Female Sexuality – Page 6

How Is The Sex, Masters and Johnson?

But, the biggest question for the show will obviously be, um, what about the sex? Sex is in the title: the opening sequence bathes in it, and every episode features it. As a big proponent of women’s sexuality I’m pretty much all for it, however I desperately hope that Masters doesn’t just become cheap exhibitionism driving up late night ratings; I want to know that Masters of Sex is trying to tell us something in all of the orgasmic moaning (fake or real).

Written by Rachel Redfern

tumblr_mubxz18hbQ1rfpmn4o1_1280 — Provocative, even now

Masters of Sex is Showtime’s newest protégé, a mid-century period piece steeped in desire–a desire for what though? Considering that Masters of Sex is only on the sixth episode, the show is still finding its stride, with its characters and dialogue still evolving.

However, I have high hopes for the show. Lizzie Caplan (Virginia Johnson), chooses provocative projects and usually plays fascinating, complex characters: a sociopathic hippie in True Blood, a relationship-squeamish woman in Save The Date, and an emotionally damaged party girl in Bachelorette. Unfortunately, while we’ve learned a bit about the motivations and back-story for Mr. Masters (Michael Sheen), Johnson remains still undeveloped. The show makes a big deal about Johnson being a unique, sexy, fascinating woman and showing her interest in being a scientist, but I’m still curious as to what’s driving her. But, the show is only beginning, and hopefully her character’s development will begin to grow and we’ll get more of a peek into what’s helped her become such a confident woman, as well as fostering her fascination with scientific studies.

But, the biggest question for the show will obviously be, um, what about the sex? Sex is in the title: the opening sequence bathes in it, and every episode features it. As a big proponent of women’s sexuality I’m pretty much all for it, however I desperately hope that Masters doesn’t just become cheap exhibitionism driving up late night ratings; I want to know that Masters of Sex is trying to tell us something in all of the orgasmic moaning (fake or real).

Episode 101 — Don’t lie, you would have looked too.

One thing I’m loving though, it’s two women picking all the material, which is fantastic for a show that is portraying the way that society’s view on sexuality, especially female sexuality, is changing. And I think that a lot of people were curious, and maybe a bit worried, wondering how Masters of Sex was going to be dealing with sex, women, and stereotypes. There are still so many myths and legends, images and dichotomies, and pop psychology and moral sermonizing that happens anytime women and sex are placed anywhere near each other, that it was very possible for Masters to become another fluffy, giggle-fest of boob shots and phallic jokes.

Masters of Sex showrunner, Michelle Ashford, discussed the staff’s perspectives on the show’s sex scenes, and how much they’ve chosen to include; turns out, they’ve been selective and thoughtful—sifting through hours of scenes, trying to ensure that they’re engaging and fulfilling the narrative, instead of just becoming pornographic. In fact, Ashford admitted that she finds many sex scenes boring without any real relevance to the story; in the case of Masters, they’ve tried to take a different approach: “We knew we had to figure out a new way to do sex so that there was always story pulling through it. And there had to be a point of view to the sex, so it’s either tragic or it’s funny or it’s confusing … but it could never be showing sex just to be sexy.”

masters-of-sex-standard-deviation-michael-sheen — Intimacy tells their story

Are they successful in telling the story of sex in their scenes? I would argue that yes, they are: Masters and his wife, Libby (Caitlin Fitzgerald), have terse, dutiful sex, while Virginia is direct and free-spirited, and the young Dr. Haas (Nicholas D’Agosto) is controlling, searching, experimenting. Each character’s experiences (not necessarily their proclivities) reflect their relationships with each other and themselves. Perhaps, at this point, the sex scenes are where the story is, and it’s where we learn the most about each character.

So what do you think? How is the show evolving? Are the sex scenes merely exhibitionism? Is the show helping the way we think about sex? How do you think it’s portraying sex?

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

The Seven Stages of Important Black Film Fatigue by Stacia Brown at American Prospect

Why ’12 Years A Slave’ Is Different From ‘The Help’ And ‘Django Unchained’–And Why It Matters by Alyssa Rosenberg at ThinkProgress

It’s Time To Say Good-Bye To TV’s Strong Black Woman by Nichole Perkins at BuzzFeed

13 Myths Hollywood Uses to Hide Discrimination Against Women Directors by Maria Giese at Women Directors in Hollywood

Voices: Halloween–A White Privilege Christmas by Arturo R. García at Racialicious

The Big O: Oscar Could be Swayed by Leto’s Feminine Mystique by Susan Wloszczyna at Women and Hollywood

15 Fantastic Horror Films Directed by Women by Alison Nastasi at Flavorwire

Creator/Producer Lorne Michaels Responds To Lack Of Black Women On ‘SNL’ Criticism by Tambay A. Obenson at Shadow and Act

Queen Latifah, Patti Labelle, Venus Williams to Be Honored at Black Girls Rock! by Evelyn Diaz at BET

Why White People Can’t Quit Blackface by Camille Hayes at Bitch Media

‘Homeland’ And The Delicate Art Of Withholding by Linda Holmes at NPR

Heroines of Cinema: 10 Great Films About Female Sexuality by Female Filmmakers by Emily Craig, Matthew Hammett Knott and Sophie Smith at Indiewire

Season of the Witch: Conjuring Strength Through Power by Alyssa Rosenberg at Women and Hollywood

Tina Fey’s New Show Picked Up By NBC #Blessed by Eloise Giegerich at Bust

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’ and the Pitchfork of Puritanism

The midwestern, puritanical values that American Gothic seems to represent so well win at the end of the film, and quite literally kill difference and sexual and gender subversion. While Riff Raff and Magenta go back to their home planet Transsexual, in the galaxy of Transylvania, Brad, Janet and Dr. Scott are left on the cold ground, crawling and writhing in their fishnets.

The lips in the opening sequence–the biting action has sexual and fearful connotations.

Written by Leigh Kolb as part of our theme week on Cult Films and B Movies.

The cult classic film The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which was based off a British play of the same name, was released in 1975. At that point in American history, audiences (young audiences especially) were eager to have their boundaries pushed and revel in the debauchery that Rocky Horror provided. Whether it was the after-glow of the sexual revolution of the 60s and early 70s or a preemptive strike back to still-noisy social conservativism, Rocky Horror dealt with issues of gender and sexuality in a way that can resonate with viewers almost 40 years later. Buried beneath the campy music and bustiers is strong commentary on religion, gender and sexual norms, social customs and puritanical morality.

After the opening sequence (in which the famous red lips–belonging to Patricia Quinn, who plays Magenta–lip sync to Richard O’Brien, who plays Riff Raff and wrote the original play and screenplay, singing “Science Fiction/Double Feature”), the first shot of the movie is a cross atop a church steeple. The camera pauses, making the audience absorb the contrast between a clearly sexual (and even fearful), disembodied mouth and Christianity.

As the camera pans down, a wedding party and guests burst through the doors of the church. Outside of the church doors, a solemn-looking Tim Curry appears as the pastor, and Quinn and O’Brien flank him in the style of the American Gothic painting by Grant Wood.

We will see this image again. It will never really leave us.

The actors who will appear later as Magenta and Riff Raff play American Gothic in the first scene at the church.

According to the Art Institute of Chicago, “American Gothic is an image that epitomizes the Puritan ethic and virtues that he [Wood] believed dignified the Midwestern character.” Puritanical “virtues” are on display in this opening sequence.

As American culture reminds us, when these virtues are imbedded in a society, often the only option for sexual expression is at the extremes of the virgin/whore dichotomy. Suppression and purity on one end of the spectrum, complete surrender to earthly pleasure, no matter the cost, on the other. These extremes are shown throughout the film.

