Films By Women – Page 30

‘Enough Said’: The Ex-Wife, the Masseuse, and Her Lover

James Gandolfini as Albert and Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Eva

This is a guest post by Heather Brown.

The only other Nicole Holofcener film I had seen before Enough Said (2013) was Walking and Talking (1996), a delightful indie movie about Gen X-ers trying to navigate love and friendship in NYC. Though there are many fans of the movies she made in between these two—and many compelling reviews—I wasn’t sure I needed to hurry up and watch them. I figured that I, like many viewers, pretty well know that rich, white people have problems just like the rest of us. Granted, most of us generally slog through life without quandaries like having to worry about why the maid insists on putting the hairbrush in the silverware drawer. But now that I’ve seen Holofcener’s latest you can bet that I’ll be moving other films like Please Give (2010) and Lovely and Amazing (2001) up on my Netflix queue.

Enough Said is set against the backdrop of people in L.A. with economic and social privilege that goes unremarked upon, but Holofcener does not dwell on these factors and instead shines a light on the flaws and vulnerabilities of middle-aged single parents in a way that is sympathetic and tender. It doesn’t hurt that one of these characters, Albert, is played by the late James Gandolfini, whose slobby charm is made even more winsome by fact that this was one of his final film performances. Albert is about as sweet and low-key as Tony Soprano was fierce and explosive, and it’s easy to see how the earthy masseuse Eva (played by Julia Louis-Dreyfus) finds him endearing.

Catherine Keener as Marianne and Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Eva in Enough Said — Catherine Keener as Marianne and Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Eva in *Enough Said*

As the story goes, Albert and Eva are introduced at a party, and later he asks her out to dinner. Unbeknownst to them both, the party that brought them together also put Eva in conversation with Albert’s ex-wife, Marianne, played by Catherine Keener. Marianne is a poet, which Eva finds intriguing. And as it happens, Marianne is also in need of a good masseuse. You know what happens next. Would that Albert and Marianne’s separation was an amicable one, perhaps there would be nothing to discuss about her ex as she lay prone on the massage table as Eva works her magic. Not so, of course. Once Eva realizes that the man she finds herself growing more and more attracted to is the very man Marianne can’t cease to skewer during each massage, trouble starts brewing.

What follows is Eva eagerly drinking in Marianne’s ire about Albert, as she reads Eva a list of his faults. Unsurprisingly, many of these shortcomings involve his eating, hygiene, dress, and home décor tendencies. (As Marianne tells her, “My ex-husband and I had zero in common, and I was completely repulsed by him sexually.”) Eva can’t seem to trust her own feelings and judgment and gets deeper into a one-sided friendship with Marianne, whose narcissism is almost too obvious for Eva to notice.

All that said, the plot really turns on Eva’s relationship with her daughter Ellen (Tracey Fairaway), and her impending departure to college on the opposite coast. Eva is having a difficult time losing her daughter to this inevitable next step (and indeed, so is Albert, whose daughter Tess, played by Eve Hawson, is also on her way out of the nest). Because we follow Eva’s story the closest, we, too, are put through the emotional ringer of seeing Eva express her desire to pull Ellen tighter by proxy of Ellen’s friend Chloe (Tavi Gevinson), who feels closer to Eva than she does her own mother. Ellen resents her mother’s misplaced neediness, and their conflict is handled with nuance and grace. And it’s not as if Eva’s married friends Will and Sarah (played by Ben Falcone and Toni Colette) have it figured out; Sarah, for instance, is obsessed with rearranging the furniture, which Will finds perplexing. Their exchanges are especially amusing, as is much of the film overall.

Still from Enough Said — Still from *Enough Said*

What I found most compelling about this film is Eva’s obsession with Albert’s physicality, but not for the reasons you might expect. Yes, Albert is clearly overweight and could stand to show up to a second date with a button-down instead of a T-shirt, but it’s the way that Eva tallies up his faults that shows her to be the one who could stand to do some work on herself. Audiences are quite used to seeing relationships in romantic comedies wherein men and women’s attractiveness is asymmetrical (see: almost every Judd Apatow film). If you’re like me, you find this troubling and tired and yet another example of Hollywood’s gendered double standard. But Enough Said calls into question Eva’s superficiality and preoccupation with Albert’s physical flaws (from his caloric intake to his loud, labored nose breathing) rather than condone her attitude as a reasonable response. Holofcener offers a subtle yet powerful critique of women’s tendencies to promote amongst themselves an ethos of moral superiority as expressed in physical health and well-being. After all, the central irony of Eva is that while her livelihood is to provide a healthful touch, she will not allow herself to be the recipient of the same tenderness. Practicing massage requires acceptance and kindness toward the body—something that does not come easy to her when it comes to letting herself connect with Albert.

Without spoiling the ending, let’s just say Enough Said leaves us with a sweetly unresolved last scene. It’s rare that a romantic-comedy hints that in fact, yes, it is possible for people to come together without the expectation that one or both people need to change in order to win the other’s affection. Holofcener’s film makes a refreshing case for suspending judgment for the sake of trusting one’s gut feeling—and the importance of following your own way.

Heather Brown lives in Chicago, Ill., and works as a freelance instructional designer and online writing instructor. She lives for feminism, movies, live music, road trips, and cheese.

Seed & Spark: A Balancing Act: A Year of Film

At the same time I’d been reading a lot of reports about how underrepresented women filmmakers are. I’d seen a lot of fabulous films directed by women, but I recognized that there were many more women-made films I had yet to see. I actually had NO IDEA how true that was until I launched into this process, but that insight sparked my idea to create a year of film watching that focused on films made in the past ten years, and gender balanced my viewing. So here’s the vision: over the course of a year I’d watch films directed by women and men in equal number. Every day I’d see at least one feature film and one short. I chose to put my attention on films from the past decade, so I could tune in to the powerful energies of film creation arising on the planet at this time.

This is a guest post by Barbara Ann O’Leary.

I’m having a great year in film viewing. I attribute that in large part to my choice to take conscious charge of what I see. It’s a process, rocky at times, but it’s been an amazingly eye opening adventure. I call it A Yearlong Film Viewing Balancing Act.

