Films By Women – Bitch Flicks

Women-Directed and Women-Centric Feature Films at 2018 Boston Underground Film Festival (BUFF)

Now in its twentieth year, BUFF is “committed to the celebration of alternative vision and cultivation of independent, provocative and experimental filmmaking.” … BUFF will run from March 21st-March 25th. Here are the women-directed and women-centric narrative and documentary films featured at the festival.

Now in its twentieth year, the Boston Underground Film Festival (BUFF) is “committed to the celebration of alternative vision and cultivation of independent, provocative and experimental filmmaking.” Transpiring in Harvard Square with screenings held at the Brattle Theatre and the Harvard Film Archive, “devotees will spend five days in synaptic snap-crackle-and-pop ecstasy, worshiping at the altar of fantastically strange and unusual moving pictures from around the world…”

BUFF is dedicated to diversity with an impressive array of women-directed and women-led feature films, as well as short films. Directors Issa López (Tigers Are Not Afraid) and Jenn Wexler (The Ranger) will be in attendance at the screenings of their films.

BUFF will run from March 21st-March 25th. Below are the women-directed and women-centric narrative and documentary films featured at the festival.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 21st | 7:00 PM

My Name Is Myeisha
2018 | USA | 85 minutes
Director: Gus Krieger
Screenwriter: Rickerby Hinds & Gus Krieger
Cast: Rhaechyl Walker, John Merchant, Dominique Toney, Dee Dee Stephens, Yvette Cason, Gregg Daniel
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“On the evening of December 28th, 1998, Myeisha Jackson’s night ends with her asleep in her car, her cousins outside, and police on the way. In the fleeting moments before the unthinkable occurs, she awakes with a start inside her inner dreamscape and contemplates her life–what it was and what it was going to be. A metaphysical trip into Myeisha’s mind reveals a life brimming with promise on the cusp of adulthood–her secrets, goals, flaws, strengths, loves, and talents–and is fueled and expressed by her love of hip hop, dance, and spoken word as she comes to terms with what’s happened to her.”

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 21st | 9:30 PM

Liquid Sky
1982 | USA | 112 minutes
Director: Slava Tsukerman
Screenwriter: Slava Tsukerman, Anne Carlisle, and Nina V. Kerova
Cast: Anne Carlisle, Paula E. Sheppard, Susan Doukas
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“Heroin-seeking invisible aliens land on top of a NYC apartment inhabited by a drug dealer and her androgynous, bisexual, nymphomaniac, fashion model lover: Margaret (played by co-writer Anne Carlisle). The aliens quickly get hip to a better drug–orgasmic pheromones–and start vaporizing her casual sex partners. Things get weirder as Margaret’s arch nemesis Jimmy (also played by Carlisle), a lonely, horny neighbor across the street, and a German scientist get involved in the proceedings.”

THURSDAY, MARCH 22nd | 7:45 PM

Pin Cushion
2017 | UK | 82 minutes
Director: Deborah Haywood
Screenwriter: Deborah Haywood
Cast: Lily Newmark, Joanna Scanlan, Loris Scarpa
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“New to town, the inseparable dafty duo Lyn and her daughter Iona are excited to have a fresh start. Determined to establish herself successfully after a rocky start, Iona drifts away from her bestie/mum and becomes BFFs with the school’s equivalent of the “Heathers.” Forlorn, Lyn attempts to make friends of her own, but after a lifetime of being othered, she still struggles with the same vicious trials and tribulations of being different that her daughter now faces.”

THURSDAY, MARCH 22nd | 9:45 PM

The Theta Girl
2017 | USA | 98 minutes
Director: Christopher Bickel
Screenwriter: David Axe
Cast: Victoria Elizabeth Donofrio, Shane Silman, Darelle D. Dove
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“Gayce, a take-no-shit young woman, deals a hallucinogenic drug called “theta,” facilitating an audience for her friends’ all-girl rock band. When Gayce’s friends are brutally murdered, she must solve the mystery behind the murders and protect herself from the killer. She discovers the connections between theta and the murders – and learns a terrifying truth. That the world — indeed her whole reality — is not as it seems.”

FRIDAY, MARCH 23rd | 7:15 PM

The Queen of Hollywood Boulevard
2018 | USA | 92 minutes
Director: Orson Oblowitz
Screenwriter: Orson Oblowitz
Cast: Rosemary Hochschild, Michael Parks, Ana Mulvoy Ten, Roger Guenveur Smith
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“On her 60th birthday, the proud owner of a Los Angeles strip club finds herself in hot water over a twenty-five year old debt to the mob, leading her on a downward spiral of violence and revenge through the underbelly of Los Angeles.”

FRIDAY, MARCH 23rd | 9:45 PM

Let the Corpses Tan
2017 | Belgium/France | 92 minutes
Director: Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani
Screenwriter: Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani
Cast: Elina Lowensohn, Stephane Ferrara, Bernie Bonvoison, Marc Barbe
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“After stealing a cache of gold, Rhino and his gang discover a near-abandoned Mediterranean hamlet hideout, occupied by an inspiration-seeking woman. Their bucolic surroundings become a horrific battlefield when uninvited guests arrive on the scene to foil everyone’s plans.”

SATURDAY, MARCH 24th | 2:15 PM

Spoor
2017 | Poland | 128 minutes
Director: Agnieszka Holland
Screenwriter: Olga Tokarczuk and Agnieszka Holland
Cast: Agnieszka Mandat-Grabka, Wiktor Zborowski, Jakub Gierszal, Patrycja Volny
Harvard Film Archive

WATCH TRAILER

“Janina Duszejko, an elderly woman, lives alone in the Klodzko Valley where a series of mysterious crimes are committed. Duszejko is convinced that she knows who or what the murderer is, but nobody believes her.”

MARCH 24th | 7:00 PM

The Ranger
2018 | USA | 80 minutes
Director: Jenn Wexler
Screenwriter: Jenn Wexler and Giaco Furino
Cast: Chloe Levine, Jeremy Holm, Granit Lahu, Larry Fessenden, Amanda Grace Benitez
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“When Chelsea and her friends get in trouble with the cops, they flee the city and go on the run. Fueled by a hallucinogenic drug called Echo, they hope to lay low—and get high—in an old family hideout in the woods. But Chelsea’s got reservations about going back to nature and secrets she’s not sharing with her friends. When a shot rings out, her past comes crashing back, and the punks find themselves pitted against the local authority— an unhinged park ranger with an axe to grind.”

MARCH 24th | 9:30 PM

Revenge
2017 | France | 108 minutes
Director: Coralie Fargeat
Screenwriter: Coralie Fargeat
Cast: Matilda Anna Ingrid Lutz, Kevin Janssens, Vincent Colombe
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“What starts as a weekend getaway between a married man and his mistress quickly devolves into a deadly game of cat and mouse when his hunting buddies arrive. Director Fargeat revamps and recalibrates the rape-revenge trope from a female perspective, creating a violent, visceral monomyth about the rebirth and survival of a woman wronged seeking to even the score.”

SUNDAY, MARCH 25th | 12:00 PM

Something Wicked This Way Comes
Director: Jessica Barnthouse and Stacy Buchanan
Cast: Kip Weeks, Skip Shea, Izzy Lee
Brattle Theatre

“Something Wicked This Way Comes is a full-feature exploration into the popular horror culture of New England. Through discussions with genre luminaries, horror fans, and natives, the film discovers popular conventions within the genre and identifies how they’re driven by the history, eerie settings, and social issues of the area. And through the stories of actors and local filmmakers, it aims to discover if the area’s passion is strong enough to help grow an independent film industry.”

MARCH 25th | 6:15 PM

Tigers Are Not Afraid
2017 | Mexico | 86 minutes
Director: Issa López
Screenwriter: Issa López
Cast: Paola Lara, Hanssel Casillas, Rodrigo Cortes
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“A dark fairy tale about a gang of five children trying to survive the horrific violence of the cartels and the ghosts created every day by the drug war.”

MARCH 25th | 8:45 PM

Good Manners
2017 | Brazil/France | 135 minutes
Director: Juliana Rojas & Marco Dutra
Screenwriter: Juliana Rojas & Marco Dutra
Cast: Isabél Zuaa, Marjorie Estiano, Miguel Lobo
Brattle Theatre

WATCH TRAILER

“Clara, a lonely nurse from the outskirts of São Paulo, is hired by mysterious and wealthy Ana as the nanny for her unborn child. The two women develop a strong bond, but a fateful night changes their plans.”

To purchase tickets and for more information, please visit Boston Underground Film Festival’s website. All film and festival descriptions are courtesy of Boston Underground Film Festival.

Top 10 ‘Bitch Flicks’ Articles Written in 2017

Here are our top 10 most popular articles written in 2017.

10) Queen of Katwe Is a Gorgeous Inspiring Look at a Young Black Life Fully Realized by Candice Frederick

“Yes, it’s wholesome and finishes on a heartwarming high like many other cherished Disney stories. But at its core lies a story of redemption, cultural pride, feminism, and economics — elements of a young life contending with extraordinary challenges. […]

“Queen of Katwe is a mesmerizing story of a life fully realized, a life that’s often overlooked and not given a chance. Its young cast, led by Nalwanga’s nuanced performance, help illuminate layers of humanity resting deep in the ‘slums’ of Uganda, exhibiting talent well beyond their years. Meanwhile, Oyelowo and Nyong’o’s performances temper the film with heart-wrenching emotion. And Mira Nair’s touching portrait of Katwe’s inspiring young queen with a dream is one to remember.”

9) Céline Sciamma’s Films (Girlhood, Tomboy, and Water Lilies) Capture the Complexities of Adolescence by Charline Jao

“French director and screenwriter Céline Sciamma of Water Lilies, Tomboy, and Girlhood has gained critical acclaim for her portrayals of adolescence and coming-of-age, particularly on themes of gender and sexuality. Sciamma’s movies are intimate character studies, punctuated with dancing, tiny details embedded in body language, and a serious respect for younger viewers. For all the cringe-worthy or mediocre child acting that permeates film, Sciamma has a remarkable ability to draw out nuanced and organic performances in her works, oftentimes from non-actors.

“[…] The adolescent or teenager sits on the threshold of adulthood by sitting between child and adult, figuring out their rites of passage and space within society. This undefined, yet crucial space is an uncomfortable one and Sciamma’s films excel because they embrace the chaotic ambiguity of youthful liminality.”

8) Hush: A Resourceful Heroine with Disabilities for the Horror Genre by Cassandra A. Clarke

“What’s brilliant about Hush, written by Mike Flanagan and Kate Siegel (who stars as the lead), is it pushes the envelope of the survivor’s tale further through its main character, Madison ‘Maddie’ Young: a woman who is deaf, mute, and lives alone in a rural area. In addition to featuring a female protagonist with disabilities, Hush crafts a home-invasion story that isn’t about her ‘problems’ or obstacles or the attacker at all, but rather it focuses on the tactful solutions she chooses along the way.

“…Its depiction of Maddie as a full, engaging character who fends for herself and thrives alone is an asset to adding more characters with disabilities in films, especially horror, as not victims but stars.”

7) Gilmore Girls: Rory Gilmore Is an Entitled Millennial by Scarlett Harris

“That’s because she’s never had to hustle; everything has been handed to her. She only watched her mother struggle to raise her on her own, and even then it’s established that Lorelai went to great pains not to expose Rory to her struggles. […]

“To be fair, Rory is largely a product of her upbringing. Until the events of Gilmore Girls as we know it — Lorelai’s reconciliation with her rich parents so Rory can go to an expensive private school and then Yale — Rory was raised by an independent, struggling, small-town single mom. Whatever life lessons she learned there were swiftly erased by the ensuing plot developments: her rich grandparents and then her rich father paying for her education and European holidays, her rent-free accommodations, and breaks in school and work to ‘find herself’ similarly bankrolled by Richard (Edward Herrmann), Emily (Kelly Bishop), and Logan (Matt Czuchry). […]

“Despite her flaws, I relate to Rory because she displays all my — and my generation’s — worst characteristics.”

