Despite what the multitude of Bechdel-test-failing media would have us believe, relationships among women can be complex and about much, much more than men. The sibling relationships of sisters, in fact, can be particularly rich, nuanced, and worth contemplation. Sibling rivalry, as it appears in ‘A League of Their Own’ and ‘Sixteen Candles,’ examines competition for recognition, birth order conflict, and self-doubt when faced with perceptions of sibling superiority.
Our theme week for August 2016 will be Sisterhood.
Despite what the multitude of Bechdel-test-failing media would have us believe, relationships among women can be complex and about much, much more than men. The sibling relationships of sisters, in fact, can be particularly rich, nuanced, and worth contemplation. Sibling rivalry, as it appears in A League of Their Own and Sixteen Candles, examines competition for recognition, birth order conflict, and self-doubt when faced with perceptions of sibling superiority.
Twinness is a fascinating trope that is often part of popular consciousness. Sister, Sister and The Parent Trap (along with all of its sequels and remake) explore the mirroring of twinness in a lighthearted, fun way. Orphan Black, on the other hand, delves into the dark, science fiction realm of the uncanny with questions surrounding cloning. All these examples ponder the nature versus nurture debate, dissecting the differences and similarities between twins.
Some stories highlight themes of sacrifice, like Frozen and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, where the love between sisters is depicted as something pure, righteous, and good. On the other hand, some stories focus on the mysterious unknowableness of the sister bond like in Beloved and The Virgin Suicides, where the bond seems to transcend this life and this reality.
What is so fascinating about the relationship between siblings? What are your favorite depictions of sisters? While there are fewer depictions of sibling women of color and even fewer depictions of trans sisterhood, are there examples that really stand out as excellent or problematic?
We’d like to avoid as much overlap as possible for this theme, so please get your proposals in early if you know which topic you would like to write about. We accept both original pieces and cross-posts, and we respond to queries within a week.
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While #Gamergate has not yet officially rebranded itself as #EpicStreisandEffect, the one heartwarming thing about a mob trying to silence their critics is how bad they are at it. The inflammatory atmosphere created by #Gamergate makes it difficult for balanced discussion of Sarkeesian’s critiques, but one interesting aspect that recently occurred to me is how neatly six of her tropes fit the portrayal of men in recent Disney Princess films (from 1989’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ onwards).
While #Gamergate has not yet officially rebranded itself as #EpicStreisandEffect, the one heartwarming thing about a mob trying to silence their critics is how bad they are at it. The inflammatory atmosphere created by #Gamergate makes it difficult for balanced discussion of Anita Sarkeesian’s critiques, but one interesting aspect that recently occurred to me is how neatly six of her tropes fit the portrayal of men in recent Disney Princess films (from 1989’s The Little Mermaid onwards).
Since the Disney Princess film is almost as male-dominated as video games (Frozen‘s Jennifer Lee was the first female director of a Disney feature), this appears less a genuine reversal than a clumsy “sexism-in-drag” aimed at empowering young girls. But it offers a golden opportunity for female viewers to interrogate our response: do these tropes empower us when reversed? Do we recognize them as sexist? Would they still be dehumanizing if applied equally to male and female characters?
The “dudezel in distress” is a plot device in which a male character is placed in a perilous situation, from which he cannot escape on his own, and must be rescued by a female character. Traditionally, the “dudezel in distress” is a family member or a love interest.
DISNEY DUDEZELS: Among family members, Maurice in Beauty and The Beast (which had a female screenwriter, incidentally) is a classic example of “Dudezel Dad.” His kidnapping forces Belle to risk her life to rescue him, while his pitiful attempt to rescue her is actively counterproductive – his near-death drives Belle to risk her safety again. Both the Beast and Gaston hold Belle hostage by the threat of locking up Maurice, who is consistently punished for attempts to assert agency or independence. Other female characters whose plot arcs are motivated by rescuing their fathers include Ariel of The Little Mermaid (father petrified as worm-creature) and Mulan (father’s peril motivates daughter to take up arms).
The “love interest” as “dudezel in distress” is yet more troubling: girls are taught through this trope that love is the inevitable result of gratitude, rather than the dudezel’s own choice. Take The Little Mermaid: not only does Ariel rescue Eric from drowning, Eric’s inability to love her is depicted as the direct result of his failure to recognize the girl who rescued him. Similarly, Pocahontas must save her love interest, John Smith; Mulan must repeatedly rescue her love interest Shang; Tiana must rescue gold-digging Naveen from his entrapment as a frog. Disney offers no examples of women rescuing men who choose not to become romantically involved with them; being rescued is shown to obligate the dudezel in every case. As such, this trope cannot be seen as empowerment, but as a harmful lesson for girls that also alienates male audiences.
“Men in Refrigerators” refers to the trope of men suffering a loss of powers, brutal violation or an untimely, gruesome death, most often as a plot point for the female hero to seek revenge or further her heroic journey.
DISNEY FRIDGE-DUDES: The best example of violation in the Disney universe is that of Eric by the witch Ursula in The Little Mermaid. His mind and control over his emotions are utterly violated to motivate Ariel’s final confrontation with Ursula and completion of her heroic journey. The traumatic effects on Eric are never shown; Ariel’s response is centered. This rewrites the original story, where the prince chose the mermaid’s rival freely and she learned to accept his choice: surely a better model. Male characters suffering loss of powers to motivate female heroines include Ariel’s father, Triton, and Jasmine’s father, the Sultan, reduced to worm-creature and jester respectively. Male characters killed to facilitate the heroine’s journey include Tiana’s father, whose death motivates her desire for a restaurant, and thus the whole plot of The Princess and the Frog, and the Beast in Beauty and the Beast, whose traumatic murder allows Belle to realize her feelings for him. Once again, its use of ‘men in refrigerators’ reinforces a utilitarian attitude to male characters in Disney Princess films.
The Manic Pixie Dream Dude is a bubbly, shallow male character written in order to help the female character learn to loosen up and enjoy life. Typically, the Manic Pixie Dream Dude has no job or defined interests of his own.
