Foreign Film Week: ‘War Witch’: Finally, a Movie About Africa Without the Cute White Movie Star

Guest post written by Atima Omara-Alwala.
So if something happens somewhere in Africa, and a white person is not there, do people hear it? well, according to Hollywood at least, no. There is an obsessive need in Western films to legitimize the African story and life through the existence of a major white character in the movie like The Last King of Scotland with James McAvoy or Blood Diamond with Leonardo DiCaprio, or even the The Constant Gardener with Rachel Weisz and Ralph Fiennes. These movies attempt to chronicle the horror of civil war or corruption that leads to major conflict in African nations. As the daughter of African immigrants who both lived their lives in a war torn country, I am grateful these stories are even being told but it’s a shame that the existence of attractive white movie stars is necessary to tell the story. Even more the reason, War Witch pleasantly surprised me. War Witch is a story from the perspective of one young African girl’s journey to reclaim her life in the face of war and sexual assault.
Primarily filmed in the Democratic Republic of Congo, War Witch is a 2012 Canadian drama film written and directed by Kim Nguyen. According to Canadian news The Globe & the Mail, Nguyen himself part Vietnamese and French was inspired by a Burmese story he read about child soldiers. Nguyen’s inspiration became War Witch. The story of a 12 year old Komona (Rachel Mwanza) who lives in a rural village in Africa when civil war in her country interrupts her childhood. Rebel forces invade her village, in a very painful scene, Komona’s induction into warfare is choosing between shooting her own parents (by the orders of the rebel commander) or watching them die a painful death at the hands of a machete. The scene is already heart wrenching but it becomes even more so when her parents say to her soothingly, “it’s okay” if she shoots them. After she kills them, she is taken from the only home she’s ever known to become one of rebel forces many child soldiers. 
The film walks you through what life is life as a child soldier with rebel forces: waging guerilla warfare at any given moment, sleeping in the woods, eating rations. Komona adjusts to her new existence with a depressed and stunned silence. A fellow child soldier and albino boy named Magicien (Serge Kanyinda) befriends her and occasionally sneaks her food through their journey.
Aided by “magic milk” or a hallucinogen from a tree sap, that Magician finds for his fellow child soldiers to drink. Komona begins to see her parents and the ghosts of others killed by rebel forces who tell her how to avoid surprise attacks. She becomes so good at predicting surprise attacks she becomes the prized “war witch” to the rebel forces and particularly the “Great Tiger” the leader of the rebel forces played by (Mizinga Mwinga). In an interesting twist, on an attack gone awry one day, Magician convinces Komona to leave the rebel forces with him, confessing his love for her and desire to marry her.

What I love is despite what life has thrown at her Komona is a determined girl. While clearly drawn to Magicien, she refuses to marry him unless he can find a white rooster, which in her culture her father said, “when a man can find a white rooster, he can marry you”. Probably between her desperation to cling to family traditions, and to set some standards for herself she sends Magicien on what is a hilarious rooster chase (and a much needed lull from the horrors of war). Even though she finally consents, to marrying him without the white rooster (as he has become family to her while on the run), Magicien remains determined to find a white rooster, to prove he is worthy of her, which he does.

 Afterwards, Komona and Magicien marry and they arrive at Magicien’s Uncle’s home. Magicien’s Uncle is called “Boucher” which is French for “butcher”. Boucher (Ralph Prosper) cuts meat for a living. It is learned the Boucher watched his entire family being butchered by a machete. Boucher’s trauma from watching his family cut to pieces is so strong he needs an empty pail next to him while he cuts animal meat, so he can vomit in pail due to the memories. This shared trauma bonds him and Magicien and Komona together like a family. And for a time, Komona is happy.

An abrupt turn of tragic events places Komona back in the hands of rebel forces and this time becomes the sex slave of the rebel commander. Komona is barely able to take it upon learning she’s pregnant as a result of continuous rape and exacts an excruciating painful revenge on her assaulter.
The rest of the movie focuses on her life post her second escape from the rebel forces. She returns to stay with Magicien’s Uncle, Boucher. Like Boucher she suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder. But they live in a world where rape is not even discussed (let along counseling services provided), and post-traumatic stress disorder is even less understood, Komona wrestles emotionally for peace. She sees a priestess to atone for her murders of countless people including her parents. The ghosts of her parents still haunt her dreams and she has regular nightmares of being attacked. And on top of everything else, she grapples with the expected anger and horror of being pregnant by her rapist. This is a lot to deal with for a woman of any age let along a young girl like Komona.

