Reproduction & Abortion Week: The Dancer’s Dilemma

Dirty Dancing poster

 This is a guest review by Myrna Waldron.

I was less than a year old when Dirty Dancing came out. It is known for the chemistry between its stars, incredible choreography, and a fantastic soundtrack that balances the sounds of the 60s and the 80s. It’s a typical coming-of-age story, but one of the less-discussed plot points in the film is how it approaches the consequences of an unintended pregnancy during a time in which abortion was still illegal (The film takes place in 1963). As a lifelong fan of the film, Dirty Dancing was my first introduction to the issues of abortion. The film is incredibly progressive in its depiction of Penny Johnson (Cynthia Rhodes), a dancer forced to face the most difficult of decisions, and makes a very strong illustration of the consequences of illegal abortions.

In her introductory scenes where she is dancing a mambo with the main love interest, Johnny Castle (Patrick Swayze), Penny explodes on the screen as a vision of raw sexuality and incredible talent. Frances “Baby” Houseman (Jennifer Grey) is instantly awed and envious of Penny’s dancing abilities, and attempts to befriend her. One of the major themes of Dirty Dancing is its class distinctions, and the dancers are under especially strict orders from their boss not to get too close to the wealthy families staying at the resort. Penny’s responses to Baby are thus aloof, but she still reveals a tremendous amount of background information; Penny’s mother kicked her out of the house at 16, and she has been dancing ever since because it was the only thing she ever wanted to do. Penny has thus been established as someone of low income, with no familial support. The subtext of Penny’s backstory is that dancing for her is her only means of income; she does not see herself as having any other abilities.

Cynthia Rhodes as Penny Johnson in Dirty Dancing

When Penny’s pregnancy is discovered, she is shown curled up in a darkened corner, shivering and sobbing. Her only friends at the resort, Johnny and his cousin Billy, instantly figure out what is wrong just from Baby’s report of Penny’s frightened and desperate state. It is an important aspect of Penny and Johnny’s characters that, despite the intense sexuality of their dance routines, they maintain a sibling-like platonic relationship. As Johnny goes to Penny’s aid, he mutters, “Penny just doesn’t think.” Despite this statement coming from a loved one, Johnny’s reaction mirrors a common sentiment that women should bear all the blame for an unintended pregnancy, that not getting pregnant is their responsibility alone. However, when he finds her, he tells her “I’m never gonna let anything happen to you,” showing that despite his angry outburst, he cares about her enough to give any assistance that he can.

Johnny offers the last of his salary to pay for Penny’s abortion. Notably, the option for keeping the baby or giving it up for adoption is never discussed. There are several reasons for this. First and most obviously, Penny cannot continue the strenuous dancing routines if she is pregnant. She would lose her sole source of income, and would have nothing to pay for care for herself or the baby. Second, if news of her pregnancy gets out, she would be instantly fired, and would lose the important reference that working at the resort gains her. Third, the father is Robbie Gould (Max Cantor), a young waiter who is currently courting Baby’s sister Lisa (Jane Brucker). Although extremely wealthy and handsome, Robbie is manipulative and selfish. When Baby confronts him and asks for money to pay for the abortion, he denies paternity and implies that Penny is promiscuous, which is another example of the condemnation of class distinctions in the film. Penny explains that she believed that Robbie loved her, and that she was “something special.” A woman who has no family, no real career prospects and is constantly belittled by her employers can quite believably become seduced by someone like Robbie. The film thus makes an important point about culpability – the poor, lonely and insecure Penny must bear all the blame and responsibility for the pregnancy, while the fortunate Robbie gets off scott-free.

Patrick Swayze and Cynthia Rhodes

Another important analysis of class distinction occurs in the film when the financial consequences of a back-alley abortion are discussed. Not only can neither Penny, Johnny nor Billy afford to pay for the abortion, Penny can’t take the day off to visit the abortionist. The abortionist is only in the area on one particular day, but Penny and Johnny are scheduled to perform at another hotel. There is no one who can take her place. Baby, established as a bit of an altruist, not only gets the money from her wealthy doctor father, but volunteers to learn Penny’s routine so she can get the procedure done. All three resort employees are shocked and guilty about accepting Baby’s kindness, as they are used to wealthy people exploiting them and treating them as sub-human. The romance plot is kicked off as Baby rehearses the routine with Johnny.

Unfortunately, the most frightening hazard of illegal abortion is that those who perform back-alley abortions are not certified doctors, and are under no regulations to use sterile equipment, anesthesia, or to perform the procedure safely. Outlawing abortion does not prevent abortions in any way – as we see in this film, if the woman is desperate enough, she will end the pregnancy regardless of the legal implications. Penny is thus locked in a room with an abortionist with a folding table and a “dirty knife.” Billy tries to come to her aid, but she is at the mercy of the abortionist and he must endure her screams of pain. Billy brings her home, and Penny refuses the help of a hospital as they would call the police. She is obviously dying, and is moaning in pain and clutching her abdomen. Baby goes to find her father, who is skilled enough to not only save Penny’s life, but also tells her that she can still have children. Her relief and joy at this news is an important aspect of her character, as it shows that this abortion was done because it was not the right time in her life to have a child, and that she had no choice in the matter. It is implied that someday, when Penny’s dancing career is over, she will have children when she is ready.

Penny in bed, following her abortion

Baby’s father, Dr. Houseman, seems to have conflicted morals, and serves a good example of someone who may not approve of abortion, but still shows compassion for women who require the procedure. He tells Baby that he doesn’t want her associating with “those people” (referring to Penny and Johnny) again, showing a protective streak and indirectly comparing the virginal and wealthy Baby to the poor “bad girl” Penny. However, when treating Penny’s condition, he speaks to her kindly, continues to make checkups on her despite his being on vacation, and happily converses with her at the finale. So despite his obvious disapproval of Penny’s choices, he sees her as a patient first, and makes her recovery his primary concern.

The purpose of legalized abortion is not only to give women like Penny a choice, but also to ensure their safety. It is very telling that class distinctions still exist (and are perhaps stronger than ever) in that wealthy lawmakers continue to blame perceived promiscuity for unintended pregnancies, and wish to force women to bear children as a punishment or consequence for their actions. If Penny had continued this pregnancy, she would have had absolutely no way to care for the child. She may have made a mistake in sleeping with Robbie, but why should she be “punished” and he not? Most importantly, keeping abortion legal and fully accessible saves the life of the mother. There are enough restrictions on abortion already – the doctors are only available on certain days in certain areas, some states require the woman to wait an extra 24 hours just to make sure they’re “certain” (Hint: They wouldn’t be there if they weren’t sure.), abortions are expensive, etc. Women like Penny should not have to risk their lives in order to ensure that they have control over their lives and their bodies. Before abortion was legalized in the US and Canada, women often died from the procedure. Women will get abortions whether or not they’re legal, because sometimes they have no other choice. I am sure I am preaching to the choir when I speak of the lessons I have learned from Penny’s story in Dirty Dancing, but part of me wonders if there would be more support for keeping abortion legal and accessible if lawmakers showed a little compassion, watched this film again, and thought about the real women whose lives mirror Penny’s.

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Myrna Waldron is a 25-year-old pop culture buff who loves to let off a good rant. She regularly tweets at @SoapboxingGeek, and is going to pretend the upcoming Dirty Dancing remake doesn’t exist.

Guest Writer Wednesday: "Love" Is "Actually" All Around Us (and Other Not-So-Deep Sentiments)

Movie poster for the romantic comedy Love Actually

This cross-post by Lady T previously appeared at her blog The Funny Feminist and is part of her ongoing series, “The Rom-Com Project.”