As the wedding comes to an end (and after Janet, played by Susan Sarandon, has caught the bouquet), a car pulls up to take away the bride and groom. Sloppily written on the side of the car is, “Wait till tonight, she got hers now he’ll get his.” The heteronormativity of this scene is clear. Women (including Janet) are eager for marriage, men want to “get theirs” after the wedding is over. Janet’s boyfriend, Brad (Barry Bostwick), does quickly propose to her after they discuss marriage in the church cemetery as a storm brews overhead. A billboard with a heart and the motto “Denton – The Home of Happiness” looms above them. The marriage ritual and social expectations surrounding it are, on the surface, celebrated in this scene (“Dammit, Janet, I love you!” sings Brad as they rollick around the church). However, the symbolism of the cemetery, the pending storm, and the fact that the American Gothic characters are preparing the church for a funeral as they wheel in a casket is not lost on the discerning viewer.

The two set off on a road trip to announce their engagement to a professor they’d had in college (they met and fell in love in his class). On the way, as they drive through a thunderstorm while listening to Nixon’s resignation speech on the radio (perhaps a nod to moral failure), they blow a tire. They end up at a foreboding castle (one used in many “Hammer Horror” movies that Rocky Horror parodies), and motorcycles pass them on the road going to the same destination. Brad says of the biker with judgment, “Life’s pretty cheap for that type.” An “Enter at Your Own Risk” sign invites the couple into the castle grounds, and they do.

After Riff Raff lets them in, they’re quickly initiated into the party that’s being held–the “Annual Transylvanian Convention.” They stand, innocent and wide-eyed, as guests (all dressed in gender-neutral tuxedos) dance the “Time Warp” and thrust their pelvises. The American Gothic painting, as well as the Mona Lisa, both appear on the walls of the castle.

Riff Raff welcomes Brad and Janet to the castle; the American Gothic painting looms behind him.

PBS art commentator Sister Wendy Beckett says, “You can recycle the Mona Lisa any way you like. Back to front, upside down, it remains instantly recognizable. That’s the ultimate compliment and it’s been paid to Grant Wood’s American Gothic. Somehow it seems to speak to the American psyche, though what it actually says isn’t as simple as it might seem.” The coyness of these particular works of art mirror what lies beneath The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Brad and Janet are visibly uncomfortable in this world (it seems “unhealthy,” Janet says). They, and the audience, which has seen the action from their naïve perspective, are then introduced to Dr. Frank-N-Furter, played by Curry. The camera pans up his fishnet-clad legs, reminiscent of the gratuitous male gaze present in so many other films. However, this time the object of that gaze is a “sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania,” as he introduces himself in song.

Dr. Frank-N-Furter introduces himself to Brad and Janet.

He invites the couple up to his lab to “see what’s on the slab.” They are stripped to their underwear by Riff Raff and Magenta (“We’ll play along for now,” says Brad). On their way up to the lab, Janet asks Magenta if Frank-N-Furter is her husband. She laughs, and Riff Raff exclaims that he’ll probably never marry (again, marriage is slighted). Frank-N-Furter has changed into a scrubs-style dress (with a pink triangle on the chest) in the lab. He flirts with Brad, calling him a “force of manhood, so dominant,” and Janet begins to giggle and seem less uncomfortable in this new setting. Being stripped of their clothes leaves them almost naked and vulnerable, yet opens them up to sexual possibilities that explore gender and dominance.

Frank-N-Furter, seated, flanked by (from left) Columbia, Magenta and Riff Raff–all of whom he as used for his gain.

Frank-N-Furter announces that “My beautiful creature is destined to be born!” and the references to Frankenstein throughout the film thus far are fully realized. He climbs above the tank that is holding his “creature,” and drops in rainbow-colored liquid, leaving the creature awash in the rainbow. (In 1975, the rainbow flag had not yet been formally adopted as the LGBT banner, but rainbow flags were commonly used for similar liberal causes starting as early as the late 1960s.)

After his creature is born–a muscular, blonde, tan god–Frank-N-Furter ogles and gawks at his creation, chasing and crawling after him, scrambling to even kiss his foot. Rocky (his creature) doesn’t seem interested at all, as he sings about feeling the sword of Damocles above him. As history (and science fiction, like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein) has repeatedly shown us, when we create a system in which others are to be subservient–whether via imperialism, slavery or patriarchy–the outcome is only good for those in power, and even then the reward is short-lived.

But for now, Frank-N-Furter appears to be getting his way (after ridding himself of Eddie, played by Meat Loaf, who we find out was an ex-lover of Frank-N-Furter and Columbia, played by Little Nell). Masculinity is magnified in this scene as Frank-N-Furter sings about making Rocky a “man” through intense physical workouts and bodybuilding routines, and Eddie’s display of hyped-up violent masculinity (motorcycle, leather jacket, rock and roll). But who is the dominant one in these relationships? Frank-N-Furter, in his fishnets and heels. As heteronormative as the opening scene of the film was, at this point almost all of the lines have been or are beginning to be subverted and blurred.

Frank-N-Furter and Rocky walk out of the lab arm in arm as the wedding march plays and his guests shower them with confetti. The curtain is drawn as they embrace, and the audience expects that they will consummate this “marriage” immediately.

In the middle of the night, Rocky escapes the wrath of Riff Raff and Magenta (he has chains on his ankles as he attempts to flee).

Janet and Brad have been put in separate rooms, of course, so they may retain their pre-marital chastity.

While his creation attempts to escape, Frank-N-Furter visits Janet. He acts like he’s Brad, and she welcomes his embrace and sexual advances. When she figures out it is Frank-N-Furter, she kicks him off: “I was saving myself!” she cried out. After a moment of rough persuasion, she lies back. “Promise you won’t tell Brad?” she says, and laughs as Frank-N-Furter descends upon her.

Afterward, “Janet” visits Brad, and he also welcomes the embrace until he realizes it’s Frank-N-Furter. The scene plays out exactly as it does with Janet–persistent refusal and then “You promise you won’t tell?” Again, Frank-N-Furter moves downward on Brad.

These scenes are poignant in that they are exactly the same–from the strict puritanical refusal to the “secretive” consent to the oral sex act itself–yet the sex of the participants is fluid. Frank-N-Furter is on top, but he’s adamant that the two give themselves “over to pleasure,” which he delivers.

(It’s also worth noting that during the sex scenes others in the house–Riff Raff, Magenta and Columbia–can watch via monitors that display live feed from the rooms. Voyeurism isn’t off-limits, either. Like most issues in this film, there is vast gray area in regard to consent that we are challenged to think about.)

By the next morning, Janet is crying and feeling immense guilt about betraying Brad. However, she happens upon a monitor showing him smoking a cigarette on the edge of his bed, which Frank-N-Furter is lying in. She then spots the injured Rocky, and tends to him. He touches her hand, and she smiles a smile that indicates she has found within herself power and passion.

Janet then bursts into her climactic song, “Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me,” a sex-positive female power anthem if there ever was one. She decries her years of avoiding “heavy petting,” since she thought it would only lead to “trouble and seat wetting.” While the narrator says that Janet was “its slave,” it’s more clear that she is sexually dominant in this scene.

After a lustful night with Frank-N-Furter, Janet embraces her sexuality with Rocky (she places his hands on her breasts).

Even in her critique of the woman’s stray curl in American Gothic, Sister Wendy senses something beyond the surface: “Some see the stray curl at the nape of her neck as related to the snake plant in the background, each one symbolizing a sharp-tongued ‘old maid.’ Sister Wendy sees in the curl, however, a sign that she is not as repressed as her buttoned-up exterior might indicate.” Nothing is quite as it seems.