Why do I love this movie? It is a Western film of a civil war in an African nation told through the eyes of not just the Africans living through it, but through an African girl living the trauma and grappling with resolution for herself. Director Kim Nguyen came up against challenges in the film industry because of this take. In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Nguyen said: “I had brutal answers that would tell me a Black main actor doesn’t sell.” This makes it even more outstanding that War Witch not only swept, Jutra, the Quebec film awards but was a contender for the Golden Bear (equivalent of Best Film) at the 62nd Berlin International Film Festival in February 2012. For her work, Rachel Mwanza won the Silver Bear for Best Actress at the Berlin festival and Best Actress at the 2012 Tribeca Film Festival. War Witch also received the much coveted Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Film of 2012.
It is amazing that for such an award-winning film, War Witch is not legitimized through the presence of a white European spectator (like in all the previously aforementioned Western films) who observes the tragedy and participates in what can only be called self-flagellation about why they can’t be a better “Great White Hope” for the poor Africans.
Another reason I love this movie? The men in Komona’s life do no legitimize her either. It is Komona’s journey alone, on her own defined terms, to redefine her life when for so long it was defined by her captors and everyone around her. It is also her journey to womanhood. It is interesting how Komona reaches some peace finally at the end of the movie, but the viewer is secure in knowing that it is her resolution and no one else’s.

———-
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.

Foreign Film Week: Realistic Depictions of Women and Female Friendship in ‘Muriel’s Wedding’

