

Fincher obstinately fought for Mara as Sony Studios didn’t want her for the part. After watching the film, I can see why Fincher refused to concede. It’s hard to dissect Mara’s Golden Globe-nominated performance and pinpoint precisely what she does that makes her so compelling. And that’s because as Melissa Silverstein writes, she “disappears into the role.” When Lisbeth greets the people she cares about, her guardian Holger Palmgren and Mikael, she frenetically says, “Hey, hey,” a small detail adding depth and nuance to the character. It’s in the clipped cadence of her voice, her slumped shoulders, her wounded eyes. Mara doesn’t merely play Lisbeth. She becomes her.

Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara) and Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig)
People have asked my thoughts on Hollywood’s The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, wondering if I loved or hated it. More importantly, they want to know if I prefer Noomi Rapace’s subtle yet fiercely badass warrior (which is how I envisioned Lisbeth) or Rooney Mara’s vulnerable yet quietly powerful portrayal. I was prepared to hate Mara. How could anyone surpass or even equal Rapace’s critically acclaimed performance?

But I loved them both. For me, neither one is better. Both bring something unique conveying different facets of Lisbeth’s personality. They belong to two sides of the same coin. Mara, who had ginormous shoes to fill with Rapace’s ferocious portrayal in the original, gave a captivating performance. I’m glad the shitty marketing didn’t keep me away or I would have missed one of the best performances of the year.

People have simultaneously praised and condemned The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo for its graphic depiction of rape. The American version doesn’t shy away from the brutal scene. We live in a rape culture often glorifying or dismissing rape and violence against women. Author Larsson tried to show the epidemic of misogyny. The book (originally entitled Män Som Hatar Kvinnor, which translates to “Men Who Hate Women”), original Swedish film and Hollywood remake confront the stigma of sexual assault. Yet it never feels exploitative. Lisbeth refuses to be victimized. She follows her own moral compass exacting vigilante justice. She doesn’t possess traditional power. So she works within the confines of patriarchy to assert herself and take control of her life.

A huge part of the book (and the entire trilogy) is Lisbeth and Mikael’s friendship. Despite his social nature and her private behavior, they both stubbornly follow their own moral code. He’s continually surprised and amused by her unconventional comments and reactions. Mikael’s openness, humor and honesty allow Lisbeth to trust him, something she does so rarely. The movie doesn’t shirk their sexual relationship yet never captures their emotional bond. Lisbeth and Mikael also exhibit overt sexualities. Lisbeth possesses a sexual fluidity, sleeping with both women and men. Yet society views Mikael’s philandering as socially acceptable and perceives Lisbeth as an outcast. It’s a crucial gender commentary absent from the film.

But my biggest problem with Hollywood’s The Girl With Dragon Tattoo lies in one sentence. One teeny tiny sentence that threatens to unravel all of the painstaking work Mara put into her performance. SPOILER!! -> In the scene where Mikael has been cut from the noose, Lisbeth intends to run after his murderous perpetrator. She asks him, “May I kill him?”

Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara)
In an interview with Charlie Rose, Fincher shared what he found so compelling about Lisbeth. Oh, but it’s not her feminist persona as he insists this is NOT a feminist story:

“I think that she is many things to many different people…I was fascinated by the fact that 60-year-old men, you know 58-year-old women, 17-year-old girls were all finding something about her that was you know freeing or empowering in some kind of way. And it had been kind of sold to me as this you know misogynist avenger. But what I felt about it was ultimately that there wasn’t any kind of real feminist tract to it all.

“To me, it was very human. It’s a story of being oppressed, a story of being marginalized, a story of being made to feel less than, it’s a character that’s been made to feel less than who she thinks she is…”

I don’t think Fincher has any clue what a feminist actually is. Newsflash, a feminist story is a “human” story. Neither Fincher nor Mara perceives Lisbeth as a badass feminist (even though she is) because she doesn’t do “anything in the name of any group or cause or belief.” But they’re fucking wrong.

Lisbeth combats misogyny and sexism. She abhors violence against women and avenges injustice. She refuses to be taken advantage of, always asserting her control. She surrenders to no one. She strives for empowerment, living life on her own terms. I agree Lisbeth wouldn’t call herself a feminist, just as she doesn’t identify as bisexual, since she doesn’t want labels confining her identity. Neither her gender, her appearance, nor her sexuality define her. Lisbeth defines herself. Every single one of these components reinforce a feminist message.