After a cannibalistic dinner (insert corny pun about Meat Loaf here), everything seems to be falling apart. Eddie’s uncle–the Dr. Scott who Janet and Brad were trying to visit in the first place–comes to the castle (he’s both looking for his nephew and doing research on alien life forms). Dr. Frank-N-Furter, seeing everything he’s built to serve himself revolt (Riff Raff, the “handyman,” and Magenta, the “domestic,” are getting antsy to leave to go home to Transsexual; Columbia screams at him for just taking from people–first her, then Eddie, then Rocky, etc.–and Rocky isn’t working out as he planned), clings on to whatever power he can. He mocks Janet and her sexual inadequacy–“Your apple pie don’t taste too nice”–and turns all except for Riff Raff and Magenta into stone via his Medusa switch (the mythology echoing that of Damocles’s sword and what happens when one demands too much).

“It’s not easy having a good time,” Frank-N-Furter laments.

The floor show that follows is a spectacle of gender-bending and sexuality. The stone figures are “de-Medusafied” one by one, and all are wearing kabuki face makeup and Frank-N-Furter-style fishnets, heels, garters and bustiers. They each sing a stanza exploring their current state of drug dependence, uncontrolled libido and freedom in “Rose Tint My World.”

Columbia, Rocky, Janet and Brad have all reawakened in Frank-N-Furter’s gender-bending image for the floor show.

As Frank-N-Furter begins “Don’t Dream It, Be It,” he asks, “Whatever happened to Fay Wray? / That delicate satin draped frame / As it clung to her thigh, how I started to cry / Cause I wanted to be dressed just the same…” Here we see him stripped of his over-exaggerated power as he indicates that he struggled with gender, presumably when he was young. He’s been searching for how and where he fits, and “absolute pleasure” and “sins of the flesh” have been where he looked for fulfillment.

Frank-N-Furter jumps into an on-stage pool, and shot from above he’s floating on a life saver between God and man in Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam. The religious imagery present in the opening scenes is re-visited here, inviting the audience to consider the juxtaposition of “giving in to absolute pleasure” and the church, which is the very institution that dictates much of what we consider gender and sexual norms.

Frank-N-Furter floats in the pool, meticulously placed above Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam.

Janet, Brad, Rocky and Columbia all jump into the pool, and as they lustfully sing “Don’t dream it, be it,” there is a wet conglomeration of fishnets, limbs, tongues and strokes in the pool over the image of the Creation. Janet breathlessly sings, “God bless Lili St. Cyr.” She’s embracing her newfound sexuality by referencing a burlesque dancer/stripper/lingerie designer from the 1940s and 50s.

In the midst of this dream-like pseudo-orgy, Magenta and Riff Raff violently storm into the room. Dressed in other-worldly attire (yet gender-neutral), Riff Raff is holding a pitchfork-like weapon (American Gothic, of course), and threatens Frank-N-Furter and the group. “Your lifestyle is too extreme,” Riff Raff scolds, and says he’s subverting the power and will now be the master. For all of this time, Riff Raff and Magenta have been the “help,” and saw the need for an uprising. This also supports the subversive power roles within the film. Also worth noting is that Riff Raff and Magenta are lovers and brother and sister (the American Gothic painting is said to feature a brother and sister or father and daughter, not a husband and wife like many viewers imagine). Relationships, and our expectations and discomfort levels throughout, are meant to be examined.

Riff Raff and Magenta appear again as a futuristic American Gothic; his laser pitchfork will kill those whose “lifestyle” is too extreme.

Riff Raff proceeds to kill Columbia and Frank-N-Furter with his laser pitchfork. Rocky is more difficult to kill, and while he cries and mourns over Frank-N-Furter, he throws him on his back and tries to climb the RKO radio tower on stage. Frank-N-Furter so badly wanted to feel like Fay Wray in his life, and he finally got to after he died. However, Rocky’s plan doesn’t work and the two fall backward into the pool, buried in the very source of life.

The narrator closes the film with the words: “And crawling, on the planet’s face, some insects, called the human race. Lost in time, and lost in space… and meaning.”

We are, the narrator suggests, quite meaningless in our earthly struggles. We blindly grasp on to expectations and norms, whether it be social constructs, gender or sexuality, and if we wander outside of those norms it will very well ruin us because of the deeply ingrained expectations we have in regard to these issues of morality.

Of course, we aren’t supposed to walk away from a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show feeling utterly meaningless. O’Brien himself self-identifies as transgender, and has been outspoken about how society should not “dictate” gender roles. He said in a recent interview, “If society allowed you to grow up feeling it was normal to be what you are, there wouldn’t be a problem. I don’t think the term ‘transvestite’ or ‘transsexual’ would exist: you’d just be another human being.” He also has said, in terms of Rocky Horror’s significance, “Well in our western world, England, Australia and the United States etc, there are still strongholds of dinosaur thinking. But, you know, I am a trans myself and I know it’s easier for me now. I can be wherever I want, whatever I want and however I want. And I suppose to some extent, a very small extent, my attitudes in Rocky Horror have helped make the climate a little warmer for people who have been marginalised, so that’s definitely not a bad thing.”

No it’s not. And for all its campy fun, great music and dance moves (and how ironic that the Time Warp lives on at wedding receptions across America), The Rocky Horror Picture Show also provides forceful commentary on religion, gender roles, sexual agency, control and the foreboding power that the pitchfork of puritanism holds over us all still.

A version of this appeared at Bitch Flicks on Sept. 26, 2012.

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

Cult Truth: Why The Raunchy ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’ is Hilariously Humanizing

When the movie begins we’re introduced to Brad, a hero (Barry Bostiwck) and Janet, a heroine (Susan Sarandon), two straight-laced representations of the all-American, white middle class Christian boy and girl who are suddenly thrown into a den of loose morals and provocative dancing. At all turns, we’re blatantly reminded of their status as a proxy for a nice boy and a good girl, and it’s reinforced with every cliché possible.

Written by Rachel Redfern

It doesn’t get more cult classic than the most cultish of all films, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. In fact, I would assert that RHPS (Rocky Horror Picture Show to fans or the “Unconventional Conventionalists“) is the first great cult film.

While many cult films have fan websites and forums, and even conferences and gatherings, they probably haven’t been shown in a movie theater continuously since 1976 (making the RHPS the longest running theatrical release in history), and they most probably are not shows with audience participation. A true showing of RHPS has a script for audience members in response to certain phrases and cues from the film, and some showings even include props, such as toast, frankfurters, confetti, toilet paper, rice, a whistle, a flashlight, newspapers, water guns, and more.

If you haven’t seen the movie, here is the summary my mother gave to me when I first learned of the film in high school: Dr. Frank-N-Furter is a transvestite who really wants to get laid and creates himself a man with “blond hair and a tan.”

If you haven’t seen it, most of this review might seem like the crazed wanderings of a feminist mind, but only because the film is the crazed wanderings of some kind of mind. And while the Glee tribute episode was well done, it can never compare to the sheer raunch and random hilarity of the original.

The original had a young, unheard-of Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in one of the most amazing performances of all time; his full-bodied commitment (pun intended) to the part of a flamboyant drag queen is fantastic. I weep a little every time I watch it at the realization that Tim Curry looks better in a corset and garters than I do, and he is rockin’ it with a confidence that would make Lady Gaga jealous.

[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/lwUjJXxoGy4″]

RHPS talks a lot about illusion vs. reality, time vs. space, meaning vs. nonsense, all while mockingly, and seriously, parodying the science fiction genre, having been intentionally set up as a parody of B-movies. But the film is also a gender-bending festival of sexual exploration embodying the sexual awakening of the 60s and later, the 70s, when the Western world was coming to grips with their new social mores: the film is an obvious exploration of the incorporation and aftermath of the feminist movement and sexual freedom.