Guest post written by Libby White.
The first time I saw Muriel’s Wedding, I went in expecting a Cinderella-esque romantic comedy about an awkward girl who transforms her life into one filled with success and romance. I was definitely ready to indulge in your standard ‘feel-good chick-flick.’ Two hours later, as I sat surrounded by a pile of tissues, having cried myself into a near comatose state, I realized that Muriel’s Wedding has one of the most deceptive posters ever.
The film starts at a wedding in the small Australian town of Porpoise Spit, where we are introduced to the film’s titular character, Muriel Heslop. The wedding day is filled with disasters for Muriel: She catches the bridal bouquet and is forced to give it to another woman; she discovers the groom and the bride’s best friend fooling around; and is accused of having stolen from a local store.
As Muriel is carted home by the police, we see a glimpse of her highly dysfunctional family life. Ruled over by their tyrannical politician father, the Heslop children are a collection of deadbeats and slackers. Muriel herself hasn’t worked in over two years, and continues to live out of her childhood bedroom. Their mother, Betty Heslop, is little more than a slave to the family’s whims, and has visibly checked out from her surroundings. Attempts to communicate with her take several tries, and her brief moments of pleasure are quickly squashed by her husband.
It soon becomes apparent that Muriel’s thieving is a common occurrence, as her father handles the police with relative ease, and is able to use his power to keep them from pressing charges. Muriel waits calmly in her room as he dances the familiar steps with the officers, only to be verbally attacked in front of her father’s business guests and family later that evening. Bill Heslop seems to have no trouble belittling his family publicly, calling each of them “useless” repeatedly before being interrupted by a “surprise” visit from his obvious mistress, (an event which occurs with alarming frequency.) The night only gets worse from there, as Muriel’s so called “friends” accidentally let slip that they were going on holiday without her. The situation snowballs, leading the four women to kick Muriel out of their group.
Under the guise of travelling for a job, Muriel follows the women to an island resort, still believing that she can convince them to take her back. There, Muriel runs into an old high school classmate, Rhonda. The two women spend the rest of the vacation together, and instantly become best friends. They dance to ABBA together, they move to Sydney together, and generally bring out the best in one another. Rhonda’s support and independence also help Muriel to break out of her shell and begin living life the way she has always dreamt it. Eventually, Muriel finds herself a job at a local video store, and is asked out by a shy customer. The two date briefly, and share one of the movie’s most unforgettable and hilarious scenes when they attempt to be intimate.
Unfortunately, the good times don’t last, and Muriel is dealt a series of harsh blows by reality. With Rhonda becoming paralyzed from a spinal tumor, and Muriel’s lies becoming exposed; Muriel’s dream life begins to unravel. In a desperate attempt to break her father’s hold on her and live her dream, Muriel agrees to marry an attractive South African athlete. The man, David Van Arkle, let’s his displeasure about the arrangement be well-known, but needs to marry in order to stay in the country. When their wedding day rolls around, David looks as if he’s going to be sick. Muriel is completely oblivious however, basking in the attention of the media and her former friends. So oblivious in fact, that Muriel completely leaves out her mother from the event. In a tear-inducing scene, Betty rushes to the wedding, glowing with pride, only to have Muriel walk right past her without noticing. Still holding her daughter’s wedding gift in hand, Betty can’t help but cry as the guests dissipate.
When Muriel arrives at her new home with her husband, the fantasy of the day fades, and David accuses her of being nothing more than a gold digger. He divides their lives in half, and sends Muriel to her room alone. Soon after, Muriel receives a call from her sister, informing her that their mother has died.
Rushing home for the funeral, the house is just as Muriel left it. Her siblings laze about the living room; their father calculating the effect of Betty’s death on his political campaign. One sister is truly upset though, and confides in Muriel that their mother died of an overdose of sleeping pills. Their father, fearing his image, hid all evidence of her suicide. It is then that Muriel discovers what occurred on her wedding day, and realizes how her lies had helped to destroy her mother.
David appears at the funeral, sympathetic to his wife’s pain. The two return home together and make love, only to have Muriel ask for a divorce in the morning. She admits that her life has become a lie, and that she never felt anything for David. He agrees, and the two part ways.
In the last scene of the film, Muriel returns to Porpoise Spit, where Rhonda has had to return to her mother’s care. Forced to endure the pity of her former enemies, Muriel’s apology is readily accepted, and the two escape back to Sydney together.
And though I may have gone in expecting Hollywood’s attempt at pigeon-holing Muriel’s Wedding as a rom-com, I still came out loving this film. It takes a brutally honest look at the ripple effect of emotional abuse throughout a family, and delivers all too real characters who you can’t help but become emotionally invested in. The women of the film in particular are wonderfully refreshing, led by the endearing Toni Collette. Her portrayal of Muriel is definitely an unforgettable one. Whether it be her natural, un- glamourized looks and figure, or her very human flaws, the character of Muriel feels intensely genuine. While Hollywood films often use clumsiness to disguise the unachievable-ness of its movie’s heroines, Muriel’s Wedding instead prefers to tell it like it is. Everyone’s choices lead to consequences, and the end of the film does not mean the end to their problems.
The Muriel we are presented with in the beginning of the film; a girl who is desperate for attention, mildly delusional, and devoid of self-respect; is almost meant to be underestimated. We are shown all her worst qualities in a matter of minutes, and lead to pity her circumstances. As the movie progresses and Muriel grows, she becomes more outgoing and self-sufficient, but her lies remain. When her father threatens her new lifestyle, Muriel initially responds by entreating further into her fantasies, only to have them come crashing down upon her. Once she confesses to David and finally begins to admit the truth, we come to realize just how much Muriel has grown. Now confident and self-aware, she is able to stand up to her father’s demands and fearlessly return to her old life.
The friendship between Muriel and Rhonda is one filled with ups and downs, but is still the most genuine relationship in the film. While Rhonda becomes repeatedly frustrated with Muriel’s lies, the two are ultimately accepting of one another, and deeply loyal. Rhonda herself is a free spirit who speaks her mind and does as she pleases. She gleefully stands up to Muriel’s friends, and later takes home two men at once. Even when she receives her diagnosis, Rhonda remains determined to be independent. While she is eventually forced back into her mother’s home, she doesn’t stay long; returning to Sydney with Muriel in a matter of weeks. Rhonda’s fearless embrace of her life and choices, compared with Muriel’s sweetness and hope, make the two a perfectly balanced pair.
However, the women Muriel call her friends are the more stereotypical “mean girls.” They are portrayed as vapid, conniving, promiscuous, and cruel. Even after repeated physical and verbal attacks, Muriel invites them to be bridesmaids at her wedding, if only to show off her success at finding a famous and handsome husband. But even by the film’s end, their stunted growth remains, leaving them as flattened villains.
Muriel’s mother, Betty, is the true reason that this film breaks my heart. Having witnessed a near identical situation in my grandmother’s life, the inclusion of her storyline is especially meaningful. At no point does the director show her any kindness; from her husband’s blatant affair, her children’s indolence, being accused of shoplifting, to Muriel’s own snubbing of her; Betty endured a terrible existence. Spoiled by the happy endings of American cinema, I had internally begged for a magical fix to her suffering; some kind of ‘hallelujah’ moment where we were assured everything would be alright.
When Betty eventually suffers an emotional break down and commits suicide, it is only Muriel and her sister who show any concern whatsoever. The other siblings are completely unaffected; the youngest girl gossiping on the phone with her friends the morning after her mother’s death. Bill Heslop, who selfishly tries to cover up his wife’s cause of death and his part in causing it, uses the sympathy of the press to further his career.
Betty’s story is one that never allows the viewer any release. Instead, it speaks of a harsh reality where there is no sudden intervention of fate, moments of enlightenment, or redeemable villains. We never get to see Bill Heslop punished for his cruelty, or Betty rewarded for her love for her children. And it is because of such that I think Betty Heslop is a fantastic female character. While she may not be the empowered woman who takes back her life from an abusive husband, she is a real woman, with real emotions, and a painfully real situation.
In the end, whether you’re interested in a good laugh, cry, or simply want to watch wonderful film, I highly recommend Muriel’s Wedding to you. Its realistic portrayal of women and their emotional experiences make it a gem in anyone’s collection.
———- 
Libby White is a self-proclaimed cinephile and Volunteer Firefighter who currently works as an Armed Guard for Nissan’s headquarters in Tennessee.