Despite Fincher and Mara’s insistent refusal, both The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and its heroine are feminist. Saying otherwise completely misses the point of what makes Lisbeth Salander such an exhilarating icon.

Animated Children’s Films: From the Archive: Tangled

This guest review by Whitney Mollenhauer was published at Bitch Flicks in May 2011. 
 

Last Friday, I saw Disney’s Tangled with my husband.  I thought it was a pretty good feminist-y movie, especially considering that it was a Disney princess-type movie. Because I am lazy, I have written my review in bullet-point form:
  • Rapunzel’s father (the king) cries on Rapunzel’s birthday as he remembers his kidnapped daughter.  It seems like usually in these kind of movies, you see the mom crying and the dad consoling her; but here, it’s the other way around.  Win!  Men can express emotion, too!
  • Rapunzel sews and bakes, but she also reads, does astronomy, and paints like no other.
  • She is so awesome with her hair!  She ties the male protagonist up, lets herself down from the tower, and climbs everywhere.  Seriously, it’s very impressive.  She can do just about anything with that hair–it’s not just for show. 
  • Rapunzel ends up with short hair!  Okay, that’s just a little thing, but have you ever seen a Disney princess with a pixie cut before?  Even Mulan had longer hair!
  • So yeah, the mom is the bad guy because she’s vain/wants to be young forever, blah blah blah.  But I don’t know how they could have had a male villain or some other way for the mom to be the villain without straying too far from the original.  But at least she gets some jokes.
  • The frying pan proves to be a superior weapon compared to the sword!  This might be getting a little too psychoanalytic, but I saw the frying pan as symbolizing a kind of feminine/transgressive power, while the sword represents traditional masculine power.  I just thought it was neat.  You don’t have to be a swashbuckling dude to kick butt.
  • Her story and her adventure starts not because the guy “whisks her away” or something; but rather, she plans and schemes: she catches him breaking into her tower, and strategically decides to use him to reach her goal of seeing the flying lanterns on her birthday.
  • Spoiler alert: in the end, she’s not “saved” because of her compassion, but in spite of it–her compassion might actually have been her downfall.  Unlike other movies/fairy tales where a woman’s only redeeming quality is self-sacrifice, this ending suggests that self-sacrifice isn’t always such a good thing–or at least that it’s not solely the domain of women.  Men can be self-sacrificing too!  (Didn’t want to reveal too much here.  Go see the movie if you want to figure out what on earth I’m talking about.)
  • I liked the ambivalent nature of how it shows her mom’s and her relationship when Rapunzel leaves the tower for the first time.  She feels guilty, but MAN is she happy and excited and brave!
  • She doesn’t get married at age 18!!!!
  • In my opinion, the relationship was not even really a central feature of the story, but rather a sub-plot.  The main plot was getting away from her mother, figuring out her actual identity, getting to the flying lanterns she wanted to see.
  • I felt like it was good and feminist because it was a major improvement from how Disney usually is.  Also, overt sexism did NOT distract me from what was otherwise a visually appealing, witty movie (as it usually does).  And that is really saying something.
  • Even the rich, hypermasculine stereotype is challenged–the male protagonist reveals his true name/identity, as an orphan, and she says she likes him better than the fictional (hypermasculine) character that he aspires to be like.  
  • In the end, I think it makes a good case for women’s “proper place” NOT being just in the home, but out in the world/public sphere!  I’m not sure how you could get any other moral out of it.  Even in Mulan, after she saves China, she ends up returning home, and (we suspect) marrying the army captain guy, instead of taking a job with the emperor.  In Tangled, the movie’s premise is centered around the idea that it’s wrong and horrible to expect a woman to spend her whole life at home.
  • When the male protagonist breaks into her tower, she kicks his butt; she stands up for herself in the bar; and she stands up to her mother in the end (about having been kidnapped).
  • At the end of the movie, SHE dips HIM and kisses him.  (I always hated it when guys would dip me.  If I want to kiss you, I am going to kiss you, so just let me stay on my own two feet.)
  • Body image stuff:   Okay, so Disney’s not breaking down any boundaries here.  Also, infantilization much?  Rapunzel’s face is that of a two-year-old.  
  • So, I’m not very good at remembering specifics, but I DO remember not getting angry at seeing her needing rescuing again and again and again.  It seemed like mostly she was able to save herself, and the guy didn’t save her a whole lot.
  • In the bar, Rapunzel and the guy (Flynn) meet a whole bunch of rough guys.  They sing a song about how everyone’s got a dream: the one tough guy says to Flynn, “Your dream stinks,” referring to his dream of getting rich.  The other tough guys have dreams of becoming mimes, finding love, being a pianist, becoming a baker–and one made little tiny unicorns.  Even tough guys have nuance and feminine qualities!
  • Rapunzel’s animal companion is Pascal the chameleon.  Pascal is super cute, and is possibly named after Blaise Pascal the mathematician (suggesting that Rapunzel is a math nerd like me, though that could just be me reading too much into it).  Pascal can’t talk, and I felt like that was a good thing (feminist-wise), so he couldn’t show her up and become the hero (remember Mushu the dragon in Mulan?) 
My points are random and some are not very significant. But still, small wins!  And when it comes to Disney princess movies, any hint at feminist ideology is a HUGE win. And if nothing else, it at least passes the Bechdel Test:

—–

Whitney Mollenhauer is a graduate student in California where she studies sociology. She has an awesome husband who doesn’t mind her running feminist commentary when they watch movies together. And, she loves cereal. 

Animated Children’s Films: Why I’m Excited About Pixar’s ‘Brave’ & Its Kick-Ass Female Protagonist…Even If She Is Another Princess

Disney Pixar’s Brave, in theatres June 2012

This is a cross-post from The Opinionesss of the World.
A few days ago, Disney’s Pixar released its trailer for its newest animated film, Brave. Why is this such a huge deal? Why am I so freaking excited to see it?? Because out of the 12 films Pixar has produced, not one has featured a female protagonist. Not one. Until now.
Pixar’s first fairy tale, Brave follows the story of Princess Merida, voiced by Kelly McDonald (Boardwalk Empire, No Country for Old Men). I know. You’re probably thinking ANOTHER princess?! Young girls are entrenched in sexist princess culture. But trust me, this one’s a bit different.
In the Scottish Highlands, “courageous” and “impetuous” Princess Merida is “a skilled archer” who would rather focus on her archery than her role as a docile, demure princess. She defies her parents and tradition, determined to forge her own path in life. But her actions “unleash chaos and fury in the kingdom.” After she turns to a Witch (Julie Walters) who grants her an “ill-fated wish” (yes, this is still a fairy tale), Merida attempts to undo a curse. Her bravery will be tested as she tries to change her fate.
Merida’s mother, Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson), tells her in the trailer:

“A lady enjoys elegant pursuits.”

But Merida replies:

“I want my freedom.”

You go, girl! (Sorry, couldn’t resist the clichéd 90s catchphrase.)
Too many animated films don’t feature girls and women in leading roles. Originally titled Rapunzel, Disney’s Tangled, the most recent animated film featuring a girl, was renamed a gender-neutral title to be less girl-centric. Its marketing didn’t just focus on Rapunzel but featured “bad-boy” thief Flynn Ryder in order to lure a male audience. Lovely. ‘Cause movies shouldn’t be geared to girls, only to boys. You know, ’cause they’re the only ones who really matter.
Male characters dominate animated films. Shrek, Ice Age, Rango, Kung Fu Panda and the entire pantheon of Pixar’s films (Toy Story, Up, Wall-E, etc.) put male roles front and center. Out of Disney’s 51 animated movies, only 12 feature a lead female character. When you DO find an animated female protagonist, she’s usually a princess. Aren’t there any more roles for girls and women?? The exception to this rule are the Japanese-based Studio Ghibli’s films (My Neighbor Totoro, Kiki’s Delivery Service and Spirited Away) which often feature female leads, sans royal titles and tiaras.
Women rarely direct animated films. Brave is the first Pixar film to feature a woman as director (Brenda Chapman) and all female screenwriters (Brenda Chapman & Irene Mecchi). Although Chapman, who worked on the project for 6 years, was fired (such bullshit) and replaced by Mark Andrews, although she’ll still receive credit as co-director. Yes, women can certainly be perpetrators of sexism, gender stereotypes and tropes. But having more women as writers and directors usually leads to more female protagonists and perspectives.
Inspired by Chapman’s relationship with her daughter, Brave also features two parents, a mother and a father. It’s rare for an animated movie to have a loving mother, considering too many Disney films kill off mothers, demonize stepmothers and solely focus on both daughters’ and sons’ relationships with their fathers.
In her eye-opening book Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the Front Lines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture, Peggy Orenstein writes about Brave’s premise:

