‘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.

Call for Writers: Biopics/Documentaries About Women

March is Women’s History Month. In honor of that, we’ve decided to feature reviews of biopics and documentaries about women. Many biopics about women tend to focus on their relationships and love lives exclusively, in a way that biopics about men usually don’t. So, we’d love to read reviews that praise these films, but feel free to write about biopics and documentaries that seriously fail the women being depicted. (Check out Gabriella Acipella’s analysis of the Margaret Thatcher and Marilyn Monroe films for an example of this.) There are currently TWO Linda Lovelace biopics in the works, yet we rarely see biopics or documentaries about women who changed lives (and cultures) … and there are plenty of women who did.

Here’s a very, very brief list of biopics–many of which are terrible, ha, and include lots of singers and entertainers–to think about, but please propose your own ideas for film reviews–including reviews of documentaries about women, too.

Helen Mirren as Queen Elizabeth II in The Queen

Meryl Streep as Julia Child in Julie & Julia

Angela Bassett as Tina Turner in What’s Love Got to Do With It?

Julia Roberts as Erin Brockovich in Erin Brockovich

Marion Cotillard as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose

Reese Witherspoon as June Carter Cash in Walk the Line

Diana Ross as Billie Holiday in Lady Sings the Blues

Angelina Jolie as Gia Carangi in Gia

Faye Dunaway as Bonnie Parker in Bonnie and Clyde

Jennifer Lopez as Selena in Selena

Sissy Spacek as Loretta Lynn in Coal Miner’s Daughter

Charlize Theron as Aileen Wuornos in Monster

Halle Berry as Dorothy Dandridge in Introducing Dorothy Dandridge

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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, March 23rd.
–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.

2012 Oscar Nominations Roundup

The Oscars air this Sunday night on ABC.

Thanks to all who contributed reviews of this year’s Academy Award nominees!

Best Picture:
The Descendants reviewed by Stephanie Brown
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close reviewed by Jennifer Kiefer
The Help reviewed by elle
Hugo reviewed by Scott Mendelson
Midnight in Paris reviewed by Megan Kearns
Moneyball reviewed by Robin Hitchcock
The Tree of Life reviewed by Lesley Jenike
Best Documentary:
Hell and Back Again
If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front
Pina reviewed by Ren Jender
Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory
Undefeated

Best Actress:
Glenn Close in Albert Nobbs
Viola Davis in The Help
Meryl Streep in The Iron Lady reviewed by Gabriella Apicella
Michelle Williams in My Week With Marilyn reviewed by Danielle Winston
Best Supporting Actress:
Berenice Bejo in The Artist reviewed by Candice Frederick
Jessica Chastain in The Help
Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids reviewed by Janyce Denise Glasper
Janet McTeer in Albert Nobbs
Octavia Spencer in The Help

Best Original Screenplay:
The Artist
Bridesmaids
Margin Call reviewed by Jessica Pieklo
Midnight in Paris
A Separation

Best Adapted Screenplay:
The Descendants
Hugo
The Ides of March
Moneyball
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Be sure to join us on Twitter during the Oscars!

2012 Indie Spirit Nominations Roundup

The Indie Spirit Awards air this Saturday night on IFC.

A big thanks to all who contributed reviews of the Indie Spirit nominees.

Best Feature:
The Descendants reviewed by Stephanie Brown
The Artist reviewed by Candice Frederick
Take Shelter reviewed by Carrie Nelson
Drive reviewed by Leigh Kolb
Beginners reviewed by Megan Ryland
50/50 reviewed by Josh Ralske
Best First Feature:
In the Family
Margin Call reviewed by Jessica Pieklo
Natural Selection
Another Earth reviewed by Diana Fakhouri
Martha Marcy May Marlene reviewed by Carrie Nelson
Best International Film:
A Separation
Melancholia reviewed by Olivia Bernal
Shame reviewed by Clint Waters
The Kid with a Bike
Tyrannosaur

John Cassavetes Award:
Bellflower reviewed by Deirdre Crimmins
Circumstance
Hello Lonesome
Pariah reviewed by Carrie Nelson
The Dynamiter
Best Female Lead:
Elizabeth Olsen in Martha Marcy May Marlene
Lauren Ambrose in Think of Me
Rachael Harris in Natural Selection
Adepero Oduye in Pariah 

Best Supporting Female:
Jessica Chastain in Take Shelter
Janet McTeer in Albert Nobbs
Harmony Santana in Gun Hill Road
Anjelica Huston in 50/50
Best Director:
Michel Hazanavicius for The Artist
Jeff Nichols for Take Shelter
Nicolas Winding Refn for Drive
Alexander Payne for The Descendants
Mike Mills for Beginners
Best Screenplay:
Tom McCarthy for Win Win
Alexander Payne, Nat Faxon & Jim Rash for The Descendants
Michel Hazanavicius for The Artist
Joseph Cedar for Footnote
Mike Mills for Beginners
Best First Screenplay:
Patrick deWitt for Terri
Phil Johnston for Cedar Rapids
Mike Cahill & Brit Marling for Another Earth
Will Reiser for 50/50
J.C. Chandor for Margin Call
Best Documentary:
We Were Here
The Redemption of General Butt Naked
The Interrupters
Bill Cunningham New York
An African Election
Be sure to join us on Twitter during the Spirit Awards!