Why is it that so much of our ideologies and idiosyncrasies are revealed in parody and satire? Richard O’Brien (Riff-Raff in the film), who wrote and composed The Rocky Horror Picture Show, has been an outspoken advocate for removing cultural norms of establishing gender in children, since he himself identifies as transgender.

the_rocky_horror_picture_show_2 — Brad and Janet before sex

For example, Janet faints and screams at the slightest noise and speaks in a breathy, sweet voice; she’s sexy, but also the girl next door. She’s obviously sexy because she doesn’t know she is, until she begins her own seduction of Rocky and sings out, “Touch me! I wanna be dirty!” in her very own musical number.

Brad is confident and protective, placing his arm around Janet and calming her, leading Frank-N-Furter to remark, ““How forceful you are Brad, such a perfect specimen of manhood,” and he is, of course, absolutely heterosexual until Frank-N-Furter crawls into his bed and the two have a happy, little romp, followed by a good smoke. By the end of the film, Brad’s staunch conservativism is belied by the women’s dressing gown he wears and the lyrics of his last song, “It’s beyond me/help me Mommy/I’ll be good you’ll see/take this dream away/What’s this, let’s see/Oh I feel sexy/What’s come over me?”

Juxtaposed, however, with the happy minion of dancers and their choreographed “Time Warp” dance moves (my dream party) is the intense violence of Eddie’s death, and then his subsequent cannibalism. Eddie’s death is a mercy killing according to Frank-N-Furter because while charming, his muscles weren’t very nice.

As much as I enjoy the film, it is legitimately disturbing in its overtones of rape (toward Janet and Rocky), cannibalism, and gruesome violence. But in the midst of all the destruction, Frank-N-Furter turns to the camera and quips, “It’s not easy having a good time. Even a smile makes my face ache,” biting his finger coyly. It’s such a brilliant, meta moment of recognition for power and privilege and the way that terrible things are acted out in service to his desires.

RHPS-LobbyCard1L — The ending: Lingerie and Confusion

The climax of the film is “The Floor Show,” a confessional performance for each of the characters, held in an empty theater, there revealing their lusts, desires and insecurities. As the performance culminates, and Frank-N-Furter strips off his makeup, vulnerable, and bows to an imaginary crowd, it becomes apparent that everything has been just one big, grand performance. Dr. Scott remarks that, “society must be protected” and Frank-N-Furter removed, and thus, the pretension must go on.

It’s actually a fabulous narrative to couch the ideas of sexuality in, since admittedly, much of sexuality, in terms of preferences, sexual performance, orientation, pornography, and gender roles, are performances of stereotypes and long-held expectations.

‘The Counselor’ and the Feminist Commentary of Ferrari Fucking

The honesty of a man saying, “What the hell was that?” when a woman is trying to do what society expects her to do to be sexy is a pretty clear indication of how our raunch culture makes fools out of women who try to fit into it.
If Reiner had loved it, I think I would have found that scene incredibly Problematic From a Feminist Perspective™. But he didn’t. This otherwise misogynistic character was baffled and troubled by this kind of display.

The Counselor poster — *The Counselor* poster

Written by Leigh Kolb

As press began trickling out about The Counselor, headlines about how “Cameron Diaz fucks a car” (a Ferrari) dominated my news feeds.

I did not expect that scene to be brilliant. But it kind of was.

The Counselor is by no means the “worst movie ever made.” The writing–Cormac McCarthy’s first screenplay venture–was lovely, if at times a bit much (as one might imagine a script by a novelist would be). The acting was incredible. Ridley Scott’s direction is poignant. This also isn’t the best film ever made, but it has enough strong points.

The two prominent women characters did fit into the problematic virgin/whore dichotomy, but overall I was surprisingly pleased at the depictions of female sexuality on screen, and the larger meaning of those scenes.

The opening scene (which The New York Times describes in loving detail) finds the audience in bed with our protagonist, the Counselor (Michael Fassbender) and his soon-to-be fiancée, Laura (Penélope Cruz). Their exchange is intimate, and he wants her to tell him what to do to her. While she’s slightly shy and hesitant, they are comfortable together. He retreats downward to perform oral sex on her, and she orgasms. Enthusiastically.

In the opening scene, we see a focus on female pleasure that is often foreign in heavily masculine films like this. They have just woken up, but he doesn’t want her to “tidy up.” Their white-sheet-wrapped love seems meaningful and real.

The bulk of the film, of course, follows the Counselor (he is nameless; other characters refer to him only in relation to his identity as a lawyer) and his decision to enter into a drug deal to make some fast money. This descent into a different world happens toward the beginning of the film, and what follows is a classic morality play, in which our prince falls, bringing those around him down with him. The dialogue, like the morality play itself, is Shakespearean, which is a bit much for most modern audiences. (There is a lot of talking…)

Hero, moral dilemma, advice from dubious sources, downfall, pile of dead bodies. Yeah, sounds pretty Shakespearean.

The two women characters are also quite Shakespearean with their subtle complexities and clear contrasts, which push us to consider what feminine power is and how we are supposed to judge the characters who surround them by their relationship with women. The Counselor deeply loves Laura and acts baffled when Reiner (Javier Bardem) speaks with disrespect/bawdiness about women. The Counselor loves giving women pleasure. Reiner sees women as dangerous liabilities.

Malkina, left, and Laura reveal their characters as they discuss diamonds and sex.

Reiner’s girlfriend–who we meet as she’s riding a horse across the desert with a cheetah by their side–is Malkina (Cameron Diaz). She is certainly a cheetah herself–gorgeous, fast, sleek, frightening, and threatening. Her role is impressive and important.

But about that Ferrari scene.

We see the scene as a flashback while Reiner is talking to the Counselor about something he’d “like to forget.” That something is the time that Malkina fucked his yellow Ferrari.

Malkina is trying really hard. Really hard. She slips off her panties and tells him she’s going to fuck his car. She climbs up on the windshield, descends into the splits, and goes to town right above Reiner’s face.

This scene–in which a gorgeous woman has sex with a luxury automobile to try to be really sexy and get off (on the luxury itself?)–is telling in how absolutely ludicrous it is. Reiner is “stunned”–and it doesn’t seem like he’s stunned in a good way. It’s just ridiculous.

(And OK, Reiner’s “catfish” description from his vantage point was funny–when he talks about the “gynecological” display upon the glass in terms of one of those “bottom feeders you see going up the way of the aquarium sucking its way up the glass,” that just intensifies how stupid the whole thing is.) Variety has the dialogue from that scene.

LOL — In its stupidity lies its feminist commentary.

Malkina’s immorality is essential in this morality story. The power she wields is significant–she’s certainly more malicious and skillful than our leading men. However, we are not supposed to be rooting for Malkina (even though we can find her wiles pretty amazing).

The symbolism of her fucking a Ferrari, and getting off in the process (the Counselor is very interested in whether or not she was able to orgasm), shows us just how materialistic she is. It’s not about human pleasure, it’s about object pleasure.

It’s not about genuine, self-aware female sexuality. It is ridiculous. And Reiner’s description of the fish on the aquarium? That’s exactly what it would look like. So dammit, I think it’s hilarious. The honesty of a man saying, “What the hell was that?” when a woman is trying to do what society expects her to do to be sexy is a pretty clear indication of how our raunch culture makes fools out of women who try to fit into it.

If Reiner had loved it, I think I would have found that scene incredibly Problematic From a Feminist Perspective™. But he didn’t. This otherwise misogynistic character was baffled and troubled by this kind of display.