“Sounds promising, though I cannot help but feel, after waiting patiently (and sometimes not so patiently) through twelve genre-busting films about male robots, male superheroes, male cowboys, male rats, male cars, male bugs, male fish, and a small male mailman, that it would have been nice if the movie was not about a princess, even a kick-ass one. Honestly, is that too much to ask?”

Nope. It really shouldn’t be too much to ask.
Yes, Brave features another white girl as a princess. We desperately need more racial diversity in animated films (and live-action ones too). I mean it took Disney only 72 years to have its first African-American princess with Tiana in The Princess and the Frog (seriously, Disney?? What the hell’s wrong with you?!) And we sure as hell don’t need another goddamn princess. Princesses are EVERYWHERE. Christ, even the inquisitive Dora the Explorer has been turned into a freaking princess in some merchandising. Princesses don pink dresses, wear tiaras and wave scepters. Their only goal? To look pretty of course. Their looks matter more than their personalities.
Girlie-girl images saturate the media, telling girls to strive for physical perfection. Too many films focus on girls and young women wishing to be rescued and giving up their voice for love (um, can anyone say The Little Mermaid’s Ariel??). It’s refreshing to have a spunky, outspoken protagonist who’d rather pursue her dreams of archery than aspire to matrimony.
Girls should be valued for their intellect, skills and kindness. Not their beauty. Hopefully, Brave will help shatter the rigid princess imagery, paving the way for more empowered female protagonists. Girls (and boys) deserve better role models than bullshit stereotypes.
‘Brave’ will be released in theatres June 2012.

Megan Kearns is a feminist vegan blogger, freelance writer and activist. She blogs at The Opinioness of the World, where she shares her opinions on gender equality, living cruelty-free, Ellen Ripley and delish vegan cupcakes. Her work has also appeared at Arts & Opinion, Fem2pt0, Italianieuropei, Open Letters Monthly, and A Safe World for Women. She earned a 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. She is a Monthly Guest Contributor to Bitch Flicks.



Ripley’s Pick: ‘Winter’s Bone’