Foreign Film Week: BFI London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival

The 27th BFI London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival: 14 – 24 March 2013
From the press release:

The 27th BFI London Lesbian & Gay Film Festival (LLGFF) is back at BFI Southbank London with a festival of 11 days and a new look programme that’s packed full of films, special guests, events, workshops, and music. 

[…] 

There are over 100 titles in the festival offering a dizzying variety of films reflecting the LGBT community around the world.

Here are a sampling of films playing.

Facing Mirrors
Aynehaye Rooberoo
Director: Negar Azarbayjani
Producer: Fereshteh Taerpoor
Screenwriter: Negar Azarbayjani, Fereshteh Taerpoor
With Shayesteh Irani, Ghazal Shakeri
Iran-Germany 2011
102 min
Sales: The Film Collaborative
Rana, a conservative woman with traditional values, is secretly working as a taxi driver (driving is taboo for women of her class) in Tehran to support her family while her husband is in a debtors’ prison. Rebel with a cause, wealthy Edi/Adineh, is desperately trying to get a passport in order to return to Germany to have gender reassignment surgery whilst avoiding an angry father wanting to marry his daughter off as soon as possible. The State may sanction gender reassignment in Iran but that’s not to say it’s accepted in general society. As Edi’s father says, ‘I wish she was blind, dead, handicapped but not disgraced.’ Fate brings Rana and Edi together and an unlikely friendship develops, transcending social class and ethical differences. Facing Mirrors is a bold, exciting, seat-of-the-pants ride through contemporary Iran.

Mosquita y Mari (2012)

Mosquita y Mari

Director-Screenwriter: Aurora Guerrero
Producer: Chad Burris
With Fenessa Pineda, Venecia Troncoso, Laura Patalano
USA 2012
85 min
Sales: The Film Collaborative
Mosquita y Mari is a gorgeously realised and tender coming-of-age story set in the Chicana neighbourhood of Huntington Park, Los Angeles. Fifteen-year-old Yolanda is a sweet-natured only child who gains straight As and stays out of trouble until she has her head turned by Mari – a tough, cool girl who moves in across the road. Mari is the eldest daughter in a single parent, undocumented family struggling to make ends meet. She is at first uninterested in being friends with her neighbour, but an incident at school pushes the pair increasingly together – sharing homework, music and secret spaces and an intense connection develops between the two girls. Guerrero’s debut feature is assured and subtle, confidently creating a teenage world of awkward affection, lingering gazes and new desires.
Je, tu, il, elle
Director-Producer: Chantal Akerman
Screenwriter: Chantal Akerman, Eric De Kuyper, Paul Paquay
With Chantal Akerman, Niels Arestrup, Claire Wauthion
France-Belgium 1976
85 min
Akerman’s first feature includes one of the earliest depictions of lesbian sex in cinema but it has rarely been seen at queer film festivals. We are excited to be screening this still startling and now deeply influential work as part of our strand considering Akerman’s impact on queer cinema. The film focuses on a woman who remains in her empty room for over a month narrating her minimal actions via a disjointed voiceover. Eventually she travels with a trucker who tells her about his life and arrives at the home of a woman who tries to send her away but then feeds her before they make love.

Lesbiana: A Parallel Revolution (2012)

Lesbiana: A Parallel Revolution

Lesbiana: Une révolution parallèle
Director-Screenwriter: Myriam Fougère
Producers: Pauline Voisard and Myriam Fougère
With Alix Dobkin, Crow Cohen, Imani Rashid
Canada 2012
63 min
Sales: Groupe Intervention Video
Immensely enjoyable documentary following key players in the North American East Coast feminist movement from the 1970s to mid 1990s. Fougère meets lesbian writers, philosophers, activists and musicians who took part in and helped create the second wave feminist community and culture that focussed on women-only spaces in places like Montreal, New York and of course the Michigan Women’s Festival. Comprised of archival footage, photographs and inspiring interviews with the women involved – many in their seventies and eighties now, but still sporting some pretty great dungarees and labryses – the film considers the legacy of this type of sisterhood and lesbian identity in a celebratory but thoughtful, and sometimes critical way. This is an important piece of herstory for all feminists.

She Said Boom: The Story of Fifth Column
Director: Kevin Hegge
Producer: Kelly Jenkins
Screenwriters: Kevin Hegge, Oliver Husain
With G.B. Jones, Bruce LaBruce, Kathleen Hanna, Caroline Azar
Canada-Germany-USA 2012
64 min
Sales: VTape
Hegge’s documentary about the groundbreaking queer feminist all-female art band Fifth Column – who were at the centre of Toronto’s influential Queercore scene in the 1980-90s – explores the band’s impressive legacy and considers why you might not have heard of them. Featuring interviews with Bruce LaBruce, Vaginal Davis and Kathleen Hanna mixed with rare archival photos, footage of the band performing live and of course new interviews with the key members, Hegge builds an exciting picture of visionary punks living outside of the system in crumbling buildings – making art, music, film and starting fanzine wars.