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For me, the quintessential Ensemble Romantic Comedy is Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It has all the ingredients of an Ensemble Rom-Com: all sets of characters are consumed by some form of love, and all sets of characters are connected by some overarching theme or event. In Midsummer’s case, the overarching event is the wedding of Theseus and Hippolyta – an event that is of utmost important to Oberon/Titania/Puck, Bottom and the other mechanicals, and Hermia/Lysander/Helena/Demetrius, but concerning characters who are much less entertaining and engaging than the three sets of characters I just mentioned. (The play also explores themes of magic, love triangles, deception, and all sorts of interesting ideas that makes it one of Shakespeare’s best comedies.)

In the case of Love Actually, the Theseus/Hippolyta’s wedding is Christmas – or, arguably, the terminal at Heathrow Airport – and the three sets of main characters become nine sets of characters, and the themes of magic/love triangles/deception is whittled down to a Captain Obvious statement about love: “Love is actually all around us.”

Wow. Really? Love is everywhere, movie? Really?

Yes, I’m being sarcastic, and maybe I shouldn’t be. I don’t think Love Actually is meant to be incredibly deep or profound. I think it’s meant to be a movie that shows a series of fleeting moments and how people are connected to each other, and that’s it. It explores different types of (heterosexual) love, and some stories end sadly while others end happily.

The problem for me is that the only stories that worked for me were the ones that ended on a sad note.

The sad-ending stories
Keira Knightley/Andrew Lincoln/Chiwetel Ejiofor
I felt nauseous all throughout Keira Knightley’s story because I knew Andrew Lincoln was in love with her, and I was afraid that she was going to leave her new husband Chiwetel Ejiofor for his best friend. I liked that it ended on a melancholy note after the cue card scene, where she only kissed him once – maybe as a thank you, or just an acknowledgment of his feelings for her – and then walked away to go back to her husband, and then Andrew Lincoln told himself, “Enough,” and resolved to get over her. She wasn’t going to leave her husband for him just because he had a grand romantic gesture, and he didn’t expect her to leave him. It worked.

Except I couldn’t shake the feeling that it’s more than a little weird and creepy to give any kind of grand romantic gesture to your best friend’s wife regardless of your expectations, especially when said best friend is only a few feet away.

But maybe I’m being too critical.

Laura Linney/Rodrigo Santoro
Two people who loved each other from afar for years after working together for years finally connect on a romantic night, except that romantic night is disrupted when Laura Linney has to go take care of her mentally ill brother.

That one scene in the hospital where her brother has a violent reaction, the doctors come to intervene, and she quietly gets her brother under control…yes, it got to me. Perhaps on a more personal level than I wanted it to.

Except I couldn’t shake the feeling of dissatisfaction that Laura Linney and Rodrigo Santoro never shared an onscreen conversation about that interrupted romantic night, and that I didn’t understand the depth of feeling he had for her.

But maybe I’m being too critical.

Emma Thompson/Alan Rickman/tarty secretary dressed like the devil
I liked that the movie didn’t show us how Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman’s marriage turned out. In the epilogue, I couldn’t tell if they were together and trying (and failing) to make it work, or if they were separated and keeping up a good front for the sake of their kids. I liked that she held him responsible for the almost-affair and didn’t lay all the blame on the homewrecker, but on the person who was actually responsible for being true to their relationship.

Except I couldn’t shake the annoyance that the homewrecking secretary character was literally dressed like a cleavage-showing devil in a red outfit at a Christmas party. Come on. Really?

But maybe I’m being too critical.

The happy-ending stories
Keep in mind that those were the stories I liked. As for the other ones?

Hugh Grant/Martine McCutcheon
I liked that Prime Minister Hugh Grant was mindful of keeping professional boundaries between himself and the junior assistant he loved at first sight. I liked that he never overstepped his bounds and in fact had her transferred to a different job so he could uphold those professional boundaries. And, of course, I loved the dancing (although I prefer this dancing as far as Hugh Grant Dancing clips go). What I didn’t like was the unnecessary “Sexual Harassment from the American President” sidebar. It was unnecessarily political for a Christmas movie/rom-com (and somehow still had nothing to do with politics), it was a cheap American stereotype, and worst of all, it introduced a moment of sexual harassment for the sole purpose of giving the male character a Hero Moment.

Really, Love Actually? We needed a “I shall stand up against sexual harassment!” moment to see what a good guy he was? I guess it was a sign that his love for Martine McCutcheon was for real, but, well, I would hope that Our Hero would stand up for any of his employees that were being sexually harassed, not just the ones he happens to fancy.

Liam Neeson/son
First of all, watching this story was totally uncomfortable, given that Liam Neeson is playing a widower. But it’s not the movie’s fault that his real-life wife tragically died two years ago.

It is the movie’s fault that I got absolutely no sense of grief from Liam Neeson’s stepson for his mother. I get what the writers were going for – the little boy fixates on a girl his age named Joanna (his mother’s name) because he’s focusing on the one person/thing that makes him happy after his mother died. But even if that’s what the movie was going for, it’s not what I felt. What I felt was that the boy’s mother’s death was completely incidental to his life. “Mom’s dead, yeah, whatever, this American girl in my school is really cute.”

Too bad. There was real potential to explore how a stepfather and stepson might come together in shared grief for a wife and mother they both loved.

Colin Firth/Not Elizabeth Bennet
I’m sorry, but how many romantic cliches can happen in one storyline? The papers float into the water, so Not Elizabeth Bennet HAS to strip down in slow-motion while Colin Firth watches in amazement? The proposal in broken Portuguese and the acceptance in broken English? The “Hey, we’re having the same conversation and are TOTES ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH!” conversation while they speak in different languages?

And let’s not forget the delightful fake-out where Colin Firth goes to his beloved’s father to ask for her hand, and he hilariously confuses Colin Firth’s intentions, thinking that Colin Firth intends to marry the other daughter – and then we see that the other daughter is more than a size 4 and not Hollywood beautiful! LOL at the idea that the fat cow could find love with anyone, much less Mr. Darcy!

(Incidentally, I’m calling Lucia Moniz’s character Not Elizabeth Bennet only because I have a hard time seeing Colin Firth as anyone but Mr. Darcy. That is not the movie’s fault, or Lucia Moniz’s fault, or Colin Firth’s fault, for that matter.)

The comic relief stories
Meanwhile, there were three other storylines that are roughly the equivalent of “the mechancials put on a play for Theseus and Hippolyta.”

Martin Freeman/Joanna Page
I could have watched a whole movie about two body doubles finding love while they simulate sex with each other onscreen. Curse the DVD for skipping during one of their most important scenes.

Some dude goes to America to pick up chicks
Pretty self-explanatory. Praise the DVD for skipping during one of those crucial scenes.

Bill Nighy is an aged rocker who’s cynical about love
He’s cynical about romance but realizes he had love all along in the beleaguered assistant who puts up with his crap. He’s the most cynical character in the movie, and yet he inspires the least amount of cynicism in me, the viewer – that is, no cynicism at all. I have no complaints about this storyline. I loved it.

My verdict
Love Actually had a few effective comedic and dramatic moments. I appreciate the hilarity of Emma Thompson’s daughter proudly announcing that she got the part of “First Lobster” at her school’s nativity play, and I was moved by Emma Thompson trying not to cry during Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now.” Keep in mind, though, that Emma Thompson is one of those performers who never fails to move me no matter what the circumstances.

The movie as a whole, though? The stories that worked for me were the ones that either ended sadly, or were played for pure comedy with no tragicomic or dramatic elements. If the movie wants me to believe that “love actually is all around us,” I don’t think it worked.

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Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen.

Guest Writer Wednesday: Snow White and the Huntsman: A Better Role Model?