Yes, that’s a clunky name with a cryptic hashtag #yfvba, but I rather like it. It’s a little strange and obsessive. I think I’m on to something.

I’m an enormous lover of film. I watch a LOT of films, but I’d started questioning what my film viewing choices were based on. Media hype? Friends’ suggestions? Whatever just happened to be showing at the local theater? Pressure I put on myself to be able to say I’d seen all the so-called great films?

Why not just dedicate myself to watching women-made films for a whole year? That would be a great project too. That might be what someone else needs to do, but for me it’s about inviting harmony. It’s about fostering balance in my own film-loving life, and it’s about recognizing that as an individual I have the power to impact the entire world of cinema through my film viewing choices.

What? Change the entire world by film watching?! Yes. I really think so.

When I launched A Yearlong Film Viewing Balancing Act on May 4th, which was the day the idea struck me, I created a manifesto of sorts. It started off like this:

“Today I begin a yearlong film viewing balancing act… where I dedicate myself to inviting authentic creative expression to flourish in the world in a balanced and harmonious way by bringing my attention to–and opening to receive–the creative motion picture outpourings of women and men filmmakers in equal measure.”

To me this was an act of power, a fierce awakening. What we put our attention on grows in our own lives and in the world at large. I’ve experienced that over and over again in my life. When I ask myself what I want to see flourish in the world I get this crystal clear answer: I want to live in a world where everyone’s authentic creative expression is honored, supported, and received fully. Film is my favorite form of artistic expression, so it’s a natural place for me to bring my awareness.

Through A Yearlong Film Viewing Balancing Act I’m making an unshakable commitment to be awake to what films I’m experiencing. I’m noticing and honoring who made them. The film world responds to viewer demand–not instantaneously, but over time–and I’m doing my part to call forth balance. Gender balance is not the only balance I value, but I’m inviting it to serve as a grounding force for balance in all other aspects of life.

Even if no one else is changed by this process, I know I will be. I already am, and I’m only halfway through the 365 day process. As I’ve been blogging, tweeting, Facebooking, and talking about the adventure with others, I am noticing that things are starting to shift in the wider world, so I’m gaining confidence that my actions are making a difference. That’s delightful to me.

Here are a few things that have already shifted in my life, because of this experience:

I have become aware that MANY women are in fact filmmaking. Five months ago I started a list on IMDb to help me find the world of Women Filmmakers: Active in the past decade. Astonishingly, without even making an effort, I’ve grown that list to 2,338 filmmakers. That’s just a start. Women do in fact make movies. And many of them tweet. I’ve located 863 so far and gathered them into a list.

Starting out on this adventure I’d feared that to keep my theatrical film viewing even I would have to struggle, but although women-made films are underrepresented in theaters, I have been able to go out to see an even number of movies directed by women and men without difficulty. Yes, it’s taken some focus and planning, but by combining multiplex, art house, and film festival viewings, I’ve been able to stay even. As of today I have seen 23 man-made films, 24 woman-made films, and 4 films by mixed gender directing teams out at theaters. Including films I’ve streamed, watched on disc or on TV, I’m up to 219 features. Men- and women-made films are running neck and neck.

It’s ridiculous to generalize about filmmakers by gender. Each filmmaker is unique and expresses her or his own vision of self and world. For instance, I’ve found both woman- and man-made films to be tender explorations of love and family. Jeff Nichols’ Mud, David Lowery’s Ain’t Them Bodies Saints, Ava DuVernay’s Middle of Nowhere, and Lake Bell’s In a World… come to mind. And women-made films can be as harsh as any man’s.

[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/Vatw1xlgZJM” title=”Ava%20DuVernay%27s%20Middle%20of%20Nowhere%20trailer”]

Ava DuVernay’s Middle of Nowhere trailer

[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/b_gGlYCMye4″ title=”David%20Lowery%27s%20Ain%27t%20Them%20Bodies%20Saints%20trailer”]

David Lowery’s Ain’t Them Bodies Saints trailer

I feel more centered and grounded when I’m saying YES to authentic creative expression that arises in a balanced way.

The journey is ongoing. If you’d like to join me, I’d love your company. Come find me at O’Leary’s Reel Life on Tumblr, Twitter, or Facebook , etc. Tell me how your film viewing adventures are unfolding. And stay tuned for my new podcast–under development.

Barbara Ann O’Leary, Indiana University Cinema’s Outreach Specialist, loves to help people engage authentically. Recent projects include: Every Everything: The Music, Life & Times of Grant Hart (Executive Producer), Indy Film Festival (Screening Committee), Indiana Filmmakers Network Made in Bloomington Film Series (Programmer), Bloomington Screenwriting Community (Founder/Facilitator). A Film Explorer/Blogger, Barbara shares her adventures in film and reports on her initiative A Yearlong Film Viewing Balancing Act at O’Leary’s Reel Life: http://olearysreellife.tumblr.com/

‘Afternoon Delight’: Don’t Hang Your Shame on Me

Let’s face it: many of us feminists will pay lip service to sex workers’ rights while at the same time hold within us a mess of conflicting feelings around the subject. In fact, many of us are probably a bit more repressed about sex than we’d care to admit. The idea that there are women who voluntarily seek out such work has long been a feminist conundrum. But perhaps the bigger problem is the paternalistic impulse of feminists trying to rescue sex workers. Jill Soloway, the writer and director of Afternoon Delight knows this all too well. As she says in an interview about the film, “It’s not just about rescue. If you’re into rescue go rescue the garment workers. It’s about amping up your own relationship to your own shame around sex.”

Afternoon Delight movie poster — *Afternoon Delight* movie poster

This is a guest post by Heather Brown. [contains spoilers]

Let’s face it: many of us feminists will pay lip service to sex workers’ rights while at the same time hold within us a mess of conflicting feelings around the subject. In fact, many of us are probably a bit more repressed about sex than we’d care to admit. The idea that there are women who voluntarily seek out such work has long been a feminist conundrum. But perhaps the bigger problem is the paternalistic impulse of feminists trying to rescue sex workers. Jill Soloway, the writer and director of Afternoon Delight, knows this all too well. As she says in an interview about the film, “It’s not just about rescue. If you’re into rescue go rescue the garment workers. It’s about amping up your own relationship to your own shame around sex.”