Laura and Malkina aren’t as fully developed as they probably could have been (early on it’s clear that Laura=good and Malkina=bad when the two are having a conversation and Malkina can give Laura all of the details about Laura’s engagement diamond–and Laura doesn’t even want to know how much it’s worth–and their conversations about sexuality make Malkina seem the whore and Laura seem virginal).

In the promo stills, the men were allowed to have wrinkles, the women were not.

I did appreciate, though, how the women were their age. As disturbing as the marketing for the film was, these women are presented as neither younger than they actually are nor trying to be younger. While they are beautiful, they have wrinkles. While they are sexy, they are not 20. This is refreshing.

The Counselor isn’t the best–or the worst–film ever made. However, its artistic merit as a modern-day morality play and its representation of and commentary about femininity and female sexuality make it stand out.

__________________________________________________________

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

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

The feminism of Working Girl, “respectability politics” in 12 Years a Slave, female filmmakers on Twitter, comedy and reproductive rights, female sexuality on primetime, “Black Actress” on YouTube, and a comic about abortion laws… check out what we’ve been reading this week, and let us know what you’ve been reading and writing in the comments!

Acting Right Around White Folks: on “12 Years a Slave” and “Respectability Politics,” by ReBecca Theodore-Vachon at RogerEbert.com

Amy Poehler introduces TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD at Alamo Drafthouse! at Drafthouse.com

Why female pleasure–not sex–is the real taboo on primetime television by Monica Nickelsburg at The Week

Carrie: A Possibly Unnecessary Remake of a Still-Resonant Horror Story by Andi Zeisler at Bitch Media

Healing from Historic Trauma: “12 Years a Slave” by Janell Hobson at Ms.

40 Female Filmmakers to Follow on Twitter: A Crowdsourced List by Paula Bernstein at Indiewire

The Hollywood Reporter Announced the Top 50 Showrunners by Kerensa Cadenas at Women and Hollywood

Black Girl ‘Geeks’ Want To See More Of Themselves In Comics at NPR

Carol Burnett Cracks Up Washington by Ashley Southall at The New York Times

Call for Applications: Her Film Project Marketing Grant for Women Filmmakers by Kyna Morgan at Her Film

Everything I Know About Feminism I Learned From Working Girl by Rosemary Counter at Jezebel

‘Black Actress’ Web Series Premieres on Issa Rae’s YouTube Channel by Von Diaz at Colorlines

Comedy, Women, and Reproductive Rights: An Interview with Lizz Winstead by Hannah Strom at NARAL Pro-Choice Oregon

Purity Culture as Rape Culture: Why the Theological Is Political by Dianna E. Anderson at RH Reality Check

Stealth Attack: What You Need to Know About the New Abortion Laws (Comic) by Jen Sorensen at ACLU

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

‘Grimm’ Season 3 and the Darkness In Between

But the fairytale redux is also a hugely modern fascination, and a substantial moneymaker for TV and movies. To steep this article in some timely context, consider these popular and recent remakes of fairytale stories: Once Upon A Time, Once Upon A Time In Wonderland (save yourself and evening and don’t watch), and Sleepy Hollow. In film, there is Snow White and the Huntsman, Mirror Mirror, Hanna, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, The Brothers Grimm, and Jack and the Giant Killer (among others). There’s even a fabulous book of Politically Correct Bedtime Stories and a great series of photographs from Dina Goldstein called Fallen Princesses.

Little-Red-Riding-Hood-Parody-fairy-tales-and-fables-5123622-1280-800 — What a fairy tale is really trying to tell you

Written by Rachel Redfern

This Friday, October 25, just a few days before Halloween, is a timely beginning for the season 3 premiere of NBC’s Grimm, the crime drama with a dark fairy tale twist. The twist being that Detective Nick Burkhardt (David Guintoli) is a Grimm, a man who can see beyond the human masks of “Wessen,” the dark monsters who often peopled the Brothers’ Grimm fairy tales.

Fairytales and princess stories have come under fire the past 20 years because of the blatant sexism in so many of the stories. Most modern day retellings of these fairytales have reinforced narratives of beautiful, weak women waiting for men to save them, and over-ambitious wicked stepmothers (which is a stereotype rife with hatred of older women, women of power, and extends the “witch/harlot” conundrum).

But the fairytale redux is also a hugely modern fascination, and a substantial moneymaker for TV and movies. To steep this article in some timely context, consider these popular and recent remakes of fairytale stories: Once Upon A Time, Once Upon A Time In Wonderland (save yourself and evening and don’t watch), and Sleepy Hollow. In film, there is Snow White and the Huntsman, Mirror Mirror, Hanna, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, The Brothers Grimm, and Jack and the Giant Killer (among others). There’s even a fabulous book of Politically Correct Bedtime Stories and a great series of photographs from Dina Goldstein called Fallen Princesses.

But beyond the Hollywood blockbuster is the rich storytelling and deeply human morals that these ancient fairy tales often portrayed. These stories are just as relevant in today’s world, and we’re obviously still searching for answers about our own humanity and problems in the same places.

The original fairy tales were often disturbing with a straightforward moral: happy endings don’t always happen. Also, they included a lot of death. Grimm, while usually solving its episodic murder mystery, does still delve into the darkness inherent in many of these stories. And in doing so, exposes the continuation of many of the mythic themes that made the original stories so enduring.

Quote_203 — Irony? (Intro frame from *Grimm*.)

One of the biggest themes in fairy tales? Women’s sexuality. Consider the young little red riding hood being gobbled up by an aggressively large, male wolf. The beautiful Snow White (with her obviously virginal name) is literally poisoned by her stepmother; and of course, the overwhelming exquisite Sleeping Beauty is locked away until marriageable age. The whole thing reeks of repressed sexuality,

Since most of the fairy tales were about a deep fear of women’s sexuality, Grimm seems to echoes those. Again, this makes a lot of sense with all the insanity in the United States about abortion, the slut-shaming of Sandra Fluke, the pearl-clutching Victorianism towards Miley Cyrus, and the entire blessed cornucopia of society that thinks the world will implode into a steaming orgy should a women’s libido exist.

But Grimm does a good job of playing with and displaying that fear back at us.

**Beware: Spoilers ahead

The main female protagonist, Juliette (Bitsie Tulloch) falls under the witches’ spell (Sleeping Beauty story), but then becomes physically, chemically, lustfully obsessed with the man who wakes her. So much so, that the obsession, and the subsequent attempts to become physically intimate, become destructive and violent. This unbridled emotion towards each other is so dangerous that it must end in death, seeming to imply that consummation is a darker, more powerful act than dying.

It was a surprisingly meta-fictive moment for a network TV show, and I was startled to see the writers and producers playing so freely with the darker, sexual presence from the Sleeping Beauty fairytale.

In the hexenbeast Adalind Schade (Claire Coffee) plotline we see the scheming and vindictive side of a female nature as she brazenly seduces Detective Hank Griffin (Russel Hornsby) Captain Renard (Sasha Roiz) and his royal brother and then after she becomes pregnant, in her willingness to use her baby to regain her power. Maternity is often how we define female characters, so I always find it fascinating when mothers are cast in anti-maternal roles. Obviously in the case of Adalind (and even in the case with her own mother), the witches (or hexenbeast) are seen as intensely anti-mother, but not unfeminine. I suppose it’s an easy way to cast her as a villain, but I enjoy it regardless.

Of course, the power-hungry female “Wessen,” called “Musei” (meaning Muse), is a natural addition to this list. In the show she is not only the archetypal prostitute, her kind have literally been prostitutes in the past, but she draws power and pleasure from first creatively building up artists and then destroying them with obsessive sexual desire. This willfully enticing creature sets her sights upon the protagonist, needing him to fill the spot of her next plaything, until in a reversal of the Sleeping Beauty myth, true love’s kiss must awaken him from the spell.