DISNEY PIXIE DREAM-DUDES: Disney’s most obvious Manic Pixie Dream Dude is Prince Naveen of The Princess and the Frog. The heroine, Tiana, has clear career ambitions, loyalty and responsibilities which cause her life to lack joy. Manic Pixie Naveen, despite being a prince, has no independent career or goals and adjusts seamlessly to working in Tiana’s restaurant: he exists to facilitate her goals, while exuding fun, madcap spontaneity and irresponsible wildness to help the heroine embrace joy. Similarly, Rapunzel in Tangled has a clear sense of responsibility, moral values, a conflicted relationship with mother-figure Gothel and the goal of reuniting with her parents. Flynn is the perfect foil: he exists to be a fun and wild antidote to Gothel’s influence, but assimilates to Rapunzel’s lifestyle in the end by abandoning his personal goals (or rather, by being revealed as an orphan who lacks all ties and purpose, and who is explicitly told that his dream of wealth and empowerment “sucks”). He also exhibits a tendency to petty crime that TV Tropes identifies as typical of Manic Pixie Dream Girls. In both cases, the empowerment of the female character is portrayed as a wish fulfillment only realizable through disempowerment of the males.
The Straw Chauvinist is an exaggerated caricature of a chauvinist, filled with misrepresentations, oversimplifications and stereotypes.
DISNEY STRAW CHAUVINIST: Gaston, from Beauty and the Beast, is the clearest example of a Straw Chauvinist in Disney film. Acting as the sole representative of masculine sexual assertiveness and self-confidence within the film (unless you count the comedy-relief candlestick), Gaston implicitly associates these features with self-satisfied ignorance, kidnap, blackmail and the persecution of the mentally ill: “No-one plots like Gaston, takes cheap shots like Gaston, likes to persecute harmless crackpots like Gaston.” Everything from the masculine desire for physical enhancement through body-building and protein-ingestion (“I eat five dozen eggs, so I’m roughly the size of a barge”) to the stereotypical male habit of spitting (“I’m especially good at expectorating”) is, through Gaston, made to appear ridiculous, over-the-top and unnecessary. The purpose is to separate the male lead, Beast, from any association with chauvinism that might be provoked by the character’s being huge, hairy and creepily controlling towards women. This clearly parallels the Veronica Mars example that Sarkeesian cites as “straw feminism,” where the independent, intelligent Veronica is separated from any association with “those kind of feminists” through the use of exaggerated, straw feminist caricatures. Is this, then, one of “the most disgusting tropes ever forged in Mt. Doom” or a reasonable way to use the very ridiculousness of feminist caricatures to separate them from actual feminism? Certainly, the worrying aspect of Disney’s “straw chauvinist” trope is not that it “discredits” chauvinism, but that it normalizes the abusive behavior of Beast through his contrast with Gaston; the “straw chauvinist” shifts the emphasis to ridicule of a stereotyped image rather than identification of harmful behaviors.
The Vamperman, or “evil demon seducer,” is a sexualized man who lures women into his evil web, using his sexuality as a weapon.
DISNEY VAMPERMEN: Strangely for family fare, modern Disney films are full of this trope: Jafar, Scar, Hades, Claude Frollo. Portrayed as manipulative, conniving and controlling men, in each case they exert power over the female leads in a sexualized manner: Princess Jasmine must kiss Jafar to save Aladdin; Scar’s rape threat to Nala was cut from The Lion King film but retained in the stage show; Claude Frollo has an entire“Hellfire” aria about his sexual urges for Esmeralda; Hades literally owns the soul of Megara and uses this to stroke and cuddle her to her visible disgust. Not only do the characters use sex as weapon, they are inappropriately sexualized themselves: tall, aquiline, sardonic and acted by velvet-voiced charisma bombs like Jeremy Irons or James Woods. Dracula’s (the novel’s) description of its female vamps’ “deliberate voluptuousness that was both thrilling and repulsive” seems apt for Disney’s charismatic Vampermen. A streak of theatrical camp is often used to supposedly disarm the predator’s sexual threat, creating the Camper Vamperman variant. Vampermen allow female viewers to objectify the character’s “thrillingly repulsive voluptuousness,” while confirming what Sarkeesian might term “sexist, preconceived notions” that men are manipulative, deceitful, and sexually threatening.
Mr. Fanservice, or “men-as-background-decoration” is the practice of presenting hypersexualized men as ornamental decoration.
DECORATIVE DISNEY DUDES: While Ursula, the voluptuous and brazenly confident villain of The Little Mermaid has become a gay icon to the plus-sized lesbian community, who could claim that Triton’s torso is a realistic standard to offer aging males? The men of Disney are repeatedly presented as bizarrely pumped, fit and sexualized, wearing far less clothing than their female counterparts, all while the actual act of bodily self-improvement is ruthlessly mocked through figures like Gaston. How did these other dudes get their rock-hard abs? By unrealistic body image alone, apparently. Perhaps the most glaring example of “men as background decoration” is the character of “The Entire Chinese Army” in Mulan. Not only is “The Army” a background decoration in the sense of being utterly useless at repelling Hun invasions when compared with a single adolescent girl, but said girl’s invasive ogling of their nudity under false pretenses is trivialized as a subject of humor.
Then shut your eyes
“The Entire Chinese Army” is only allowed to serve a purpose when dressed as women, intensifying the emasculation of male viewers.
However, the presentation of these male soldiers-in-drag as laughable highlights the overall problem with “sexism-in-drag”: it reinforces the inferiority of female gender roles while empowering women through their fictional reversal, and it affirms to male viewers that female empowerment can only be achieved by male emasculation. Male-dominated Disney Princess Film encourages a model of “Little Miss Chauvinism” that adds up to little more than a Ms. Male Character trope. Compare Jennifer Lee’s Frozen – not only does it prioritize unselfish love between women, ending the isolation of the Strong Woman, it affirms “everywoman” heroine Anna’s own empowerment as key to her abandonment of rescuer prince fantasies in favor of her unselfish, “everyman” counterpart. In other words, Frozen presents female empowerment as essential to enhanced appreciation of the male, rather than opposed to it.
However, the enduring popularity of other Disney Princess films does demonstrate that young girls are as susceptible to ideologies of empowerment-through-inequality, and to utilitarian attitudes toward men, as boys are toward women. Nor should the responsibility of female screenwriters be ignored in assessing “Little Miss Chauvinism” archetypes. Does Frozen, then, point the way toward a new paradigm, the integrated empowerment of both male and female? Must female empowerment otherwise be confined to a world of fictional escapism by its assumed incompatibility with male empowerment? Is it possible to merge the “pink” and “blue” aisles into a single, empowering cinema for children? As always, keep in mind that it’s entirely possible to be critical of some aspects of media, while finding other aspects valuable or enjoyable.