Oscar and Indie Spirit Best Actress Nominee: Michelle Williams in My Week With Marilyn

This is a guest review by Danielle Winston. 
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“My Week With Marilyn” is set in 1957 London; the film is told through the eyes of Colin Clark, a twenty-three-year-old Londoner who lands a gopher job as a third assistant to the director, Lawrence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) working on a film that would later become “The Prince and the Show Girl.” There he meets Marilyn Monroe, newly married to Arthur Miller, and has a relationship with her that lasts a week.
In the film, Michelle Williams resists the urge to make Monroe into a familiar cartoon, even though the script is rich in both the icon’s clichés and complexities, with expected poses, lines and mannerisms we’ve come to know as Marilyn-isms.
Williams–who has a naturally earthy presence–digs beneath Monroe’s facade and chips away at the woman underneath. In a subtly drawn performance, she lets us a glimpse into the personal world of not just the movie star–but also the massively powerful woman. This Monroe, with her soft whispery voice, does not lull us into thinking her a victim. Instead she portrays a woman so uncomfortable with her own strength, she’s continually battling opposing forces inside her own psyche and projects the demeanor of a frightened child, wrapped in an overtly sensual woman’s body. We have the sense that she is always silently asking permission for something–but we’re not sure what or why. With her pale blue eyes and sweet girlie smile, Williams’ Monroe is eternally blameless for her actions, no matter how she inconveniences those working with her: forgetting lines, showing up hours late or not at all…it seems as though she could set the film set on fire and we would find a way to excuse her. 
Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe
So raw, sensitive and utterly vulnerable, Monroe has us and the characters in the film, wound around her finger so airtight, it leaves us wondering if it’s all just a clever act, and if there isn’t really a manipulative diva in there someplace, acting her pants off just to get what she wants. But then…she twists us yet again, and we decide, no woman could really be that good. Or could she?
Not quite everyone is so accepting of Marilyn’s careless ways. Olivier is at his wits end trying to direct her and repeatedly tries to wrangle Marilyn into his version of what he expected he was getting when he ordered up this particular blonde bombshell to star in his film. He doesn’t realize how terrified she is of him: in awe of his talent, Monroe’s hoping to learn all she can from such a great master. Unfortunately, when she bumbles lines in rehearsal, on the verge of tears, Olivier interprets it as a personal affront and never truly understands how much respect she has for him.
When Marilyn is running late for the first table read, young Clark, smitten with Marilyn on sight, goes to her dressing room and finds her acting coach Paula Strasberg, standing guard at the door. Strasberg attempts to shoo him away like a mosquito, but Marilyn, seated by her mirror, studying her lines, barefaced, smiles at him kindly and says, “Excuse the horrible face.” It’s as though she revealing a secret: she’s unacceptable in her own skin, and asks to be forgiven the discretion of being human. 
  

Williams’ Monroe is a riddled with contradictions. Without any attempt to hide her insecurities, she’s a woman on a path to self-discovery. Even while being subdued by her handlers with pills and alcohol, she still yearns to be more than a male-centric view of femininity. And yet interesting enough, it’s that very fabricated celluloid image, which she switches off and on like a neon stop sign, skillfully working to her advantage.
After only being married three weeks to Arthur Miller, the couple have a nasty argument: Monroe feels betrayed and believes Miller’s stolen bits of her for his writing. Frustrated with his new wife and her unruly personality, Miller leaves the set, and Marilyn, to her own devices.
We’ve all seen those blasé versions of Monroe where she can’t exist without a man to fill the void and they make us wonder how much was true…here’s where the film takes on a different tone: no longer the plaything to be conquered by an older man, this time Monroe decides to call the sexual shots. After discovering Colin is only twenty-three, she tells him, “I’m 30. I guess that makes me an old lady to you.” In ‘57 being thirty was a milestone in a female’s life. No longer thought of as a blushing girl, Monroe was now a mature woman who had already been married three times.
Monroe was older, yes, although nearly as ancient as Olivier’s wife, Vivien Leigh, who at 43 was considered too over the hill to reprise the role which she originated on stage in, “The Prince and the Showgirl.” When Monroe tells Olivier she thought Leigh was wonderful in the role, he quips that she’s far too old for the film. At that moment, we see sadness wash over Monroe’s carefree expression, and we’re not sure whether it’s compassion for her fellow actress she feels or the impending sting of her own expiration date looming on the horizon.
As we watch Monroe ensnare the naive Clark within her charming web, we know he doesn’t stand a chance against this force of womanliness; all we can do is hope she’ll be kind when she’s finished with him. The seduction begins when Clark innocently walks in on her naked in her dressing room. Instead of covering up, she very slowly wraps her towel back on, making sure he’s had an eyeful first, and then asks, “Are you afraid of me?” And even though he answers “no” we wonder if he should be.
When Clark is ordered not to see her or he’ll be fired, Monroe takes the upper hand once again, showing us she’s not one to be pushed around. In a ballsy move, she hides in the backseat of a car and has Clark picked up and whisked away to a nearby lake where she takes him skinny-dipping. Whimsical and irresistible are her methods, but after Clark is warned to stay away from her or risk getting his heart shattered, it’s clear that while Monroe may’ve looked soft and delicate, this blonde sure wasn’t stupid, and she was much more resilient than she appeared. 
  