Snow White’s beautifully coiffed hair, blue, red, and gold gown, and seven trusty sidekicks all have made her one of Disney’s most recognizable princesses. But, is she worthy of the adoration of many young girls worldwide? Many people have argued that no, she is not a good role model, due to her passive nature (“Someday, my prince will come,” she cooed, while sweeping the dwarves’ cottage) and her immediate relegation to strict female gender roles (as seen when she takes it upon herself to clean up and take care of the dwarves she finds in the woods). With the new Snow White and the Huntsman, released on June 1, will the raven-haired heroine be more of a positive influence for young girls?
Kristen Stewart as Snow White in Snow White and the Huntsman

In the upcoming film, Snow White is played by Kristen Stewart of Twilight fame. Unlike the original animated version of the character, Stewart is not a helpless, damsel in distress, but instead is a sword-wielding, armor-wearing warrior that fights her own battles, literally and metaphorically. This is a Snow White that would never wait around for a man to save her “someday.”

Even just looking at the two posters can detail the differences explicitly. The animated Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs original cover shows the princess with the classic Snow White costume: perfect hair, beautiful makeup, a sexy figure, and the adoration of birds, men, and dwarves alike. She’s actually glowing. 

Movie poster for the original Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

And the cover of Snow White and the Huntsman? This Snow White is shown not in a gown, but in full armor, equipped with a shield and sword. There are no singing birds, her lips are not red as blood, and she is definitely not glowing. In this photo, she is more reminiscent of Joan of Arc than a Disney princess. 

Movie poster for the upcoming Snow White and the Huntsman

In the original Disney classic, Snow White sat idly by and hoped for Prince Charming to find her, all while cooking, cleaning, and showing us her undying love of furry creatures and taking care of men. Not only was she positively perky, she was always beautiful. Her hair never fell out of place and her makeup never smudged. We’re kind of thinking that is not the case for 2012’s Snow White.

While the twist that Snow White and the Huntsman presents is not necessarily a total game changer, it does offer a different side to an all too familiar story. Kristen Stewart as Snow White shows an undeniable strength as she rides her own white horse, fights her own battles, and saves her own life from the evil Queen Ravenna. Snow White’s show of strength and independence in this film help to counterbalance her lack thereof in the previous animated film adaptation of the tale. While something so simple can never completely erase past biases and prejudgments, it does highlight a growth that some films are making in portrayals of women.

We don’t expect Snow White and the Huntsman to be perfect. There is still the story that Snow White is “fairest of them all,” whose beauty causes the Evil Queen major displeasure, and there is sure to be a romantic plotline with Snow White and her Prince Charming, played by Sam Claflin of Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. However, we hope that this new movie focuses on the female lead as a passionate woman, capable to defend her own self, with the conviction and need to be strong on her own.

Snow White and the Huntsman is set to hit theaters June 1, 2012, and stars Kristen Stewart, Charlize Theron, Chris Hemsworth, and Bob Hoskins. You can view the trailer here.

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This article was written by Allison Heard of HalloweenCostumes.com. Allison is currently in graduate school for English Studies. She enjoys reading, crocheting, and creepy TV shows.

Biopic and Documentary Week 2012: The Roundup

What’s Love Got to Do With It? by Candice Frederick

Bassett’s was not only one of the defining performances for women in cinema; it was also one that became a benchmark for actresses of color. Her riveting portrayal role was further punctuated by the remarkable writing. Many lead roles for women of color since then are often subordinate characters. And in many other instances, they’re the tough, ever wise figures, which don’t often allow them inhabit any other emotion. Even in the heavily lauded yet divisive drama, The Help, we saw the stories of two African-American characters glossed over and unrealized, lacking the measure of which they were worthy. Overall, too many roles written for African-American actresses have them simply orbiting around the larger story of the movie without actually being a part of it and making any real impact.

The Fat Body (In)Visible by Stephanie Rogers

The New York Times published an article by Roni Caryn Rabin in 2008 titled, “In the Fatosphere, Big Is In, or at Least Accepted.” The author highlights several writers in the blogosphere who focus on Fat Acceptance and the HAES (Healthy at Every Size) Movement.

Rabin describes the Fatosphere as follows:

The bloggers’ main contention is that being fat is not a result of moral failure or a character flaw, or of gluttony, sloth or a lack of willpower. Diets often boomerang, they say; indeed, numerous long-term studies have found that even though dieters are often able to lose weight in the short term, they almost always regain the lost pounds over the next few years.

She continues:

Fat acceptance bloggers contend that the war on obesity has given people an excuse to wage war on fat people and that health concerns—coupled with the belief that fat people have only themselves to blame for being fat—are being used to justify discrimination that would not be tolerated toward just about any other group of people.

Undesired by Martyna Przybysz

Undesired, with interviews and images shot by Walter Astrada, whom I believe to be a very courageous photojournalist, brings to light this painful and current social issue still faced by many. According to Reuters, modern day India is the fourth most dangerous place in the world for women to live, but it seems like it is also one of the most difficult ones for a female life to even begin. Gender inequality and the desire to rectify it, let alone feminism, seem like completely foreign concepts for certain classes. There is also a seeming contradiction in this entire predicament – if a woman is to be perceived as the bearer of life, how can she be made to bring about this life’s actual end?

The September Issue by Amber Leab

Grace Coddington is a former model and the creative director at Vogue. She even started working there on the same day as Wintour. She is intelligent, reflective, and an artist to Wintour’s manager persona. Coddington isn’t afraid to stand up to Wintour (whose lack of empathy was famously fictionalized by Meryl Streep in 2006’s The Devil Wears Prada) either, and flawlessly uses her every resource, including the documentary film crew, to her advantage. Viewers may see her as being cutthroat, but she’s an artist fighting for her vision, her work, and she’s earned it. She’s 68 and has spent her whole life in this industry, working for British Vogue and Calvin Klein before joining Wintour.

Monster by Charlie Shipley

We know the mass-culturally-sanctioned narrative about Patty Jenkins’ directorial debut, Monster: Charlize Theron got “ugly” and delivered a tour de force turn as serial killer Aileen Wuornos that was hailed by Roger Ebert in an effective, rare use of Travers-esque hyperbole as “one of the greatest performances in the history of the cinema.” That quote made it to countless one-sheets and adorns the DVD cover of the film, and perhaps rightly so; Theron’s performance (or “embodiment,” as Ebert puts it) so overwhelms the mise-en-scène and soundscape of the film that Christina Ricci’s stern gaze on the DVD packaging seems little more than a futile attempt to market the film visually as a buddy film gone terribly wrong. Thelma & Louise, this is not.

Poster Girl by Amber Leab and Stephanie Rogers

Nesson also juxtaposes photos of Robynn prior to her Army experience–where she’s in a cheerleading uniform, smiling and having fun with friends–with the post-Army Robynn, a tattooed, pierced, PTSD victim who stares at the former photos as if they couldn’t possibly be her. And they aren’t anymore. The new Robynn is an activist who speaks out against war and gun violence, even while dealing with debilitating panic attacks.

Marie Antoinette by Megan Kearns

Women were reduced to their vaginas, only valued if they got pregnant so they could produce an heir. No one bothers Louis XVI about this, even though he’s the one who doesn’t want to have sex. Nope, just the woman; of course she’s to blame. Eventually after 7 years with no children, Marie Antoinette’s brother, the Holy Roman Emperor, talks to him. But Marie Antoinette is repeatedly blamed for not becoming pregnant. Clearly her body and reproduction are her only salient attributes in the eyes of society. 