6) The Love That’s Really Real: American Psycho as Romantic Comedy by Caroline Madden

“A 2006 YouTube video created a parody trailer envisioning American Psycho (2000) as romantic comedy. While the stark juxtapositions between the classic boy-meets-girl formula and a horrifying portrait of a serial murder are amusing, the sentiments between them are not so far-fetched. Although primarily a horror film, American Psycho has a satiric backbone that appropriates codes from the romantic comedy genre to expose the absurdities of our gender ideals. Director and co-writer Mary Harron’s lens skewers the qualities we find appealing in romantic comedies as terrifying.

“Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale) is a concoction of the romantic comedy and drama archetype of ‘the bad boy.'”

5) The Revenant Should Be Left in the River to Drown by Celey Schumer

“Don’t believe the hype. You have been conned. The Revenant is a terrible film. […]

“This white-man-against-all-odds tale of revenge has been told so many times, even Michael Bay is probably like, “Eh, can’t we find something more original?” […]

“The second galling part of the film is its abhorrent treatment of Native peoples. It is at best mediocre, at worst condescending, and at all times unremarkable lazy recycled fodder. Almost every time Hugh has an interaction with a Native American person, they meet with disaster. Honestly, Chief Elk Dog (Duane Howard) and his men are the only ones operating with their own agency and justice in their quest to rescue his kidnapped daughter, Powaqa (Melaw Nakehk’o). But we hardly see them and are left to infer all of this information, until of course Hugh the White Man comes to Powaqa’s rescue. […]

“Can we see this whole movie from the Arikara tribe’s perspective? From Powaqa’s perspective? That would be an actual game changer.”

4) The Eyes of My Mother Is a Gorgeous Coming-of-Age Horror You’re Not Likely to Forget by Candice Frederick

“Oh, how I love this age we’re living in in which women characters on the big and small screens are allowed to be inappropriate, messy, b**chy, and sexual. It just further illuminates the myriad complexities women embody, painting a more thorough profile of inclusive feminism. But even while Hollywood has been consistently pushing these boundaries in more recent years, few films have explored morbid sensuality through the gaze of a woman better than writer/director Nicolas Pesce’s The Eyes of My Mother. […]

“…Pesce explores the nature of human instinct and arrested development in a way that is uncomfortable to watch yet immersive just the same.”

3) 20 Years of The Craft: Why We Needed More of Rochelle by Ashlee Blackwell

“I was flustered and empathetic to a character that was virtually invisible to an entire school population outside of her small coven of comrades, unless to be the unchecked target of racist scorn. This made her experience even that more isolating in contrast to her white female counterparts who, if they did get that brief seat at the table, were promptly dismissed for their class, burn scars, and not performing for the teenage ‘good ‘ol boys’ club. The most glaring difference; Rochelle was never going to get that seat. […]

“The movie for many sparked the thirst to explore the deep intersections of the weirdo. Rochelle was the social outcast with the other handful of social outcasts of St. Bernard Academy, sure. But how do we cinematize the Black girl outcast teenager that many of us felt like? That just so happens to be a practicing witch?

“Much of what can be read of Rochelle relies heavily on those of us whom she meant so much to. What kinds of conversations did young Black girls have back in 1996 and are having now about the importance of her presence in a film that at least, didn’t blend her in colorblind rhetoric? How did many of us find camaraderie, empathy, and imagination in Rochelle’s broader, unseen story?”

2) Caitlin Snow: It’s Time to Give The Flash’s Overlooked Heroine Her Due by Lacy Baugher

“Plus, the decision to continually depict Caitlin as afraid of herself and her abilities is unsettling. Women are almost always taught to fear their own power, instead of embracing it or attempting to understand it. It’s sad to see that pattern repeating on a show that has so few leading women in the first place.

“Caitlin’s journey – whether she ultimately keeps her powers or not – should be about figuring where she fits within Team Flash, within her family, and within her own idea of herself. We have seen Caitlin unnerved by the darkness inside her. She has issues with her mother and even occasionally with members of her own team. She’s certainly lost enough to want to burn the world down twice over. But she’s never really gotten the chance to deal with any of those issues on-screen in a significant way. This Killer Frost arc offers a perfect opportunity for her to finally do so. Caitlin’s journey shouldn’t be about whether she might turn into a monster, it should be about her becoming whole.”

1) Too Feminine, Too Pretty, and the Gendered Bias in the Critique of Sofia Coppola’s Films by Claire White

“However, while being one of the most discussed women directors, it is hard to think of a female director who is under as much scrutiny as Sofia Coppola. This is especially true when it comes to her signature pretty and feminine filmic style.

“When it comes to the critique of Sofia Coppola, her filmic style is too often described along the lines of being too pretty, too feminine, or as style over substance. …Male directors, however, who exhibit the same attention to style and aesthetics, are not held to this same ideal. As explored in Rosalind Galt’s book Pretty: Film and the Decorative Image, prettiness in film is not exclusively female or feminine, and is thus unfair to use as a critique against women directors’ films. […]

“There is a double standard in the way prettiness is regarded in cinema. ‘Pretty’ is for female directors, but for male directors, prettiness isn’t ever uttered, and reverence is received in its place.”

Suturing Selfhood: ‘American Mary’ and the Unconventional Feminine Repossession of Self

This violence through language establishes a paradigm that persists throughout the film in which female expression, female control over their anatomy/body and others’ is aggressively and oppressively impugned upon and violated by male domination. Mary’s passion and talent — and thus selfhood — exists imperiled and impeached by the overtures of men.

Written by Eva Phillips, this article is part of our theme week on Women in Horror.

[Trigger warning: discussion of rape]

Suturing, as an act, sanguinely carves its way throughout Jen and Sylvia Soska’s 2012 body-modification-centric horror film American Mary. Before we ever see a face or hear a word of dialogue, we watch sinewy, achromatic flesh being sliced open, spread apart, and methodically stitched with black thread by blacked gloved fingers. We watch this, stunned by the juxtaposition between the very focused, dotingly nimble work of the gloved fingers and the grotesquely wrinkled and malleable flesh. We watch this also jarred by the ethereally doleful rendition of “Ave Maria” — importantly and perspicaciously, a hymn that beseeches a female savior to ward off earthly demons and evils — that sonically sutures into the slicing and massaging of the flesh. Before we ever see a face or hear a word, we are informed that this suturing is an act of salvation, not something to be reduced to a simple barbarism. As it is portrayed in the first few moments of the film, suturing is a complex extension of the two selves involved in the act.

These first scenes of suturing — which, as we are shown in an almost whimsical reveal, involve dead turkey flesh rather than human flesh — introduce us to the proclivities of the film’s protagonist, Mary (an unequivocally cool as hell Katharine Isabelle), a profoundly bright and profoundly broke medical student in her final stages of schooling before becoming a surgeon. Before understanding Mary as an individual, we are introduced to the presences in Mary’s life which vex and threaten her in strikingly insidious ways. Specifically, her sniveling, vitriolically brooding professor, Dr. Grant (David Lovgren), is presented moments after we watch Mary carefully and gleefully “operate” on her turkey patient as a direct contrast to the joy she derives from her chosen field. During a slideshow presentation in class, in which Mary’s phone is bombarded with messages and calls from debt collectors for defaulting on her loans, Dr. Grant lashes out at Mary in the middle of class, barking that having her phone out is “fucking rude” and later admonishing her to “stop fucking up.” This violence through language establishes a paradigm that persists throughout the film in which female expression, female control over their anatomy/body and others’ is aggressively and oppressively impugned upon and violated by male domination. Mary’s passion and talent — and thus selfhood — exists imperiled and impeached by the overtures of men.

To juxtapose this, the Soska Sisters brilliantly introduce, through their own masterful process of directorial and narrative suturing, the world of underground body modification and Mary’s unexpectedly intimate and empowering relationship with it. Body modification, which has longstanding cultural values and implications, has emerged as a prominent subculture in which individuals seek to perfect and alter their form to their vision using techniques such as implants, scarification, surgical reconfiguration of particular body parts, and more. The culture is known for a wide array of widely sought after artists — like this guy — and informs many films and television shows, particularly those examining transcendentalism in scientific-modification communities — think Orphan Black — and the multidimensionality of the culture has permeated the filmic consciousness in significant ways.

In American Mary, Mary is thrust into the belly of the beast rather unceremoniously and under non-consensual pretexts: in her interview at a beyond-grimy strip club to secure a job to make more fast cash, Mary is implored by her potential future employer to stitch together an identity-less man who has been brutalized and ripped stem-to-stern by the club’s bouncer. Mary sutures the man’s wound in exchange for five thousand dollars cash, violently vomiting afterword, and in turn imbricates herself into a world which will challenge her to re-conceptualize her notions of autonomy and self-governed craft.

What is significant about Mary’s consequential immersion into the world of body modification is that it is engaged by (very) willing, consenting participants who are firstly and predominantly women. As pertinacious as they are distinct in their appearance, the women who help to “launch” Mary’s body-mod specific surgical career — Beatress (Tristan Risk) and Ruby Realgirl (Paula Lindberg), who seek to surgically modify their appearances to resemble Betty Boop and a human doll — value body mod and surgical transformation as a distinct form of sovereign self-possession that reclaims bodies otherwise controlled or possessed by external forces. Grandiosely, Ruby summarizes the allure and the empowerment of body mod, stating “I don’t think it’s really fair that God gets to choose what we look like on the outside, do you?”

This sort of direct control over one’s physical features, particularly when enacted by women/for women, this craven need for specific suturing that allows Mary to not only hone her craft, but define herself through her knack for flawlessly changing skin and bodies. She articulates her selfhood with each stitch while simultaneously allowing those she operates on to attain their purest selves. It is certainly no coincidence that during Mary’s operation on Ruby, the rendition of “Ave Maria” we hear in the opening scene is woven in to the scene just as effortlessly as Mary’s surgical tools carve and reshape Ruby’s flesh. Both women are symbiotically asserting selfhood through an act often thought to barbarously or carnally be “just for men.”

Themes of feminine self-expression and self-possession take on another dimension in turns of representation when the disturbing element of bodily violation (through rape) is jarringly introduced into the film’s narrative. Mary, who has purchased a new car and clothes with the exorbitant gobs of under-the-operating-room-table money she makes through body mod, attends a party hosted by the repulsively skeevy Dr. Grant, where she is a lone female presence surrounded by lecherous men in her desired field. Already coded as a predator, we are not shocked but nevertheless paralyzingly appalled as Dr. Grant drugs and rapes Mary, all while filming the violent transgression. It would almost seem this act, and the Soska’s directorial choice to unflinchingly present the violation in its entirety (often from Mary’s “perspective”) betrays the trenchant themes of female self-possession and autonomous expression established in the film, and falls into the triggering and tiresome trend of rape and sexual assault in other films. However, keeping with the Soska’s own sentiments conveyed in their 2014 interview with Bitch Flicks, the inclusion of the graphic assault scene is reflective of the prevalence of violence against women — sexual, physical, emotional, and so on — that is often ignored, disputed, or monetized. The violence that is acted upon Mary is not a plot device nor a gratuitous exploitation of the female body — and the ensuing violence she enacts as either retribution or psychological processing is not portrayed as erotic or glamorous. Rather, it is seen as coping — tasteless, merciless, and often directionless coping to contend with an act that defied explanation. What is critical, though, is that Mary never loses nor surrenders her mastery over suturing and the identity she consecrates through that (though, she does relinquish from the male-dominated “legitimate” surgeons’ realm). Even down to her final moments, she is in control of her craft and identity.