We all know that male superheroes get reboots for their (often shitty) movies over and over and over again. There are an ever-increasing number of Batman, Superman, and Hulk movies, not to mention a growing franchise of Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor flicks. With this mentality of quantity over quality, there’s no excuse for denying reboots to some of my favorite female superheroines and their considerably fewer films. Some of the movies that made my top 10 list admittedly sucked, and their heroines deserve a second chance to shine on the big screen. Some of the movies, however, were, are and ever shall be totally awesome, and I just want a do-over to enhance the awesome.
We all know that male superheroes get reboots for their (often shitty) movies over and over and over again. There are an ever-increasing number of Batman, Superman, and Hulk movies, not to mention a growing franchise of Iron Man, Captain America and Thor flicks. With this mentality of quantity over quality, there’s no excuse for denying reboots to some of my favorite female superheroines and their considerably fewer films. Some of the movies that made my top 10 list admittedly sucked, and their heroines deserve a second chance to shine on the big screen. Some of the movies, however, were, are and ever shall be totally awesome, and I just want a do-over to enhance the awesome.
1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Buffy catches a knife before cheerleading practice
When the film Buffy the Vampire Slayer came out in 1992, I loved it. At the tender age of 10, I was already a huge movie nerd, so I was delighted to see all those celebrity cameos (Kristy Swanson, Donald Sutherland, Pee-Wee Herman/Paul Reubens, Rutger Hauer, Luke Perry, David Arquette, and I still associate the Academy Award-winning Hilary Swank with her bit part in this flick as an annoying, backstabbing valley girl). I loved the cheesiness and the unexpected badassness of its cheerleading heroine, Buffy. The movie, though, doesn’t hold a candle to the quality, thematic breadth, character depth, epic scope and feminism of the subsequent TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer that aired 1997-2003.
Buffy vs. Buffy
Buffy has become one of the most iconic superheroines in our pop culture history. She has prophetic dreams and preternatural strength, agility, speed and healing along with the mantle of a dark destiny as “the chosen one” who must give her life in service to protecting the world from unseen demonic threats. A reboot could draw more from the material of the TV show, focusing on friendship, community and sisterhood while keeping all the action and humor that draw in crowds. Combine that with a die-hard cult fanbase, and a BtVS reboot can’t lose.
2. Supergirl
Supergirl must save the Omegahedron…whatever that is
The 1984 movie Supergirl, starring a young, fresh-faced Helen Slater, was another childhood favorite of mine. Even now 30 years after its release, my nostalgia-tinted view doesn’t allow me to see Supergirl as anything other than a formative superheroine movie about a woman who chooses her duty, her family, and her planet over romantic love. Though Supergirl (aka Kara) has the exact same powers as her cousin Superman (superhuman strength, flight, x-ray and heat vision, freezing breath, invulnerability and an aversion to kryptonite), Kara was so much more exciting than the Man of Steel from whom her comic incarnation was spawned.
One of the many Supergirl comic incarnations
Supergirl, like Superman, is an uncomplicated role model for young girls and boys. She is always brave, good, and righteous, and her moral code guides her and always triumphs in the end. I say if Superman got a series reboot, then fair is fair and Supergirl should get one, too.
3. Red Sonja
Despite Arnold’s size in this poster, Red Sonja is the true badass here
My love of Red Sonja is downright legendary. She’s a barbarian babe and the greatest sword-wielder who ever lived. The film is full of grand, beautifully choreographed fight sequences, dramatic accents and lines that I’ll probably utter on my deathbed (“You can’t kill it; it’s a machine!“). Sonja faces off against Queen Gedren, a lesbian super villainess played by the mistress of the sword and sandal genre: Sandahl Bergman (more on her later). As a young child, I adored watching these strong, independent women face off in single combat–women who would decide the fate of the world.
Red Sonja reboot rumors titillate but don’t deliver
Both based on comics, Red Sonja is part of the Conan universe. If Conan got his very own craptastic reboot of Conan the Barbarian (starring Jason Momoa of Khal Drogo fame), then it’s high time Red Sonja got hers, too. Hell, they should even make Sonja a lesbian since she’s none to fond of the gentlemen folk and just look at that Kentucky waterfall action she’s rocking. Wow, the idea of an epic lesbian swordswoman is really blowing my mind. That. We need that S.T.A.T.
4. Aeon Flux
Aeon Flux fail
The 2005 film Aeon Flux was generally considered a flop. Based on the animated series Aeon Flux that appeared on MTV’s Liquid Television in the 90s, the film was so loosely based on its source material that it disappointed fans and failed to engage newcomers. Animated series creator, Peter Chung, called the film version “a travesty” that made him feel “helpless, humiliated, and sad…Ms. Flux does not actually appear in the movie.”
The animated Aeon contorting
Frankly, the movie just wasn’t weird enough. The cartoon is populated by bizarre bodies that bordered on the grotesque, trippy visuals, nonlinear narratives and complex political and philosophical musings. The animated Aeon Flux was really cool, iconic, unexpected and unpredictable. Hollywood could use an injection of surreal, nonconformist cinema. Aeon should get a second shot, one that stays truer to its eccentric cartoon.
5. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider
Lara Croft wielding her two handguns
Lara Croft: Tomb Raider and its sequel Lara Croft Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life are based on the wildly popular video game series Tomb Raider. A female Indiana Jones-type adventuring archeologist, Lara Croft is an ideal heroine: brilliant, capable, inventive and athletic. Croft is proof that female-centric video games that don’t sexually exploit their heroines can be extremely successful and lucrative.
Video game Lara Croft over the years
The movie, however, had a long, convoluted, boring storyline. With a Bond-style episodic approach, the film left me feeling like I hadn’t gotten to know any of the characters in a meaningful way, and even the much anticipated action sequences dragged on and on and on. I don’t want to say good-bye, though, to such a magnetic female character who draws both male and female fans. With a quality script and a judicious editor, a Lara Croft reboot could be amazing, encouraging little girls to want to be Lara Croft (not Indiana Jones) when they grow up.
6. She
She is a matriarch revered as a goddess
1982’s She is a cult classic full of the most random-ass shit you can imagine. I was obsessed with it as a kid. Starring the arresting Sandahl Bergman, of Red Sonja and Conan the Barbarian fame, the film is probably very loosely based on the H. Rider Haggard novel She. The movie takes place in a bizarre post-apocalyptic world wherein She is a ruler of a matriarchal society. Worshiped as a goddess, She protects her people and accepts male (sexual) sacrifices. She is a warrior who goes on a journey to rescue a young woman, encountering werewolves, exploding mimes, a giant in a tutu and some green dudes who seem like they have some kind of leprosy.