Here’s the story: a bored woman named Rachel (Kathryn Hahn) lives in a bright, airy Silver Lake, L.A. home with her app-designing husband and toddler. Rachel doesn’t work but busies herself with event planning and local charities linked to her local Jewish Community Center. We see her in therapy sessions, spinning her wheels to justify and normalize her ennui (“Six months, no sex…I feel like there are a lot of couples who go through dry spells.” Her therapist, played by a wry Jane Lynch, replies, “Not healthy couples”). Her best friend, Stephanie (Jessica St. Clair), suggests that Rachel go to a strip club for a change of pace. She says of she and her husband: “We go there, get all hot, and then we bang each other when we get home.” Then, a night out with friends at a strip club finds her face-to-face with a young woman named McKenna (Juno Temple), who delivers Rachel a lap-dance at the behest of her husband. She’s sufficiently discomfited, but her curiosity is awakened.

McKenna (Juno Temple) and Rachel (Kathryn Hahn)

It’s Rachel’s curiosity that leads her back to the neighborhood of the strip club in the sober light of day, where she happens to see McKenna in the midst of one of those breakups where everything you own ends up in the trunk of a car and strewn on the sidewalk. Rachel invites McKenna to stay with her for a few days, and then offers her the long-term gig of being her live-in nanny. Soon, Rachel learns that McKenna is more than a stripper when McKenna reveals matter-of-factly, “I’m a full service sex worker.” This knowledge changes Rachel’s posture toward McKenna, and she tells her, “If you want out of that life, I can help you.” So it begins: Rachel attempts to take McKenna under her wing, but as the film progresses, we start to wonder exactly who most needs being saved—and all signs point to Rachel.

While the film crescendos with a big “uh-oh” scene, the most compelling moments are those in which women are sharing experiences of raw, ugly honesty. These are instances when shame is pulled back, and we see the guts and blood of their perfectly curated lives. Two scenes are especially haunting (you won’t see these in the trailer).

In the first, Rachel accompanies McKenna on a call to one of her clients. This is a man who enjoys having another woman watch him while he is having sex with McKenna, and Rachel tells her she wants to do it. Rather than giving us just a taste of what happens in a before-and-after editing sequence, Soloway brings us into the room to watch Rachel watch McKenna on the job, as it were. The camera holds the gaze of the client, an overweight middle-aged man with ample body hair, who remains fixed on Rachel as he climaxes with McKenna sitting on top of him.

To me, what’s most troubling is the way that Rachel regards McKenna afterward. She becomes withholding, and in a symbolic rejection, prevents McKenna from babysitting a large group of her friends’ kids so they can have a ladies’ wine night. Rachel blames McKenna for what she has now learned about herself—which is a dehumanizing act. Yet, Kathryn Hahn imbues such a degree of sympathy to the performance that we can almost forgive her. This brings me to the second scene.

Ladies’ wine night: as the night begins, women are talking, laughing, over-sharing in ways that are funny and blunt. Soon, the teeth become wine-stained and—yep—out pours Rachel’s shame. When Stephanie reveals that she’s pregnant (no wine for her), Rachel’s first response is that this now means she’s going to be the only one among them with just one child. Later, as she’s drunker and drunker, Rachel weeps and self-flagellates for never printing out any of the photos of her child (she only has them on the “cloud”).

What I find so amazing about these two scenes (and don’t worry, there’s plenty I didn’t spoil) is that they show how Rachel is so desperate to reveal herself, to be intimately known. But when confronted with someone like McKenna—who is in the business of doing this and lot more—she can’t handle it.

I was reminded of another film after I saw this one: Elles (2011), in which Juliette Binoche plays a journalist writing a profile of French student prostitutes. She becomes involved in their world to an extent that it complicates her relationship to her bourgeois married, family life. There seems to be a subgenre of films featuring women who reckon with—or perhaps imagine—the role of the sex worker. While this can make for intriguing and rich storytelling, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we made sex workers the subject, rather than the object.

Heather Brown lives in Chicago, Ill., and works as a freelance instructional designer and online writing instructor. She lives for feminism, movies, live music, road trips, and cheese.

The Way We Talk: Cody’s ‘Paradise’ and Hess’ ‘Austenland’

When the trailers for Jerusha Hess’ Austenland and Diablo Cody’s Paradise first premiered, there was a lot of talk about the two young female directors and their debut films. Each woman had good credits, Cody for writing the academy award-winning script for Juno, and Hess for her work on the surprising cult-hit, Napoleon Dynamite.

At first, the hype was positive; Cody would hopefully turn out another witty conglomerate of social insight and angsty sarcasm and Hess might bring a quirky, women’s-focused comedy to the table.

Written by Rachel Redfern

When the trailers for Jerusha Hess’ Austenland and Diablo Cody’s Paradise first premiered, there was a lot of talk about the two young female directors and their debut films. Each woman had good credits–Cody for writing the academy award-winning script for Juno, and Hess for her work on the surprising cult-hit Napoleon Dynamite.

At first, the hype was positive; Cody would hopefully turn out another witty conglomerate of social insight and angsty sarcasm and Hess might bring a quirky, women-focused comedy to the table.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Blu3_Mxpimc”]

And then they each released a bit more information about their projects: Cody’s Paradise was a story of a young Christian woman recovering from a plane who decides to sample the pleasures of the world in Las Vegas. And Hess’ Austenland featured an obsessed Austen fan who travels to England to live out her unrealistic romantic fantasies in an Austen theme park.

Instantly, the tone surrounding the two films changed; Paradise would be an edgier piece with great commentary about the loss of innocence, whereas Austenland would be a fluffy rehash of romantic clichés.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbHr8YyjSlg”]

In the world of “women’s film,” the conversation can move quickly from one of support, to one of derision. Even just a film’s association with a topic normally seen as “girly” is instantly belittled and pushed to the background. A shame, since Jane Austen’s insight into social classes and wealth make her still relevant today, and some of her writings included fabulous satire about over-indulgent romantic media. By extension, Austenland had some true potential for meta-commentary about romantic comedies and the dangers of “fandom.”

Unfortunately, both films have disappointed critics, box office sales, and audiences—neither film proving to be original, funny or insightful (or apparently, even well-acted).