I found myself oddly calling upon a seemingly unrelated text during my viewings of American Mary. With each scene, moments from English novelist Frances Burney’s agonizing epistolary non-fiction piece, “Letter to Esther Burney,” began to suture themselves, as it were, to the action of the film. Burney’s groundbreaking and painfully vivid description of her diagnosis with cancer, the complete deprivation of her voice and autonomy over her own body at the hands of countless male physicians both before and during the mastectomy, and gruesome accounts of the gore and pain of the surgery, are eerily connected to the work done in American Mary.

While both the film and text depict outlandish trauma acted on bodies — whether it be Mary’s rape or Burney’s invasive cancer and equally invasive and debasing procedure to remove it — both reinstate women’s voices and female autonomies in unconventional means. Burney is able to champion her suffering by authorially disseminating her trauma in text, and thus re-transcribes herself into the surgical act which initially strips her of her selfhood. Mary, an author in her own right through her magisterial surgical prowess that defies the parameters of her patriarchal field, literally carves out her own voice and her own sense of control (for better and for worse) through modifying the bodies of others (which in turn allows those individuals to inhabit empowered identities) and altering the man who violated her. Both women confront their trauma, the desecration their bodies endure, by refusing to relinquish the crafts which define them and allow them to reclaim their bodies.

The ethics in American Mary are often dubious at best, but as in Burney’s letter the empowerment of the text — as is often the case with what little room women are allowed to articulate themselves in — lies in ferocious audacity sutured in each line or each layer of flesh.

See also at Bitch Flicks:

American Mary: In Praise of the Amoral Final Girl

Talking with Horror’s Twisted Twins: An Interview with the Soska Sisters

Eva Phillips is a relatively recent import to Pittsburgh, PA. She relocated from the crust of Virginia after receiving her BA in English at the University of Virginia to complete her Masters at Carnegie Mellon University. Her interests include: representations of femininity and violence in film, refusing to quell her excitement over The Fast and the Furious franchise; having every cat; queer representations in horror and melodrama (both film and television); queer sexuality and religion; and finally getting to meet Sia and maybe wear her wig. In addition to Bitch Flicks, she writes for the good folks at Indie Film Minute, and has appeared in Another Gaze Journal. Her various disintegrations can be viewed at https://www.instagram.com/menzingers2/.

‘The Lure’ Fills the Mermaid Shaped Hole in My Heart

Closer to sirens than friendly flounders these creatures lure men to their deaths and feast on their flesh. … Deadly mermaids, Eastern European pop music, and crushing dreams may not initially seem like a wonderful combination, but The Lure mixes these elements together beautifully.

This guest post written by Deirdre Crimmins originally appeared at Film Thrills and appears here as part of our theme week on Women in Horror. It is cross-posted with permission.

This will be no surprise to readers who know my taste in film, but I like it weird. I like violence intersecting art. I like burlesque mashing-up with David Bowie. And now, thanks to the opening film of the Boston Underground Film Festival, I now know that I like fantastical creatures breaking out into song. Mermaids and musicals: Where have you been all of my life?

Directed by Agnieszka Smoczynska, The Lure is a film that can be easily summarized, but not easily understood because it is far greater than the sum of its parts. The Polish film is a mermaid tale (or tail — get it?) wherein two mermaid sisters wander onto land to become nightclub singers. Silver (Marta Mazurek) and Golden (Michalina Olszanska) are minding their own business in the ocean when they happen upon a trio of drunken swimmers, and rather than eating them right away, they agree to follow them to their discothèque.

The Lure builds comfortably upon the classic and violent roots of fairy tales. Like Disney, mermaids are great singers and impossibly beautiful, but unlike Disney traditional mer-people are deadly creatures. Closer to sirens than friendly flounders these creatures lure men to their deaths and feast on their flesh. When on land Golden and Silver are beautiful and playful young women, resembling eunuchs with great breasts. But splash a little water on them and their tails and vaginas emerge. The eel-like tails are not particularly sexy, but that does not stop them from being the object of desire from nearly every man they see.

While on land Silver falls in love, which causes a rift between her and Golden. Golden then turns to rebel against her fading relationship with her sister and seeks the company of another fantastical creature she happens upon one night. The story, and Silver’s blind love of a total loser, is heart breaking, but is overshadowed by the musical numbers in the film.

The musical trio who adopt the mermaid siblings are the featured act at their local dance club. Though there are women dancing, and stripping, during many of their numbers, often the music is enough to keep the crowds happy and drinking. Adding the mermaids and their siren’s songs to the act makes for mesmerizing interruptions to the film in high-concept musical numbers. We see them first singing back-up, before moving forward on stage and dominating the club. During one frenzied punk number the entire audience is gripped by their music and thrown into a manic state of debauchery. Strobing lights, pumping music, and outlandish costumes teeter this scene on the edge of celebratory and frightening chaos, and signal the shifting tide in the film from cute fairy tale to a much darker timeline.

Deadly mermaids, Eastern European pop music, and crushing dreams may not initially seem like a wonderful combination, but The Lure mixes these elements together beautifully. The film is outstandingly odd, and for that I love it.

Deirdre Crimmins is a Cleveland-based film critic who lives with two black cats, and her eternal optimism that the next film she watches might be her new favorite. She wrote her Master’s thesis on George Romero and still loves a good musical.

‘Rosemary’s Baby,’ ‘Prevenge,’ and the Evils of the Trump Administration

Alice Lowe’s ‘Prevenge’ is in some ways a modernized version of ‘Rosemary’s Baby.’ … Throughout the course of history, and especially in Trump’s America, baby always comes first. Our government cares more about fetuses than it does about living, breathing women. This chills me to the core more than a scary movie ever could.

This guest post written by Lindsay Pugh appears as part of our theme week on Women in Horror. | Spoilers ahead.

[Trigger warning: discussion of rape and sexual assault]

Whether completely alone or with a partner standing by, pregnancy is one of the most terrifying and bizarre events to happen in real life. Of course, women are expected to handle it with aplomb and joy. “Oh, you mean my entire body is going to change and then if all goes well, another human being is going to rip through my vagina, hopefully only causing minimal tearing? Fantastic! Sign me up!”

As a woman in 2017, there’s plenty to be afraid of: increased attacks on abortion, unrelenting attempts to defund Planned Parenthood, rape culture and the normalization of sexual assault (“Grab ‘em by the pussy.”), etc. The litany of bullshit is horrific and interminable. How can anyone make a horror film that will scare women when real life has turned into a waking nightmare? Easy. Throw pregnancy into the mix; take all those standard fears and concerns and amplify them. Two films that do a great job portraying these atrocities are Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (1968) and Alice Lowe’s Prevenge (2016).

I hate to give Polanski, creepy Keebler Elf and sexual predator extraordinaire, credit, but Rosemary’s Baby is one of my all-time favorite horror films and feminist as fuck. It makes me feel a little better to know that his screenplay is nearly identical to Ira Levin’s novel, so it’s not like Polanski is responsible for any of the genius plotting or characterizations.

In order to truly grasp the brilliance of Rosemary’s Baby, let’s quickly review the atrocities Rosemary (Mia Farrow) has to endure, from the sex before conception to her post-birth satanic cult discovery. First, it’s important to note that Rosemary’s pregnancy is the product of rape. Even though she’s been drugged c/o Minnie’s (Ruth Gordon) chocolate mousse, Rosemary is cognizant enough to realize, “This is no dream! This is really happening.” (Although even if she wasn’t cognizant, the fact is she was unable to consent.) The morning after her rape, Guy (John Cassavetes) tries to gaslight Rosemary by apologizing for the scratches on her body and telling her they only had sex when she was blacked out because he didn’t want to miss “baby night.” Rosemary is tense and suspicious for days, but those feelings are eventually eclipsed when a phone call from her doctor confirms her pregnancy. Instead of focusing on the traumatic conception, Rosemary diverts her attention to scheduling doctor’s appointments and spreading the joyous news.

Unfortunately, Rosemary’s happiness wanes when her body begins to change. In order to combat her feelings of unease, Guy, Minnie, and Roman (Sidney Blackmer) concoct a plan to ensure that no matter how bad her symptoms become, Rosemary never believes they’re abnormal. Dr. Sapirstein (Ralph Bellamy) tells Rosemary not to ask any questions or listen to advice from friends or books. Instead of taking vitamins, she’s to drink one of Minnie’s herbal concoctions every day. Rosemary wants what’s best for her baby, so she listens to the doctor, even as she becomes scarily gaunt. She knows something is wrong, but the people closest to her have done a great job of convincing her she’s paranoid and can’t trust her own instincts.

Throughout the film, Rosemary vacillates between trusting her intuition and dismissing it because she wants what’s best for the baby and doesn’t always trust herself to provide it. At several points, she tries to take control of her situation, but external forces usually convince her she’s made the wrong call. By effectively gaslighting her, Guy and the Castevets have ensured that Rosemary no longer trusts her own body or motherly intuition. At the end of the film, when Rosemary decides to embrace her role even though her child is a fucking demon, it’s a total act of rebellion. These people have taken away her sanity, her health, and nine months of her life, but they won’t take away her baby. Even though this situation isn’t what she signed up for, she’s on board for lack of a better option.

Even with a wanted baby, pregnancy can be a terrifying situation full of unknown elements. Alice Lowe had this in mind, that “pregnancy is an alien experience,” while making Prevenge. Without the power to ask questions and make informed decisions, a beautiful, exciting life event could easily turn into a waking nightmare full of anxiety and dread. The Trump administration wants to make Rosemary’s Baby a reality. Something is wrong with your pregnancy and you need to terminate it in order to avoid a lifetime of pain for yourself and your child? Too bad. You must carry the pregnancy to term and deal with the ramifications alone. Your pregnancy is the result of rape and you’re unable to deal with the psychological trauma? Or you simply don’t want to be pregnant? I hope you have the time, money, patience, and strength to deal with abortion restrictions like mandatory waiting periods, forced ultrasounds, TRAP laws, personhood laws, insurance and funding limitations, 20-week bans, forced counseling, and ideological shaming that you’re likely to encounter depending your state. And restrictions to abortion access disproportionately impact women in poverty, women of color, and women living in rural areas.

Rosemary’s Baby is as relevant today as it was forty-nine years ago. Like Guy Woodhouse, the Trump administration uses women as pawns and attempts to stave off rebellion by gaslighting, discrediting, isolating, and emotionally manipulating them.

Prevenge is in some ways a modernized version of Rosemary’s Baby. Ruth (Alice Lowe) is a widow, convinced something is wrong with her pregnancy but told by her midwife (Jo Hartley) that she needs to stay positive and listen to her instincts. The midwife tells Ruth, “Baby knows what to do. Baby will tell you what to do.” The only problem is that Ruth’s baby tells her to kill people, not to relax and eat some Cheetos dipped in clam chowder. With influences ranging from the Greek Furies, to American Psycho and Taxi Driver, Lowe “wanted to show a powerful pregnant woman,” which counters how pregnant women are traditionally depicted or viewed as frail.

During her pregnancy, Ruth is even more isolated than Rosemary. She lives out of hotel rooms, has no friends, and only interacts with her midwife and people she plans on killing. The bond with her unborn baby is the sole one we’re privy to and it’s obviously very twisted. Even when we finally see a flashback of her deceased husband, it’s of his death and not their time together.

While we often hear the midwife voice concern for the baby, we never hear her ask Ruth how she’s doing. Even after she looks through Ruth’s paperwork and realizes that her partner is dead, she doesn’t feign sympathy. She essentially tells Ruth to suck it up and remain positive because her negative energy won’t do anything to help the baby. This is the conversation she has with Ruth after realizing she’s a single mother:

Midwife: It’s very important to let the past stay in the past. It’s just nature’s way.
Ruth: I think nature’s a bit of a cunt, though, don’t you?
Midwife: Oh, negativity’s not good for the baby’s spirit, really.
Ruth: Do you think?
Midwife: Yes. I think it’s good to try to stay positive.