In 1957, women didn’t have meetings or marches to unite them; instead they were separated, competitive and envious of the physical attributes of each other, left to suffer in isolation at the hands of men who shaped their images, dictating what was “desirable.” Monroe took that glittering image, ran with it and used it to become a sensation.
Monroe’s sexual onscreen presence, combined with her blonde hair and baby-voice had studios and audiences typecasting her as dumb. In her own quiet way, she had been studying method acting with Lee Strasberg at the actor’s studio for quite some time, hoping to elevate her stature as a serious dramatic actress. Even though she was already a movie star, at the height of her career, she saw the chance to work with Olivier, one of the greats, as her chance.
Monroe and her teacher, Paula, Lee Strasberg’s second wife, had a strong mother-daughter dynamic in the film. Strasberg, an earnest, and intelligent woman, greatly admired Monroe’s raw talent. However when she’d express herself, telling Monroe she was truly a brilliant actress, Monroe would simply listen politely but took her words as no more than generous flattery.
Monroe’s dedication to method acting is a constant annoyance with Olivier. Not at all what he envisioned the kittenish actress would be; he was baffled by her contrary behavior. Stuck in old-school actor mode, he tells her, “Just be sexy. Isn’t that what you do?” Perhaps that’s one of the things she was apologizing for: not always being sexy.
While acting, with great focus, she searches for the truth in every line. To such an extent, if the realness isn’t there, she can’t even utter the words. Often what’s perceived as, “difficult behavior” is actually Monroe’s sincere desire to understand her role and deliver the best performance possible. 
Marilyn Monroe
Ultimately her involvement with Clark is a very safe choice. It borders on passionless, and seems to be more a spiritual connection than a physical one. In the end Clark is able to give the world’s biggest star a rare gift: solace in his innocence. And for a brief point in time the chance to recapture her own adolescence.
When Monroe asks if he’s in love with her, Clark replies, “You’re like some Greek Goddess to me.” In many ways Colin isn’t so different from all the other men Monroe has known; he still sees her as larger than life.
She tells him, “I don’t want to be a goddess. I just want to be loved like an ordinary girl.”
Marilyn may believe she longs for normalcy but what she demonstrates is the opposite; when Clark tries to rescue her by saying she can quit working and he’ll take care of her–without hesitation she refuses–not even sure what he’s saving her from or why. Clark tells her, maybe then she’d be happy. But Marilyn is confused. She already believed she was happy and doesn’t want to stop acting. Right then, Monroe is not a child but a strong woman who knows exactly what she wants.
Ultimately Williams’ portrayal of Monroe is so understated it appears effortless. It’s a performance that could only emerge by finding the character’s inner truth within each word, a thought-provoking performance that Monroe herself, who struggled to understand the realness in her acting, and her own life, would likely appreciate and perhaps even envy. 
  

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Danielle Winston is a Manhattan based screenwriter and playwright. Her articles are regularly published in regional and National Magazines. She’s also a yoga teacher and creator of Writer’s Flow Yoga.



Indie Spirit Best First Feature Nominee: Margin Call

This is a guest review by Jessica Pieklo. 
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It’s hardly a surprise that a movie chronicling life inside a major financial firm during the 24 hours before the Wall Street collapse of 2008 would be dominated by men. Margin Call boasts a stunning ensemble cast featuring Kevin Spacey, Stanley Tucci, Jeremy Irons, Paul Bettany, Zachary Quinto, Penn Badgley, Simon Baker, and Demi Moore as a group of investment bankers, analysts and traders at fictitious financial firm, loosely based on Lehman Brothers, as the bottom falls out of the mortgage-backed securities market. 
Moore plays Sarah Robertson, the steely head of risk management and only woman on the management team. We don’t actually see Moore or meet Sarah until close to midway in the film and she’s given sparse dialogue. As the film unfolds we start to see why.

Demi Moore and Simon Baker in Margin Call 
Instead, the film opens in September 2008 as this unnamed investment firm is in the process of terminating 80 percent of its risk-management team. The terminations are executed with the cold precision that only corporate HR professionals can muster and magnified by the self-importance that fuels Wall Street corporate culture. It’s an assembly-line of assets in and liabilities out and even from the beginning we see the a shedding of “waste” that frames the rest of the drama. 
Senior risk analyst Eric Dale is one of those fired. Dale, played brilliantly by Stanley Tucci, gets the news just as he’s about to discover that the company is recklessly over-exposed in bad mortgages. Dale’s termination, and his behavior in handing over a flash drive full of damaging information to Peter Sullivan (Zachary Quinto) telling him to “be careful,” initially sets the story up to suggest Dale was fired just before becoming a whistleblower but instead suggests the fate that awaits anyone else who might question the culture of risk at the firm.
It’s not until the junior analysts have put together the pieces laid out by Dale and alerted their bosses that the real faces of the financial crisis emerge and among them, Sarah Robertson. We first meet Robertson in an emergency middle-of-the-night meeting with upper management to discuss the firm’s exposure and create a strategy to handle it. The strategy, the firm decides, is to dump the bad debts and offer up an executive sacrifice as the face and blame of the disaster.
Of course they choose Robertson.