But the worst part is, setbacks like these always take female directing down a bit, proving fodder for those who make quippy remarks about how women “just aren’t funny,” and can’t really direct. With only 11% of Hollywood directors being women, we still under-represent half the population going to see movies in a big way, and it’s always sad to see young directors struggling after only one film.

But, hopefully, Hess and Cody won’t give up, and instead, will return with new stunningly original characters and winning comedy. We need it.

What do you think? Did you enjoy Paradise or Austenland? How will this impact female directors in the future? Can they bounce back from these two flops?

Not Another Teenaged Drama: A Review of ‘Palo Alto’

Palo Alto is what would happen if Mean Girls had a major collision with American Beauty. The picturesque neighborhoods with the homes of the screwed up parents of the main characters was entirely reminiscent of American Beauty. The parents’ self-absorption was stunning at times. And every time April’s high school girl classmates talked, it was like nails on a chalkboard (cue: Mean Girls’ Regina George, Gretchen Weiners, Karen Smith WITHOUT the comedy).

This is a guest post by Atima Omara-Alwala.

The next generation of directing Coppolas has come of age in Gia Coppola’s (granddaughter of renowned director Francis Ford Coppola) teenage angst drama featured in the American suburbs. Palo Alto is from a collection of short stories by actor James Franco (who knew he was a writer?), who stars in the film himself.

The main focus is around teenaged April (played by Emma Roberts, daughter of actor Eric Roberts) and Teddy (Jack Kilmer, Val Kilmer’s son) and their parallel existences with occasional touches on the lives of their fellow high school classmates who are obsessed with sex, substances, and suicide. The link between April and Teddy is that April likes Teddy, Teddy likes April–but because they’re teenagers, they never get around to saying it until much later into the film. In between this, April has a short-lived fling with her soccer coach, Mr. B (a very smarmy James Franco), and Teddy has a fling with Emily (Zoe Levin) (read: random fellatio at a house party). Also, Emily has a fling with Teddy’s best friend Fred (Nat Wolff), an all-star sociopathic misogynist.

Indeed, it is a tad heartbreaking to see how quickly Fred jumps back into his jeans after bedding Emily and callously views her deflated face afterwards or, in another scene, how he pushes Emily down to her knees for some oral attention–all the while demanding she tell him what an amazing guy he is. Emily is that girl you knew in high school who you A) thought was cool because she seemed outwardly confident, and sexually precocious (when you didn’t have a clue) and B) was being endlessly slut shamed for it by all the jealous “mean girls”–which, of course, happens in this film.

For all her outward confidence, Emily is really looking to be valued and validated. So it’s even more painfully awkward as a viewer when Emily keeps going back to Fred until finally, in a major pivotal scene, she’s had enough of his verbal and emotional abuse. Meanwhile, April is trying to figure out her “relationship” with Mr. B and her feelings for Teddy. It is hinted that the relationship April has with Mr. B is perhaps due to the lack of attention at home from a less-than-interested mother and an eccentric stepfather (played by Val Kilmer).

This is Gia Coppola’s first movie and not bad all around, but it was not revolutionary, and it is a story line that has been done more times than is necessary already: Y’know, the white middle-class to upper middle-class privileged kids who are bored and reckless–and who have no idea why they are so bored and reckless.

Palo Alto is what would happen if Mean Girls had a major collision with American Beauty. The picturesque neighborhoods with the homes of the screwed up parents of the main characters was entirely reminiscent of American Beauty. The parents’ self-absorption was stunning at times. And every time April’s high school girl classmates talked, it was like nails on a chalkboard (cue: Mean Girls’ Regina George, Gretchen Weiners, Karen Smith WITHOUT the comedy). There was very little diversity, no people of color except one or two as extras (which is often the case in a lot of suburbs anyway), and the only discussion of LGBT issues was Emily (who is already tagged as a whore) admitting to having done a girl-on-girl thing in a spirited game of “Never Have I Ever” (great).

If you went to high school in the suburbs and want a nowhere near humorous and somewhat awkward reminder of the whole experience, Palo Alto is your film.

Atima Omara-Alwala is a political strategist and activist of 10 years who has served as staff on 8 federal and local political campaigns and other progressive causes. Atima’s work has had a particular focus on women’s political empowerment & leadership, reproductive justice, health care, communities of color and how gender and race is reflected in pop culture. Her writings on the topics have also been featured at Ms. Magazine, Women’s Enews, and RH Reality Check.

The Most Important Film of 2013: ‘After Tiller’

Though our adversaries might be impermeable to facts and logic, this thing isn’t unwinnable. We just have to use the right strategies to get through to people. If After Tiller can’t change the minds of anti-choice die-hards (and maybe it can! I haven’t asked any!), then it might at least be a mobilization tool for our side to recruit activists from among the undecided.

Written by Max Thornton.

One of the first classes of my master’s degree was called “Religion and Politics in the US,” and one of the assigned texts was Ziad W. Munson’s The Making of Pro-Life Activists: How Social Movement Mobilization Works. Rather to my surprise, I learned that anti-choice activism does not on the whole result from strong anti-choice convictions: in fact, movement involvement often precedes the formation of convictions. People come into contact with the movement at times of major life transition – through new friends at college, say – and begin their activism for primarily social reasons. Beliefs come later. This is not only a good poststructuralist account of subjectivity (holla at Foucault and my homegirl Judith Butler), but it’s also a useful lesson to those of us on the other side. Though our adversaries might be impermeable to facts and logic, this thing isn’t unwinnable. We just have to use the right strategies to get through to people. If After Tiller can’t change the minds of anti-choice die-hards (and maybe it can! I haven’t asked any!), then it might at least be a mobilization tool for our side to recruit activists from among the undecided.

I’m not kidding. I genuinely think After Tiller is the most important film that will be released this year.

Reproductive Justice League!