Ruth is clearly struggling with mental health issues and needs someone to step in and help her, but no one gives a shit about her problems; her job is to serve the baby and as long as she’s following through, there’s no cause for concern. As soon as Ruth becomes a mother, her grief and depression are non-issues to those around her because the baby comes first. Throughout the course of history, and especially in Trump’s America, baby always comes first. Our government cares more about fetuses than it does about living, breathing women. This chills me to the core more than a scary movie ever could.

Ruth and Rosemary both try to do what they think is best, but are swayed by outside influence. Ruth’s midwife tells her to listen to the baby; Dr. Sapirstein tells Rosemary to listen to him. No one tells either of these women to listen to themselves — to trust their bodies, experience, or intuition. Women are not to be trusted in any capacity, in any situation. Ruth knows that something isn’t right, that her pregnancy and mental state are abnormal. But she squashes these feelings, listens to her “baby,” and continues to kill people. Rosemary fights like hell at the end of the movie and tries to tell anyone who will listen that there’s a conspiracy against her, but she’s branded as “crazy” and immediately dismissed.

This Halloween, what’s keeping me up at night isn’t fiction; it’s real life. It’s the possibility of a 20-week abortion ban and the knowledge that I live in a country where women aren’t valued or trusted — where a majority of white women would rather have Donald Trump represent their interests than Hillary Clinton. I watch films like Prevenge and Rosemary’s Baby because I want to remind myself to stay vigilant. In 1979, Loretta Lynn said, “We’ve come a long way, baby,” but these films remind me we haven’t come far enough.

See also at Bitch Flicks:

Rosemary’s Baby: Marriage Can Be Terrifying

The “Blurred Lines” of Body Horror and Rape Culture

Rosemary’s Baby: Who Possesses the Pregnant Woman’s Body

Recommended Reading:

Woman in Revolt on Prevenge

Refinery29’s Interview with Alice Lowe: The Pregnant Serial Killer Movie Taking a Knife to Stereotypes on Film

The Most Cursed Hit Movie Ever Made by Rosemary Counter

Lindsay Pugh runs Woman in Revolt, an intersectional feminist film blog that focuses on female directors in television and film. She is a self-described militant feminist and can be found wandering the streets of Ann Arbor wearing a leather jacket adorned with “Fuck Paul Ryan” pins and shaking her fist at the patriarchy.

All the Rage: Women-Led and Women-Centric Horror Film Festivals

“They just assume I’m an actress. They would never assume that I directed it or made the film myself.” That’s the assumption that women-centric horror film festivals intend to quash. They’re also, as Women in Horror Film Festival (WIHFF) co-director and filmmaker Samantha Kolesnik said, a growing platform for “equal representation” in all aspects of film production.

This guest post written by Sonia Lupher appears as part of our theme week on Women in Horror.

“What film are you with?” If you ever find yourself at an independent horror film festival, this is a question you will likely be asked by fellow attendees. At least, this is the question you want to be asked. But, as many women mentioned at the first annual Women in Horror Film Festival (WIHFF) in Peachtree City, Georgia last September, when you attend a general horror film festival as a woman, you’re more likely to be asked, “What part do you play?” Producer-writer-director and Sick Chick Flicks Film Festival founder Christine Parker told me, “They just assume I’m an actress. They would never assume that I directed it or made the film myself.”

That’s the assumption that women-centric horror film festivals intend to quash. They’re also, as WIHFF co-director and filmmaker Samantha Kolesnik said, a growing platform for “equal representation” in all aspects of film production. The Women in Horror Film Festival is just one of a handful of film festivals devoted to women in horror film production that has sprung up in the last few years in the wake of Women in Horror Month, an initiative founded in 2010 by Hannah Neurotica of the Ax Wound Film Festival. WIHFF, unlike many other film festivals, accepts films helmed by men as long as there are women in three or more creative roles: producer, director, writer, lead talent, composer, SFX artist, editor, production designer, and/or cinematography. This is because, as Kolesnik and WIHFF co-founder and filmmaker Vanessa Ionta Wright point out, the festival strives to shed light on the role of women across all areas of horror film production.

Some of the WIHFF award winners pose with festival directors Samantha Kolesnik and Vanessa Ionta Wright (bottom row, first and fourth from left).

Indeed, WIHFF showcased tons of incredible shorts and features from women directors across the globe, such as Norma Vila’s Jules D. (Spain), Aislínn Clarke’s Childer (Ireland), and Mia’kate Russell’s Liz Drives (Australia). Canadian directing-duo Jen and Sylvia Soska were also in attendance as invited guests, sharing tips and dropping hints about their upcoming remake of David Cronenberg’s Rabid. But among the non-director stars of the festival were Melissa Lyons, who penned and co-produced Alfred J. Hemlock, Jennifer Trudrung, who wrote/produced/starred in audience favorite Unbearing, and Ruin Me editor/producer/co-writer Trysta Bissett. The primary goal of WIHFF, as Kolesnik and Wright made clear, is to offer inclusive networking for women and their male allies in horror while showcasing the impressive work they are already undertaking.

This latter goal is shared by a handful of other festivals around the world. Neurotica, who co-runs the Ax Wound Film Festival with Ashlee Blackwell (who also founded Graveyard Shift Sisters, a site devoted to Black women in horror) and Miki Hickel, is very vocal about the importance of seeing other women in horror film production for budding filmmakers. The upcoming festival, which will feature film screenings, panels, and workshops (including a workshop on crowdfunding led by filmmaker Christina Raia), strives to get more horror-inclined women behind the camera. Neurotica is firm on the non-competitive atmosphere of the film festival, describing the mission of Ax Wound as one of collaboration and support. As a result, Ax Wound does not give awards. “There is so much competition among women in this field. It’s brutal,” Neurotica wrote. “The only way we can change that is by working together, hiring each other, and networking. Ax Wound provides a safe space which we hope brings women together rather than set up hierarchies.”

Ax Wound Film Festival’s 2016 Filmmaker Panel Hosted by Jay Kay of Horror Happens Radio

The Sick Chick Flicks Film Festival (October 28-29) was developed by Christine Parker alongside her production company of the same name with the underlying intention of making it clear to women that they can make films too. As director/writer/producer Lynne Hansen (whose zombie-comedy Chomp has played at dozens of film festivals, including WIHFF) told me, it was not until she saw another woman direct a film that she realized (“way too late”) she could do it too. Film festivals play a large role in getting female filmmakers in the public eye and, in turn, inspiring other women to make their own films. Through her production company, Parker strives to teach women filmmakers the nitty-gritty aspects of filmmaking, to “foster and show them how to do lights and how to do sound,” so they can go on to make their own films. Sick Chick Flicks Film Festival is, in turn, a platform to get these films to audiences.

Sick Chick Flicks Film Festival director Christine Parker stands in front of the marquee for the 2016 festival.

In addition to WIHFF, Ax Wound, and Sick Chick Flicks, North America is home to several other film festivals featuring the work of women in horror production, while the international scene is no less rich. These festivals include:

Etheria Film Night, which takes place in June, is an annual one-night event in Hollywood organized by Heidi Honeycutt, Stacy Pippi Hammon, and Kayley Viteo.
The Bloody Mary Film Festival, focused on Canadian female-helmed films and organized by Laura DiGirolamo and Krista Dzialoszynski, will hold its second festival from November 30-December 1st in Toronto.
Stranger With My Face, an annual festival founded in 2012 by Briony Kidd and Rebecca Thomson, takes place in Hobart, Tasmania. Stranger With My Face is celebrated as a leading genre event and also hosts the 48-hour Tasploitation Challenge and the Tasmanian Gothic Short Script Challenge.
The Final Girls Berlin Film Festival, founded by Elinor Lewy, Lara Mandelbrot, and Sara Neidorf, saw its second year in June 2017.
Scream Queen Filmfest Tokyo, founded in 2013 by Mai Nakanishi who programs and runs “the only female-centric genre film festival in Asia.”

The sheer number, not to mention the raging success, of women-centric horror film festivals demonstrates the ongoing momentum of women in horror film production and the opportunities that these festivals offer to them. What makes these festivals fundamentally different from genre film festivals at large? “I would dare anybody to look up different festivals’ past winners and finalists and tally up the statistics – see how many of these films are directed by women, written by women, how many have special effects artists that were women and how many times there was just one woman on the team,” Kolesnik said. It’s about showcasing the impressive work that women are doing in the genre, offering collaboration opportunities, and ensuring that the presence of women in horror filmmaking remains strong. Visibility, equal opportunity, and demonstrating the grit women bring to horror are what these film festivals are all about.

First image features film stills from Paralysis, Ruin Me, Chomp, and Unbearing. Second image courtesy of Women in Horror Film Festival. Third image courtesy of Ax Wound Film Festival. Fourth image courtesy of Sick Chicks Flicks Film Festival.

Sonia Lupher is originally from the Pacific Northwest, but moved east to pursue a doctoral degree in the Film Studies program at the University of Pittsburgh. She is fulfilling her lifelong dream of watching movies for a living, and especially loves horror movies directed by women. You can follow her on Twitter @SoniaLupher.

‘Raw’ and Coming of Age via Cannibalism

What writer/director Julia Ducournau does with ‘Raw’ is use the traditional tropes of body horror to tell the story of one young woman’s awakening. … It’s frightening and disturbing, as coming of age often is. … By filtering this all-too-common struggle through the extreme lens of cannibalism, Ducournau highlights the absurdity inherent in how women’s bodies and desires are policed.

This guest post written by Lee Jutton appears as part of our theme week on Women in Horror. | Spoilers ahead.

Women are constantly fighting for control of their bodies. This is not an exaggeration, however extreme it may sound. One’s body is the most personal and precious possession one has — literally the only one we are born with — and yet, if you are a woman, it is also the most policed. Society tells us that women’s bodies must remain pure and virginal in order to be deemed desirable. Men in government aspire to limit our access to healthcare despite expecting our bodies to constantly churn out babies; they want to take away our birth control, but they also don’t want us to get abortions. We’re shamed into starving ourselves to get in shape for bikini season while men’s beer-bellied “dad bods” are glorified in the same media that shove those unattainable ideals down our throats.

In a world where women’s urges are so obsessively monitored and shamed by society, it’s no surprise that in pop culture, there is no shortage of stories of women rebelling against these attempts at control — often in extreme ways. In Han Kang’s Man Booker International Prize-winning novella The Vegetarian, a South Korean housewife is so traumatized by a bloody nightmare that she abruptly stops eating meat. Despite being shamed (and subject to abusive attempts at force-feeding) by her family and treated like an outcast by society, Yeong-hye holds fast to her desires and refuses to eat meat. Even when she is hospitalized and appears to be wasting away to those around her, she is more at peace and in control of her body than she ever had been previously. Why does a woman like Yeong-hye have to essentially cast off her human body in order to prevent others from telling her what to do with it? Why do women need to go to such lengths to prove their autonomy?

In her debut feature film, French writer-director Julia Ducournau covers themes similar to those in The Vegetarian, but reverse-engineers them for maximum shock and awe. Instead of telling the story of a woman deciding to give up meat, Raw chronicles what happens when a lifelong vegetarian discovers an animalistic desire to consume raw meat during a hazing ritual at veterinary school. What follows is an intensely visceral, gore-filled saga of one young woman taking control of her body and her urges, however unacceptable they may seem to the rest of the world. In an interview with Women and Hollywood, Ducournau said she “wanted the audience to feel empathy for a character that is becoming a monster in their eyes.” While you might not be able to comprehend the nature of protagonist Justine’s desires, you cannot help but sympathize with her struggle to balance what her body wants with what is expected of it by others.