Winter’s Bone
I first saw Winter’s Bone last summer. I remember leaving the theatre feeling that I’d never seen a film quite like the one I’d just watched. The viewing experience had left me mentally exhausted; more than an hour-and-a-half of tension and suspense made me incapable of arguing exactly why the film was so astounding. After watching it again on DVD, I think I can discuss it with more clarity; however, this remains one you must see for yourself.
Spoilers ahead!
The Dolly family lives in rural Missouri, in the bleak, eerie, and impoverished Ozarks countryside. Ree Dolly  (Jennifer Lawrence) needs to find her father, who has recently been arrested again for cooking methamphetamine–seemingly the only profession in her community. She’s 17, has already left high school to care for her two younger siblings and chronically-depressed mother, and learns that her father put their house and property up as collateral for his bail. She clearly does not live the life of the so-called average American teenage girl; she teaches her siblings to shoot (both to hunt for their food and protect themselves) and skin a squirrel, she gives away their starving horse, chops firewood, and has precious few moments of camaraderie with someone her age–and even in these moments, the film’s ominous tone doesn’t lift.
This is a patriarchal world of heightened gender roles, where women operate as shields to protect their men, and have little power independently. Ree, having no one to speak out for or protect her, becomes an investigator, and thus an agitator. Instead of keeping the peace, keeping quiet, and knowing her place, she refuses to allow herself and her immediate family to be the victims of an irresponsible and criminal man–even if he is her father. She visits the homes of people she’s known her father to associate with, beginning with a low-level junkie and dealer, and her father’s brother, Teardrop (John Hawkes). As she continues her determined climb through the countryside, the men become less accessible as woman after woman warns Ree against pursuing her father, and warns her, implicitly and explicitly, that there will be harsh consequences for asking questions.
What becomes clear, fairly early in the film, is that her father may be dead. This is, at least, the story her neighbor would have her believe, when he shows her a burnt meth lab. As with all characters in the film, however, he has his own motives. While her father’s death may seem like a solution–or the end of the story–it is not. For Ree–and those in her community, if you can call it that–simply knowing her father is dead proves nothing to those ready to seize her home; to them, he’s just a criminal on the run from his debts. Small acts of kindness (a joint, small amounts of cash, a borrowed pickup truck from a friend) help Ree along the way, but each is met by the cruelty of people desperate to protect their livelihood. We see a tenuous relationship develop between Ree and her uncle, a man who uses and seems always a breath away from violence, as the cast expands to include the county sheriff, a bail bondsman, and a powerful figure in the local trade. Cruelty and kindness collide in a climax so powerful that I won’t give it away here,
Rarely do films–mainstream ones, at least, with distribution deals and Oscar buzz–depict poverty–real poverty. Our main character has no resources. People in this situation exist in America–whether we like to think so or not. They’re not all criminals and they can’t all just remove themselves from bad situations by getting a corporate, minimum-wage job. In this film we see a teenage girl navigate a hostile and dangerous world which she had no hand in making. Despite her maturity and toughness, she hasn’t turned to “cooking crank” to financially survive, nor has she developed a “taste for it yet” to temporarily escape. Instead, she relies on the charity of neighbors (though we see little altruism from them; every instance is a coded threat, warning, or new debt to repay) and naively hopes join the Army and bring her family along. (We see Ree visit a recruiter in hopes of receiving a signing bonus she’s heard about–plenty of money to save her home. The even-handed scene plays straight and with little emotion, but nonetheless breaks your heart.)
Winter’s Bone was shot on location in Christian County, Missouri, with mostly non-professional actors–some of whom went back to regular, blue-collar jobs the day after filming their scenes, which likely adds to its authentic feeling. With a budget of only $2 million, Winter’s Bone was written by Debra Granik and Anne Rosellini, and directed by Granik. It has already won several awards–including the Grand Jury Prize and the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival, and the Best Ensemble Cast and Best Film Awards at the 2010 Gotham Awards–and has been nominated for numerous more, including seven Independent Spirit Awards (cinematography, director, feature, female lead, screenplay, supporting female, and supporting male), two Screen Actors Guild awards, and a Golden Globe. Oscar nominations come out Tuesday, January 25, and Winter’s Bone is expected to garner several nods from the Academy as well (although its odds for winning major awards–Best Picture and Best Director–don’t seem great, I’m still pulling for it).
Watch the excellent trailer below. Even after seeing the film twice, its trailer still gives me chills.

 

Ripley’s Pick: The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency
We’ve all seen the business signs with their unintentionally humorous misspellings, typos, and improper use of that dreaded apostrophe. You don’t, however, need to be a grammar nerd to understand the significance of a single apostrophe in The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency. It signals that our main character knows something about autonomy, naming, and owning her work as a new detective–as Botswana’s only female detective, in fact. There is a moment, early in the two-hour pilot episode, when viewers must know the episodes to come will be smart, feminist, and funny. Watch this clip, which introduces the show’s cast and Precious Ramotswe’s (played by singer and actress Jill Scott) efforts at naming:

Her fix–painting in the apostrophe–and the group’s reciting of the new name of the business (“The number one ladies apostrophe detective agency!”) tells viewers that this new enterprise isn’t merely an agency of ladies, or for ladies, but that the women of the agency are the agency. You also can’t miss the bit of humor in there–that this detective agency isn’t number one because it’s necessarily the best, but because it’s the first, and only, woman-owned detective agency in Botswana.
This may seem like a lot of attention to a very small point in the show, but it sets a light and funny tone with an undercurrent of seriousness and thoughtfulness for the rest of the series. 
In terms of basic plot structure, there isn’t a lot of groundbreaking material here: each episode brings a series of mysteries that Mme Ramotswe and her quirky secretary and assistant, Grace Makutsi (played by Tony-Award-winning actress Anika Noni Rose), use clues, intellect, intuition, and good, old-fashioned pluck to solve. However, unlike most detective shows out there, the women don’t rely on any high-tech crime-fighting devices, and the show’s deployment of justice typically doesn’t involve police, brutality, and/or imprisonment.
This point is, in fact, the most significant deviation from standard whodunit material: the show’s definition of justice just might be a model for what feminist justice looks like. Rather than throwing criminals in the slammer, the women of the show are interested in righting wrongs, in bringing people in broken relationships together to resolve their problems, and, most of all, in revealing truth to those in search of it. In other words, justice without all the violence, vengeance, and sick pleasure of domination. While some of the crimes are more serious than others in the show, the resolutions genuinely address the crime committed.
The show’s setting–and location of its filming–in Gaborone, Botswana cannot be glossed over. Not only is the setting beautiful, not only does it lend authenticity to the show and its characters, but it allows us a window on a society different from the United States (and Britain, where the show originally aired)–but also shows the way we struggle with the same kinds of things. While the show maintains a tone of lightness and comedy throughout, there isn’t an episode that doesn’t nod to a serious topic: Grace cares for her brother, who suffers from AIDS; there are no shortage of orphaned children hanging about; there is constant struggle between tradition and modernity, rural and urban values; Precious struggles with a former abusive relationship; and so on. Western audiences rarely see depictions of African countries that don’t center around war, illness, and extreme poverty. While I would never argue that No. 1 Ladies’ is a flawless series, it’s pretty damn good and definitely worth your time.
Also check out Latoya Peterson’s review of the pilot episode (and the comments section) on Racialicious.

Ripley’s Pick: Happy-Go-Lucky


Happy-Go-Lucky. Starring Sally Hawkins, Alexis Zegerman, Kate O’Flynn, Sarah Niles, and Eddie Marsan. Written and directed by Mike Leigh.

Poppy Cross (Hawkins, who won a Golden Globe for her performance) is a 30-year-old primary school teacher in London. She shares her flat with her roommate of ten years and lives a life filled with happiness. What feels at first like an innocent, fluff-filled movie is actually an examination of the difficulty of living life with a goal of happiness.

Time after time, Poppy’s optimistic outlook on life is tested. A rude worker in a bookshop doesn’t respond to her small talk, someone steals her bicycle, she injures her back, and her new driving instructor (Marsan) has what you could call a serious dark streak. Instead of reacting cynically, Poppy struggles to stay positive and, what’s more, create moments of happiness in the lives of others.

Effective teaching is a major theme of the film. Scott (her driving instructor) talks about the necessity of repetition in teaching, we see multiple scenes of Poppy and Zoe interacting with their young students, and we see a fantastic scene with a flamenco instructor who channels her heartbreak into passionate instruction. If ever there was a profession that requires optimism, Poppy—with her bold, confident, and fearless personality—makes a great spokesperson.

Perhaps the greatest struggle Poppy faces is the force of the status quo. Her outlook on life, which she shares with her friends and one sister, is summed up nicely by friend and coworker Tash (Niles), who relates what she tells her prodding aunts:

“No, I haven’t got a boyfriend. No, I won’t be getting married soon, and, no, I won’t be investing in a property with a mortgage in the near future, thank you very much.”

Amen, sister. The movie actually spends little time on social forces driving women, particularly, to settle down (except for one visit to the ‘burbs), though this always lurks in the background. The bigger struggles are the everyday events that drag us down, which makes this a nice little slice-of-life movie, with a minimal plot, and a major focus on character. Female friendship is at its heart, without the stock shopping and food footage that most films use to represent how women bond. As we know, bonding over consumption of material objects (whether they be chocolate, sexual conquests, or clothing) forms the most shallow of relationships. Happy-Go-Lucky is a film that realizes this fact.

Once you adjust to Poppy’s infectious (or, I found, slightly grating) personality, you’ll see a female-centered movie that just leaves you feeling good. Oh, and you’ll forever have Enraha. You’ll understand if you’ve seen it; that one sticks with you.