Kevin Spacey in Margin Call 
The writing is on the wall and it’s clear in Moore’s performance that it’s an outcome Robertson must have been bracing for her entire career. During the meeting Robertson points out, firmly but not too aggressively that she had warned the firm of problems with the mortgage-backed securities and nothing was done. The men in the room just look at her. It’s clear. She’s going down for the whole thing.
Almost the rest of Moore’s performance consists of Robertson sitting in her office, looking out across Manhattan both a part of Wall Street and isolated from it’s upper reaches–the logical and final destination for female executives in this world. 
Writer/director J.C. Chandor’s father spent almost his entire career working for Merrill Lynch and its obvious he understands Wall Street culture. Bright ambitious talent gets wooed away from careers that better serve society like engineering and the sciences, to make buckets of cash moving around buckets of cash. There’s a sense of conspicuous waste in nearly every scene. Boxes line empty trading cubes as nameless traders cycle in and out. Nothing’s permanent and nothing’s real except for the stories of all that cash.
Given Chandor’s intimacy with Wall Street life it’s hard not to see some deliberate choices behind Moore’s character. Shortly after the 2008 collapse some of us started asking if the financial crisis would have been mitigated, or perhaps avoided all together, had more women served in executive functions and on boards of directors. It was hard not to broadly generalize but the major Wall Street Firms–Lehman Brothers, Merrill Lynch, JP Morgan Chase, Citigroup, Bank of America–the list continues–all firms where women were virtually absent in leadership and culture building. In their place was a testosterone-fueled culture of rampant greed and avarice, a world where 25-year-old traders were promised million dollar bonuses over t-bones and strippers and nobody blinks. It’s hard to imagine that culture existing so robustly with a lot more women involved.

Jeremy Irons in Margin Call 
And that hypothesis seems to infect Moore’s character and her performance. She’s at once tough, ambitious and intensely insecure. You get the sense she’s used to having her work more heavily scrutinized, less-readily trusted. At first during the emergency meeting Moore comes off as emotionless and cold, almost robotic in the face of catastrophe as if aware that showing any emotion as the only woman in the room would automatically kick her out of the club. Later when she’s waiting out the night in her office Moore offers us a woman tragically isolated and coming to terms with the fact that her brief foray into the forbidden world of male privilege has officially ended with not much more to show for it except a severance package that will ultimately cost her reputation and sense of dignity.
The fact that Moore’s character had warned of the crisis approaching and was alternatively ignored or blamed for not warning emphatically enough also perfectly captures the bind so many women in corporate culture face. As head of risk management Moore’s character was in charge of managing exposure and was the voice responsible for setting the culture and appetite for risk. It was the woman who first saw problems, tried to draw attention to them but was ultimately not taken seriously and was dismissed. Rather than push the issue Robertson knew what she had to do–push ahead like the men around her. 
By the end of the film there’s not much left to Moore’s character. She’s practically an afterthought as daylight breaks and the trading panic ensues and we close with a sense that nothing much will change even after the house of cards comes crashing down.
Links of interest:
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Jessica Pieklo is a lawyer and writer blogging at Care2.com and Hegemommy.com. Her work focuses on women’s rights, ethics and the law.



Oscar and Indie Spirit Best Picture Nominee: The Artist: "Peppy Miller, Wonder Woman"

This is a guest review by Candice Frederick.
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You know what they say—behind every man is a great woman.
And that’s made evident in the 1920s nostalgia-soaked silent film, The Artist. Although the movie beautifully captures the difficult fall of silent film star George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) from Hollywoodland heavyweight to Hollywoodland has-been, the movie’s heart lies with his heroine, Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo).
We first meet Peppy as a face in the crowd, scrambling to catch a glimpse of the one, the only George Valentin on the red carpet. Amid the glitz and glamour of the paparazzi swarming Hollywoodland’s biggest star, we see a “regular” girl. In fact, it’s Peppy’s ambiguity that sets her apart from said crowd. While all the other female fans are elbowing each other to get a chance to see their idol strike a pose on the red carpet, Peppy works her way to the front of the pack and just watches George, studying him. It’s like she sees the man behind the star, a man hidden from everyone else. A man she knocks off his feet.
That’s the thing about Peppy—it’s her authenticity that charms audiences. Unlike George’s man-made celebrity, which seduces his loveliest fans, Peppy’s unflinching compassion for those around her downright enchants the audience.
In that way, Peppy becomes George’s guardian angel. When his career begins to slide downhill, and his once marqueed name can’t even fill up a full row of seats at a theater, Peppy is the only one by his side, his number one fan when he has no one left. She picks him up when he hits rock bottom, when his pride stunts his career from forging ahead. As their careers see-saw one another, it is Peppy who remains the emotional compass throughout the entire film, the one who gets what George refuses to get.
This natural clairvoyance propels her own film ambitions. Peppy’s career skyrockets into superstardom, but, with the exception of one significant scene where she tries to play up her career by essentially downplaying those who came before her (like George), she remains unaffected by the Hollywood allure. It’s fascinating to watch a charismatic leading lady remain grounded even after her career takes off.