American Violet by Amber Leab

It’s impossible to not love Dee–a beautiful woman, a kind and patient mother, a hard worker, and a caring friend. Her temper gets the best of her once in the film, but she’s protecting her children from their alcoholic father and his accused child molester girlfriend, and can hardly be faulted for it. I’m inclined to think the movie tries too hard to make her character likable. In contrast, Dee’s friend and neighbor Gladys–who is not a conventionally attractive woman, and does not have four adorable children trailing her–is a compelling and empathetic character, but the film completely drops the ball, even failing to credit the actor who plays her. Gladys is Dee’s inspiration for continuing to fight the DA even after her charges are dropped (because Gladys took a plea deal, while Dee would not), but we don’t get to explore Gladys or her situation. I’m curious as to why she’s part of the story, but not really allowed to be a character in the film. While the movie is about Dee, I would’ve liked to get to know Gladys a bit.

Gorillas in the Mist by Carrie Nelson

But as the film goes on, the references to beauty cease, and it becomes clear that these lines are not comments on Dian’s gender identity but on the materialism that she gradually gives up as she becomes committed to living among the mountain gorillas. The lines about clothing and make-up eventually stop, and Dian lets go of the previous signifiers of her femininity. It isn’t that she becomes masculine, as Weaver’s character in the Alien series is often perceived – it’s that she no longer needs these material possessions and outward signifiers to feel comfortable in the world and convey her identity. Dian’s transformation is subtle, but it adds significant depth to her characterization as she becomes comfortable in her new surroundings.

Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work by Amber Leab

Rivers is an odd character. Being a superstar female comic alone is odd in the U.S.–only a few came before her–but we get a very real look at her life, at the troubles she has faced  (her husband’s suicide) and continues to face, and at the loneliness that certainly helps her drive to fill her daily calendar. She is vulnerable and still nervous when going on stage, especially when pursuing what she calls the one sacred part of her life–her acting–in which she hasn’t seen a lot of personal success. I came to find her more compelling and interesting than my initial perception of her, and encourage anyone to see this film and learn more about a woman who refuses to stop.

Persepolis by Amber Leab
As much as I like this movie, I can’t help but write this review through the lens of an interview Satrapi gave in 2004, in which she claimed to not be a feminist and displayed ignorance of the basic concept of feminism. I simply don’t believe gender inequality can be dissolved through basic humanism—especially in oppressive patriarchal societies like Iran. I wonder if feminism represents too radical a position to non-Westerners, and if her statements were more strategy than sincerity. Making feminism an enemy or perpetuating the post-feminist rhetoric isn’t going to help anyone. That said, this is a very good movie and I highly recommend it. 

Gloria: In Her Own Words by Megan Kearns

Gloria: In Her Own Words covers Steinem’s childhood in a working-class neighborhood in Toledo, Ohio and her early career as a journalist. One of her assignments involved going undercover doing an expose on the Playboy Club. Through the unfolding of her history, she discusses gender disparity in wages and sexual harassment. In 1970, women earned half of what men earned. Women were told that they couldn’t handle responsibility or couldn’t maintain the same level of concentration as men. And of course, women were told their place was in the home. She said that if you were pretty, people assumed you got assignments based on your looks. Of course it couldn’t be due to a woman’s intelligence or work ethic. Silly me. Steinem also revealed that her boss sexually harassed her at the Sunday Times.

Heart Like a Wheel by Melissa Richard

Coming from a family of amateur drag racers (and a family where women outnumber men), it’s no surprise that my super-duper #1 female idol as a kid was Shirley Muldowney. A three-time National Hot Rod Association Top Fuel champion, Muldowney has been a part of professional drag racing since the mid-1960s and faced innumerable obstacles gaining entry into the boy’s club of the NHRA. Although not the first woman to race, she was the first to be licensed as a professional competitor and ran cars for the better part of nearly four decades, retiring only due to lack of sponsorship in 2003. Naturally, at the height of her career in the 70s / early 80s, her gender made excellent material for a biopic of her life, Heart like a Wheel (1983). And, perhaps just as naturally, the film does a pretty disappointing job of capturing the complexity of a woman who struggled to break the gender barrier in professional drag racing. 

Women and Biopics–Where Are the Best Picture Nominations? by Stephanie Rogers

I don’t have much analysis to offer here because it feels quite obvious to me that 1) Hollywood doesn’t care that much about women’s stories (gasp!) and 2) the stories that Hollywood does manage to tell about women often get much less critical praise. Is that because the films about women are just … worse? Or is it that, again–as is the case with everything from parenting to politics–we hold women to a much higher standard, imposing a level of scrutiny that makes it impossible to focus on women’s successes in the same ways we showcase the achievements of men? 

The Blind Side, Take 1 by Stephanie Rogers

No. No to the over-abundant racial stereotypes showcased throughout the film. No to the kind-hearted southern woman as the Black man’s White Savior. No to the shallow, embarrassing, surface-level portrayal of class issues. No to the constant heavy-handed references to God and prayer and sexual morality. No to falling back on the tired tropes of wives as mommies and women as over-bearing and emasculating ball-busters. No to this film’s best picture nomination. Just … no.

The Blind Side, Take 2 by Nine Deuce

Let me say up front that I’m aware that I’m supposed to feel sorry for Sandra Bullock this week. She’s purported to be “America’s sweetheart” and all, she has always seemed like a fairly decent person (for an actor), and I think her husband deserves to get his wang run over by one of his customized asshole conveyance vehicles, but I’m finding it difficult to feel too bad. I mean, who marries a guy who named himself after a figure from the Old West, has more tattoos than IQ points, and is known for his penchant for rockabilly strippers? Normally I’d absolve Bullock of all responsibility for what has occurred and spend nine paragraphs illustrating the many reasons Jesse James doesn’t deserve to live, but I’ve just received proof in the form of a movie called The Blind Side that Sandra Bullock is in cahoots with Satan, Ronald Reagan’s cryogenically preserved head, the country music industry, and E! in their plot to take over the world by turning us all into (or helping some of us to remain) smug, racist imbeciles.

Frida by Amber Leab

The film isn’t just about living with disability, though; it’s about thriving in spite of it, about having a full life in which disability is only a part. Kahlo does not “overcome” her physical problems; she spends a lot of time painting in bed, she has good times and bad, and all of this she channels into her work. As a person who lives with disability, it’s damn near inspiring to see a character–based on a real-life person–who struggles and who achieves great things. And great things Kahlo did achieve. Her body of work includes 143 paintings, 55 of which are self portraits. One of her paintings was the first work by a 20th century Mexican artist to be purchased by the Louvre in Paris, she had a one-woman show in Paris, and has become significantly more famous since her death in 1958. Her work is intensely personal, representing most often pain and the broken self. Not only is this work autobiographical–depicting her own pain and suffering–but it is also overtly feminist. Kahlo painting herself in surrealistic representations of womanhood and pain legitimizes female experiences as worthy of high art. Like so many culturally valued enterprises (filmmaking, for one), men tend to dominate the art world. Kahlo–and the film Frida–challenges those patriarchal norms.

Two Documentaries About Aileen Wuornos: The Selling of a Serial Killer and Life and Death of a Serial Killer by Gabriella Apicella

Aileen Wuornos’s story is the antithesis of the American Dream and highlights the causality of crime: abused, abandoned, neglected, poverty-stricken, violated, exploited, shunned, condemned, tormented and eventually killed. It seems understandable that after being repeatedly raped by a family member as a child, living homeless in woods until teenage years, turning to prostitution to make enough money for food and shelter, and then being beaten and raped brutally, that she would, in desperation, reach for a gun and kill. The mythology around serial killers demonstrates that there is a perversion and obsession that perpetrators feed with their crimes, yet in Wuornos’s case that does not appear to have been true, as the killings she committed were apparently borne from fury and, in at least one case, from self-defence. If she had not experienced so much abuse and neglect, would she have gone on to kill?  This can never be known, and her crimes can never be excused. Indeed, it is not possible to know what really happened on the nights of the killings.