Foreign Film Week: Sexism in Three of Bollywood’s Most Popular Films

Guest post written by Katherine Filaseta.
It is no secret that India has problems when it comes to the status of women. Everyone heard about the gang rape in Delhi in December 2012; it was broadcast in America so much that some people didn’t even know about the events in Steubenville, but knew all about India. There is a common perception in America these days that women in India are seen as “sub-human” by all of Indian culture, and this is entirely false. However, it is true that I do not feel safe being a woman and walking down the streets of India alone, and this is a problem. 
I adore Bollywood; it allows me to watch an entire generation evolve on the silver screen, no matter what country I’m currently living in. I even love the fact that some Bollywood love stories are more romantic than the sappiest fairytales. However, some of these love stories come with the price of reinforcing terrible patriarchal standards – and any story that makes sexual harassment appear commonplace and “okay” isn’t romantic, no matter how charismatic the leading man is. 
Which Bollywood films become hits and which become flops can be indicative of which values Indian society places the most importance on. Perhaps if the right films are successful, the next time I go to India I’ll feel safe walking down the street alone – maybe even at night. Safety for women doesn’t have to be some elusive fantasy, and Bollywood can help us create this change. 
Terrible Films That Everyone Loves 
There are a lot of films in India which have been wildly successful, but which have also been detrimental for the feminist agenda in India. All of the films that follow are in this category. These three films together encompass all three major Bollywood stars and are on the must-watch list for anyone interested in Bollywood. I am also convinced that every single one of these films has played a role in shaping the way Indian society thinks, making it more difficult for women to live safely and comfortably in India. 
Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge

Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, 1995 

To give you an idea of just how wildly successful DDLJ is: it has been running in some theaters for 900 weeks straight as of January 11, 2013. People love this film. Shah Rukh Khan plays Raj, a charming douchebag; Kajol plays opposite him as Simran and is stunning and loveable as usual. It is one of the first films to address the problems that affect NRI’s (Non-Resident Indian, or Indians living outside of India), as well as the conflict of “tradition vs modern” faced by Indians in the 1990s as everyone tried to reconcile their family’s values and traditions with the growing influence of Western culture – and it does an amazing job portraying each. 
What it also does, though, is help to solidify a patriarchal standard. This film tells people, through the love story of Raj and Simran, that with enough persistence, harassment, and stalking, a man can convince any girl to fall in love with him. A girl is a prize to be won, and sexual harassment is the way to win her. Not only that, but the ultimate way to show respect for a woman is by refusing to marry her until her father literally hands her over to you – solidifying the female’s complete lack of choice in the scenario. 
(Spoilers follow the images) 
How Simran feels about Raj before intermission
How Simran feels about Raj after intermission

Raj spends the entire first half of the film harassing Simran non-stop throughout Europe. They are trapped together in the most unfortunate of circumstances, but Simran remains wonderfully strong. Soon, however, Raj professes his love for Simran – and she, apparently suffering from some sort of Stockholm Syndrome, returns his love. However, Simran and Raj can’t be together; Simran has already promised to follow through with a marriage her parents have arranged for her back in India. 

Raj follows Simran to India, but they can’t just run off together. Simran has been won and is willing to leave her family behind forever to spend her life with Raj, but unfortunately for her Raj still has another challenge to complete before he can run off with his prize. Simran is still owned by her father, and Raj is too decent to steal an object from another man. He has to convince Simran’s father to give her to him, and so commences the second half of the film. Of course it turns out well for the couple, as after and hour and a half of convincing and fifteen minutes of dramatic tension, Simran’s father literally allows her leave his hands and run into Raj’s. 
Every single line used by Raj in his harassment of Simran over the course of this film has also been used on me in India. By Raj succeeding in marrying Simran, her discomfort at his harassment is transformed into simply a girl playing “hard to get”. DDLJ has helped shape my coarse response to similar harassment into nothing more than encouragement for men to try harder. 
Aamir Khan in Lagaan