It was a very circular moment for the show, since it mirrored an earlier plotline from the season, but with reversed genders. Instead of the female being the helpless one, the male “prince” must wait to be rescued.

Even in season one, the early episode “Lonely Hearts” is provocative in its dealings with rape and sexual assault since the women in question are literally begging to be kissed because of the rapist’s intense pheromones; but in spite of the “begging,” it was a situation still cast as absolute rape within the show, a plot device that seemed intent upon revealing the ridiculousness of that stupid phrase, “she was asking for it.”

Grimm’s awareness of the fear of female sexuality ties into the more general fear and exploration of the inner animal in all of us: the darker urges, manipulations, aggression, obsessions, temptations, and desires that religion and societal mores have been fighting against for ages. And strangely, that works very well within the framework of a police drama—the rule of law attempting balance and come to terms with the more volatile aspects of humanity.

So, besides an entirely ridiculous second season opening credits sequence, Grimm is exploring some provocative reversals and thematic elements.

In the end though, the show is also about transformation within the search for balance. Nick is transformed into a Grimm, slowly developing in a new kind of law-man, and Juliette, Adalind, Rosalee, and Monroe all show that development as well as they try to find this balance between light and dark for themselves.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUWivHe3bjY”]

Do you find the stories in Grimm intriguing and unique? Or is it merely replaying tired old stories? How does it stack up against shows like Once Upon A Time?

Miley Cyrus Has America’s Sex Drive By The Balls

But what I do want to talk about is the conversation that has swirled around young Cyrus ever since the ill-fated twerking incident at the VMA’s, and her subsequent music video of her naked on a wrecking ball. Everyone has slut-shamed Miley Cyrus. They’ve wagged their fingers at her dance moves, her tongue, her hair-cut, her entire demeanor, her (unsurprising) change from Disney star to adult, her drug-use, and the fact that she’s just “not a role model for young girls.”

Because apparently America thinks, as it has for the past, I dunno, forever, that female sexuality is “icky.”

Written By Rachel Redfern

Over the weekend you might have noticed the Sinead O’Connor and Miley Cyrus kerfuffle that happened on the internet. The whole thing started when Miley Cyrus states that the Irish singer was one of her idols; a little while later, O’Connor posted this public letter to Cyrus, “advising” her; though really, her advice sounded a lot like condescending, passive-aggressive slut-shaming. So Cyrus then acted out an immature and hurtful scene on twitter by referencing O’Connor’s personal struggle with mental and emotional health. Sinead then descended to the 20-year-old pop star’s level and posted an irate tirade on facebook, cussing out the young singer and just plain-old aggressively calling her a “prostitute.”

The whole thing is horrible and ridiculous and both have acted badly and today, I’m not here to defend or support either of them.

Because apparently America thinks, as it has for the past, I dunno, forever, that female sexuality is “icky.”

News flash: she’s a POP SINGER. Like Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Britney Spears, Christina Aquilera, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna, Lady Gaga, and virtually EVER OTHER FEMALE POP STAR OF THE PAST 40 YEARS.

And of course the real issue here isn’t that each of these women has had a bout with a dirty dance move and a lot of flesh showing on camera, but rather, that they dared to do it and not feel ashamed. That they dared to do it and own it as a part of who they were, a part of their own sexuality. Because this is what people are really scared of, they’re scared of women’s sexuality just like they always have been. If Miley takes her clothes off and grinds on a wrecking ball in front of their little girl, then someday, their little girl, or little girlfriend, or little wife, might do they same.

You know what world. They are. And some are going to like it.

But I know what you’re thinking, “How dare they like it?!” “There will be no liking of sex!” “Good girls don’t like sex.”

Scary thing about all this? Sometimes, BOYS DO IT TOO! Only nobody really cares if boys do it because they’re uncontrollable sex maniacs anyways, amiright?

And the big thing is, pop singers have been doing this for a long time, to generate controversy, get attention, and sell albums.

Welcome to showbiz, baby.

And you know what, someday, maybe Miley Cyrus will look back on all this and regret it. But maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll be a sex-icon like Madonna for the rest of her life and make millions of dollars and be perfectly happy.

Now, I applaud O’Connor for pointing out the insidious nature of much of the music business executives and the way that they are using the female stars in their contracts. However, it’s possible that Cyrus, who literally grew up in the music industry, is also a market-savvy pop princess entirely aware of the best way to keep herself current and in demand: controversy.

And since she’s embraced her rebel idol status with a rockin’ hair cut and intense tongue use, part of that is expressing an overt, in-your-face sexuality with stunning confidence.

For some reason, America (and much of the world), fears that deep V between a women’s legs and the fact that we like having access to it. For some reason, it’s incomprehensible that some women might enjoy taking off her clothes and feeling the thrill of voyeurism. Some women, just like some men, love excess and attention and the body is a powerful way to get those things

As media reviewers who pay a lot of attention to female interaction with the media, we often complain the inappropriate sexual exploitation of women, specifically when that happens with the goal of a directed male gaze. For example, these stupid superhero posters with ridiculously designed uber-feminine poses.

But female sexuality that aggressively maintains control over what it wants and how it chooses to be presented? Well, I can get behind that because it’s her choice.

We also complain when that sexuality is lacking in substance and obviously operating off of a limiting standard of female beauty. As an image think of Megax Fox straddling a motorcycle in booty shorts for no other reason than Michael Bay wanted her to.

How Megan Fox looks when her car breaks down.

But super spiky bleach blond hair whilst wearing tennis shoes and a bear-studded leotard? Sure, whatever.

Amanda Palmer, that brilliant musician and feminist extraordinaire, once got fully nude at a concert FILLED with people in a fierce reclaiming of her own body after a snarky post by the Daily Mail. Nudity and sexiness won that day. She’s also written her own letter to Cyrus and its awesome.

Lady Gaga, (Funny feminist Caitlin Moran once wrote in stellar praise of the pop singer), who I’ve seen more times without clothes than I have with, is considered an eccentric purveyor of the avant-garde and hyper-camp. And while she’s occasionally controversial, no one is writing her open letters demanding that she put some clothes back and stop gyrating.

It’s because of age. As always, Miley’s coming out into the realm of the adult, from a coveted child star’s position, means that she must always be sweet and funny and America’s girl-next-door.

But here’s the thing, she is America’s girl next door. At least some of them. She’s experimenting and projecting herself, just do it in a far more public one than your average 21-year-old. And making a lot more money.

So America, get over yourself and your Victorian, false-nostalgia ideas about what a women’s libido is really like. Cause you’re babbling and my vagina and I have better things to with our time.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Wrinkle-Washed: Female Faces in Film Marketing by Lisa Wade at Sociological Images

Calming the Controversy: “After Tiller” Directors Lana Wilson and Martha Shane Discuss the Complexities of Late-Term Abortion by Christopher Campbell at RogerEbert.com

Infographic: Why Don’t Women Directors Win Emmys? by Imran Siddiquee at Miss Representation

Where’s the Diversity? A Look at the Emmy Awards and TV by Jason Low at Lee and Low Books

‘Saturday Night Live’ Adds 6 New Cast Members Which Is Nice. But What’s Wrong w/ This Picture? by Tambay A. Obenson at Shadow and Act

Jess and Mindy–A Look at the Progression of Female Comedy Characters by Alyssa Rosenberg at Women and Hollywood

Stephen King Calls Out Stanley Kubrick for “Misogynistic” Shining Character by Jill Pantozzi at The Mary Sue

New Reality Show “Modern Dads” is Extremely Boring by Jill Moffett at Bitch Media

How to Crack the Film World’s Glass Ceiling by Kate Sheppard at Mother Jones

Forbes Announces Top Female Earners on Television by Melissa Silverstein and Karensa Cadenas at Women and Hollywood

BULL’S-EYE: Geena Davis Tells Hollywood Where To Stick Its Ageist, Sexist Representations Of Women at Upworthy, via Funny or Die

John Singleton Channels August Wilson – Pens Op-ed On White Directors Helming Black Films by Tambay A. Obenson at Shadow and Act

8 Ways to Make a Movie About a Female Superhero Happen by Charlie Jane Anders at io9

“Once Upon a Time” Rewrites Fairy Tales–But Misses A Big Opportunity by Hannah Strom at Bitch
Media

Sirens, Succubi and Slut-Shaming: Why Are Women ‘Evil’ Once They Have Sex? by Alex Henderson at feminspire

A Feminist Cook Portrayed in New Movie ‘Haute Cuisine’ by Anne Dulce at The Daily Meal

The 17 Faces Of The Future Of Feminism at Refinery29

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

‘Thérèse’ Explores Twentieth Century Marriage Convictions and the Sexual Paths Of Two Women

Thérèse film poster.