Directors Martha Shane and Lana Wilson portray the daily lives of four late-term abortion providers, LeRoy Carhart, Warren Hern, Susan Robinson, and Shelley Sella. They chose these doctors because they are the only providers of third-trimester abortions left in the United States. All four were friends and colleagues of Dr. Tiller, and all four clearly derive at least some of their professional motivation from the desire to pay appropriate tribute to the memory of his sacrifice. This is not a film about the anti-choice movement. As the directors state in their press notes:

We decided to represent the anti-abortion movement as it is experienced by the doctors themselves – as a constant presence in the background, whether standing outside their clinics in protest, or lurking in the air as a potential threat – but not as the main story.

This is a film about the individual human beings, the everyday heroes, who provide this essential service, and the daily workings of their clinics. It is their story, a project in which they chose to participate in order to be humanized in the eyes of those who would vilify them as “baby-killers.” I hope some anti-choice hardliners will see the film, because they surely couldn’t ignore the truth about these four doctors:

How good they are, providing a desperately needed service, and treating their patients with oceans of compassion.
How human they are, getting up daily and keeping at their work despite the dangers and psychological toll of the constant threat from anti-choice terrorists, and relying on the love and support of their families to keep them going.
How moral they are, clearly thinking about the issue deeply every day of their lives, and fully aware of the moral burden of being the last resort for pregnant people who don’t want to be pregnant. Even an unyielding anti-choicer would have to admit that these doctors are far from cheery baby-murderers. They all have backgrounds in midwifery or obstetrics. They like babies! They want babies to live and be loved and have wonderful lives! That’s why they provide this service, to spare the babies who wouldn’t live and be loved and have wonderful lives.
How feminist they are, living out their commitment to women’s rights, and trusting pregnant people’s personal moral reasoning. One doctor speaks very movingly of her absolute refusal to morally infantilize pregnant people, of her unwavering faith that anyone seeking a third-trimester abortion will have been through all the ethical legwork necessary to make such a heart-aching decision.

And make no mistake, this film is also the story of the patients. It’s gut-wrenching to hear the testimony of the parents-to-be whose desperately wanted baby is so ridden with fetal abnormalities as to be unviable; of the rape survivor who spent the early months of the pregnancy in traumatized denial; of the sixteen-year-old Catholic who doesn’t think she will ever forgive herself, but feels abortion is the least worst option for her at this time. All the patients have given this decision immense amounts of thought, and they all urgently need this service.

Worryingly, it’s not clear how much longer late-term abortions will be available in the US (and the filmmakers do not omit the fact that medical costs alone are far beyond the means of most people, let alone the price of traveling to either Albuquerque, Boulder, or Germantown, MD). None of these doctors are getting any younger, and there isn’t exactly a clamor to replace them. This is by far the most troubling aspect of the film. All of the doctors speak of formative experiences seeing the terrible impacts of criminalized abortion on both women (who suffer tremendously from DIY abortion attempts) and children (who, unwanted, are sometimes horrendously neglected and abused). Those of us who have only lived in a post-Roe world have not seen this firsthand; we don’t know that world and we don’t have that drive.

This film is a remarkable spur to much-needed action. I feel compelled to speak out to from my own context of mainline Christianity, which is too often evasively silent on the topic of reproductive justice. George Tiller, murdered on a Sunday as he served at his beloved Lutheran church, did not worship the forced-birther God of the anti-choicers, and neither do I.

Go Team Leftist Christians for reproductive justice!

Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. In case you couldn’t tell, he’s strongly pro-choice.

Why We Need More Women Filmmakers: A Review of ‘Legend of the Red Reaper’

Movie still from Legend of the Red Reaper

This is a guest post by Aphrodite Kocięda.

When actress Tara Cardinal initially approached me and asked if I could write a review for her new film, Legend of the Red Reaper, I was a bit hesitant. I have never really been fond of films that are hyper-masculine and assume that they’re automatically progressive because they cast one woman as a lead in a “strong” position without changing the overall framework. In fact, many films replace their protagonist men with women who are doing the exact same hyper-masculine shit and assume they should automatically get brownie points for casting a vagina.

However, I was thoroughly surprised by Legend of the Red Reaper because Cardinal’s character, Aella, broke through stereotypical representations of women in action films. In fact, I found myself enamored with Aella and her ability to transform trite traits associated with strength into something progressive. She wasn’t afraid to be “feminine” and “masculine” simultaneously. Aella is not hypersexualized or deemed “incompetent” because she is a woman. She is a multi-dimensional, complex character who transcends the normative ideas of femininity and masculinity.

Tara Cardinal as Aella in Legend of the Red Reaper

Legend of the Red Reaper is a fantasy/action film that centers on the tensions between demons, humans, reapers, and witches. Reapers are half human and half demon and are protectors of humans. Cardinal’s character, Aella, plays a reaper who is destined to save the human race, and her journey is complicated by love, familial conflict, and identity issues. Cardinal is both the director and producer of the film which might explain why Aella’s character is so progressive. Additionally, Cardinal does all of her own stunt and sword work.

Aella doesn’t fit into any of the cliché tropes for women that are routinely reproduced in mainstream films. For example, Aella is in love with a man named Eris who is a human—someone who she could never be with because she is a reaper. A young townswoman named Indira attempts to gain the attention of Eris and wants to marry him. Aella, however, does not exact revenge upon Indira. In fact, at one point, Aella saves Indira’s life. Aella actually gives up Eris so that he can marry Indira. This was very different from the clichéd narratives centering on women’s relationships in other mainstream films where women fight and focus all of their energy on ruining each others’ lives. Aella respectfully steps out of the picture without any conflict.

Movie still from Legend of the Red Reaper

Aella’s battle scenes also transcend stereotypical representations. During one scene in particular, Aella fights off more than four men with her sword in one hand while holding a crying baby in the other. I have N-E-V-E-R seen this before. All too often, film writers and producers assume that in order to showcase women in masculine positions, they must strip women of any semblance of womanhood, which is problematic. Therefore, I thought it was a smart move on behalf of Cardinal to show this. Unlike other films that feature women in lead fighting roles, Aella was not sexualized, nor was she attempting to emulate a man.

For me, this is what art and film are supposed to be like. Oftentimes films can reproduce patriarchal values that make it that much more difficult for women to see a good film. Women are not granted the privilege of imagining themselves in roles that transcend patriarchy and white supremacy. All too often women are cast as one-dimensional background nameless beings, or topless random women who are mere accessories to a multidimensional man. Legend of the Red Reaper allowed me to escape my reality and provided me with a chance to finally imagine a narrative beyond the confines of my social reality. As bell hooks says, “…we do not need more art to give us shit. Art should and can be the place where we are given an alternative, a redemptive vision.”