Lagaan, 2006 

Lagaan is only the third film out of India to be nominated for an Oscar. It didn’t win, but it put India on the map for the first time since the 1980’s as a place where legitimate films are made. It is set during the British Raj, where an insufferable British officer is abusing his power over the local villagers by imposing a land tax they can’t afford to pay. They end up placing a bet over a cricket match: If the villagers, with a strong-headed patriot named Bhuvan at the lead, can learn the game and defeat the British officers, they will not have to pay the tax. It is a very well-made film starring Aamir Khan, who is known in India for fighting for social change across the country. 
There are a lot of good things about the film, and it deserves most of the positive attention it has garnered. However, there is a major problem with the film as well: there are only two female characters, and both of them serve the sole purpose of fawning over the male lead. Elizabeth Russell is a very kind British woman who sneaks out of her house to teach the villagers the game of cricket, despite the language barrier and opposition from her family. Essentially, the instant she meets Bhuvan, she forgets her greater purpose of helping the fight against injustice and falls head over heels for him. She even professes her love for him, but of course Bhuvan can’t speak English so doesn’t understand what she is saying. Elizabeth’s opposition is Gauri, a village girl who is also in love with Bhuvan, but who has never told him. She has, however, shown her love through making him rotis, as any good Indian wife should. (Spoiler alert ahead!) In the end, Bhuvan marries Gauri and Elizabeth moves back to England to be single for the rest of her life. 
Elizabeth Russell singing about how much she loves Bhuvan

Gauri singing about how much she loves Bhuvan

In a typical move of exoticizing the other, there is a common stereotype in India of white or “Westernized” women being sexual to the point that they have already given their consent for anything a man might want to do to them. We did the same to them by popularizing and exaggerating the kama sutra, so you can’t blame them too much – but by creating Elizabeth Russell, this stereotype is only being reinforced. White women clearly all come to India for the sole purpose of falling in lust with men they can’t even communicate with, but Indian women shouldn’t worry – men will always marry the proper Indian girl who makes delicious rotis in the end. 

Salman Khan in Dabangg

Dabangg, 2010 
I could have easily and accurately instead said “every movie starring Salman Khan in the past few years,” but Dabangg was the beginning of the movement. I was in India when Dabangg came out, and the excitement over Salman Khan’s comeback film was pervasive and insane. This is a ridiculous film starring a man who epitomizes a certain standard of masculinity: Chulbul Pandey has bulging muscles, a propensity for fighting, and an ability to woo girls by harassing them until they fall in love with them (a la DDLJ). Chulbul Pandey’s signature dance move is the hip thrust, and he uses it every chance he can get. 
If Dabangg did anything right, it was play to Salman Khan’s strengths. This is a man who has gotten away with killing a man while driving drunk, and who has a restraining order placed against him by his ex-girlfriend whom he used to physically abuse. He was the first Bollywood star to really “bulk up,” which has helped him win over a few of the most lusted-after Bollywood starlets. Chulbul Pandey has testosterone flowing in every inch of his body, and Salman can play this character perfectly. 
There are essentially two females in this movie: the one Chulbul woos by harassing her until she feels she has no choice but to marry him, and an item dancer – a girl whose sole purpose is to appear in one song wearing close to nothing while a bunch of drunk men (Chulbul included) fawn over her oozing female sexuality. Other Salman Khan films since, including the Dabangg sequel, haven’t been any better. 
Mallika Sherawat dancing her item number, “Munni Badnaam Hui”

(For a well-written, feminist perspective on Dabangg 2, see Priya Joshi’s review for Digital Spy

Is There a Bright Side? 

For the most part, last year was a great year for Hindi films. February gave us Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu, winning the feminist audience over with its ending, in which the central relationship is left to proceed on the girl’s terms. March gave us Kahaani, an amazingly well-made movie with a strong, central female character. In October, we were brought something amazing through English Vinglish: a female-directed film with a strong female lead, which beautifully addresses some of the issues middle-aged Indian women are facing both in India and abroad. Previously, the cut-off age for female leads in Bollywood has been around 30, so Sridevi’s starring role in this film in itself is an additional breakthrough on the feminist front. 
I haven’t watched anything promising yet in 2013, but given the success of more progressive films in 2012, we can remain optimistic. In Mera Naam Joker, there is a female character named Meena who pretends to be a man and carries a knife, which she pulls out at the tiniest threat to her safety – simply so she is able to live alone in Bombay. Even though this film is over 50 years old, I have spent a lot of time myself wondering if I could pull off what Meena did. The situation now isn’t much better, but it can be. We can control our own future as women in India, and Bollywood can help us – not just hold us back. 

Katherine Filaseta is a recent graduate of Washington University in Saint Louis whose life has somehow managed to become constantly split between the United States and India. She really likes Bollywood, education, feminism, zoos, and the performing arts. Follow her on twitter.