Justine, played by the suitably wide-eyed and coltish young actress Garance Marillier, comes from a family of ~~strict~~ vegetarian veterinarians. She plans to follow in the family tradition by joining her older sister, Alexia (Ella Rumpf), at the same veterinary school that their parents both attended. While Alexia is a bit of a wild child, Justine is a quiet, albeit passionate, prodigy. She comes to the vet school more prepared for her studies than the vast majority of the students around her, including her roommate Adrien (Rabah Naït Oufella). What Justine isn’t prepared for, however, are the extreme hazing rituals forced upon the “rookies” by the older students, including Alexia. These include being forced to sing along with strange songs, having buckets of blood poured over them for a class photo, and — in the moment that changes everything for Justine — being pressured into eating raw rabbit kidneys. Justine initially refuses, citing her family’s vegetarianism and asking Alexia to back her up. When Alexia denies her claims and eats one of the kidneys right in front of her, Justine doesn’t feel as though she has any choice but to follow suit or be shunned by the rest of the school. She’s nearly sick, but she does it nonetheless.

Soon, Justine finds herself plagued with a raw red rash on most of her body. The school doctor chalks it up to food poisoning, despite Justine mentioning that she also feels ravenously hungry all the time. Justine takes the cream prescribed by the doctor; she also starts stealing hamburgers from the cafeteria and eating late-night shawarma with Adrien. But these seemingly normal cravings — which could be chalked up to a girl discovering that once she is free from her parents’ overwhelming and possibly stifling influence, she actually likes different things than them — turn extreme quickly; gnawing on raw chicken in the middle of the night extreme; lusting after the body of her gay roommate until she gets a nosebleed extreme. But all of this pales in comparison to the moment when Alexia accidentally cuts off part of her finger in a freak scissors accident and Justine picks it up and starts eating it.

This incredibly unsettling scene is skillfully played for maximum impact by Ducournau, from the frantic and electric turn that Jim Williams’ musical score takes to Marillier’s intense performance, in which one can see her visibly struggling with her desire to taste human flesh and her knowledge that what she wants to do is wrong. The scene then takes a delightful yet disturbing comic turn when Alexia wakes up from her faint to stare agape at her younger sister as she nibbles on a part of her body. You can’t help but laugh, both as an attempt to ease discomfort with what is happening and also because what’s happening is pretty damn funny.

It turns out Alexia is subject to the same strange urges as Justine, going so far as to cause a car crash on a deserted road just to provide both sisters with a couple of corpses to feast on. In her own twisted way, this is Alexia’s idea of being a supportive and understanding sister. Yet while Alexia has no qualms about wanting to eat human flesh, Justine flees, unable to come to terms with what her body wants. As the film progresses, Justine continues to struggle, vacillating between allowing herself to succumb to her desires while also fighting to contain them. In no scene is this better visualized than when Justine’s overwhelming lust for Adrien results in her losing her virginity to him and, when she climaxes, sinking her teeth into her own arm after Adrien refuses to let her bite him. As blood oozes out, Justine grows visibly relaxed. Tasting flesh, even her own, seems more satisfying than sex for her.

By the end of the film, Alexia’s uninhibited actions have resulted in tragedy and she’s hospitalized, after which Justine learns from her father that their mother is subject to the same urges. “You’ll find a way to control it,” her father says in an attempt to comfort Justine about this distressing family trait, but his words elicit only deep choking sobs from his youngest daughter. In the end, who is more free? Is it Alexia, trapped in an institution but with nothing left to hide, or Justine, out in the real world but forced to keep such a large part of herself a secret?

As Justine starts giving in to her desires, gobbling raw meat and ogling Adrien’s shirtless torso, she becomes more confident. The quiet, meek student who seemed to be trying to disappear into her oversized sweaters starts projecting an aura of boldness. Donning her sister’s slinky cocktail dress to writhe in front of her bedroom mirror and smear lipstick seductively across her mouth, Justine is vastly more comfortable with her body as a cannibal than she was as a virginal vegetarian.

In showing us Justine starting to blossom, is Ducournau condoning cannibalism and condemning vegetarianism? Absolutely not. What she does with Raw is use the traditional tropes of body horror to tell the story of one young woman’s awakening. The obvious youth of her lead actress (Marillier was born in 1998) makes her message hit all the harder. It’s frightening and disturbing, as coming of age often is. Watching your body change and awaken to new desires is scary enough; dealing with the constant messages from society that everything you’re dealing with is somehow wrong is even worse. By filtering this all-too-common struggle through the extreme lens of cannibalism, Ducournau highlights the absurdity inherent in how women’s bodies and desires are policed.

Lee Jutton has directed short films starring a killer toaster, a killer Christmas tree, and a not-killer leopard. Currently a staff writer at Film Inquiry, her writing has also appeared in publications such as Bitch Flicks, Bitch: A Feminist Response to Pop Culture, TV Fanatic, and Just Press Play. You can follow her on Twitter @leiladaisyj for more opinions on movies, pictures of cats, and ramblings on German soccer.

‘Queerama’: A Tapestry of Queer British History

An unexpected gem directed by Daisy Asquith, the documentary outlines the milestones, setbacks, stigma, and celebrations of the LGBTQ movement in the UK from 1919 to the present. It incorporates electro beats, limited dialogue, and some steamy scenes, cut with cards detailing important milestones for the LGBTQ community. … Though much as the majority of queer history is persecution, oppression, and erasure, ‘Queerama’ is a strangely joyful monument to it all.

Guest post written by Becky Kukla.

Opening Sheffield Doc Fest this year was an unexpected gem in the form of Queerama. Produced entirely out of the British Film Institute (BFI) archives, the documentary outlines the milestones, setbacks, stigma, and celebrations of the LGBTQ movement in the UK from 1919 to the present. It incorporates electro beats, limited dialogue, and some steamy scenes, cut with cards detailing important milestones for the LGBTQ community.

The unusual result comes from the mind of Daisy Asquith, a documentary director probably best known for her funny, yet poignant TV documentary Crazy About One Direction which delved into the lives of One Direction fans. Asquith, who received nothing short of vitriol from the young fans for her film, calmly succeeded in creating a film that was both critical and understanding of young teen culture. She showed us that “Directioners” were every bit as obsessed and in love with One Direction as the media portrayed them to be but also, that we as humans, all have obsessions.

Asquith’s keenness to dissect social ideologies is realized fully in her latest feature film. From the the beginnings of gay relationships on-screen, as early as 1919, right up to the publicly fought battles for adoption rights and marriage equality, Queerama details queer British history in a way it has never been seen before. There are frank interviews with politicians, scientists, and all manner of “experts” where the discussion ranges from homosexuality being sinful, to being reversible with the right therapy, to those who practice it being labelled as mentally ill. There is a strong exploration of the idea of lesbianism as invisible — Queerama points out that there have never been any laws against women having sexual relations with one another.

Weaving previously unseen news footage, with steamy subtextual scenes from the early days of cinema — Queerama is rich in both content and emotion. Certain archival footage brings up feelings of anger, but these are almost always followed with footage of the queer community and of positive representations of LGBTQ culture. The crossing over from fiction to news archive and back again brings up the cyclical nature of art and life. Which imitates which? As we see queer couples becoming publicly intimate on UK television shows of the 1980s, we also watch in horror as the AIDs crisis unfolds.

The soundtrack is glorious (I’ve already made my own playlist on Spotify) and it soars flawlessly from racy, upbeat electro tracks to slower, more melancholic moments. Asquith overlays footage from the 1950s and 60s with contemporary pop music, bringing the visuals into the 21st century. At times, it feels like an educational music video — the songs blurring into one another, barely stopping for the fairly limited moments of dialogue. Songs like John Grant’s “Jesus Hates F*****s,” set against scenes of a very sexual nature, provides more insight into the conflicted identities of LGBTQ folk than a fictional film ever could.

Humor, in the soundtrack and visually, plays a huge part in the documentary. It isn’t a comedy, there is too much tragedy and discrimination for it to be comical, but it’s reflective of the queer British movement. Color, laughter, and celebrations exist amongst the tears. Juxtaposing certain songs and archives against one another — particularly stern experts mixed with the beautifully queer lyrics of Herucles & Love Affair — gives their words less meaning, and it is easier to laugh at the backwards mentalities that certain people hold (and still do).

As a part of the LGBTQ community, I found myself staring at a history that I only partially recognized. A documented, filmed history, real history — most of which I had never looked at. The selection and use of archival footage is truly astounding, and Asquith repeatedly cuts sequences together to create the idea of an expansive queer narrative; a living history, a narrative which spans beyond its reach. Queerama feels like a tapestry. Growing up in the 1990s and 2000s, homosexuality and bisexuality was becoming accepted. There was (and is) still a lot of stigma, bullying, and discrimination but watching Queerama made me realize exactly how far we have come. It’s this progress we need to celebrate, yet simultaneously keep an eye on the past to make sure it doesn’t come back around.

I think everyone, whether you identify as LGBTQ, are an ally, or none of the above, should watch Queerama. Though much as the majority of queer history is persecution, oppression, and erasure, Queerama is a strangely joyful monument to it all. It will make you laugh, cry, dance, and think — quite possibly all at the same time. It says, “Despite it all, we are still here.” It’s a testament to perseverance and to queer visibility.

It is, quite simply, a breathtaking experience.

Becky Kukla works in factual TV by day, and by night she writes about representation in film and television, and rants about politics on twitter. You can find her at Femphile or at Film Inquiry.

Kelly Reichardt’s ‘Meek’s Cutoff’: The Camera’s Relationship to Characters and Power

In reclaiming the era, Kelly Reichardt created a representation that centers the experiences of those not served by the traditional Western. A view of the life of women divorced from the patriarchal lens, a view of the treatment of Native Americans divorced from the lens of white supremacy.

This guest post written by E Warren appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors, Part 2.

Somewhere downhill, a short distance away, the men are talking. Their voices tickle the edge of our comprehension. “What are they talking about?” someone asks, “Were you told?” “They’re talking about whether to hang Stephen Meek.” A slight pause, the women on the bluff go back to collecting their kindling. The camera lingers on this image for a while. Later on, we will find out how that discussion in the valley went, one of the men will relay proceedings to us, and we trust that he is being truthful. For now, there’s work that needs doing.

As for Meek himself, it’s widely agreed amongst the characters that he probably deserves his sentence. Having led their caravan on a two-week shortcut, now well into its fifth week, and into territory Meek happily admits is on no map he ever read, the caravan continue marching westward; hoping against hope to blithely stumble their way back into civilization.

Meek’s Cutoff is a 2010 film directed by Kelly Reichardt. Compared at the time to Gus Van Sant’s Death Trilogy, it shares the bleak tone and sparse narrative in its look at the lives of the women on a caravan lost on the Oregon Trail in 1845. With little dialogue, Reichardt relies on the images captured by director of photography Christopher Blauvelt (in their first collaboration) to create a sense of their place in the world.

The film opens on the fording of a river. Observing dispassionately, from a distance, these anonymous figures wade through chest high water, their belongings held above their heads. We wait for someone to fall. Nobody does. The water sounds loud and fierce in our ears, the rickety wagons tremble in the flow. Once all are across, the men sit by the shore planning the way forwards. Everyone seems glad the trial is passed. It is the last running water they’ll see.

Before setting out, the women of the caravan wash clothes at the bank of the river. We see them from beside, behind, above; their bonnets conceal their faces. We see three figures: one pink, one green, one yellow. Eventually their identities are revealed to us: Emily Tetherow (Michelle Williams), Glory White (Shirley Henderson), and Millie Gately (Zoe Kazan). We come to know them by the colors of their dresses long before we get a closer look at their faces. Their names come up only in passing.