Aph Kocięda is a graduate student at the University of South Florida in Communication. She also holds a B.A. in Women’s and Gender Studies. You can find Aph on Vegan Feminist Network.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Am Thankful for Lake Bell’s ‘In a World’

Movie poster for In a World …

This is a guest post by Molly McCaffrey.

1) Number one and most important of all, I’m thankful this movie was written and directed by a woman and that it’s a story about a strong, smart, interesting woman.

Director and screenwriter Lake Bell at the Sundance Film Festival

I am incredibly thankful about that.

2) I’m thankful this movie stars an actress who doesn’t look like every other Hollywood actress. Yes, Bell is beautiful, but she also doesn’t have the button nose, full lips, perfect posture, and blond hair that has become so annoyingly ubiquitous among our female movie stars.

Louis (Demetri Martin) and Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) sing their guts out in In a World …

And neither do her co-stars…

Louis (Demetri Martin) and Cher (Tig Notaro) watch Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) record a voice-over.

(You also gotta love a movie that has both Tig Notaro and Geena Davis.)

3) On a related note, I’m thankful Bell’s protagonist, Carol Solomon, doesn’t always act like a leading lady—she shuffles, lurches, and acts generally spazzy. She doesn’t always look glamorous either—she doesn’t always wear makeup or look perfectly primped and often wears regular-people clothes (sweatpants, thermal underwear, t-shirts, football jerseys, overalls, ill-fitting dresses, etc.)—just like the rest of us.

Louis (Demetri Martin) and Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) hatch plans to take over the voice-over industry.

At the same time, I’m glad Carol looks attractive when she wants to without looking trashy or showing off all the goods.

4) I’m also thankful that several men are attracted to Carol even though she doesn’t know how to dress or stand up straight (and that the men who are drawn to her are attractive but not perfect either).

Carol Solomon’s love interest, Louis (Demetri Martin)

5) I love, too, that this film shows an intelligent, driven, attractive young female protagonist in a relationship, but it isn’t what defines her. Let me say that again: Thank God her relationship doesn’t define her!

I was equally thrilled that Carol had casual sex with some random guy she met at a party and celebrated it. And that she didn’t end up regretting her actions or have something bad happen to her as a result. In this movie, sex was just part of life—no big deal—much like it is in real life.

Louis (Demetri Martin) and Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) karaoke the night away in In a World …

6) I was also head over heels over the fact that the two sisters—Carol and Dani—were so close and leaned on each other for everything.

Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) and her sister, Dani (Michaela Watkins)

I was glad, as well, that the person who had an “affair” in this movie was a woman (rather than a man) and that she didn’t actually go all the way.

7) I really appreciate, too, that this movie shows a young person living at home with a parent and that she isn’t doing so because she’s a lazy, lost, unmotivated slacker.

Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) and her father (Fred Melamed) argue about her career.

And I was truly blown away by the film’s characterization of Carol’s family—a real family having down-to-earth, regular problems.

No, nobody is dying of cancer, nobody is mentally ill or disabled, nobody is in prison, nobody is an alcoholic. The characters in this movie are just average people with average problems—like jealousy, resentment, miscommunication, and selfishness.

I am very grateful about that.

Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) and her father (Fred Melamed) on the way to an industry party.

8) I’m thrilled about several things relating to Carol’s job…

I’m relieved Carol works in a non-glamorous industry that we don’t usually see featured in movies—the voice-over industry.

Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) records a voice-over.

I love, too, that she cares so much about her work even though it doesn’t pay the bills.

And I’m glad that the film shows her having some success in that field without totally dominating it a la every other movie ever made (Erin Brockovich, Jerry Maguire, The Devil Wears Prada, Working Girl, etc., etc.).

9) I’m downright ecstatic about the fact that Carol didn’t have to trip or fall to make us laugh, avoiding the ridiculous formulas that often dominate movies about women.

Carol Solomon (Lake Bell) surrounded by her work notes in her bedroom at her father’s house.

Thank you for that, Lake Bell!

Tangentially, it was also awesome that Carol was irritated by stupid people doing stupid things and didn’t apologize for that.

10) And last but not least, I’m incredibly thankful this movie made me laugh and feel and, for God’s sake, think.

Carol Solomon (Lake Bell)

If only all movies did the same.

Molly McCaffrey is the author of the short story collection How to Survive Graduate School & Other Disasters, the co-editor of Commutability: Stories about the Journey from Here to There, and the founder of I Will Not Diet, a blog devoted to healthy living and body acceptance. She has worked with Academy Award winner Barbara Kopple and received her Ph.D. from the University of Cincinnati. Currently she teaches at Western Kentucky University and designs books for Steel Toe Books. She is at work on her first memoir, You Belong to Us, which tells the story of McCaffrey meeting her biological family.

A (Bad) Teacher

Written by Max Thornton.

Movie poster for A Teacher

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

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

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

Lindsay Burdge as Diana.

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

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

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

Oh girl.

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

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

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

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

‘Touchy Feely’ Explores the Link Between Physical and Emotional Contact

Written by Lady T.

Josh Pais and Rosemarie DeWitt in Touchy Feely

A free-spirited massage therapist develops a powerful aversion to touch, alienating herself from her clients, her boyfriend, and even her own body. Meanwhile, her straitlaced, reserved brother develops an almost miraculous ability to heal jaw pain in the patients of his dental practice.

This is the premise of Touchy Feely, a new film by writer-director Lynn Shelton (Humpday, Your Sister’s Sister). Rosemarie DeWitt plays Abby and Josh Pais plays Scott in a story where sister and brother find themselves abruptly switching roles. Abby becomes isolated from the people around her, and Scott connects with his patients for the first time and finds a new source of energy and inspiration in his life.


Abby examines her hands after developing her aversion to physical contact

Shelton uses extreme close-ups of the human body to show the source of Abby’s fear of contact, focusing on thin, fine hairs and cracks in the skin. Her approach to depicting Scott’s sudden gift for healing is a little different, giving us a montage of grateful patients hugging the awkward dentist after he cures their problems.