Call for Writers: Reproduction and Abortion in Film and Television

In the United States we are experiencing unprecedented attacks on reproductive rights, with record numbers of bills introduced in states in 2011 and already in 2012 that restrict access to abortion. A major national debate revolving around female contraception and whether or not it constitutes “preventative care,” and whether employers and insurance companies should be required to cover things like birth control pills and IUDs, is raging. While this is a brief overview of the issue, one thing is clear: rights that U.S. women won in the 1970s are once again under attack.
Anyone who cares about media knows that it reflects and shapes our values and opinions. For some time at Bitch Flicks we’ve wanted to focus specifically on how reproductive issues and abortion are represented in movies and television shows. A moment like the infamous “schmamortion” scene in Knocked Up–when a character can’t even speak the word “abortion”–says that Hollywood isn’t helping the reproductive rights cause. However, you can contrast that with the strikingly honest and realistic take on abortion represented in the television show Friday Night Lights. But there are always more than two sides to the story, and we’d like to explore as many as we possibly can.
Here are some ideas for films and television shows to write about, but please propose your own ideas. Your piece should (in case it’s not obvious) focus on how the film/TV show treats the issues surrounding reproduction. (Note: We’re not looking for pieces specifically about motherhood; that’s an upcoming theme we’ll announce.)
Friday Night Lights
Vera Drake
Roseanne
Knocked Up
Juno (we’ve already published a review, but will accept a piece looking specifically at Juno’s choice)
House
American Dreams
Mad Men
Grey’s Anatomy
Waitress
American Horror Story
Obvious Child
Six Feet Under
If These Walls Could Talk
Dirty Dancing
Maude
The Cider House Rules
Greenberg
4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days
Degrassi
American Horror Story
Battlestar Gallactica
Mother and Child
The High Cost of Living

…and the list goes on

Here are a few basic guidelines for guest writers on our site:
–We like most of our pieces to be 1,000 – 2,000 words, preferably with some images and links. 
–Please send your piece in the text of an email, including links to all images, no later than Friday, April 20th.
–Include a 2-3 sentence bio for placement at the end of your piece.
Email us at btchflcks(at)gmail(dot)com if you’d like to contribute a review. We accept original pieces or cross-posts.

Submit away!

Biopic and Documentary Week: The Blind Side, Take 2: The Most Insulting Movie Ever Made

This piece on The Blind Side, by Nine Deuce, first appeared at Bitch Flicks on March 23, 2011.

———-

The Blind Side movie poster

 

Davetavius and I consider ourselves the world’s foremost authorities on watching movies for reasons other than those intended by their producers. As such, we go way beyond just watching “cheesy” (whatever that means) movies, 80s movies, or kung fu movies (which I refuse to watch but which every dork on Earth has been pretending to like in some attempt at letting everyone know how “weird” they are since Quentin Tarantino’s ridiculous ass popularized kung fu movie fandom as the #1 route to instant eccentricity cred in True Romance) to focus our attention on recently-released romantic comedies, those obnoxious movies in which two assholes just sit around and talk to each other for 98 minutes, and “serious” movies for which people have been given gold-plated statuettes. One can learn an awful lot about the faults and failings of our social system and corporate entertainment’s attempts to sell us its version of culture by watching movies created by and for the anti-intelligentsia, and if one were to try hard enough, I’m sure one could find the string that, if tugged, would unravel the modern world system buried somewhere in a melodramatic Best Picture Oscar contender intended to make people who refer to beers as “cold ones” feel like they’re considering The Big Issues. There was no way we were going to miss The Blind Side.
Spoiler alert: this is the worst movie I’ve ever seen, and I’m going to spoil your desire to see it yourself by writing this post. Also, I may, if I can manage to give a fuck, divulge important plot elements. But it’s based on a true story that everyone has already heard anyway, so who cares.

Let me say up front that I’m aware that I’m supposed to feel sorry for Sandra Bullock this week. She’s purported to be “America’s sweetheart” and all, she has always seemed like a fairly decent person (for an actor), and I think her husband deserves to get his wang run over by one of his customized asshole conveyance vehicles, but I’m finding it difficult to feel too bad. I mean, who marries a guy who named himself after a figure from the Old West, has more tattoos than IQ points, and is known for his penchant for rockabilly strippers? Normally I’d absolve Bullock of all responsibility for what has occurred and spend nine paragraphs illustrating the many reasons Jesse James doesn’t deserve to live, but I’ve just received proof in the form of a movie called The Blind Side that Sandra Bullock is in cahoots with Satan, Ronald Reagan’s cryogenically preserved head, the country music industry, and E! in their plot to take over the world by turning us all into (or helping some of us to remain) smug, racist imbeciles.

Click here to read the full piece on The Blind Side.

Guest Writer Wednesday: You Know What I Was Just Thinking?

HBO’s Entourage
 
This cross post by Melissa McEwan originally appeared at her blog Shakesville.

That if President Obama REALLY wants to convince me that he’s totally an ally to ladies, he would definitely agree to a cameo in Entourage: The Movie.

SO THIS IS VERY GOOD NEWS FOR ME!

Adrian Grenier, star of the hit series “Entourage,” says he’s made a deal with President Obama.

“I promised to make the ‘Entourage’ movie if he would do a cameo. He agreed. Seriously,” Grenier wrote on Facebook on Friday.

Obama was a big fan of the HBO show.

NEAT! That is such a FUN FACT about the President, and also a very cool show for dudes to like!

For the record, yes, I realize that this is just some shit that some douche who starred in a horrible show about horrible people based on Mark Wahlberg’s real horrible life wrote on his Facebook page, but it has been three days and no horrified press release has been issued saying that the President categorically is not interested in appearing in the horrible movie spin-off of this horrible show, because no doy it’s fun to just let the cool bros think the prez is totes gonna do it and WHO ARE YOU GOING TO VOTE FOR, WOMEN WITH SELF-RESPECT, IF NOT FOR THE PRESIDENT WHO LOVES ENTOURAGE EVEN MORE THAN ROE V WADE?! Answer me that!

———-

Melissa McEwan is the founder and manager of the award-winning political and cultural group blog Shakesville, which she launched as Shakespeare’s Sister in October 2004 because George Bush was pissing her off. In addition to running Shakesville, she also contributes to The Guardian‘s Comment is Free America and AlterNet. Melissa graduated from Loyola University Chicago with degrees in Sociology and Cultural Anthropology, with an emphasis on the political marginalization of gender-based groups. An active feminist and LGBTQI advocate, she has worked as a concept development and brand consultant and now writes full-time.

Guest Writer Wednesday: Bee Movie

Bee Movie (2007)

This is a guest post from Nicola Mason.