It is morning then, and Stephen Meek (Bruce Greenwood) emerges from his tent — Reichardt employs a static camera as we observe the scene. She then creates three shots: the Whites, the Tetherows, the Gateleys. The men are standing, pouring coffee, extinguishing fires. The women are seated, placed towards the back of the compositions, their presence minimized. The caravan sets off and again we see this division. The men lead their oxen while their wives walk a short distance behind, subordinate.

In the American expansion, men gave up their whole lives to head bravely on towards a new west. They would leave their jobs and homes to adventure toward a brighter future. What did women leave behind? The responsibilities of “women’s work” could not be abandoned on the journey. They still were expected to cook, clean, and to rear their children. These women, in their marriage vows, would have promised to love, honor, and obey. Their work never changed, they were just expected to trek as well; Reichardt speaks of the historical sources in this interview with Filmmaker Magazine.

The working woman in Meek’s Cutoff is an isolated one. If at rest she sits, at work she crouches to wash, set fires, and knead dough. In their long calico dresses, it seems an uncomfortable position to be in. In this form, the women are immobilized. For the camera to capture them, it must single them out in the frame, its borders invisible divisions between them. The men debate, their work connects them; we see them huddled together having important discussions. Even the young boy, Jimmy White (Tommy Nelson), is included in these, the camera establishing the patriarchy he’s growing into.

Eventually, the film provides an image of a space for women: a knitting circle. It is quiet, but over half an hour into the film, it is the first time we establish a physical closeness between these female characters. Then Stephen Meek invades; he hijacks the conversation, and with it the frame. Towering over them, they are isolated once again.

Portraying companionship: Emily Tetherow (Michelle Williams) and Glory White (Shirley Henderson) share a rare two-shot.

After the men venture off to find water, Emily encounters a Native American man (Rod Rondeaux, credited as “The Indian”). The film reaches a turning point as she runs to the gun. It is an image we have not been primed for, if a working woman crouches and a resting woman sits, what does this new form mean? Jean-Luc Godard said that all you needed for a movie was “a girl and a gun” (though the credit for this is disputed.) Can culture rationalize an armed man in a way that it finds impossible with an armed woman?

In American society, male gun owners still outnumber women who own guns at a rate of roughly three to one. Culture has established a visual shorthand: the uniformed soldier; the cowboy in a long coat and wide brimmed hat; the suited gangster; the isolated teenager dressed in whatever style is determined “alternative.” We are led to understand the roles these people play, the positions they exist within society. They are all traditionally male figures. Films such as Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty and Denis Villeneuve’s Sicario are notable for their disruption of these culturally stratified roles, examining how they are inhabited by women. On their own, a woman with a gun seems to signify chaos, as women traditionally have when refusing to occupy their correct position in patriarchal society.

After that subversive act, the film starts to change, a war starts to be waged between Emily Tetherow and Stephen Meek. If neither of them know the way to civilization, or even to water, why should it matter who makes the calls? It extends beyond the caravan to the very structure of the film itself. Emily starts becoming more prominent in the frame, her actions command the edit, and she invades the spaces previously reserved for the men. Reichardt has spent so long defining the character’s role in society that to see her step out of it is arresting.

This change happens in part because of the arrival of another unknown: the Native American man is captured. A vote is taken and the characters choose to leave him alive, hoping he can lead them to water. The man speaks no English and he is a different race than the travelers; he is now the Other and the unknown. The presence of a more notable Other empowers the women — racism becomes a more powerful motivator than misogyny. For this man to have control of the caravan’s direction begins to upset the balance of the white patriarchy, the established order begins to dissolve, yet white supremacy still reigns as he remains captive.

With this shift, so too does the rigid formalism of the cinematography. The previously united caravan falls in on itself; they appear to shrink, consumed by the landscapes they traverse and the crushing darkness of night. Stephen Meek, who previously commanded the frame, loses control of it as the Native American man now takes ownership of it. It is through him that Emily gets to explore her relationship to power, to the film’s lens.

By placing the camera on the kidnapped man, the power the lens can give is also gated. It is then that Emily sets about gaining it. She approaches the man, in the context of the place she must inhabit in this world as a woman. Rather than exhibiting the force that her male companions do, which necessarily comes in opposition, separating them in the frame, she cooks for him and fixes his garments. Their interaction connects them; in the language of the film, the power is shared.

Reichardt has the film take the travelers’ perspective, lost in this unrecognizable territory, the traditional 4:3 aspect ratio constrains our ability to see, much like the bonnets worn by our leads restrict their peripheral vision. The Native American man’s dialogue, spoken in the language of the Nez Perce tribe, is not subtitled. The film is not content to “whiten” the character in order to make him accessible to a modern audience; we are asked instead to understand that his humanity is not a function of his relatability. The history of the United States is inextricable from the subjugation of Native peoples. The film observes the exploitation of this man, of his knowledge. Even Emily, whose relationship to him veers the closest to respect, still operates through the context of subjugation; when she proclaims that he knows there’s water over the next hill, she remains as ignorant of him as her compatriots.

The climax of Meek’s Cutoff comes with guns drawn. Emily defends the man from Meek, the embodiment of the failure of the white supremacist patriarchy. The angle puts the two side by side with Meek, opposing them and creating a barrier between the two forms. When Meek backs down, walks away, the earth tones of his clothes disappear him into the ground. A new order has arisen.

At the film’s close, the man is leading them again, away from the camera; we do not know if they will find water. Their position is not materially any better than it began yet the divisions have fallen. At last, the women and the men appear to be travelling as one. The Native American man, however, is still their captive.

At the time, Meek’s Cutoff was extensively described as an “anti-Western.” Reichardt rejected the label. In an interview with T Magazine, she said, “You know, it’s funny. If you’re not a white, straight man and you show a different point of view in a film, you need a particular category to go into, when it’s just a different point of view.” The history of the American West is just that, regardless of how it has been depicted through the history of cinema.

In reclaiming the era, Reichardt created a representation that centers the experiences of those not served by the traditional Western. A view of the life of women divorced from the patriarchal lens, a view of the treatment of Native Americans divorced from the lens of white supremacy. It may be a different perspective on the Western, but it remains an honest perspective on The West.

E Warren is a writer and actor in the UK. More film and culture writing can be found at their blog A Grand Quiet.

How a ‘Little Evil Bookshop’ Helped Me Find My Role in Hollywood

It isn’t that I am or was passive in my acting career, it is that acting is a long game and it can be difficult to see where the road might lead. That is something I have accepted; sometimes it’s terrifying and other times it excites me. But for this achiever, perfectionist, and feminist, there is something unbelievably validating about the immediacy of payoff in this new venture called producing. They call it “producing” for a reason! At the end, you have made something, paved your own road.

Guest post written by Lena Raff.

An actress is pretty much the only thing I ever wanted to be, save for a few months in elementary school when bottlenose dolphin trainer and anthropologist were on the table. When I was young, performing gave me a rush, but I couldn’t have accurately verbalized why I loved it. It took me until now to comprehend and come to terms with why I am on this path. Being an artist means that you get to live in your heart and your body. Acting means constantly listening, feeling, and experiencing. It means getting to roll words around in your mouth and connecting with the other actors and your audience; you get to make people feel. It is all just so human.

The issue is that a person cannot simply go out and act unless they create content for themselves. Writers can write at home or in a cafe; try “acting” in either place and you are going to look very silly indeed. I can’t act in a vacuum. By definition, I need other people, and until now, I’ve needed there to be an existing project for which someone hires me. However, it’s difficult to get an acting job in TV and film. That old adage “You need an agent to get credits and you need credits to get an agent” is still widely true. So you have to have an agent who gets your photo in front of casting. Then, casting has to actually see your photo — one of thousands submitted online for any given role — like your look for the part, your abilities and credits, call you in for an audition, like and trust you enough to send you to the producers/director/studio/network who have to also like and trust you, and then you might get an offer. Given this, and the nature of the way projects are shot, the television and film actor will spend much of their time not acting, particularly early on. Even a highly successful and lucrative career can often mean only a few days on set every month, or every several months.

Much of the time, this life is joyous. I have met many wonderful people and artists who have become my soulmates. Classes keep me involved, focused, and skilled. I thrive on the challenge of a difficult scene, relish putting in the work for an audition, soak in every moment of going to work on set. Acting is a constant adventure and I am always learning. In my worst moments, though, this all feels futile. The odds are so steep, the gateways to entry are numerous but elusive. One can feel like one is floating through a nebulous landscape waiting for milestones to grab onto when they happen to appear. And although it has vastly improved in the past few years, Hollywood can seem like a boys club. Many projects still don’t pass the Bechdel test and the words “bikini ready” periodically make their way across my computer screen. But I am an autonomous being. This is what I, enthusiastically, signed up for.

Then I signed up for something else. This year, I began producing a feature film called Little Evil Bookshop with two other young women — Ashley Ellis (director/producer) and Jessica Schott (producer) — and it has been exciting and illuminating. I love the feeling of creative responsibility for something larger than myself, of concrete steps that need to be taken each day. This venture has made me feel capable and worthwhile. It isn’t that I am or was passive in my acting career, it is that acting is a long game and it can be difficult to see where the road might lead. That is something I have accepted; sometimes it’s terrifying and other times it excites me. But for this achiever, perfectionist, and feminist, there is something unbelievably validating about the immediacy of payoff in this new venture called producing. They call it “producing” for a reason! At the end, you have made something, paved your own road. It’s empowering and self-actualizing in an entirely different way from what I have experienced in my artistic life thus far. I have been inspired to examine the landscape in which I am creating as both and actress and producer. Being on feminist projects has always been important to me, but this is the first time I’ve had the opportunity to shape the narrative and be extremely selective about what I put my effort and skill into.

Recently, while working on this project that centers around a middle-aged woman protagonist, I realized that even though the message of the film — a dark ensemble comedy about the staff of a small occult bookstore attempting to impress a revered author and spiritual leader — isn’t feminist in the political or ideological sense, it is feminist by nature of the fact that it is telling a woman’s story. This is the story that three young women want to tell, have put our time, energy, brain-space and hearts into sharing with the world. We are crowdfunding via Seed & Spark and networking. We have committed to diverse and inclusive hiring and casting to deepen and enrich this film about identity. We are standing up, asking for our abilities and voices to be valued.

Through this lens, I started looking around and seeing many incredible women, and many actresses in particular, prolific, daring, and unapologetic in their art. Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag and Pamela Adlon’s Better Things are two shining examples. With two very impressive respective acting careers between them, Waller-Bridge and Adlon have recently debuted two deeply personal, groundbreaking, and critically acclaimed series of which they are the creators, showrunners, and stars. Issa Rae co-created, co-writes, and stars in the acclaimed series Insecure based on her hilarious web series Awkward Black Girl. Shonda Rhimes created a television empire with creating and producing her women-centric dramas Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal, and How to Get Away with Murder. Jill Soloway (who identifies as non-binary) changed television and the culture at large with Transparent and its representation of the LGBTQIA community and whose new show I Love Dick depicts women’s sexuality in perhaps unprecedented ways. Now the highest paid woman director in history, Patty Jenkins revolutionized big budget, superhero films with Wonder Woman, “the highest-grossing live-action film to be directed by a woman” and “the highest-grossing film in the DC Extended Universe.” Brie Larson will be Captain Marvel, co-directed by Anna Boden. Gina Prince-Bythewood will direct Silver and Black, “the first Black woman to direct a superhero film.” Ava DuVernay is the first Black woman filmmaker to direct a film with a $100 million budget with her upcoming adaptation of Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time. She also created Queen Sugar, a beautiful and powerful dramatic series telling the story of a Black family, and hired all women directors for both of its two seasons (she was the showrunner for season one while Monica Macer is season 2’s showrunner). Reed Morano recently became the first woman in 22 years to win an Emmy for Best Directing in a Drama Series and the show she won for — the undeniably, ruthlessly feminist The Handmaid’s Tale — swept the night, except for the awards offered up to the women-centric ensemble miniseries, Big Little Lies. Lena Waithe took home an Emmy award for Best Writing in a Comedy — the first Black (queer!) woman to do so — for a Master of None episode about coming out to her family.