The mighty and sexay She
Keeping the darkness and the zaniness of the original film, a reboot about a powerful, complicated, not always righteous female ruler set in a dystopian, magical world would be an exciting challenge. If I had my way, Bergman would reprise her role as She or at least have a cameo in the reboot.
7. Elektra
Elektra waaay outshone Daredevil
Though the character Elektra has a long comic book history, she first appeared as a love interest in 2003’s Daredevil. Though she died in the end of that massive pile of festering turds, she was later resurrected for her own spin-off film, Elektra, which was a box office flop. Truly, I was impressed with actress Jennifer Garner who performed the role of Elektra, mainly due to how excellent she was with the physicality of the role. She trained hard for the part and looked graceful, strong and natural in her martial arts performance and sai use, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for fat-headed Ben Affleck’s awkward, cringe-worthy fighting “skills.”
Comic Elektra and live action Jennifer Gardner
The plotline of the Elektra film was silly with a throwaway story, but I appreciate that our heroine strives to protect a young girl much like herself and presumably goes on to train this girl, bringing about a new era where women work together and aren’t pawns of a male secret group. Marvel can do better with this dark ninja assassin fighting her own demons. I vote for a do-over!
8. Sheena Queen of the Jungle
Sheena had so many super cute/cool animal pals
Another childhood favorite of mine was Sheena, starring Tanya Roberts as a female Tarzan who communicates with animals and saves her “people” and homeland from exploitation. I used to run around as a kid putting my fingertips to my forehead Sheena-style, hoping I, too, had a gift for speaking to animals (you probably know how that turned out). When I grew older, I actually became too ashamed to watch the film because it’s so painfully racist (I can’t stand that white savior trope).
Sheena as the great white hope
The thing is, Sheena is a female icon with a lot of history behind her. In 1937, she became the first female character to have her own title. She’s had her own movie and TV series. She is self-reliant, clever, righteous and part of a unique community that includes people and animals, and she chooses her home over love. The character of Sheena speaks to women. My solution to Sheena‘s inherent racism is to make the character African and Black like the people of her community. If The Beastmaster, Sheena’s (totally sweet) animal communicating male counterpart, got his own film trilogy (in which Tanya Roberts herself co-stars) and TV show, then Sheena deserves a second shot as a new and improved Black superheroine to be a role model for the next generation of women, particularly women of color.
9. Tank Girl
Tank Girl had a pretty wacky style
The 1995 film Tank Girl was unsuccessfully translated from its comic origins to the big screen. Despite having a series of celebrity cameos and high profile artists contribute to its soundtrack, the film, like its comic book, was a crazy conglomeration of imagery, absurdist, barely cohesive narrative and haphazard political commentary. Roger Ebert said of the film,
Whatever the faults of Tank Girl, lack of ambition is not one of them…Here is a movie that dives into the bag of filmmaking tricks and chooses all of them. Trying to re-create the multimedia effect of the comic books it’s based on, the film employs live action, animation, montages of still graphics, animatronic makeup, prosthetics, song-and-dance routines, models, fake backdrops, holography, title cards, matte drawings and computerized special effects. All I really missed were 3-D and Smell-O-Vision.
The Tank Girl comic continues its popularity
So Tank Girl didn’t make money. It did become a cult classic, and it was directed by a woman (Rachel Talalay), which are both wins in my book. It’s a story that revolves around a woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone. She smokes, she farts, she has tons of sex and just generally does what she wants. The anarchy of the character of Tank Girl and the defiant example she provides for women deserves another chance to show women that we don’t have to meet a feminine mold; we can call the shots and we can be as weird as we want to be…and still save the day in the end.
10. Frozen
Elsa uses her powers in Frozen
Frozen is the highest grossing animated film of all time and the 5th highest grossing film of all time. Damn. That is some serious popularity. That is some serious proof that people are starving for quality stories about the love and relationships between girls and young women. Loosely based on the Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale The Snow Queen, the Disney film Frozencenters around Elsa and her sister Anna, showing how their love for one another is what truly saves the day.
The power of sisters in Disney’s Frozen
This is the perfect opportunity for Disney to take the reins in their neverending quest for more money and reboot Frozen as a live action movie with all the bells and whistles that a mega-corporation can afford. Such a high profile movie about the beautiful and important bond between young women will help feminism more than I can say. Plus, it’ll be cool to see a live action Elsa use her sweet ice powers.
As I was compiling this list, I realized what a huge influence these superheroines were for me as I was growing up. It’s sad how few of my examples extend into the new century. Though I may have missed a few, it seems more likely that this is because Hollywood hasn’t been making movies about female heroes nearly as often as they should be. With films like Frozen, The Hunger Games, and Divergent, I hope to see a shift in that pattern that neglects the tales of heroines. These movies don’t always get it right, but their very existence is a triumph. Maybe with their success, the lazy producers of movies will dig up some of the films on my list and give them a second, maybe better chance to inspire women of the next generation.
Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.
My entry point to this area is my interest in creating media that highlights women of color, queer people, its intersection, and other types of characters not often seen on screen. People who aren’t lawyers or in advertising. People who wear the same sweater more than once. People who don’t fit into prefab boxes. My conviction about the need for more diverse content won’t ever falter, but hearing truths from women working in the field is, unfortunately, a downer. While representation of women remains a glaring issue, it’s in the creation of stories and characters where we continue to see problems.
The Panel
This is a guest post by Emily U. Hashimoto.
To reveal how films are created is to lose faith in a medium many of us love so much; perhaps like laws and sausage, it’s best not to see how it’s made. Yet for those of us interested in being a part of that process, the fascination lingers, and to this end I made my way to the Athena Film Festival last weekend, a three day celebration of women and leadership. The three day event featured films – including Frozen, Farah Goes Bang, In A World, and Maidentrip – as well as panels and workshops with seasoned professionals that are creating and helping to create strong portrayals of women.