Foreign Film Week: Red, Blue, and Giallo: Dario Argento’s "Suspiria"

Written by Max Thornton.
I started getting into film when I was a teenager. Growing up with daily power cuts, both scheduled and unscheduled, is not conducive to childhood as a cinephile, and anyway my parents did not consider film a “real” art like literature or music – I can vividly remember being forced, at age seven, to quit Video Club and join Chess Club instead, because my mother did not think that sitting around watching videos constituted a worthwhile extracurricular.
(I am still breathtakingly terrible at chess.)
So, partly as the cultivation of an indoor hobby in response to the unpleasant British climate, and partly as the world’s meagerest teenage rebellion, I started watching films. In particular, I sought out horror films, thanks to the friendly proprietor of our local video rental store (now sadly gone the way of all such places in the Netflix age), who would happily rent the bloodiest, goriest, most revolting 18-ratedmovies to an obviously-14-year-old me, always with a cheery, “Enjoy!”
Most of these.
 
I was neither a discerning nor an educated viewer, but even so I quickly cottoned on to the fact that certain Italian directors had produced some above-average horror flicks in the 1970s, characterized by a cavalier attitude toward nudity, pervasive Catholic imagery, and lashings of gore. Ignorant of the term giallo, I proceeded to dub this subgenre “spag-horror,” which isn’t actually an awful name for it.
As my initiation into the worlds of sex and violence, many European horror films of the 1970s no doubt occupy a Freudian subspace of my psyche. Probably the Ur-example of this genre and its strange, ambivalent attitude toward women and sexuality is Dario Argento’s 1977 meisterwerk, Suspiria.
From its kickass score by prog-rockers Goblin to its borderline incomprehensible plot, I love damn near everything about Suspiria. For starters, it’s set in a ballet school, which is a direct line to my heart; and it features Udo Kier (UDO! KIER!); plus, it’s a strikingly female-dominated story. Argento says of the film: “there are only three men in it: one is blind, one can’t speak and the other is gay. It’s the women who have the power.” Which is such a problematic statement on so many levels, but let’s just focus on the undeniable fact that the film is mostly about women.
The film opens with American dancer Suzy Banyon (played by a young Jessica Harper – did you know she writes children’s books and has a cookery blog now??) arriving at a German airport on a rainy night. Pretty much the first thing we see is her repeated attempts to hail a taxi; her young face, rain- and wind-swept above the virginal whites of her clothes, expresses a vulnerability that will recur throughout the movie. Her big, frightened eyes peer out of the taxi at the gushing storm-drains, the phallic tree-trunks in the spooky woods, the bright red facade of the ballet school (on the subtly named Escher Strasse). Untoward goings-on, shockingly enough, are underfoot at the school, and Suzy soon finds herself completely out of her depth as things get steadily creepier.

Suzy and Sara, swimming.
What’s particularly interesting about Suspiria, especially in relation to the giallo genre as a whole, is its lack of nudity or overt sexuality. There’s a pretty good reason for this, as Argento explains:
To begin with, I imagined the story set in a children’s school, not of teens. I thought that it could be interesting that the school was for very young girls, eight, ten years old. This was the first version. The distributor strongly opposed this choice, and the film was made also with American money, from Fox, and they were against that too. So I changed the script and raised the girl’s age, but I kept a sort of childish attitude, so the characters behaved like children. The decor too… I used little tricks, for example the doors have the handles not at a normal height, but at face level, the height at which a child of 8 years old would find the handle. It gives the impression of dealing with children, even though they have adult bodies.
I don’t think it’s reading too much into the film to find some Freudian undertones in the whites and reds, in the repeated motif of water, in the pivotal role of irises. There is a strong fairy-tale quality to the film’s artifices, its primary colors, scenes awash in blue or red; the story of the young girl entering a world of danger and threat carries echoes of Red Riding Hood, Hansel and Gretel, Snow White – Bruno Bettelheim would surely have something to say about that.
Make no mistake, this is a pretty violent movie. There are some quite fantastically grotesque murders. Within the first fifteen minutes, we see a still-beating heart stabbed and a woman’s face split in two by plate glass. Throughout, the lily-white garments of the murdered women are streaked and splattered with bright red blood. We also get a revolting maggot infestation, some magnificently scary chase scenes, and a truly bonkers climactic sequence.
Red, the color of a very murdered woman.
And yet Suzy retains a sense of childlike innocence and vulnerability throughout, relating to her friends and teachers like the little girl she was originally written to be. It’s a very weird juxtaposition, and I think it crystallizes the strange combination of female empowerment and ingrained misogyny that characterizes classic European horror. What, in the end, are we to make of stories where women are both the brutally murdered corpses and the proactive investigators of the mystery; both the pure childlike heroine and the monstrous villain; both desexed and penetrated by sharp objects; both agents and victims?
It speaks volumes to the general lack of such female-dominated stories in our broader culture that I even find myself asking this question.
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Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax.