I am so looking forward to the time when these achievements do not strike us as the exception to the rule, but rather, are the lay of the land. For now, I chose to take my place among these artists. I am raising my hand, and learning to stand up, not just for what I believe in, but in full ownership of my talent, effort, and ability.

I am not saying that acting isn’t feminist or empowering. I am not saying that producing is a more worthwhile or fulfilling pursuit. I’m not saying I won’t wear a bikini on-screen, or ask someone else to do so. What I am saying is that both of these endeavors, especially coupled together, have allowed me to take a look at my life and career with a consciousness that I didn’t have before. It is heartening to see such poignant stories told by women about women find critical acclaim as well as commercial success. I know I have a place in this exciting world, in whichever role I chose.

Little Evil Bookshop is currently crowdfunding via Seed & Spark until October 13, 2017.

Lena Raff is an actress and producer in her 20s living in Los Angeles. Originally from the suburbs of Boston, she earned a BA in Theatre Studies from Emerson College. Lena can raise one
eyebrow, but only when she’s on camera and isn’t trying to do so.

Links: littleevilbookshop.com | http://www.imdb.com/name/nm5299012/
Instagram: @Lenaraff | @littleevilbookshopfilm

Women-Directed and Women-Centric Films at 2017 Bushwick Film Festival

Held in New York City, the Bushwick Film Festival is “hailed as one of Brooklyn’s most influential cinematic events for its contribution to the borough’s artistic, cultural, and economic growth.” The festival “proudly shines a spotlight on diverse filmmakers.” … Now in its tenth year, BFF will run from October 12th-15th. Here are the women-directed and women-centric narrative films, short films, and web series featured at the festival.

BFF is dedicated to both filmmakers and audiences. “Its mission is to inspire filmmakers to harness the spirit of entrepreneurship, give them a platform to grow an audience, help strengthen their networks, increase their chances to connect with industry professionals, and present them opportunities to make a living doing what they love. Its mission to its audiences is to provide spaces where people from all backgrounds can gather and enjoy new and exciting niche films that are not typically made available and/or accessible to them, along with opportunities to attend educational and cultural events.”

“Kweighbaye Kotee is the Founder and CEO of Bushwick Film Festival (BFF) and MCCG; host/creator of Indie Cinema New York (ICNY) on BRIC TV; Executive Director of two arts and culture foundations (SPACE & OPEN) and is currently in post production for her new documentary, The Bushwick Diaries.”

Now in its tenth year, BFF will run from October 12th-15th. Below are the women-directed and women-centric narrative films, short films, and web series featured at the festival.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 12 | 6:30pm

In Case of Emergency
Director: Stephanie Sparks
Narrative Feature | USA | 1 hr, 19 m
October 12 | 6:30pm Opening Night w/ Red Carpet Reception, Film Starts at 8pm, Party Begins at 10pm

WATCH TRAILER

“Powerhouse Park Avenue-wife wannabe, Sarah Williams (Stefanie Sparks), gets hit by a taxi and survives, only to discover she’s lost her two most prized possessions – her uterus and her status as a socialite. With the help of an unexpected new friend, Melinda (Jenni Ruiza), Sarah comes face to face with the harsh reality of her fabricated life.”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 13 | 3pm

Nana
Director: Serena Dykman
Documentary Feature | Germany, USA, Poland | 1hr, 40m
October 13 | 3pm
Q&A with Director Post-Screening

WATCH TRAILER

“The filmmaker retraces her grandmother’s Auschwitz survival story, and investigates how her life-long fight against intolerance can continue to be taught to the new generations, against the backdrop of current events.

“Maryla Michalowski-Dyamant, born in Poland, survived Ravensbruck, Malchow, and Auschwitz, where she was the forced translator of the “Angel of Death”, Dr. Mengele. She dedicated her post-war life to publicly speaking of her survival to the young generations, so that it would never be forgotten or repeated. Alice and Serena, her daughter and granddaughter, explore how Maryla’s fight against intolerance can continue today, in a world where survivors are disappearing, and intolerance, racism and antisemitism are on the rise.”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14 | 6pm

American Koko
Creator: Diarra Kilpatrick, Director: Pete Chatmon
Web Series Comedy | USA | 1hr
October 14 | 6pm
Q&A with Diarra Kilpatrick Post-Screening

WATCH TRAILER

“Akosua Millard, codenamed “Koko”, investigates and solves sticky racial situations in a post post-racial America as a member of the E.A.R. Agency (Everybody’s A little bit Racist). As she and her team of specialists tackle cases, she herself is trying to reconcile the trauma of her past that has led to outbursts of her Angry Black Woman syndrome. It gets in the way of her work…and more importantly, her dating life as her latest boyfriend may be the downfall to her and the agency!”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14 | 7pm

Whose Streets?
Directors: Sabaah Folayan and Damon Davis
Documentary Feature | USA | 1hr, 43m
October 14 | 7pm

WATCH TRAILER

“How the Killing of 18-year-old Mike Brown inspired a community to fight back. A people’s documentary.

“The activists and leaders who live and breathe this movement for justice bring you Whose Streets? – a documentary about the Ferguson uprising. When unarmed teenager Michael Brown is killed by police and then left lying in the street for hours, it marks a breaking point for the residents of St. Louis County. Grief, long-standing tension, and renewed anger bring residents together to hold a vigil and protest this latest tragedy. In the days that follow, artists, musicians, teachers, and parents turn into freedom fighters, standing on the front lines to demand justice. As the national guard descends on Ferguson, a small suburb of st. Louis, with military-grade weaponry, these young community members become the torchbearers of a new wave of resistance. For this generation, the battle is not for civil rights, but for the right to live.”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14 | 7:30pm

SHORT FILM BLOCK: ‘BUSHWICK & CHILL’
October 14 | 7:30pm | 1 hr, 25 m
Q&A with Directors Post-Screening

Cake
Director: Anne Hu | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“Eliza tries to explore her sexuality within her marriage with her husband Thomas by surprise ordering a female sex robot for them to share. But the sexbot is not the cure-all she had hoped for. Be careful what you wish for.”

Poop Emoji
Director: Nancy Asiamah-Yeboah | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“Tre, a popular social media personality, is convinced by his best friend to go to a house party instead of a 90s-themed club event. To his surprise, Tre’s childhood best friend, Kim, happens to be at the party and the three spend the night exploring Tre’s current, wild, polygamous love life. With a slip of the tongue, it is revealed that Tre has not met any of his girlfriends in person, and Kim is annoyed by how much Tre is infatuated with these “women”. Some humanity is knocked into Tre after grasping Kim’s disinterest in his online persona.”

Peach and Cherry
Director: Noah LePage | France, French Language

WATCH TRAILER

“Two self-proclaimed “Unlovers” go on a summertime journey of self-discovery through the streets of Paris.”

After Words
Director: Mia Bunai | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“After Words: The Opposite of Foreplay offers a humorous glimpse of love’s pursuit. Claire searches for both good love and good sex with a range of partners, from charming to questionable. The film explores romance’s gamble, challenging the common tropes of on-screen sex. Shot solely in Claire’s bedroom, in scenes that take place immediately after sex, Claire’s journey charts the rickety path to finding love.”

Poison
Director: Erica Eng | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“Horace Gold’s poetic words personify his past unhealthy relationship with alcohol through a fictional relationship with a woman. Inspired by the surrealist film “Meshes Of The Afternoon” — POISON is an expression of addiction through repetition.”

Bruce Loves You
Director: Darin Quan | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“A young woman, Penelope, lives with her best friend, Hillary, who is dating a ghost, Bruce, who haunts their apartment and emerges when Hillary plays her keyboard. When Bruce begins to show interest in Penelope, complimenting her ‘subtle voice’, the friendship between the two women hangs in the balance!”

Consenting Adults
Director: Alice Gruia | Germany

“Philip and Jelena are getting ready for a night in: having a quick shower, arranging some snacks on the table and making the odd snide remark. Both are too preoccupied trying to cover up their own insecurity to actually realise how insecure the other is. Their routined, oblique way of communicating is like a boxing match. Sometimes a swing makes real contact and it hurts, sometimes they just dodge and taunt. But in the end, both are out for the count, when the unspoken is finally said.”

You Should Know Better
Director: Thanos Topouzis | Written/Produced by Paula Hämäläinen | United Kingdom

WATCH TRAILER

“You Should Know Better is a comedy short film that offers a glimpse into the life of Rae, a twenty-something receptionist whose fairly boring life momentarily goes off the tracks when she meets Oliver, a self-proclaimed feminist poet, and accidentally gets pregnant.”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14 | 9:30pm

WEB SERIES / NEW MEDIA
October 14 | 9:30pm | 1 hr, 20 m
Q&A with Directors Post-Screening

Doomsday
Directors: Sonja O’Hara and Jaspal Binning | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“Doomsday is an award-winning episodic drama that follows the daily lives of the residents of a matriarchal cult and explores the gray area where youthful idealism evolves into deadly extremism.”

The Feels
Directors: Tim Manley and Naje Lataillade | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“The Feels follows the awkward and endearing Charlie, a bi illustrator and high school teacher trying to navigate adulthood and queerhood. Rather than present a traditional story arc, each episode of the show is more a series of tender human moments — a live-action comic strip, a daily dose of humanity.”

Actually, No
Directors: Chris Raddatz and Charlie Hoxie | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“A new series of mockumentary shorts that focuses on Brooklyn’s most underrepresented characters — people who may or may not exist.”

Best Thing You’ll Ever Do
Directed by Catherine Fordham | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“When a hard-working entrepreneur sets her sites on the opportunity of a lifetime, she unexpectedly meets the man of her dreams and feels forced to decide between pursuing career success or having a family.”

Period Piece
Creator: Liliana Tandon | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“Period Piece is an award-winning comedic web series about women in different periods of history… having their periods.”

1 Minute Meal: A Documentary Portrait of NYC
Director: James Boo | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“1 Minute Meal is a documentary web series that uses food to reveal the communities, legacies, dreams, realities, and unseen forces that shape life in New York City. The purpose of this work—which has been exhibited online, in theatres, and in visual arts spaces—is to create a more inclusive and dignified media portrayal of diversity in the United States.”

Tinder Is the Night
Director: Misha Calvert | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“Eddie and her three best friends are looking for love, sex, and companionship, but a string of bizarre internet meetups make them question the sanity of dating. Inspired by real events, Tinder is the Night is a short digital comedy that chronicles the online dating adventures of Eddie and her three girlfriends in New York City and the gorgeous, ugly, sexy, kinky, fantastically weird men and women they meet along the way. In the pilot, poor, dorky Eddie is excited about a hot first date, and her best friends try to help her comprehend the intricacies of online romance.”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14 | 10:30pm

Pretty Far from Okay
Director: Helena Hufnagel
Narrative Feature | Germany | 1hr, 24m
October 14 | 10:30pm

WATCH TRAILER

“Isi (27) is stucked in a quater-life-crisis. With a graphic diploma in one hand and a drink in the other, Isi is stucked in a strange place ‚inbetween’ university and real life. This place would seem bleak and lonely, if her very best friend Lotte wasn’t there with here. But that changes abruptly when Lotte not only needs a real job but also falls in love with her colleague Leo, effectively ending their live as a twosome. One second later Lotte is a vegan grown up and Isi’s live is turning backwards. She has to move into a filthy at-share despairing over the antics of her “musician” at- mate Klausi and the slightlithy crazy medical student Daniel. While Isi is working on a Graphic Novel from Scott Fitzgeralds “The Beautiful and Damned”, she starts to realize, that adulthood has arrived, like a runaway train, and there’s no getting out of its way. She find’s herself in an almost awesome, love-hate relationship with her twenties, which is “pretty far from okay.””