And it’s even more interesting to see her come to the rescue of her masculine counterpart, even if he did become a washed up star by the time of his rescuing. That’s something that would have never happened during the era the film is set in. In fact, Peppy would have more than likely have been drawn as a mere shallow competitor to George’s steadfast—however delusional—career. Since she was not written that way, it gives this wistful film the modern boost it needs to stand out.
But The Artist doesn’t just paint Peppy as George Valentin’s superhero. Peppy is also a trailblazing woman on her own. Much like many George before her, she knows how to play to a crowd and to the hungry paparazzi. She became such a power player in Hollywood that she was able to negotiate George’s reacceptance into Tinseltown after threatening to drop out of a project herself. That’s major move for a film actress, a bold one her part (that ended up paying off).
Peppy is that person you want in your corner—a bubbly (but not annoyingly so), impossibly adorable, smart, caring person with a good head on her shoulders. She never gets involved in any overblown scandal in order to get her name up in lights. She doesn’t sleep her way to the top of the Hollywood food chain. She never had to. All she was interested in was being a good friend, becoming an actor like her idol George, and spreading happiness to everyone along her path.
This all plays to the deep complexities of her character, which go far beyond uplifting the lead male character. Peppy is a strong character by herself, without even relating to George. They are both equally rounded characters who supply the substance in a movie that’s heightened by their stories and the actors who play them. Their relationship helps stack every layer of this film, therefore elevating it past its seemingly cursory exterior.
While we never really learn much information about Peppy’s background (she remains mostly anonymous on that front throughout the entire film), somehow we still feel as though she gives us a window to her soul. You relate to her, you empathize with her, and you cheer for her each time she steps in front of the camera. In short, Peppy has that likability factor that fans crave. How can they not? She practically waltzes from scene to scene and, before we know it, we’re smitten by her magic.
Although this season’s awards race may have you under the impression that Peppy is indeed a supporting character, Bejo’s performance of her will have you believing differently. Bejo brings out all the key qualities of Peppy in a performance that’s not emotionally powerful, but emotionally resounding nonetheless.
Even in silence, you hear the tapping of her shoes, the pep in her step, and her infectious laugh. How can a film with no words emit such a roaring character? Put Bejo front and center and she becomes one with the music. Every sympathetic look, impossibly happy reaction and playful gesture becomes a full fledged sympathy with Bejo. She doesn’t need any words, because the audience just knows. And, you know what, she and us are right here.
Too often people equate a good performance to one that’s grandiose, a powerhouse portrayal. Though some of those performances are in fact riveting, Bejo’s performance isn’t less so. She sparkles as Peppy, bringing out her magnetism as the gargantuan starlet she becomes, while also humanizing her and keeping her grounded. In other words, you take Peppy out of the City of Angels and she’d still be the same Peppy, girl wonder. Superhero to George Valentin, fallen star.

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Candice Frederick is an NABJ award-winning print journalist, film critic, and blogger for Reel Talk. She is also the co-host of Blog Talk Radio’s “Cinema in Noir.”


Oscar Best Picture Nominee: The Tree of Life


This is a guest review by Lesley Jenike.

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I saw Terrance Malick’s The Tree of Life in a tiny, packed theatre in my hometown on my birthday last year. Of course I’d read around about the film before going to see it, and I fully anticipated its more “controversial” elements, but I wasn’t really prepared for the experience itself—the frankly theatrical experience of sitting in a dark room with a bunch of strangers who simultaneously felt (I imagine) a strange mixture of joy, embarrassment, frustration, and awe. People walked out. I heard someone whisper to his friend, “Oh my God.” Someone else laughed quietly to herself when the first dinosaur ambled onto the screen. But those of us who stayed left the theatre 139 minutes later dazed and puzzled, but weirdly connected to one another; I don’t doubt we all saw some of ourselves in the film. I even furtively searched faces for any discernable response, as if to ask in a Malick-like subconscious whisper, “What was that?” 
Yes, what is The Tree of Life? Well, it’s a movie, a great movie that fully embraces its own nostalgia. It’s a movie that presents its narrative as only movies can: through exquisite mis-én-scene and shrewd editing. You see, the Tree of Life doesn’t try to wow us with jarring, frenzied cuts, nor does it present shocking images meant to scandalize and titillate. On the contrary, many of the images you’ll find in the Tree of Life are so familiar they become new again, thanks to context and Malick’s wholly realized filmic world. The real genius of Tree of Life is its complete and utter mastery over its own medium—and that may very well be the reason for all the hoopla. By cinematically juxtaposing two modes of discourse that rarely meet except in conflict—the scientific and the spiritual—Malick has created for posterity a years-in-the-making meditation on the very nature of existence. Whoa. 

We begin with a quote from the Book of Job, a breathy voiceover, and, at the darkened screen’s center, a single sliver of light. And then—oh and then—image after image washes over us, sensual and earthy, specific yet universal, while a female voice—a voice we connect with a redheaded child who soon morphs into a bereaved mother grieving a son lost to the war in Vietnam—talks to us about the difference between “nature” and “grace,” a philosophical dichotomy that operates as the film’s central conflict. Mr. O’Brien (Brad Pitt) seems to represent “nature” in the Darwinian sense. His drive to survive and succeed causes him to behave (often without intention) cruelly toward his family. Mrs. O’Brien (Jessica Chastain), on the other hand, represents “grace,” or a sense of humility and kindness derived from a spirituality that, in Malick’s world, seems to operate beyond organized religion. 
“Grace” is represented in the film as a sense of interconnectedness and empathy. In other words, Mrs. O’Brien is more of a quality than a character, a sort of angel whose sensitivity as a woman and mother seems almost otherworldly. While I’m perfectly prepared to call out Malick for inventing an unrealistic, two-dimensional, adolescent’s dream of a mother in Mrs. O’Brien, I must stress how specific the film’s point of view is and how completely invested we are as viewers in the oldest son’s (Jack, played as boy by Hunter McCracken and as an adult by Sean Penn) subjective perspective. We can feel the grass on our own hands when he touches it and we get a shiver of pleasure when he’s tucked safely in bed at night and his mother switches off the bedside lamp. If Mrs. O’Brien is a romantic ideal, it’s because Jack sees her that way. She even floats in the air at one point, her skirt billowing in the wind like the ever-present, rustling curtains we see in shot after shot.