As the film progresses, it becomes clear that Abby and Scott, though sharing relatively little screentime together, are two sides of the same coin. Their emotional health and sense of well-being are directly linked to their comfort with physical contact. Abby is emotionally connected to others and at peace with herself when she can make physical connections with people, and cut off and withdrawn when physical contact sends her running into the bathroom.

Sometimes, actual touch isn’t necessary to feel a connection. Inspired by his recent successes at work, Scott meets with Abby’s friend Bronwyn (Allison Janney) to learn about the Japanese art of reiki, where little hand-on-skin contact takes place. Abby, meanwhile, experiments with ecstasy, and while it doesn’t immediately cure her aversion to touch, she experiences the world in a different way, with her senses of sight and smell heightened. Jenny (Ellen Page), Scott’s daughter, is one of the only characters who can put her desire for human contact into words, saying, “Do you ever want to kiss someone so badly that it hurts your skin?”


Scott learns about the practice of reiki from Bronwyn (Allison Janney)

Shelton’s direction is careful, patient, and intimate, lingering on her actors’ faces and bodies, letting their physicality do the talking rather than overwhelming the viewer with dialogue. It’s a wise choice in a film that’s so focused on the relationships the characters have with their bodies and their comfort with physical contact.

What’s missing from Touchy Feely is the motivation. We know

Lady T is a writer with two novels, a screenplay, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at www.theresabasile.com.

She’s Too Old: Sexuality and the Threat of Aging in ‘Adore’

Adore film poster.

Written by Erin Tatum.

The original title of Adore was Two Mothers, which should give some indication of its Freudian undertones. Best friends since childhood, Lil (Naomi Watts) and Roz (Robin Wright) remain close throughout their lives. They have sons the same age: Roz has Tom (James Frecheville) and Lil has Ian (Xavier Samuel). We see Lil’s husband pass away when the boys look to be about 10, the exposition also establishing the friendship between the kids. The boys soon grow into handsome, muscular young men. Roz’s husband Harold already accuses her of being emotionally distant in their relationship and implies she and Lil are secretly lovers. Multiple people assume that Roz and Lil are lesbians throughout the film, much to their amusement. Ambiguous lesbianism is arguably the only running joke. The fact that Roz and Lil look almost identical (minus hair length) and are constantly perceived as having romantic tension makes the ensuing pseudo-incest even creepier.

Lil (left) and Roz (right) raise their sons together.

Adore is about wanting what you can’t have and the resulting guilty titillation when you not only get what you want, but seemingly have total control over the situation. You could see the whole cougar betrayal thing coming a mile away, as soon as the two mothers talk about how collectively hot their sons are immediately after the age up transition. I would hope that my parents and my friends’ parents wouldn’t sit around calling us sexy the second we were legal. The social dynamics of the film are a bit off – are we really supposed to believe that two 18-year-old boys spend their entire day drinking on the beach with their moms? – but it’s that sort of isolation that sets up the forbidden fruit paradigm. Cross-generational lust is most exciting when there’s sexual or emotional deprivation going on, because apparently the only way we can fathom desire across a large age gap is to make one or both partners psychologically deprived.

Roz and Lil admire their genetic handiwork.

Lil’s husband is dead and Roz’s husband conveniently just accepted a new job far away, so the two women are ripe to…pick the fruit of each other’s loins. Yikes. Yes, they both sleep with the other’s son. If “Motherlover” didn’t pop into your head at this point, my review is a failure. I’d be more okay with this development if the two boys hadn’t grown up as next-door neighbors. Maybe Roz and Lil could have reunited for the first time since having kids and each is blown away by their attraction to the other’s child. I’m cool with a lot of weird shit, but you fundamentally shouldn’t have sex with someone you’ve known and cared for as a parental figure since they were in diapers. This isn’t Buster Bluth and Lucille 2. Ian makes a move on Roz for pretty much no reason. The justification for both May-December romances is essentially that it’s scandalous to watch a young man pursue an older woman, which insinuates that they’re tragically wasting their time and potential for masculine privilege by doing so. That has some extremely unfortunate implications as to the perceptions of older femininity, which is why I could never quite get on the cougar bandwagon here, even though the film tries really hard to convince its audience that older women are seductive and love is indiscriminate to age.

Things get steamy between Lil and Tom.

Shockingly, Tom witnesses his mother leaving Ian’s room sans pants and marches right over to Lil’s house to exact revenge. He awkwardly kisses Lil and tells her flat out that he’s doing it just to spite Ian and his mom for sleeping together. Tom is kind of a tool, but Lil eventually gives in after he silently climbs into her bed (boundaries???). Roz and Lil and have a heart-to-heart the next day. They are both surprisingly okay with having boned each other’s children, but they agree that the shenanigans need to stop. Naturally, both couples immediately have sex. They settle into dating and continue to hang out in their creepy foursome, their friendships strengthened by the new exchange of bodily fluids. The narrative then jumps forward two years to let us know that both couples are still together and it wasn’t just a summer fling.

Ian comforts Roz about her aging anxieties.

Although you would think that the length of their relationships would be a testament against shallow fears, the threat of aging continues to plague Lil and Roz. Lil frets over her wrinkles in the mirror as she notices Tom’s attention straying towards a young theater ingénue. Ian sensuously traces his fingers up the back of Roz’s bare thigh as she remarks with chagrin that soon she won’t allow him to see her naked anymore. Ian assures her playfully that he won’t let her age. This type of garbage is supposed to be romantic, but I say fuck you, Ian. Validating your partner’s internalized insecurities, no matter how humorously, is not endearing or sexy. People always worry that their partner will leave them if they get old or gain weight or become disabled. Is your “true love” really that genuine if it could so easily be decimated by such superficial factors? As much as Adore attempts to champion the cougar, Roz and Lil walk a very fine line between empowered women with a healthy libido and self-martyrs consumed by their own overambitious sexuality. Tom cheats on Lil with the theater girl. That’s pretty ballsy, considering that Tom had to convince Lil to be bored/lonely enough to date him in the first place. Tom is a dick.

Roz comforts a distraught Lil after Tom cheats.