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 15 | 12pm

We Are Mary
Director: Julie Wiles
Documentary Feature | USA
October 15 | 12pm
Q&A with Directors Post-Screening

WATCH TRAILER

“We Are Mary tells the frank, heart-wrenching story of a woman who suffered from Dissociative Identity Disorder (more commonly know as Multiple Personality Disorder) during childhood and most of her adult life.”

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 15 | 1pm

The Valley
Director: Saila Kariat
Narrative Feature Drama | USA | 1hr 35min
October 15 | 1:00pm

WATCH TRAILER

“The Valley is the story of an immigrant entrepreneur Neal Kumar and his family, who live in the technologically driven culture that is silicon valley. His affluent life appears idyllic from the exterior, however, when his daughter Maya tragically commits suicide, the fractured nature of his interior life becomes apparent to himself and those around him.”

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 15 | 2:15pm

Tribal Justice
Director: Anne Makepeace
Documentary Feature | USA | 1 hr, 30 m
Q&A with Director Post-Screening

WATCH TRAILER

“Two Native American judges, both strong women, are forging innovative justice systems to keep their people out of prison, prevent children from being taken from their communities, and stop the school-to-prison pipeline that plagues their young people. Their justice is personal, dedicated, harking back to age-old traditions to help tribal members live in the modern world. Vérité footage of these judges’ lives and work form the backbone of the documentary, while the heart of the film follows several cases in and out of their courtrooms. In their courts, Judges Abby and Claudette are modeling restorative justice in action.”

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 15 | 2:30pm

SHORT FILM BLOCK: ‘THIS WOMAN’S WORK’
October 15 | 2:30 pm | 1 hr, 30 m
Q&A with Directors Post-Screening

Gema
Director: Kenrick Prince | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“After an emotional day with her family, Gema Walker comes home to face meeting her fiancé’s parents for the first time. Upon discovering that her future in-laws plan to drop by their Brooklyn apartment before dinner, Gema is forced into an emotional confrontation when Sam admits that he’s still harboring a sensitive and potentially damaging truth from his parents.”

Leche (Milk)
Director: Gabriella Moses | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“Nina, a 9 year-old Dominican American girl rejected by her peers in school because of her albinism, finds solace in the death of an albino deer in her community as she is forced to be friends with her bully.”

Buttercup
Director: Megan Brotherton | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“On days you just can’t handle, it helps to have a friend around. Maggie hasn’t seen Janie in forever, but with a hearty brownie breakfast and a boozy run, they quickly make up for lost time. Still, at the end of the day, they both have to face some hard realities.”

Goddess (Devi)
Director: Karishma Dev Dube | India, Bengali Language

WATCH TRAILER

“Set in New Delhi, a closeted lesbian risks family and social boundaries as she pursues her attraction towards her household maid, Devi.”

Out Again
Director: Robin Cloud | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“Cat visits her parents for the weekend and is confronted with her mother’s inability to remember one key detail.”

He Could’ve Gone Pro
Director: McGhee Monteith | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“When Debbie comes home for Christmas, she and her mother Gayle are forced to confront the truth about their family’s past over a tense holiday lunch.”

Fry Day
Director: Laura Moss | USA

WATCH TRAILER

“An adolescent girl comes of age against the backdrop of Ted Bundy’s execution in 1989.”

To purchase tickets and for more information, please visit Bushwick Film Festival’s website. All film and festival descriptions are courtesy of Bushwick Film Festival.

Amma Asante Shows that Period Films Can (and Should) Center Black People

Actress Thandie Newton argues that “historical dramas ‘limit UK Black actors’.” Churning out endless projects about the royal family and the so-called “good old days” isn’t doing Black actors any favors. …”Historical/period drama” is one of the worst genres for inclusion of Black characters, with a whopping 80% of such films having no named roles for Black actors whatsoever. …Period dramas and Black stories aren’t mutually exclusive, as Amma Asante shows us in ‘Belle’ and her latest film, ‘A United Kingdom.’

This guest post written by Elizabeth Matter appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors, Part 2.

Samuel L. Jackson caused a stir and opened up a dialogue with his comments about the casting of Black British actor Daniel Kaluuya in the breakout hit Get Out, which has broken multiple box office records. “I tend to wonder what that movie would have been with an American brother who really feels that,” Jackson said in a radio interview. Several Black British actors have rebutted his remarks, including David Harewood and John Boyega. But Jackson’s observation that “there are a lot of Black British actors in these movies” is hard to deny. From Boyega and Kaluuya to Naomie Harris, David Oyelowo, Idris Elba, Chiwetel Ejiofor, and Ruth Negga, many of the most visible Black actors in Hollywood right now are from my side of the pond (not to mention Thandie Newton killing it on the small screen in HBO’s Westworld).

What looks like another British Invasion from Jackson’s angle, though, looks like a talent drain from mine. It’s no mystery why so many of our best actors are choosing to migrate to the U.S. It’s partly, of course, because Hollywood remains the biggest (in terms of screens and box office revenue) and most established film industry in the world, and for Black actors in the UK, the roles just aren’t there, as Oyelowo and Elba point out.

Part of the blame might lie with our nation’s appetite for nostalgia. It’s a truism that us Brits love our period dramas. It’s worth pointing out, though, that the rest of the world seems to love our period dramas, too: Downton Abbey is one of our most successful exports in recent years, and The Crown is the first original series that Netflix has commissioned from Britain, as well as one of the most expensive TV shows ever made. Meanwhile, on the big screen, The King’s Speech is the most successful solely British production since 1989. I’m sure that many of these projects are greenlighted with one eye on the international market, but read the comments on any Daily Mail article and it’s hard to deny that Little England’s fondest wish seems to be to live inside a sepia-tinted photograph of Blighty circa 1945 (I’m being rhetorical. Please don’t read them).

Thandie Newton argues that “historical dramas ‘limit UK Black actors’.” Churning out endless projects about the royal family and the so-called “good old days” isn’t doing Black actors any favors. According to the British Film Institute’s (BFI) research project “Black Star,” “historical/period drama” is one of the worst genres for inclusion of Black characters, with a whopping 80% of such films having no named roles for Black actors whatsoever.

David Oyelowo has pushed back against this phenomenon, saying “look at the beautiful buildings in London — the blood of my ancestors are in those bricks […] Black people did not turn up in the UK at Windrush” (referring to the Empire Windrush, the ship that brought 492 Jamaican immigrants to the UK in 1948, when British Citizenship was first granted to people living in all Commonwealth countries). In an interview with Radio Times, he said, “We make period dramas [in Britain], but there are almost never Black people in them, even though we’ve been on these shores for hundreds of years.”

Of course, he’s absolutely right: period dramas and Black stories aren’t mutually exclusive, as Amma Asante shows us in Belle and her latest film, A United Kingdom (which stars and was co-produced by Oyelowo).

Based on the true story of mixed-race 18th century heiress Dido Elizabeth Belle (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), Belle looks and feels like a Jane Austen romance, complete with gender politics, meddling guardians, and a romantic rivalry for the heroine’s hand between a caddish suitor and her true love. But the film goes further, dealing with issues such as slavery, institutional racism, and the intersections between different forms of privilege and oppression. In one of the film’s best lines, Belle says that, due to her financial independence, she has “been blessed with freedom twice over, as a negro and as a woman”; in another, she admits that she “cannot claim even a portion of the misfortune to those whom I most closely resemble.” Impressively, it weaves all these strands into the narrative while still remaining engaging and character-driven.

Although there is some question as to the authorship of Belle — while Asante herself claims to have extensively redrafted Misan Sagay’s initial script, the WGA’s investigation found in favor of Sagay, who was awarded sole credit — we can be sure that it was written by a Black woman, and it shows. In one scene, Belle, who was raised by white relatives, turns to the only other Black person she knows — a servant named Mabel (Bethan Mary-James) — for help with her hair. Though the specifics of the situation are highly bound by historical context, Belle’s struggle to feel entirely at home in her white household brings to mind the experiences of interracial adoptees, and those of mixed-race children raised by a white single parent.

Even without such details, Belle would be entertaining, beautifully shot, and brilliantly performed, particularly by Mbatha-Raw; with them, it is a thoughtful and important piece of work.

Asante’s most recent feature, A United Kingdom, which opened the 2016 BFI London Film Festival, the first film directed by a Black filmmaker to open or close the festival, begins in 1947 — as does the much more expensive and much whiter The Crown — and is also about royals; in this case, the royal family of what was then Bechuanaland (modern-day Botswana).

Based on real-life events, what starts as an intimate romance between working-class Londoner Ruth Williams (Rosamund Pike) and law student Seretse Khama (David Oyelowo) becomes a much bigger story. The petty racism they face from Ruth’s father turns out to be the least of their problems, as Seretse’s status as king of the Bamangwato people — and the subsequent interference of Britain’s government — threatens the foundations of their marriage.

At a press conference promoting the film, Asante spoke about shooting in Botswana. She said, “I wanted the DNA of the country running through our film,” and shared how Botswanans were “comforted that [the story] was going to be told through the gaze of a woman of colour.” She also stressed the importance of the female gaze in cinema, pointing out:

“We also play a large part in getting men to the cinema to watch these films, that a lot of the time are about white men, in a certain age bracket. That’s not to say women directors should always direct women’s stories, but seeing the world through a female gaze from time to time shouldn’t be that odd […] I walk a female path every day, I see the world through female eyes, and I know there are 50% of people in this country who walk a similar path. It’s not about removing what’s already there, it’s about allowing a space for others to join, and have the same privilege.”

For my money, A United Kingdom (written, incidentally, by a white man) is more stolid than Belle, and lacks some of its insight. However, it’s an entertaining and informative look at a forgotten chapter of British history, as well as an important reminder of the British government’s complicity in South African apartheid.

To return for a moment to Samuel L. Jackson’s comments, one of the ways he said that the Black British experience differed from the African American one is that in Britain we have “been interracial dating for a hundred years.” Asante’s depictions of interracial relationships in Belle and A United Kingdom show that this is true, but not the whole story: the couples at the center of these films encounter different struggles than those depicted in, say, Loving (starring Ruth Negga, a Black Irish actress who has obviously found better opportunities on the other side of the Atlantic), but struggles nonetheless. We may not have had slavery or segregation in Great Britain — although there was indentured servitude and British merchants and ships were heavily involved in the Atlantic slave trade, making Great Britain one of the main carriers of African slaves — but that doesn’t mean British history isn’t filled with examples of institutional and societal racism, the effects of which we can still observe today.

In both films, Asante displays a deft touch, telling these overlooked stories with humor and intelligence while maintaining a populist sensibility that gives her films mainstream appeal. I’m sure her career will continue to flourish; her upcoming film, Where Hands Touch, will be another period piece, starring Amandla Stenberg. I hope that it also inspires British producers to think more creatively about which stories to tell. Asante proves it’s possible to make films that are representative of Britain’s diversity without giving up the frock flicks we love so much — and maybe we can even stop losing all of our most talented actors to Hollywood.

See also at Bitch Flicks:

Belle: A Costume Drama Like and Unlike the Others
The Gaze of Objectification: Race, Gender, and Privilege in Belle
The Female Gaze: Dido and Noni, Two of a Kind
Colorism and Interracial Relationships in Film: Belle, The Wedding, and More

Recommended Reading:

Lady Macbeth: how one film took on costume drama’s whites-only rule via The Guardian

Elizabeth Matter is a queer writer and performer who lives in England, writes at Medium and tweets @PanickyInTheUK.