Mr. O’Brien, on the other hand, looms as the big Other, creating law and doling out punishment; even his predilection for classical music suggests the very soundtrack of the O’Brien boys’ collective childhood is both beautiful and aggressive, tender and menacing. However, once Jack is aware of his father’s humanity and we begin to see Mr. O’Brien’s suffering through Jack’s eyes, Mr. O’Brien (beautifully played by Pitt) develops as a character despite few conventional, dialogue-heavy scenes. His past actions, like the harsh play-boxing match with his two older sons, is re-contextualized to suggest his cruelty doesn’t come from malice, but rather from his own pain and disappointment.


So what does this mean—a sorrowful, transcendent Madonna for a mother and a real human being for a father? Malick has given us a boy’s life and boys, in Malick’s world, must go the way of “nature.” Their propensity for violence and cruelty is discovered in their play, mirrored by the natural world, and ultimately enacted in war and in the workplace. Once their fall from “grace” is complete, they look back at their innocence with nostalgia, regret, and pain, idealizing their mothers and recognizing in themselves the foibles of their fathers. I saw much of my own childhood in The Tree of Life, but ultimately it’s a boy’s world, and Malick suggests a boy can never fully know the female “other.”
But I’m getting ahead of myself. All of the above hinges on the adult Jack O’Brien’s (Sean Penn) portions of the film in which he wanders through some random city’s steel and glass and contemplates his brother’s senseless death, as if trying—even in Earth’s chaotic, violent beginnings–to understand the nature of his own life and the lives of his family members. Where did he go wrong? Can he pinpoint the moment he betrayed his brother’s trust or turned his back on his mother’s “grace?” In Jack’s mental wanderings, we sometimes alight on some semi-relevant information (he’s breaking-up with his significant other; he’s done well for himself career-wise), but mainly we follow him through his own personal symbology (a Gulf Coast beach for a kind of Heaven; an underwater door meaning birth). These sequences are stunningly beautiful and terribly confusing at turns, but the truly ambitious cinematic move on Malick’s part is the lengthy sequence of cosmic configurations, interstellar explosions, and hot lava that finally create life. Life then becomes two dinosaurs in a riverbed that in their Darwinian struggle to survive, later mirror Jack and his younger brother who roughhouse down by what we take to be the very same river. In Malick’s contemporary worldview, a nebulous sense of spirituality rubs elbows with science’s rational explanation for creation, and this convergence is honest, weird, and often hard to reconcile. 
I could spend pages on the folly of Malick’s choices here, but he’s embraced the totality of his medium so completely, he reintroduces us to what film is capable of in all its overwhelming, destructive glory.
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Lesley Jenike received her PhD from the University of Cincinnati in 2008. She currently teaches poetry writing, screenwriting, and literature classes at the Columbus College of Art and Design. Her book of poems is Ghost of Fashion (CustomWords, 2009).