My entry point to this area is my interest in creating media that highlights women of color, queer people, its intersection, and other types of characters not often seen on screen. People who aren’t lawyers or in advertising. People who wear the same sweater more than once. People who don’t fit into prefab boxes. My conviction about the need for more diverse content won’t ever falter, but hearing truths from women working in the field is, unfortunately, a downer. While representation of women remains a glaring issue, it’s in the creation of stories and characters where we continue to see problems. For example, during a panel with producers, an entertainment lawyer, and others, one woman who works in production said that when a film is in its initial stages and agents have the opportunity to suggest writers and directors, they won’t mention any women because they know the studio won’t go for it. When studio executives get asked why women’s names aren’t put forward, they say that agents won’t support those choices. What we have here is a classic catch-22 clusterfuck that’s hard to escape, without a suitable conclusion that puts more women to work.
Nina Shaw
This inclusion issue exists at all levels. Executives that are women or people of color aren’t willing to step forward to support a script about women or people of color, lest they be seen as ‘pushing an agenda.’ So even when there is more representation of studio executives, a balm you’d think is a panacea, the willingness to stick to the predetermined rules is more of a draw for the people who select this kind of work.
It kind of continues to be bad news.
The statistics don’t support a woman’s endeavor into film. San Diego State University’s Center for the Study of Women in Television and Film’s research tells us that in 2013, only 16% of all directors, executive producers, producers, writers, cinematographers, and editors involved in top grossing films were women. In television and independent film, women are better represented, with these figures being closer to 30%, but we’re still a long way from parity.
Callie Khouri
If one does make it through to the exclusive group of filmmakers, it doesn’t guarantee work. Nina Shaw, a leading entertainment lawyer, said during the panel that when studios are working on a project, they’ll have “The List” of possible directors and writers, a list that is often devoid of even one woman’s name. When she brings up women creators, the response is often, “Well, we talked about her…” She said, “it’s almost always a guy talking to a guy,” though as mentioned above, even having more women executives isn’t a boon to more women creators. The problem is bankability; women are not seen as people who can make a large-scale film because of the way we are perceived – never mind the fact that films with a woman lead are less expensive to make and end up making more money.
But the perception persists that women are not leaders enough to take the helm of a huge project. Directors (read: men) are supposed to be powerful, tough, and wise, and the way women are perceived clashes with that. When a woman director does sneak in the door and she displays the traits that a director should, there can be a terrible clash. Shaw described an anonymous situation of a woman director who had an adversarial relationship with her male producer on a film. She behaved as any director would, but that behavior made the producer bad mouth her all over town. She didn’t work steadily for years until she fell in with a successful female TV creator and showrunner.
Anna Holmes
Whether you work within the lines or not, as a woman creator you must be overwhelmingly prepared and talented. Lena Waithe, a queer woman of color that writes and produces, says that for women of color especially, there’s no room for mediocrity because you’re already seen as a risky entity. You have to work the hardest you’ve ever worked, while a male peer can, as Shaw described, get into a fight and be put in jail the night before a film starts shooting, halting production until he’s bailed out – and not get fired. If a female director pulled a stunt like that, she’d end up in “director jail,” a term for not being able to get work that Shaw said was very real.
Perception of women feeds into the writing process, too. Callie Khouri, writer of Thelma and Louise and creator of Nashville, said during her master class that before Thelma and Louise was made, the first question she’d get in a meeting was: “How are you going to change the ending?” Not “are you?” but “how?” – because what kind of movie ends with the female leads doing something as traditionally masculine as thinking the only way out is down? Khouri’s answer in these meetings was, “I’ll have the car drive faster over the cliff,” and her non-compromise formed what’s become a deeply iconic symbol of female friendship and rebellion. But it doesn’t change the fact that she was asked to make changes, a change that’s hard to envision someone asking of a male writer.
So. You’ve made your film, and Roger Ebert hates it and writes a really sexist review, which is the place Khouri found herself in after co-writing and directing The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Reviews from Ebert and others tanked the film at the box office, which wasn’t so surprising to Khouri because “women’s films are denigrated” by critics, many of whom are men. Khouri went further, insinuating that the criticism came from a less than objective place, because the film “wasn’t made for him.” This kind of frustration seems to be part and parcel of the job, but after years in Hollywood, Khouri is able to distinguish who does what. It’s someone’s job to be critical. “Our part of the gig,” she said, “is to say, well, fuck you. It got made.”
It certainly got made. Which feels like the perfect time to segue over to good advice and bright spots that came from panels and workshops at the festival:
Khouri said try – to write, to direct – then finish. It’s simple advice, but many people are nervous to try their hand at something they’ve never done. Waithe attested to this, too: she offered to produce a friend’s film without even knowing what a producer does. This kind of go-with-it attitude sparks against the more gender-enforced norm of wanting to master something before starting up, as founder of Jezebel.com Anna Holmes said is a trait she can’t easily discard. Even more specific than try and finish, Waithe said start with a question that your viewers will engage with; it’ll make your work much more interactive and innovative.
Where you’re working and who you know are integral to making moves in film. Khouri said you have to go to the ballpark to play ball, whether it’s Los Angeles or New York or wherever your particular form of creativity is taking place. Once there, spend time with people who know more than you. Learn from the wisdom that others can offer, and then be willing to play that role once you’ve been around the block. Once you’re in the space, you may have to start as an assistant, then work your way up; that seems to be the route for most of the women who spoke during the festival. There’s something refreshing about such meritocracy, even as it feels like a challenging path with no guarantee.
Lena Waithe
Having said that, you can always buck the system entirely. During the panel with women experts, there was a lot of discussion about Kickstarter, Indiegogo, and how independent filmmaking are the way to truly run the show. Putting your work and intentions out into the world ahead of an actual film being produced can be a great way to find your audience, involving them ahead of time, but it needs to be done well to stand out. Working with a producer who can help with marketing was one suggestion on how to make this work.
Once your content is in motion, deciding how it’s presented is another important step. The panel discussed Orange is the New Black and how Jenji Kohan created the show with its white female lead as the “trojan horse” to hook mass audiences, then tell stories of a diversity of women characters – older women, queer women, women who are well off, women living on the streets, trans women. Likewise, Shonda Rhimes created Grey’s Anatomy and Meredith Grey with a similar set up, both shows displaying the success in employing these kinds of tactics. This method clearly works, but Waithe said that she prefers to be more straightforward – that her characters are people of color, that they’re queer, and there’s nothing to hide. Creators need to make these decisions, to decide how they want to represent their work.