Lil is devastated, so in solidarity, Roz agrees that they should each dump their boyfriends at the same time since they agree it’s inevitable that they will both be ditched for a younger woman. Ian bitterly protests this decision because Tom fucking around is not his fault. I feel for him. Ian displayed a sincere passion for Roz from the start and remained committed to her, whereas with Tom, Lil was always merely a lukewarm personal pet project to piss off Roz and Ian. Tom gets married and Roz remains firm on her break up with Ian. Ian soon begins a fairly unenthusiastic courtship with a younger woman to spite Roz and try to move on. I’m glad everyone has such healthy coping mechanisms when it comes to relationships! Ian resolves to break up with the new girl until she tells him that she’s pregnant. Cringe.

Roz and Lil take their granddaughters to the beach.

A few years later, the boys each take their young daughters to the beach along with their respective wives and mothers. I half expected a flash forward to when the girls were legal and trying to seduce each other’s dads. Family fun. The dynamic is uncomfortable to say the least and the wives clearly dislike spending time with Roz and Lil. Long story short, Ian catches Tom and Lil having sex and is so outraged that he blurts out their entire history to the horrified younger women. Disgusted, they pack up the grandkids and leave, warning the group to never contact them again. I don’t think that’s how custody works. Roz and Lil decide they can’t fight fate and the foursome is shown sunbathing together once more, presumably coupled up again. Even if they had to jump through some stereotypical hoops, it’s nice to see relationships between older women and younger men taken seriously and given a legitimate future.

Women in Sports Week: Five Reasons Why ‘A League of Their Own’ is “Feminism: The Movie”

Dottie performs a catch while doing the splits.

Written by Myrna Waldron.

When one thinks of films featuring women in sports, A League of Their Own is probably the first title that comes to mind. It’s such a well known film that it has been preserved in the Library of Congress for being culturally significant, and “There’s no crying in baseball” is an oft-quoted line. The film stars Geena Davis, an outspoken feminist, and was directed by Penny Marshall, a well known comedienne/actress. ALOTO was a huge blockbuster, making $132 million in 1992 dollars. (Roughly $213 million in 2012 dollars) This film proves that a woman director can produce a blockbuster AND that films mostly about women (in a traditionally masculine field) can be successful.

It also beautifully illustrates a few of the core beliefs of feminist philosophy:

Freedom of choice is essential.

The film takes place during WWII, so it was not unusual for the members of the Rockford Peaches to be married with children. Although the men in the story are often contemptuous/sarcastic about the subject (including mentioning which players are married and which ones are single in newsreels), the women notably accept each other’s life choices wholeheartedly. Mae embraces her sexuality completely (Madonna’s basically playing herself with 40s hair), but no one condemns her for it. Marla chooses to leave the league early because she has fallen in love and gotten married. No one resents her; they are genuinely happy for her. Dottie chooses to leave the league to be a wife and mother, and the only one who objects is Jimmy, because he doesn’t want her to have any regrets. Each woman is free to choose how her life turns out, and they all accept and encourage each other.

The importance of female friendship, teamwork, and camaraderie.

The players of the Rockford Peaches have occasional moments of friction, but instantly come together when it’s time to play. They understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and are honest with each other when it counts. (Kit unfortunately doesn’t take brutal honesty and criticism very well.) Off the team, they help each other as well. Mae teaches the illiterate Shirley how to read by having her recite an erotic novel out loud. When Mae‘s choice of reading material is questioned, she points out that the important thing is that Shirley is reading. Dottie is also someone who stands up for others. She refuses to join the team unless Kit and Marla are included.

Women can do anything that men can do.

Much of the plot of the movie is concerned with the players of the Rockford Peaches proving what good athletes they are, and changing the minds of the skeptical men around them. Mr. Harvey sees the ‘girls’ as placeholders while many of the men’s major league players are overseas. On their first game, the audience jeers at and teases the players, only to be silenced by their talent. Mr. Lowenstein points out that the women will still play while nursing sprained ankles and broken fingers. The Rockford Peaches players demonstrate willpower, enthusiasm, and skill. Although they never reach the heights of popularity that the male teams get, they gain a devoted audience and respect amongst baseball fans.

Women are meant for more than just the domestic sphere.

Mr. Harvey, and many of the other men employing the women left behind while the men went off to war, failed to foresee the sociological implications of encouraging women to “get out of the kitchen” and fill her patriotic duty by working, and then expecting them to meekly go back into the kitchen once the men came home. This was an opportunity for women to prove that they had something to contribute to the world besides cooking, cleaning and birthing, and once they had a taste of ambition, they weren’t going to let that go. Dottie was perfectly happy being a wife and mother, and that was her choice to make. But for many of the others, they wanted more. Mae refused to return to her tawdry life as a taxi dancer, for instance. The All-American Girls’ Baseball League gave the players the opportunity to work for themselves, and many of them continued to do so well after the war ended.

Sexualization, objectification and gender roles suck.

Every single woman on the league was ticked off about the silly uniforms that they were forced to wear, with the frilly skirts instead of pants. They point out how impractical they are, and we see the results of the terrible uniforms when one player gets a severe bruise after taking a rough slide into a base. The newsreels, which constantly try to reaffirm the players’ femininity, come off as a total joke because of how little attention they pay to the players’ athletic abilities. Marla is constantly overlooked by others because she is plain, instead of being celebrated for being the best slugger in the league. One sequence involves a snooty middle-aged woman decrying the “masculinization” of women on the radio, complaining that things like the girls’ baseball team will have longstanding effects on home, children and country. She even calls the league “sexual confusion” and wonders what kind of girls the men overseas will come home to. Well, there WERE longstanding effects on home, children, and country…but hardly the destruction of life as we know it.

The Rockford Peaches

As for the type of girls waiting for their husbands, what the men came home to were independent women of free thought. There was enormous social upheaval in the decades following the war, and most of it devoted to getting women out of the constricting domestic sphere and out into the working world. The All-American Girls’ Baseball league is just one real-life example of the type of work women can do if only given the chance. Female athletes are hardly “sexual confusion.” Women are free to choose the homemaker life if they want, but this film’s story proves that women are capable of more than what society thinks they should be.

Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and can be reached on Twitter under @SoapboxingGeek.