‘The Invisible War’ Takes on Sexual Assault in the Military

This is a guest post from Soraya Chemaly.
How many movies have you watched in which rape is a notable, if not integral, part of the plot? Not sure? Well, I started thinking about it and poked around. The short list I compiled is at the end of this article.
Amazing, right? I personally have spent probably hundreds of dollars and entire weeks of my life paying for and watching these movies. Given the list below, it is clear that we do not shy away from movies in which jarring and often graphic rape scenes are featured. The most recent and extraordinarily explicit example, of course, is The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. War movies, in particular, often feature or allude to rape. Indeed, militarism and sexual violence seem to go hand in hand — but we don’t usually think of the rape being intra-military. In addition, these films are almost always fictional, edifying tales of retribution that leave audiences entertained and emotionally satisfied. But what about real rape — especially rape in the military?
You don’t see any blockbusters on the list about that. So, in return for the hours of entertainment pleasure that you may have derived from some of these films, take just two minutes and watch this:
The Invisible War, which premiered at The Sundance Film Festival on January 20th, is a groundbreaking investigative documentary about one of our country’s most shameful and best kept secrets: the epidemic of rape within our military. Focusing on the powerfully emotional stories of several young women, the film reveals the systemic failure of the military to confront these crimes and follows their struggles to fight for justice.
In 2009, 16,150 service members were assaulted (addition details for service academies can be found here at Stop Military Rape.) Although both men and women are subject to assault, women in the military are now more likely to be raped by fellow soldiers than they are to be killed in combat. In a 2005 study of 540 female veterans, 30 percent reported assaulted by a male colleague and/or supervisor. Of these, 14 percent reported having been gang-raped and 20 percent reported having been raped more than once.
Estimates indicate that anywhere from 8 percent to as high as 37 percent of the victims of sexual assault and trauma cases reported last year were men. The Pentagon believes that fully 80-90 percent of assaults (of men and women) are not reported. Only 1 in 15 men report assault, versus 1 in 5 women. It is harder for service men (and civilians), who face the real risk and consequences of being stigmatized as weak and “not masculine” to report assault. In this way, the military is a sluggish, tradition-bound, concentrated distillation of prevailing cultural norms. The portrayal of rape in the media and our culture at large (everything from victim-blaming to exaggerated claims of false accusations) contributes to the difficulty of getting accurate information about men being victimized. Sexism, misogyny and hetero-normative standards result in rape being largely understood as forcible vaginal penetration of a woman by a man. Trigger warning for this link: “Rape [for a man] is a very emasculating thing,” says Rick Tringale, who was the target of a military gang rape and came forward with his story.
This is compounded in the military, which values and demands uber-masculinity and for which “male” aggression is vital to survival. Don’t forget, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was in place until one year ago. Until we have a broader cultural acceptance (not just in the military) of the link between homophobia and misogyny, male abuse will continue to be under-reported, ignored and misunderstood. Ironically, it is the addition of more women into military service that has allowed men to come forward in greater numbers every year.
Military survivors of assault report several additional factors in explaining their reluctance to come forward.
Sexual assault is is deeply traumatizing and stigmatizing for any victim, but for military survivors of assault the effects can be significantly worse. In the first place, they cannot quit their jobs but instead have to continue working with their rapists, sleeping with their rapists, eating with their rapists, being “led” by their rapists and, in many cases, protect their rapists from harm and expect them to do the same. Given the power dynamics, sometimes the closest analogy is parental rape of a child.
Military Sexual Trauma is the Department of Veterans Affairs’ term for the effect of intra-service sexual assault or repeated, threatening sexual harassment on a veteran. Survivors suffer higher rates of PTSD, anxiety, depression, increased risk of homelessness and alcohol and substance abuse. Female military personnel report getting pregnant (some are raped while pregnant), having to find difficult to access abortifacients and often starting birth control to prevent the possibility of pregnancy in the face of the high likelihood that they will raped again. This is an environment where female service members sleep with knives to protect themselves from their fellow soldiers.
Yet another intensifier is the military’s handling of rape claims. Here is a particularly troubling description of a rape and how it was handled:

Beth, a major in the U. S. Army Reserve, was sexually assaulted by a noncommissioned officer during a scud missile attack during Operation Iraqi Freedom. She followed reporting procedures, including undergoing the collection of evidence during another scud missile attack. Emergency contraception (EC) was “simply handed to me as a lot of pills to take. I went on birth control pills in the event that this happened to me again.”

Even recent changes in The Defense Department’s military rape policies have been criticized by both Protect Our Defenders and the Service Women’s Action Network (SWAN) as insufficient.
What happens when people report this crime?
Only 8 percent of rape complaints get prosecuted, only 2 percent result in conviction. This isn’t a slap on the wrist — it’s a slap in the face to victims: 80 percent of perpetrators and the accused are discharged with honor, while 90 percent of victims are eventually “involuntarily” discharged. (In the general population conviction rates are 40 percent for prosecuted and 6 percent for all cases reported.)
The military chain of command has a vested interest in not escalating complaints. Unit commanders’ depend on obedience, harmony and cohesion — all of which are threatened by soldiers’ accusing other soldiers of assault and the fallout of those accusations. There is no incentive to resolve complaints legally and systematically in ways that will enter the official record. It means paperwork, investigations, dishonor, admission of responsibility, a loss of reputation and possibly rank.
In November, 2011 California Congresswoman Jackie Speier introduced the Sexual Assault Training Oversight and Prevention Act–the STOP Act, H.R. 3435, which would take the reporting, oversight and investigation of these cases away from the military’s normal chain of command and into the jurisdiction of the the newly created, autonomous (civilian and military expert) Sexual Assault Oversight and Response Office.
In February of 2011 a landmark lawsuit was filed on behalf of 17 active duty service members and veterans, 2 men and 15 women. It accused the Department of Defense of cultivating a culture that fails to prevent and prosecute rape and sexual assault, violating plaintiffs’ constitutional rights. The case named Robert M. Gates and Donald Rumsfeld as heads of institutions that trivialized, denied, openly mocked the claims of rape victims and failed to take preventive measures to stop further assaults. This landmark case was dismissed last December.
Lawyer Susan Burke filed an appeal for the case in early January (2012). The plaintiffs in this case are 28 current or former members of the military who allege that they were raped by coworkers and, similarly to the above cited case, that the defense secretary’s failure to act on the issue of sexual assault in the military amounts to a violation of their constitutional rights.
Some people feel that talking about these rapes, prosecuting them and seeking legal recourse weakens our military. It is the exact opposite. The persistent drumbeat of denial and blithe dismissal is dangerous and harmful. Not revealing, admitting and fixing the problem of rape in the military, and our culture at large, is what undermines cohesion and hurts soldiers.
“We will continue the legal battles until the military begins to punish and dishonorably discharge the sexual predators, rather than retaliate against those who report the crime,” explains Burke.
As far as I’m concerned, one rape is too much. I know, pie in the sky for some people — but a matter of life and death for others. From my perspective, it’s a shame we can’t sue our entire culture since, in actuality, the military’s rape statistics aren’t that radically different from the nation’s.
You can follow the release of the movie at @Invisible_War or check out the Take Action list on The Invisible War website.
Movies That Include Rape and Sexual Assault
This is a short list of movies in which rape occurs. I couldn’t even begin to compile a list in which rape is implied or threatened. Multiple iterations of IMBD searches consistently resulted in anywhere between 2,000-4,500 titles, depending on whether or not you included TV. Interestingly enough, however, some of the movies that involve the assault of boys and men did not appear on the first pass list of movies including rape.
9 ½ weeks
The Accused
American Psycho
The Astronaut’s Wife
Bastard Out of Carolina
Blue Velvet
Cape Fear
Cider House Rules
Clan of the Cave Bear
Clockwork Orange
The Color Purple
Dead Man Walking
Death and the Maiden
Deathwish I, II and II
Deliverance
Devil’s Advocate
Eve’s Bayou
Eye’s Wide Shut
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Forrest Gump
The General’s Daughter
Gia
G. I. Jane
Gladiator
God and Monsters
The Good Girl
The Green Mile
Last Tango in Paris
Lawrence of Arabia
Lolita
Moulin Rouge
Once We Were Warriors
Platoon
Precious
Pulp Fiction
Rob Roy
Robin Hood
Saturday Night Fever
Schindler’s List
Shame
The Shipping News
Thelma and Louise
Traffic