Written by Janyce Denise Glasper

The 2012 film Thérèse touches on the aftereffects of burgeoning sexuality between two women–Thérèse and her sister-in-law, Anne–and focuses on a companionship that was formed when they were young girls.

“Have you thought about it?” Anne asks.

“You mean sleeping with your brother every night?” Thérèse asks back.

“Yes? Doesn’t it scare you?”

“No, I never think about it.”

“You’re lying!”

“No, I swear. Never.”

In this particular scene, the night before the big wedding between two adjoining pinery owners, Anne speaks of sexual intercourse with the vivid curiosity of a lively young woman. Her widened bright eyes and excited mouth speak candidly about scandalous romantic stories and masturbation–the latter a taboo topic among women of twentieth century France. Thérèse sees it nothing more than another trivial duty, another part of a rich union. Cigarette smoking, free thinking Thérèse appears bored with the overall thought, expressing little emotion, little joy. In terms of love, Thérèse affectionately nicknames Anne her “little girlfriend” and the soft, intimately close soon-to-be sisters clasp hands and sleep together–a picture of a long-time bond.

It was always three’s company between Thérèse (Audrey Tautou, center) and the Desqueyroux siblings, Anne (Anaïs Demoustier, right) and Bernard (Gilles Lellouche).

After the quiet wedding, the marriage bed occurs and Thérèse does not relish the occurrence or find satisfaction. When Bernard is lying atop of her still body, he grunts loud and moves awkwardly, selfish in his lovemaking skills. He is all about himself. No affection. No lingering touches that instill ardor. Cold, stoic Thérèse floats inside of an impermeable bubble, mouth closed, blank opened black eyes voided, arms lying limply on his back. She is as rigid as society conviction. Sex is a tedious obligation, not a pleasure.

This disheartening emotional prison that Thérèse is sequestered inside isn’t the kind that’s listed on the New York Times Bestseller List by historical romance novel writers who pen independent women seeking pleasure by graciously giving lovers. Thérèse’s privileged life has become the source of grave unhappiness, of silent depression. Her marriage isn’t a quintessential novel. It’s mundane and slowly killing her, especially with Bernard caring far more for the baby growing inside than Thérèse.

Thérèse (Audrey Tautou) enjoying one of Anne’s letters.

However, Anne’s sensually fluffed letters stimulate Thérèse’s duress. Anne has fallen in love with a roguish man named Jean that incites her vivacious spirit and electrifies naïve frustrations brewing between girlhood and fantasy. Her luscious words bring fruitful splendor to Thérèse, a vicarious longing that also inadvertently fuels Thérèse’s great jealousy. In Bernard, she feels no spark, no fire. In such a strict upper crust rule where women must obey husbands and yield to their every command, Thérèse has ultimately denied wanting those kinds of desires, growing up motherless and shadowing her father’s character, bearing perfect picture of the sophisticated society wife. Anne overtly shares captivating joy of having a man titillate ripening womanhood and this wicked experience is unknown to Thérèse, who greedily reads these letters in private vein, visibly shaken by the depth of Anne’s growing fulfillment.

Thérèse takes part in Anne’s family double crossed meddling, vowing to keep Anne away from her aching desire to marry a Jew. It’s unbearable seeing Anne break and shatter, like fragmented glass breaking in these tormented scenes. She is a pitiable wreck, refusing to eat, her disposition waning to a waxen pallor of imminent heartbreak. When Bernard’s dogs viciously attack her and he does the same straight after, the scene showcases a terrifying parallel between certain men and ferocious animals. Bernard may be gentle at times, but he has a violent side as beastly as a dog’s bite and treats his sister with cruel disdain. And as it turns out, Anne’s beau is too good to be true as well. Jean turns out to be a ruthless cad, a real asshole. This surprises Thérèse. He tells Thérèse in boastful fashion that he never has had an intention of marrying Anne or acquiring the deep tender feelings foolish Anne had so generously penned:

“Anne certainly has shared her life’s passions with me. You know what I’m talking about… the life that awaits her. The life that awaits all women around here. A bleak, provincial life. Proper, conventional, and rigid.”

Should Anne’s desires have remained dormant? Untapped? Are we to bow down to Jean and thank him, though prior he also asks, “Is it forbidden to play for a bit?”

My need to punch Jean became stronger as he continued talking. It didn’t matter what books he read or how intelligent he appeared to Thérèse, who eventually secretly writes to him throughout the film. The fact remains that he intentionally took advantage of Anne’s innocence, sullied her world, and played her like a damned toy. It begins to become hard to choose a side. Do viewers side with Anne’s family who bar and treat her like an asylum patient? Yes, they have valid reasons. Yet it’s sickening how women are not allowed to have the same sexual freedom as men and that if they showcase signs of this, they are relegated to being treated like they have mental incapacity. Sexual feelings and thoughts are wrong. They must be shut out. Even today, women who showcase sexual liberation are labeled horrifically. The other presented question is do we congratulate Jean who stirred a passion that burned so brightly inside Anne? Do we say, hurray to the man who made Anne his intended victim–his target for foreplay? Either way the choices are unfair to Anne. They are for Thérèse, too. They both have to conform to tradition- ignore natural bodily desires and submit to marriage, to a man of family choosing.

Thérèse (Audrey Tautou) often is lost in thought and women in her time were not allowed to think.

The second shown sex scene between Thérèse and Bernard is a disturbing, grossly violent act, occurring some time after the birth of the couple’s daughter. It shows Bernard being further self-seeking and rough. Thérèse has swatted her hand, but he is forceful and initiates a randy monstrous shallowness. She looks perplexed by this turn of events. Now Thérèse does have a friendship with him, a certain kindhearted camaraderie. In certain scenes he is more like a brother than a husband. Yet in this one horrid night, Bernard demonstrates his power and Thérèse has no choice but to succumb to him and her growing downfall to ruin by trying to kill him.

Anne’s fate is adjacent to Thérèse’s. After being mentally and physically imprisoned by her family, Anne’s awakened passions are replaced by civil, respectable duty. Completely subdued and complacent, Anne prepares to marry a kind, dull gentleman that family prefers. The life which has scarred Thérèse will be Anne’s. She has lost whimsical magic and charm. Her eyes are no longer merry and twinkling. Her smiles have lessened. She and Thérèse have both become muted in the course of the film.

Thérèse’s final scene with Anne is a sad one as well. It is apparent that they’ll probably never cross paths again. No more holding hands and sharing secrets. The past of two carefree girls has passed. They are fragmented shells that have dealt with family rejection, male dominance, and having sexual beliefs turned eschew. One cannot help but mourn the loss of their spirited personalities.