So much of the representation of women in film feels inorganic to our lived experiences. Waithe attributed that to the phenomenon of men writing female characters, which leads to men “telling stories that are foreign to them.” Indeed, it’s undeniable that a woman directed and/or written film can often be truer than, for example, the way Woody Allen writes women, but more than anything, the statistics tell us that we simply need more women writing and directing more stories. As Holmes put it, it’s “important to mainstream women’s voices,” which will serve the women pushing to get their work produced and seen, and the audiences of women and men who will benefit from more inclusion, onscreen and off.
For more on the Athena Film Festival, read this terrific interview with co-founders Kathryn Kolbert and Melissa Silverstein.
Emily U. Hashimoto is a writer interested in pop culture, feminism, sexuality, and its intersections. She’s currently working on a memoir about her women’s studies study abroad trip and a screenplay that she hopes will cement her as the queer Nora Ephron. You can find her at books-feminism-everythingelse or @emilyhash.
While this will probably be remembered as the “Winter Of The Polar Vortex,” it’s also fair to call it the “Winter Of The Feminist Blockbuster.” Grossing a combined total of more than $700 million domestically, ‘Catching Fire’ and ‘Frozen’ have definitively proven that films with female leads can attract a major audience. Even better, they’ve inspired think pieces about everything from Katniss’ movie “girlfriend” to queer readings of Elsa. Yet as I cheered on the strong ladies at the center of both films, I couldn’t help but notice something troubling. While ‘Catching Fire’ presents a diverse supporting cast, ‘Frozen’ rounds out its ensemble with a disappointing parade of white, male characters.
Catching Fire sisters
This is a guest post by Caroline Siede.
While this will probably be remembered as the “Winter Of The Polar Vortex,” it’s also fair to call it the “Winter Of The Feminist Blockbuster.” Grossing a combined total of more than $700 million domestically, Catching Fire and Frozen have definitively proven that films with female leads can attract a major audience. Even better, they’ve inspired think pieces about everything from Katniss’ movie “girlfriend” to queer readings of Elsa. Yet as I cheered on the strong ladies at the center of both films, I couldn’t help but notice something troubling. While Catching Fire presents a diverse supporting cast, Frozen rounds out its ensemble with a disappointing parade of white, male characters.
Geena Davis’ Institute On Gender In Media recently commissioned a study that concluded that for every female-speaking character in a family-rated film, there are roughly three male characters. Davis explains, “We are in effect enculturating kids from the very beginning to see women and girls as not taking up half of the space.” Like many films before it, Frozen subtly suggests that the only women who deserve screen time are the ones with exceptional stories. Men, on the other hand, don’t need to be extraordinary to appear on screen; their maleness is justification enough for their presence. Davis’ study determined that while women make up roughly 50% of the population, most crowd scenes contain only 17% of female characters.
Frozen sisters
Don’t get me wrong I adored Frozen. I’ve had the soundtrack on repeat since I saw it a few weeks ago, and I’m fully prepared to perform a karaoke duet of “Love Is An Open Door” at the drop of a hat. But for all of its feminist subversion, Frozen’s supporting cast falls in line with Davis’ study. Despite its dual female protagonists, men still outnumber women: There’s a wise Troll King, a repressive father, a brave ice cutter, a friendly shop owner, a scheming prince, a manipulative dignitary, an open-hearted snowman, and a dog-like reindeer. Men aren’t limited to being good or bad, heroes or villains, rich or poor; they are all of these things. Women, however, are almost entirely absent from supporting roles. Elsa and Anna’s mother remains silent and inactive while her husband takes control, a female troll gets a brief solo, and a townswoman delivers a line or two to Elsa. As far as I can recall, these are the only supporting women of note, and I’m really stretching it with that townswoman.
And in case you didn’t notice, there are also no women (or men) of color in Frozen. Some are quick to claim it would be historically inaccurate to depict racial diversity in the film’s medieval Scandinavian setting. Putting aside the ice powers, anthropomorphized reindeer, and magical trolls for a moment—Arendelle is depicted as a major trading city with ties to countries around the world. It seems perfectly logical that it would be a bustling metropolis with a diverse population. And to be perfectly frank, the benefit of a child of color seeing herself represented onscreen far outweighs the danger of someone being confused about the demographics of Scandinavia.
Catching Fire tributes
It’s difficult to say whether Frozen’s creators subconsciously mimicked the gender and racial disparity we’ve become accustomed to onscreen or whether the white male-dominated world was an intentional choice meant to keep the focus on Anna and Elsa. (After all, audiences are used to seeing white men as business owners and dignitaries so there’s no need to justify their appearance in these roles. Perhaps the creators feared a female shop owner would be too much of a distraction.) Either way, the homogenized supporting cast feels like a huge oversight for a film that otherwise goes out of its way to craft a feminist story. Frozen subverts Disney clichés, celebrates female friendship, and even promotes asking for consent as an act of romance (swoon!), but it utterly fails when it comes to creating a world that accurately reflects our own. Perhaps most frustrating, it would have been so, so easy to improve representation. Make the Troll King a Troll Queen. Make Anna and Elsa’s mother the active parent. Make the shop owner a black woman. Make Kristoff an Asian man who traveled to Arendelle yet never quite fit in. Make half of the visiting dignitaries women. And heck, make some of those female dignitaries corrupt, just as the men are allowed to be!
Frozen dignitaries
If Frozen required a template, it need only look to the winter’s other female-driven powerhouse film, Catching Fire. In fact, the entire Hunger Games franchise seems to deliberately demand diversity. The parameters of the titular Games require each District to send one male and one female tribute, a fictional mandate that matches nicely with Davis’ suggestion that writers dictate all crowd scenes contain 50% women. There are still more male characters overall, but it’s a huge step in the right direction for gender parity onscreen.
In addition to everyone’s favorite bow-and-arrow wielder (sorry Legolas), Catching Fire depicts a beautifully varied array of female characters. There’s the vapid, wealthy women of the Capitol; the hardworking, poor women of District 12; Katniss’ emotionally-fragile mother; aggressive Johanna; tech-savvy Wiress; vicious Enobaria and Cashmere; old but brave Mags; young but brave Prim; Snow’s impressionable granddaughter; Rue’s stoic mother; the drug-addicted tribute from District 6; and a career-driven socialite named Effie Trinket. Even better, many of these characters have agency and arcs of their own. Effie slowly learns to question the society she once worshipped, and her growth is one of the most moving elements in an all-around exceptional film. Effie’s subtle resistance to the Capitol is a foil to Katniss’ aggressive frustration—an acknowledgement that women can show strength in many ways, not just through traditionally masculine pursuits like hunting and fighting.