While shopping one day recently, I happened upon and purchased Bee Movie, the 2007 animated film featuring characters voiced by Jerry Seinfeld and Renee Zellweger. I had taken up beekeeping a few months before—had a hive of some 10,000 bees in my backyard—and I’d been educating my four-year-old daughter on how a hive’s vast population of wee six-legged arthropods work together to produce that delightfully sweet amber end-product, honey. I thought Bee Movie would be the perfect mom-daughter flick, and that it would reinforce much of what my little girl had been learning over the course of our bee-centric summer. To my horror, the movie not only presented a slew of factual inaccuracies, it also imposed a decidedly male worldview on the most successful matriarchal society in nature.
The movie begins on the graduation day of young Barry B. Benson (Seinfeld), who, along with the rest of his class (including his best friend, Adam, voiced by Matthew Broderick), must choose a job within New Hive City. A tour guide takes the class—made up of male and female bees—through the bustling inner complex and describes the choices available as we view (largely male) bees hard at work in the Honex industry.
The problem here is that, in actuality, male bees don’t work in the hive. At all. There are only a few drones in any given bee population, and their only “job” is to meet at a designated outdoor spot every afternoon in the hope that a virgin queen will pass by so they can fertilize her in an insect-world version of a gang bang. When the queen returns to the hive, she is so well fertilized that she need never mate again. All the eggs she will lay within the course of her life are already primed with the necessary genetic material to make the burgeoning brood of daughters that is necessary for the group’s survival. I feel compelled to point out that drones are considered so . . . inessential . . . that when winter sets in, they are summarily forced out of the hive and blocked from re-entering. The workers don’t want to waste precious honey on them, since it takes on average 40 lbs of the sweet stuff to sustain a hive through the cold months until nectar flows again. Drones would be an unnecessary drain on resources—and the workers can easily make a new bevy of boy-toys in the spring.
Weirdly, Barry lives in a private residence inside the hive with both a mother and father bee. The mother stereotypically worries over him and scolds him: “Don’t fly in the house!” Later in the film, the fact that the queen is his “real” mother is made clear. The Bensons are his adoptive parents. It seems worth mentioning, however, that this most powerful female force—the queen bee—is never seen and rarely mentioned. In essence, her role, and her significance, are downplayed because the movie is centered on its male hero—Barry—who, unwilling to be simply subsumed by predestined bee duties, dreams of a life of adventure.
In search of this life, he fixates on the “pollen jocks,” an eponym the film pins on forager bees, which in actuality are, of course, female. Here is where the movie takes, to my mind, a flat-out appalling testosterony turn. Its foragers are depicted as a military battalion of super bees—much larger than the workers, uniformly male, their chests puffed out with muscle and, one gathers, masculine pride. They are referred to by their drill sergeant as “monsters” and “sky freaks” as they line up at “J Gate” for their daily mission while a throng of starry-eyed female bees giggle and wave and gasp admiringly nearby. Moreover, these jocks are equipped with “nectar packs” that they carry on their backs. When Barry joins them one day (on a dare), we discover these are collection devices that, held like guns, violently siphon nectar from the flowers without the bees even having to land. Barry looks on in wonder as nature is raped and laments that he was not bred to be a pollen jock. (Insert retching sound.)
As the moviegoer expects, Barry finds a way to make his own mark. He takes the forbidden path and communicates with a human—a ditzy female florist (Renee Zellweger), who then largely drops out of the film as Barry pursues his solo crusade to keep humans from “stealing” the honey that bees work so hard to produce. The scandal goes public, and Barry, interviewed by a bee version of Larry King, becomes famous. A lawsuit ensues (bee world and human world collide), Barry wins, yadda yadda. There is an additional plot twist that brings his florist crush—with her oh-so-feminine love of lots and lots of pretty flowers—back into play, but even my four-year-old had lost interest at this point, so I will not bore you with the details.
Clearly the movie was intended as a star vehicle for Seinfeld. Obviously a male conceived of the movie (David Moses Pimental is listed as Head of Story). The writers of the screenplay—all seven of them, including Seinfeld—are, big surprise, male. What they created was not just a fiction but a male fantasy. The human female is even lured away from her big hunky boyfriend by tiny-but-charming Barry. Sure, you can give the film credit for a cross-species romance, but how difficult would it have been to simply reverse these roles? How about a female bee nonconformist hero? A male florist who adores all things prettily petaled and whose greatest aspiration is to attend the annual flower festival/parade, manning his own float? Humor could still be the heart of the film, but a slant, surprising, and more fulfilling humor that arises from challenging culturally-ingrained gender expectations instead of reinforcing them—emphasis on the forcing. I would give my weight in honey to see a film like that.



Nicola Mason is the managing editor of The Cincinnati Review, a lit mag based at University of Cincinnati. Her fiction has been widely published and anthologized. She is also a visual artist:www.nicolamason.com

Guest Writer Wednesday: Ann Perkins and Me: It’s Complicated

Leslie Knope and Ann Perkins
This is a guest post from Peggy Cooke.
 
I feel guilty bringing up Ann Perkins in any discussion of Parks and Recreation, mainly because the positive relationship between Ann and Leslie is one of the main things that makes the show so great (and groundbreaking!) for many people (read: feminists) I talk to about it, but: I don’t like Ann Perkins.

When Ann was introduced in the pilot episode of the NBC sitcom as a disgruntled citizen at a public forum being hosted by Leslie Knope of the Parks and Rec Department of Pawnee, Indiana, she seemed to be one of the many cranks with whom Leslie tends to deal on a regular basis. Some of the funniest recurring characters on this show are the kooky folks who keep turning up to these forums, most notably the sprinkler-tea-making, poop-eating-dog-having woman who constantly blames her alarming lack of basic health knowledge on local government; and the “except for Turnip! Except for Turnip!” chanting guy who is a favourite in our household. But no, Ann had a legitimate complaint about a pit into which her boyfriend had recently fallen, a pit whose betterment would form the main goal of the show’s first (and worst) season.

The fact that Ann and Leslie got off to an antagonistic beginning makes it even more wonderful that they were able to become best friends, brilliantly subverting the cat fight trope that most other sitcoms would have gone with. Throughout the series Ann and Leslie have butted heads, but always remained respectful of each other, and their relationship is one of the best examples of female friendship in pop culture today. It is real, and it is lovely, and it is one of the two main purposes I believe the character of Ann serves on the show.

Leslie Knope and Ann Perkins
The other purpose, which was used brilliantly in the second season and half of the third, was as a kind of “only sane man” counterpoint to the Parks and Rec department (for what I hope should be obvious reasons, the “only sane man” trope will be from hereon out referred to as “only reasonable person,” or ORP). As the only main character not working at City Hall, Ann was able to provide a lens through which your average viewer could watch the story unfold, and I believe that in the capacity of ORP she prevented the writers from making the world they had created too insulated and self-referential. The show is a successful satire in part because it never gets too carried away or too cartoon-y. Making fun of local government isn’t entertaining if only people who work in local government get the jokes.

Until the arrival of the state auditors in season three, Ann perfectly fulfilled the role of ORP. However, gradually Ben began to usurp that role, with his Jim Halpert-esque glances into the camera, and his total confusion over the appeal of Li’l Sebastian (“he just whinnied!”). Even though he worked at City Hall, Ben was more of an outsider than Ann – he’s not from Pawnee, after all. This easily set up Ann’s transition to actually working at City Hall, which makes it easier to explain why she is always there, but takes away a vital aspect of her character’s purpose.

I still believe Ann should be on the show because, like I said, her relationship with Leslie is pretty much the best thing on TV right now. But I find it somewhat ironic that a character who is part of such a feminist depiction of female relationships – that manages to be both aspirational and realistic – is so utterly two-dimensional that it seems she is only on the show to fill that role. Part of this could be due to Rashida Jones’ questionable acting talent (you have to admit she is the weak link in an otherwise phenomenal cast), but mostly I believe it is a rare lazy tendency on the part of the writers. Now that she is no longer the ORP, what is the point of Ann? Why can’t they seem to flesh her out a little?

Mark and Ann
One of my main issues with the portrayal of Ann is in her romantic relationships, which alternately make me cringe, and bore me to tears. The Mark-and-Ann (“Anndanowitz”) arc of season two was so dull I wanted to leave the room every time they were onscreen. Ditto Chris and Ann, who had zero sexual tension, and whose only moment of interest came about a week after they broke up, when Ann finally found out (and honestly, the best part of that storyline came from Leslie reciting the horrible ways in which various men have called it off with her).