Thérèse (Audrey Tautou) and Bernard (Gilles Lellouche) in happier times.

Bernard does give Thérèse the keys to her freedom. He aches as he sees her literally dying before his eyes. Thérèse has lost so much, including rights to see her own child, but by the end, she gains something unexpected.

She has liberty.

Unfortunately, not many women can say the same.

A (Bad) Teacher

Written by Max Thornton.

Movie poster for A Teacher

People sure like to make movies about teacher-student relationships. It’s always incredibly skeevy, of course, to watch someone in a position of authority abuse their power, but cinematic representations are rarely as nakedly awful as the reality.

A Teacher consciously downplays the really appalling aspects of intergenerational classroom romance without ever intimating that it’s anything other than a very bad idea. As suggested by the title, the film focuses entirely on young English teacher Diana Watts (played by Lindsay Burdge), for whom the relationship is at least as destructive as it is for Eric, the pupil (who is, if it makes a difference, a high-school senior and significantly bigger physically than she is).

The total focus on Diana is signaled from the opening classroom scene, where the camera stays fixed on her, regardless of who is speaking. This directorial choice recurs throughout the film, and it serves to highlight her naïve solipsism. It’s tricky to maintain audience empathy for a viewpoint character while also drawing attention to her self-centered immaturity, so props to director Hannah Fidell for finding a deft way to put us inside Diana’s head (hearing other characters’ dialogue from her perspective) while still maintaining an outsider’s gaze (looking at her face).

Lindsay Burdge as Diana.

Overall, both style and acting contribute to an odd sense that Diana is not the one doing the victimizing in this circumstance. Factor out her job, and this movie would just be the story of dumb puppy love, a young woman so hopelessly smitten with the very idea of romance that she’s heedless of the realities of the situation. But, of course, her job is the point – the movie’s called A Teacher – and the experience, knowledge, and wisdom implied by that position are dramatically at odds with her incredibly adolescent attitude toward the whole relationship.

Early in the film, while hooking up with Eric in his car, Diana reminisces about similar trysts from her own high-school days. It’s a tellingly sad and uncomfortable little moment that kicks off a spiral of nonstop sadness and discomfort: Watching a grown-ass woman sext and Facebook-stalk a teenage boy is both tragic and kind of disturbing. There’s something Carey Mulligan-esque about Burdge’s face when she’s in bed with Eric, evoking (as does the title) another film in which the questionable sexual relationship is the other way around, age- and power-wise.

Perhaps the echo is deliberate. Diana never seems to have any power in this relationship, never acts like the teacher or the one giving the education. Even in the bedroom, Eric calls the shots (“Take your clothes off.” “Come here.”), and, while driving his car, he describes feeling as though his penis is getting bigger, coming into its own, “powering up.” For him, sex with an attractive young teacher is a power fantasy come true. The lovelorn look of the infatuated is notably absent from his face throughout the film, even as Diana is distracted from grading papers by soft-focus fantasies of him.

Oh girl.

Diana doesn’t have to be alone in these delusions of romance. The hand of friendship is consistently extended by her coworker and her roommate – both of whom are women, the latter of whom is even named Sophia– but she ignores this potential salvation in order to continue down the self-destructive path of reliving her high-school sexuality and daydreaming of underage man-meat.

That’s not really an unfair assessment of Eric, who is little more than a cipher. He’s just there to be strong and silent and sexy, a backdrop for Diana’s nostalgic projections, whose actual personality she never seems to take into account. Almost everything he says to her is to do with sex. By contrast, Sophia tells Diana she cares about her. In a heartbreaking pre-Thanksgiving scene, Sophia monologues anxiously about the upcoming holiday with her family, and Diana completely ignores her in order to text topless selfies to her teenage boyfriend.

Ultimately, the film’s lesson is of the value of companionship and empathy, and the danger of total self-absorption. Someone who only chases empty nostalgia for her former self (check her name, Diana, and in case you didn’t get it her brother’s called Hunter), and never bothers with the richness of female friendship that is right there in her life, is not going to end happily. A shallow focus on finding hunkitude in all the wrong places, instead of paying attention to your friends, is not the pathway to a fulfilling life.

Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. He can never format this bio line correctly.

‘How to Lose Your Virginity’ or: How We Need to Rethink Sex

How to Lose Your Virginity promo.

Written by Leigh Kolb

If you talk to a feminist for a significant amount of time, you’re going to hear about virginity–specifically the value placed on women’s virginity in our culture and the persistent virgin/whore dichotomy that places women in an impossible sexual bind (and not the good kind).

The 2013 documentary How to Lose Your Virginity follows filmmaker Therese Shechter’s reflections on her own “loss” of her virginity in her early 20s. Her first-person narrative gives way to interviews with experts and sexual novices interspersed with historical tidbits and definitions.

Shechter features excellent interviews with feminist heavy hitters–Joycelyn Elders, Scarleteen founder Heather Corinna, Shelby Knox, Jessica Valenti, Hanne Blank, Sady Doyle of Tiger Beatdown, and love and relationship coach Abiola Abrams, among others. Shechter speaks to numerous young people about their perceptions of virginity and sex–including those who claimed/reclaimed virginity or actively shunned it. She talks to the president of Harvard’s chastity club and she goes on location with the co-founder of the “Barely Legal” porn series, Erica McLean.

How to Lose Your Virginity poignantly points out that in our culture, if you are a woman and have sex, you’re doomed, and if you don’t have sex, there’s something wrong with you.

Shechter covers all of her bases, and leaves no sexual stone unturned.

I pressed play to watch How to Lose Your Virginity thinking that I didn’t have that much to learn. I think/write/teach about these issues a lot. However, I was captivated throughout the entire film. Shechter tackles what we know–virginity mythology, hymen obsessions, queer definitions of virginity, purity balls and the virgin-whore dichotomy–and takes it all a step further, researching and delving into others’ stories and history.

A crew member of Barely Legal shows the white panties that the virginal “first-timers” wear during shoots. The female owner and director points out that her films are about the “first memorable time that you [as a young woman] liked the person.”

My favorite part of this film is that it is upbeat from start to finish. There’s no anger, there’s no judgment. I don’t want to riff on the “angry feminist” stereotype, but I know I tend to get pretty worked up and, well, angry when I talk about our culture’s toxic obsession with female sexuality and expectations of virginity. Shechter’s ability to teach, dismantle, expose and explore is remarkable. The audience is left with newfound knowledge with which they can criticize myths of virginity in our culture. However, the audience is also left with respect for everyone’s stories–those who are remaining virgins (no matter their personal definition), those who don’t and those who have no idea what it all even means. When a documentary can do that, it succeeds in a big way.

The phrase “purity balls” will never not make me giggle.

Throughout How to Lose Your Virginity, Shechter establishes common ground and values every individual’s experience, criticizing only the cultural myths that make us feel fear and shame about our sexuality. Even when she tackles pornography and purity balls, she does so with respect and cultural criticism, not disdain.

She wishes that it wasn’t called “losing your virginity,” but instead making your sexual “debut,” and that sexual experiences are a series of first times that create our sexual history. In her peppy, happy narration, she asks us to not think about losing virginity, but instead losing the mythology about virginity that’s controlling how we think about sex.

Now that is something worth losing.

Shechter, who got engaged during filming, tries on wedding dresses and comments on the fantasy and recent history of a white-clad virginal bride. She jokes and laughs with the store attendants, but shows us that the fantasy has gone on long enough.

How to Lose Your Virginity is a selection from Women Make Movies, an organization that “facilitates the production, promotion, distribution and exhibition of independent films and videotapes by and about women.”

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