Though Catching Fire is still predominately white—and the whitewashing of Katniss is problematic—it does take some important steps to represent racial diversity. Beetee (Jeffrey Wright), Cinna (Lenny Kravitz) and Rue (Amandla Stenberg) are not only essential characters of color; they effortlessly defy the racial stereotypes of aggressive black men and sexualized black women that too often fill our screens. The film could and should present more persons of color, but it’s certainly an improvement over Frozen’s all-white ensemble.
So does all this mean Catching Fire is a more feminist film than Frozen? Of course not. Representation is just one way we can examine feminism onscreen. Simply counting up the number of women will not indicate how well written they are or how actively they impact the story. Like the Bechdel test—which both films pass, by the way—representation is one feminist lens. But it is an important one. As Davis asks, “Couldn’t it be that the percentage of women in leadership positions in many areas of society — Congress, law partners, Fortune 500 board members, military officers, tenured professors and many more — stall out at around 17 percent because that’s the ratio we’ve come to see as the norm?” Couldn’t Frozen’s homogenized world teach its audience that women are only worthy if they are “exceptional”?
Frozen shop owner
Frozen just took home the Golden Globe for Best Animated Feature, and I’m thrilled that such an overtly feminist film has been embraced by mainstream culture. It’s especially exciting because Frozen has not one, but two female leads, and both of these ladies are wonderfully nuanced and complex. So let’s continue to celebrate Frozen and Catching Fire for everything they get right. Let’s use Elsa, Anna, and Katniss as examples of fantastic female protagonists who are allowed to be both strong and weak. Let’s demand positive female relationships like the ones between Elsa and Anna or between Katniss and Prim. But let’s also continue to point out flaws in the films we love. Let’s demand more representation of women from all walks of life, not just brave, pretty heroines. Let’s demand more representation of persons of color. Most importantly, let’s demand more fully realized human beings onscreen, especially ones who just happen to be ladies.
Caroline Siede is a freelance writer living in Chicago where the cold never bothers her anyway. She frequently contributes to The A.V. Club and documents her experiences in the city on her blog Introverted Chicago. When not contemplating time travel paradoxes, she often tweets sarcastic things @CarolineSiede.
Amanda did a brilliant queer reading of Elsa’s powers as a symbol of queer sexuality. While our fantastic commenters proposed additional, equally plausible readings, relating the treatment of Elsa’s powers to society’s fear and suppression of mental illness, disability, and even women as a whole, I think the queer reading deserves a little further exploration. Specifically, I want to look at the recurring motif of doors in Frozen.
Warning: Here be (mild-to-moderate) spoilers.
This weekend, I finally saw Frozen, and I loved every minute of it. I loved it for all the reasons everyone has been talking about, from its female-centered narrative to the subversion of Disney’s own tropes about love and romance. I especially loved that it was primarily a story about sisters. I adore stories about siblings, but it seems to me that I rarely see relationships between sisters taken as seriously in pop culture as brothers.
(Though maybe that’s because, as the middle of three very close-knit brothers, I have SO MANY FEELINGS about Sam and Dean Winchester.)
Our own Amanda did a brilliant queer reading of Elsa’s powers as a symbol of queer sexuality. While our fantastic commenters proposed additional, equally plausible readings, relating the treatment of Elsa’s powers to society’s fear and suppression of mental illness, disability, and even women as a whole, I think the queer reading deserves a little further exploration. Specifically, I want to look at the recurring motif of doors in Frozen.
The symbolism of doors is multifarious: entrances, beginnings, thresholds, transition (though after what happened last time I read as a Disney princess as trans* I’ll step back from explicitly reading Elsa as trans*) (even though I think it totally works) (and actually I really want to read her as a trans girl) (but I’ll leave it to my trans sisters to tease out the details).
Doors have a religious and supernatural element too. Think of the safety of home from the vampire, who can’t cross the doorway uninvited; the placing of the mezuzah on the doorway in Jewish tradition; Catholic ideas of Mary as a holy door.
Queer theory has found its doorways in its affinity with Victor Turner’s notion of liminality, though there’s a risk of theorizing queerness away into nothing if you take this too far. I am particularly taken by the idea of the doors in Frozen as closet doors. So, what happens if we read the film with this in mind?
The song “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” is a heartbreaking portrait of three of Anna’s attempts to reach out to her sister over the years. As a five-year-old, as a pre-teen, and as an adolescent, Anna knocks on Elsa’s door but gets no response. In the very first verse, she sings, “Come out the door,” whereas by the final verse her urging has changed to “Just let me in.” If this door is indeed a closet door, Elsa is unable to do anything as simple as come out, because her parents’ fear of her queer sexuality has taught her that she must suppress it. Elsa internalizes her parents’ lesson that coming out is not an option, but she is equally unable to “let in” the sister who has never been inside the closet and indeed does not yet know of Elsa’s queerness.
And again, when the castle must be opened up for Elsa’s coronation, the opening lines of Anna’s joyful song “For The First Time in Forever” mention doors specifically:
The window is open, so’s that door
I didn’t know they did that anymore
Elsa, however, refers to opening “the gate” rather than any doors, and she tells herself:
Don’t let them in, don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don’t feel, put on a show
Make one wrong move and everyone will know
Her refusal of a man’s invitation to dance that night, while Anna accepts it, could be taken as indicative of a lack of interest in men at all. (Am I taking it too far if I find evidence of a straight woman’s puzzlement at her closeted sister’s lack of interest in men in Anna’s line, “Why have a ballroom with no balls?”!)
The symbol of the door is made most explicit in the delightful number “Love is an Open Door” – the third song in a row to open with a lyric about doors:
All my life has been a series of doors in my face
The brilliant thing about this song is how differently it plays on first watch versus how it plays when you know how the story will turn out. Like the proverbial length of a minute in the bathroom, it depends which side of the door you’re on. Played straight (forgive the pun), this is a song about the exciting opportunity of embarking on a new relationship. But there are also resonances of the importance of honest communication in the success of a relationship and the freedom of leaving the metaphorical closet – both of which become tinged with irony once you have seen the whole film.
Indeed, Elsa’s refusal to bless Anna and Hans’s marriage seems to Anna like the sour grapes of a closeted sister who resents the straightforwardness of hetero romance, but in truth it’s a piece of real wisdom that Anna will come to appreciate. And yet it also leads to Elsa’s unintentional, very public coming-out. She flees in shame, and succumbs to her sexuality in an almighty ballad that is (deliberately?) reminiscent of “Defying Gravity” from that Broadway show most susceptible to queer readings, Wicked.