The flipside of the boredom is the cringing. Andy and Ann were terrible together, a fact which the show (and pretty much every character in it) has at least had the decency to acknowledge. The whole concept of Ann being attracted to Andy because she needs someone to take care of is so played out, and it was great to see the writers just stick that whole mess on a shelf and get Andy and April together, because they are a) a way better match, and b) adorable.

And then there’s Ann and Tom. Holy crap, is this a bad idea or what? It’s all the cringe-worthy grossness of Ann and Andy, all the boredom of Mark and Ann, and about the same amount of chemistry as Ann and Chris. Minus a million. First of all, Ann has never shown anything but contemptuous tolerance (is that a thing?) for Tom since the beginning. His maturity level alone is enough to tell her that he’s not worth her time. Earlier in the series, any time Tom hit on Ann it was so clearly a joke, I don’t think any fan of the show would ever be cheering for these two to get together. What possible madness seized the writers’ room and made them think this was a good idea?

Tom and Ann
There have been a couple of great moments of Ann calling Tom out on his custom-hats, waiting-in-the-rain bullshit, but no moments at all that would indicate that Ann is even interested in being with Tom. In the recent episode “Sweet Sixteen” they had a perfect set up to end it – ie they both realized the numerous reasons they were incompatible – but inexplicably got back together at the end of the episode in a dialogue we weren’t even shown, probably because the writers didn’t know how to write it, because what would they say?

Ann: Hey we aren’t compatible at all and I kinda don’t even like you. Your constant objectification of me and lack of respect for my basic humanity tend to somehow make both of us less appealing.

Tom: Yeah. Oh well, what else do you have going on?

Ann: Apparently nothing. Let’s ride this out.

I mean, seriously. Many people seem ready to give this otherwise terrific show the benefit of the doubt, but I’ve already had enough of waiting for Ann’s storylines to appeal to me. And the line at the end of the record studio episode where Ann agrees to go out with Tom, saying that he “wore [her] down,” would have made me quit on a less consistently feminist show. That shit is not cool.

In my (obviously super correct and valuable) opinion, Ann needs to be a lot more three-dimensional before her storylines are all taken up with relationship plots, much like in life how relationships always work out better when you’re cool with yourself first. As a viewer, I would like to care as deeply about Ann as I do about Leslie (and let me tell you something, that is pretty deeply) before I will care about how she fares in a relationship with some dude.

On the flip side of that, I need Tom’s ridiculous antics to be something we are supposed to laugh at; not something that is validated by relationships with women who are way too good for him. And we all know that Ann is probably way too good for Tom; we just need the story to show us that. Otherwise what message are we supposed to take from what used to be the most progressive show on TV?

———-

Peggy Cooke is a Canadian feminist who works as a non-profit staffer by day and a reproductive justice rabble rouser by… later that same day. Her resume has been described as “fascinating.” She writes about abortion at Anti-Choice is Anti-Awesome and Abortion Gang, and she reviews fiction set in Toronto at Smoke City Stories.

Guest Writer Wednesday: One for the Money

One for the Money (2012)
When I asked my friend to see One for the Money with me, I warned her that critics had not been kind — as of then it had a 0% on Rotten Tomatoes. That’s right, ZERO critics thought it was worth seeing. 
Wow, up to a whole three percent!
Why are we seeing it, then?” she asked. “Because the audience liked it.” I told her, “and I don’t fucking care what the critics think because they’re sexist morons about this stuff. Also, we are supporting a female-directed, female-authored movie on an opening weekend.” 
Actually, it’s amazing I knew about the movie at all, given how little it had marketed. But I’d been watching Roseanne reruns on Oxygen at the gym and, seeing some ads, I thought it looked fun. It was fun. I would even go so far as to it was “pretty good,” given its clearly limited budget. Not mind-blowing. Not Oscar material. Not Great Art. But well-executed for its genre. Okay, so what’s the dealio with the critical vitriol? 
The movie became an excuse for yet another round of Katherine Heigl bashing, including reviews that complained about her being “annoying.” Way to be objective, critics! Now, a few admissions are in order. First, I’ve never read any of the Janet Evanovich books the movie is based on, or been to Trenton, New Jersey. I can’t tell you anything about how accurate the movie is in regard to either, and I don’t really care. I was just looking for an amusing hour and a half, and that’s exactly what I got. The opening title sequence was unappealing, like Sex and the City had thrown up on a James Bond montage : lipstick being shot out of guns and stilettos superimposed over money and such. I didn’t like it, wondered if that was something to do with the book’s aesthetics, and worried that I’d made a terrible mistake. 
As the movie progressed, the worst criticism I could come up with was that it was a little dated, with family comedy strongly reminiscent of an Everybody Loves Raymond episode. But Debbie Reynolds was funny as Stephanie Plum’s Grandma, so whatever. And you know what? I started to enjoy the absence of über-irony at every turn. I liked that this wasn’t some unbelievably slick production where everybody lives in patently unaffordable apartments. I loved that Stephanie Plum had a shitty place with a bathroom cabinet that could only hold a single stick of deoderant. I particularly enjoyed the fact that I didn’t have to look at any breasts, but the mancake/suspect dude Plum was chasing took off his shirt. Thumbs way up! 
As for Katherine Heigl as Stephanie Plum, she was fine. I repeat, fine. This was never going to be an Oscar-winning performance, but I thought she did a creditable job portraying Plum’s transformation from rookie bounty hunter to tough professional. The mancake dude was good, too, playing it impressively abrasive at first, but letting us (and Stephanie) warm up to him. And there was a cute sidekick guy who showed her the ropes. All fine. A little pat? Sure, but I’m betting the books were too. Such is the genre. In all honesty, I’m still trying to figure out what, exactly, set the critics off. Is it because once she’s got her act together, Stephanie Plum shoots someone, unapologetically? Or because, if she’s going to do that, she’s supposed to be scantily clad and ready for sex at any moment, a la Angelina Jolie in any action flick? But in addition to not taking off her shirt, she also doesn’t squeal cutely while she’s learning to shoot, or do any of the other things women in “chick” flicks are supposed to do. And Plum needs the money, so she turns the suspect in at the end instead of sleeping with him. Maybe, since the movie was fluff, it simply wasn’t airbrushed enough — I mean, we actually see people’s pores! Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because Stephanie Plum is was so much the main character that I can’t really remember the other dudes’ names? No, really, somebody tell me what was so objectionable, without whining about predictability or how “annoying” Katherine Heigl is. 
Now, of course, feminists are apt to look to indie flicks for progress, and that’s fair enough; however, popular movies are an important litmus test, too, because, like advertising, Hollywood has enormous budgets that create an enormous influence on society’s gender perceptions. If the movie didn’t get a decent marketing budget, or have production values as slick as (e.g.) RED, or produce the strong opening weekend an action movie would have, it’s still fair to ask how and why and gender and genre play into that. The answer, I suspect, is because it wasn’t an action movie, by traditional standards. Had it been the “chick” flick it was advertised as, I think the critics were fully prepared to bash it anyway (cf. the ridiculous scapegoating of Bride Wars) but I think the movie had it worse, because it didn’t act enough like a “chick” flick. Look, if you don’t like pat genre movies, nobody’s going to force you to see them – unless you’re a critic, in which case, I defy you to look me in the eye and tell me that this movie was worse than any other mainstream action-comedy out there. If this had been Bruce Willis and not Katherine Heigl, I suspect the critics would have been willing to put up with all manner of unbelievable crap – oh, look, they already are! Female-centered movies like this one get bashed enthusiastically, while (e.g.) the fourth installment of the Indiana Jones series – which was actually BAD in most respects – gets kind of a shrug/free pass from critics. Yeah, okay, now they’re willing to have low expectations. Or maybe the explosions counted towards artistic merit. 
Disagree.
If you go around demanding that everything in life be Great Art, you’re going to make yourself miserable anyway. But if you claim that’s what you’re doing, and then inconsistently apply the standards, you’re also a hypocrite and, in this case, a sexist twit. A lot of people took it badly that this movie wasn’t pre-screened for critics. But I don’t blame them one bit. Without a big-name male star, the movie was bound to get exactly the treatment it did anyway. But if the definition of equality is that mediocre women’s movies get the same treatment as mediocre men’s movies, we’ve still got a long way to go, baby.