Foreign Film Week: Gender, Family and Globalization in ‘Eat Drink Man Woman’

Chef Chu and his “middle daughter” Jia-Chien in Eat Drink Man Woman

Guest post written by Emily Contois. A version of this post previously appeared at her blog.
In Eat Drink Man Woman (1994), director and co-writer Ang Lee expertly tells the story of changing family dynamics in Taipei, Taiwan during a time of rapid modernization, employing a universal mediumfood. Through Chef Chu who has lost his sense of taste and his three adult daughters, this film addresses many themes, chief among them gender roles, family, and globalization, which each progress forward in divergent, but equally valid and flexible ways.
Starting from its dichotomous title, gender and authority come to the fore in this film, issues that also greatly shape the roles of women in the public world of food where men in general are more likely to hold positions of power. Such is the case for Chef Chu. While he no longer works full time at The Grand Hotel, he acts with assured confidence when he is called in one evening to help the all male staff to rectify a dish that is being served at an important dinner.

Chef Chu presenting the “saved” shark fin soup, transformed into a lucky dragon
The traditional, powerful, masculine role of “The Chef” is complicated in the film, however, as Chef Chu’s authority is not well recognized by his daughters. Furthermore, as he parents alone, Chef Chu serves as both mother and father and performs many conventionally feminine duties, such as feeding his daughters, folding their laundry—even waking them up in the morning. Throughout the film, Chef Chu prepares elaborate family dinners, which his daughters attend, but half-heartedly and with a degree of frustration, irritability, and irreverence.

Chef Chu serving dinner to his three daughters early on in the film
Further complicating Chef Chu’s authority, his “middle daughter” (Jia-Chien) aspires to be a master chef like her father. Chef Chu dissuaded her from following a culinary career, however, encouraging her to attend university instead. Jia-Chien had assumed her father did this based upon conventional views that women do not make good chefs, but that proves to not be the case. A close family friend reveals that what Chef Chu wants for his daughter is an easier and better life away from the kitchen. Interestingly, it is Jia-Chien’s return to the home kitchen and cooking for her father that brings back Chef Chu’s lost sense of taste. This act can be read as either thwarting or promoting feminist views, as her cooking can be interpreted as the provision of conventionally feminine nourishment or as a demonstration of female culinary power.
Jia-Chien cooks for her father, causing the return of his lost sense of taste

Beyond transforming gender roles, Eat Drink Man Woman also discusses family, again focusing on transition. Though he is unable for much of the film to communicate with his own daughters—through food or otherwise—Chef Chu is able to connect with his (somewhat secret) fiancé’s daughter. For her, he prepares lunches so elaborate that they elevate her status at school, nourishing her both emotionally and physically. In this way, these special noontime meals are similar to obento in that they aid a child as she makes a transition that could be difficult, not from the home to school, but from a single-parent family to a new one that includes Chef Chu. Six family meals around the table punctuate the film, as the changing participants and their relationships to one another demonstrate the transition within this family, as well as in Taiwan as a whole.

As the Chu family evolves, the contrasts from scene to scene also depict the theme of generational gaps, conflict, negotiation, and change. Busy streets scenes filled with the mechanical hum of cars and motorcycles represent the growing and changing nature of Taiwan; these visuals are juxtaposed with the pastoral, traditional, and idyllic entrance to the Chu home, where Chef Chu prepares meals in the traditional style—scenes aptly termed “culinary pastoral.”

While Eat Drink Man Woman discusses transitions in gender roles and family structure through food, the film’s overarching theme is not food itself, but rather the forces of modernization and globalization that bring on these changes. For example, Chef Chu’s elaborate traditional family meals, the luxurious cuisine of The Grand Hotel, and the fast food restaurant where his youngest daughter works all coexist, representing the contemporary state of globalized Taiwan. The film also portrays a variety of new, “non-traditional” relationships and family structures. For example, Chef Chu’s youngest daughter gets pregnant while still a student and subsequently marries her boyfriend, leaving her father’s home sooner than expected. Chef Chu also negotiates a new familial structure when he marries a younger woman and moves out of the family home, charting a new future.

The transformed Chu family eating a meal near the end of the film

Perhaps Jia-Chien best embodies these forces of change, however, as she has achieved the career her father hoped for her — she works in a highly globalized field, holding a managerial position with an international airline. At the same time, she aspires to cook professionally. In this way, Jia-Chien most fully expresses the complexity and ongoing negotiation of these global transformations. Through her — not coincidentally the “middle” daughter — Lee’s film portrays a character caught between the fluid states of tradition and modernization, family obligation and independence, who eventually finds balance and solace in food. In this way, food—so oft considered a conventionally domestic, maternal, feminine concern — emerges as a powerful and dynamic symbol of change in all its complexity, and ushers in evolving gender roles, family structures, and global life.

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Emily Contois works in the field of worksite wellness and is a graduate student in the MLA in Gastronomy Program at Boston University that was founded by Julia Child and Jacques Pépin. She is currently researching the marketing of diet programs to men, and blogs on food studies, nutrition, and public health at emilycontois.com.