Let it go, let it go
Can’t hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door
– of the (now empty) closet, yes, but also of the open door that is love. Being out isn’t much good if you don’t have love in your life: ultimately, Elsa learns that love is the way to control her powers. It would be possible to do a fairly conservative reading of this – female queer sexuality is acceptable as long as it’s within the confines of a long-term monogamous relationship – but I think there’s a better reading available. Based on the fact that the love between sisters is at the heart of this film, the love that controls Elsa’s powers isn’t romantic love, but familial love: the kind of love that loves you for who you are, not in spite of it.
Frozen isn’t saying that queerness is only acceptable in certain kinds of relationship. On the contrary, its message is that love comes in many different forms, and we all of us – including women, and queer people, and people with mental illnesses, and people with disabilities, and everybody else – need to be loved forwho we are, with the kind of love that opens closet doors.
Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. Excuse him while he gets back to writing polyamorous Anna/Kristoff/Hans slashfic.
I was surprised by Disney’s latest animated film “Frozen”. I was sure it was going to feed us Disney’s standard company line about princesses and marriage and girls needing to be rescued all the time. I was wrong. Though the film still showcases impossibly thin, rich, white girls who are princesses, this isn’t a story about romantic love or some dude rescuing a damsel in distress. “Frozen” is a story about sisterhood and the power that exists inside young women.
Spoiler Alert
Frankly, I was surprised by Disney’s latest animated film Frozen. Even though it featured the voice of my beloved heroine Veronica Mars (or as she’s known in real life: Kristen Bell), I was pretty sure Frozen was going to feed us Disney’s standard company line about princesses and marriage and girls needing to be rescued all the time. I was wrong. Though the film still showcases impossibly thin, rich, white girls who are princesses, this isn’t a story about romantic love or some dude rescuing a damsel in distress. Not only does Frozen effortlessly pass the Bechdel Test within five minutes, it’s a story that’s centered around sisterhood and the power that exists inside young women.
The most important relationship in Frozen, the one that drives all the action, all the pathos, is that of Anna and her sister Elsa. The two of them love each other very deeply, but they struggle to connect. Snow Queen Elsa strives to protect her little sister from harm first by hiding her own amazing abilities to create/manipulate snow and ice and then by refusing to allow Anna to marry a man she’s only just met. Elsa has donned the mantle of big sister with a great deal of seriousness, including all the responsibility that comes with it. When Elsa’s powers are outed at court, Anna’s unflagging love and determination prompts her to go after her fleeing sister who holes up in a pristine snow castle. We learn that Elsa was right to protect her sister from a hasty marriage, which is a huge change from Disney’s traditional espousing of the myth of love-at-first-sight, but we also learn that Anna’s love and acceptance is the only thing that can save her reclusive sister.
Sisters Elsa and Anna join hands.
In Frozen, female agency and power are paramount. Elsa has cosmically awesome winter powers (she should seriously consider a trip to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters). Anna, our heroine, is normal, which is a refreshing change of pace from most fantasy stories where the lead is imbued with a striking talent or birthright. Though Anna has no unique skills or magical powers, it is her compassion that makes her extraordinary. Anna’s personality makes her special because she never gives up, never questions her own capability, and never thinks she can’t do something. With her courage and conviction, Anna is the driving force behind all the film’s action. The male characters are mostly along for the ride, lending support or acting as obstacles to the true goal of the film: the reconnection of two estranged sisters.
Let’s talk a little bit about Elsa’s winter superpowers. From adolescence, Elsa and her parents fear her growing powers. Elsa seeks to control, minimize, and hide her powers. With the “swirling storm inside”, Elsa loses her grip on her carefully guarded secret and outs herself at her coronation party. After fleeing the scene, she sings, “Conceal. Don’t feel. Don’t let them know,” before declaring she’s going to, “Let it go.” (Full song below.)
Elsa’s abilities that are connected to her emotions and mature with age are obviously a metaphor for her powerful sexuality, and I’d even go so far as to argue that Elsa and her family struggle with her queer sexuality, her parents even fearing that she would infect her younger sister. Yes, I think there is general discomfort around female sexuality in all its forms. However, Anna is blossoming sexually, and there is not the same stigma or fear surrounding it because her conventional hetero sexuality gravitates towards marriage to a prince. There is no male love interest for Elsa (despite Anna having two suitors). Elsa’s queer sexuality is so foreign that her subjects are horrified, and she must isolate herself, becoming a literal ice queen. While Elsa feels free to be honest with herself and to feel her feelings within her isolated castle, she does not believe acceptance is possible nor that she can be a part of normal society.
Elsa tries to scare Anna away and even accidentally hurts her in the process.
When Elsa accidentally strikes Anna with a shard of her ice powers, Anna’s heart becomes frozen, and only “an act of true love” can thaw it and save her from death. Everyone in the film assumes true love’s kiss will cure her, but, frankly, I had my fingers crossed (literally) that Elsa would have to kiss her sister to save her (platonically, of course). We were all wrong. It turned out that Anna had to perform the act of true love, keeping her firmly in the self-actualized role of heroine, making her own choices, taking action, and creating her own destiny. That’s an even better plot twist than I could have imagined! Anna’s act of self-sacrifice shows Elsa that acceptance is possible, that Anna knew about her dark secret and loved her anyway. They’re not saved by a man or romantic love. This is an act of true love between sisters, and that act saves them both. One word: beautiful.
Beautiful sisterhood.
Disney was clearly doing their feminist homework when they came up with Frozen. They created a story about young women that didn’t revolve around men, where family and sisterhood trump everything else, where two sisters save each other. They even have Kristoff ask Anna for consent before he kisses her, and the movie doesn’t end with a wedding. Disney still has to work on its depiction of impossible female bodies that are usually white. They need to start telling stories about regular girls and not just richie-rich princesses. They need to be more open and honest about their queer characters instead of hiding them under metaphor, but all in all, Frozen is a huge leap forward for Disney. I’m glad I went to see it. I’m glad I took my six-year-old niece to see it with me, and though their white skin and privileged lifestyle doesn’t match hers, I think Frozen imparted an important lesson about sisterhood, love, and acceptance that is invaluable to young girls everywhere.
——————- Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.