Amanda Krauss is a former professor and current writer/speaker/humor theorist. From 2005-2010 she taught courses on gender, culture, and the history of comedy at Vanderbilt University, and in 2010 was invited to present a course entitled “Humor, Ancient to Modern” at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute. While she is focusing on her current blog (Worst Professor Ever, which satirically chronicles issues of education and lifelong learning) some of her theoretical archives can be found at risatrix.com.

Bitch Flicks Welcomes New Monthly Guest Contributor, Carrie Nelson

Greetings, Bitch Flicks readers! I’m Carrie, and I am thrilled to be Bitch Flicks’ new monthly contributor. 
I’ve been passionate about media for as long as I can remember. I studied film production as an undergraduate at Emerson College, and I am currently pursuing an MA in Media Studies at The New School. My ultimate goal is to build a career as a documentary filmmaker. For the time being, I work as a grant writer for an LGBT nonprofit organization, which allows me to cultivate my passion for queer rights and feminism. 
My all-time favorite movie is Annie Hall. Other films I love include Paris Is Burning, Crimes and Misdemeanors, 12 Monkeys, Trembling Before G-d, Born on the Fourth of July, The Purple Rose of Cairo, and The Sound of Music. I don’t watch a lot of television, but my favorite shows of past and present include Parks and Recreation, Mad Men, Friday Night Lights, Battlestar Galactica, and Queer As Folk
Previously, I’ve written about Precious: Based on the Novel “Push” by Sapphire, The Social Network, Mad Men, Sleepaway Camp, Martha Marcy May Marlene, Pariah, and Take Shelter for Bitch Flicks. You can find my writing elsewhere on the Internet as well. I am a Staff Writer for Gender Across Borders, an international feminist community and blog that I co-founded in 2009. For GAB, I’ve written about films such as Circumstance, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, Steam of Life, Kick-Ass, and Good Hair. I also had the opportunity to interview Eleanor Bergstein, the writer and producer of Dirty Dancing (another one of my favorite films). From now through the end of April, you can also find me writing a guest blog series about bisexuality and the media at Bitch Magazine. I’m so grateful to have the opportunity to write for Bitch Flicks, and I look forward to discussing films and feminism with all of you!

‘Don’t Trust the B—- in Apartment 23:’ The Upcoming TV Show and the B Word

ABC’s upcoming show (premieres April), ‘Don’t Trust the B—- in Apartment 23’
Written by scATX. Originally published at scATX: Speakers Corner in the ATX. Cross-posted with permission.
Don’t Trust the B—- in Apartment 23 – That would be the title of ABC’s newest sitcom. According to Entertainment Weekly:
“The story is about a naive young woman who comes to New York City and ends up with a trouble-making party-girl roommate.”
This sounds so fun.  I love when American pop culture makes fun of the ladies! As one of the commenters at Entertainment Weekly said: “How about “Don’t Trust the M–F–ing C– Wh-re in Apartment 23″?” Or as another put it: “What’s wrong with Don’t Trust the Girl in Apartment 23. That would have gotten my attention too, either way it’s an unusual title.” I don’t think they meant “unusual”, though. I think they meant “offensive.”
There are, of course, plenty of supporters for this. As some dude there argued: “The ABC sitcom DTTBIA23 doesn’t offend me. I’m a male with a sense of humor though. If the title is a female’s perspective of another female, the show could have catty, campy potential.” And then there’s this gem of an observation: “Watch shows like The Office or 30 Rock or Arrested Development and you will understand why it’s sometimes okay to be racist or sexist for comedy. When you do it right, it’s more funny than it is offensive. This title is risque, yes, but funny at the same time.”
I mean, after reading these comments about people’s reaction to the TITLE of this show, I can’t possibly see why anyone would be offended that ABC would back such a project. I mean, dudes with senses of humor get it. And it is okay to be racist and sexist in comedy. Sheesh.
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In case you are wondering what is wrong with using the word “bitch” in this way, check out Shakesville’s take on using the word “bitch” (and the word “cunt”) as an insult. But, you know, it is encapsulated by this:
“…demeaning and marginalizing sexist language has the capacity to make women feel demeaned and marginalized.”

The title is making fun of a woman for her lifestyle of “partying”. It is an insult. It is a particularly gendered insult, one that can only be lobbied at a woman. Because if you call a man a “bitch”, it’s an effective insult in that you are calling him a slur that is used to cut down women, so he’s not only a mean person but a feminine one, too. And we all know being like a woman is insulting. [On a side not: Is there a truly insulting cuss word/insult for a white hetero dude that doesn’t also demean a woman or a minority OR can’t also be used on a woman or a minority? I don’t think such a thing exists. If you think of one, let me know. I think this is yet another instance of white hetero male privilege.]
Here is a GREAT article in The Washington Post from the Andi Zeisler, a cofounder of Bitch magazine (go read it), from 2008 that Melissa McEwan at Shakesville refers to in the above link. And here is the part that matters for me right now:

“Bitch is a word we use culturally to describe any woman who is strong, angry, uncompromising and, often, uninterested in pleasing men. We use the term for a woman on the street who doesn’t respond to men’s catcalls or smile when they say, “Cheer up, baby, it can’t be that bad.” We use it for the woman who has a better job than a man and doesn’t apologize for it. We use it for the woman who doesn’t back down from a confrontation.

“So let’s not be disingenuous. Is it a bad word? Of course it is. As a culture, we’ve done everything possible to make sure of that, starting with a constantly perpetuated mindset that deems powerful women to be scary, angry and, of course, unfeminine — and sees uncompromising speech by women as anathema to a tidy, well-run world.

It’s not within a cultural vacuum that this show chose its title. The creators and ABC all know it demeans women. But they obviously don’t give a shit. What’s new?
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Also, according to TV Week (in a post about this show): “And for your own edification, some stats about the word bitch. According to the Parents Television Council, “The use of the word, “bitch,” for example, tripled in the last decade alone, growing to 1,277 uses on 685 shows in 2007 from 431 uses on 103 prime-time episodes in 1998,” it has been reported by The New York Times.
And Entertainment Weekly wrote just this past fall that “Oprah bans the word ‘bitch’ from her network.”
I’m sure this statistic is totally and completely unrelated to this tripling of the word “bitch” on TV (post from Entertainment Weekly by the fabulous Jennifer Armstrong, first posted on Oct. 30, 2009):
“Women are being beaten, tortured, and brutally murdered more than ever on network TV: A new study by the Parents Television Council shows violence against women on television is up a stunning 120 percent in the past five years. Violence overall in the same period increased only 2 percent, which seems to indicate there’s very little guy-on-guy combat happening, relatively speaking.”

There’s no connection between demeaning language against women on TV increasing and violence against women on TV increasing. It’s not like all of these shows are created by the same people in the same cultural atmosphere selling to the same American public, right?

scATX is a liberal Texan, historian, mother, and twitterphile. She is a pro-choice advocate who runs the reproductive rights blog, Keep Your Boehner Out of My Uterus. You can find her personal blog at scATX.com.