Soraya Chemaly writes feminist satire. She is a regular contributor to The Good Men Project and The Huffington Post (where this piece originally appeared). She is also the creator of the retired blogs: Poog, a Goop Spoof and The Guide to Manic Moms.

Guest Writer Wednesday: Review – Pariah

Pariah (2011)

This is a guest post from Carrie Nelson.
I enjoyed many films in 2011. All of my favorite films of the year, however, were the ones that unnerved me with their honesty, sticking in my thoughts long after the end credits rolled. One of those films was Martha Marcy May Marlene, which I’ve already written about, and another was Pariah.
Pariah, in its simplest terms, is a lesbian coming-of-age story. Yet it is unlike any other lesbian coming-of-age story I have ever seen, largely because the film is not about a young woman’s initial discovery or self-acceptance of sexual identity. When we meet Alike (played masterfully by Adepero Oduye), she already is well aware of and comfortable with her sexual orientation. The film does not start from a place of Gay 101; there are no scenes where Alike expresses sexual confusion or the desire to be straight. It operates under the assumption that our heroine is out (at least to her friends and high school English teacher) and proud. 
Alike and Laura
Instead of a traditional coming out story, Alike’s journey is about finding her place within her community. At home, her mother (Kim Wayans) encourages her to dress femininely and act ladylike. (One of the most heartbreaking scenes in the film involves Alike’s discomfort wearing a pink blouse that her mother was so excited for her to try on.) Outside of home, her friend Laura (Pernell Walker) teaches her how to convincingly present as butch and suavely seduce femmes. Alike is able to navigate both worlds, but she does not feel fully comfortable in either of them. The film follows her as she shatters the assumptions others make about her and determines what she needs to do to be truly happy.
What impressed me the most about Pariah was its ability to depict the uncomfortable awkwardness of being a teenager. Though the film is very specific in its geographic and cultural location, Alike’s need to find her place in her social circle is universal. When she accompanies Laura to clubs, she is unable to comfortably flirt with other women. She tries hard to adopt a butch identity, but it never feels right. Early on in the film, Alike experiments with packing, but she quickly determines that a phallus is not what she needs. It is not until she meets Bina (Aasha Davis, who I’ve loved since she played Waverly on Friday Night Lights), the daughter of her mother’s friend, that Alike finds herself in a situation where she can present her sexuality and gender identity in the most authentic way, without pretense or expectation. And although Alike’s relationship with Bina turns in a surprising direction, the experience is necessary for her to begin to see the variety of ways in which she can be a queer woman.
I appreciated the diversity of queer women depicted in Pariah. From women who self-identify as lesbians to women who simply enjoy being intimate with other women, from women who have masculine or feminine gender presentations to women who cannot be so easily labeled, Pariah shows that there is no single way to be queer. Mainstream depictions of gay identity tend to reinforce stereotypes, but while Pariah does feature women in traditional butch-femme pairings, such relationships are not the only ones presented, nor are they shown to be the “right” way to be gay. All of the characters and relationships in Pariah have flaws, but all are also beautiful in their own ways. I was continually struck by the film’s honesty as I watched it, and the diversity of women and relationships presented is an excellent example of that honesty.
Audrey and Alike
Audrey, Alike’s mother, is one of the most fascinating characters in the film. Rather than a one-note antagonist, as parents of gay teens are often depicted on-screen, Audrey struck me as a woman who truly wants to connect with her daughter but does not understand how. She seems to know all along that Alike is gay, but she believes that if she buys her enough feminine clothing, dictates her friendships and talks to her about boys, Alike will be straight. This behavior only distances Alike from her mother, and understandably so – it is not the behavior of a tolerant or accepting parent. But there is never a doubt that Audrey truly loves her daughter and wants what is best for her, a fact that makes the climax of the film so difficult to watch. I only wish the film had been able to flesh Audrey out more and spend more time with her character. One of my favorite scenes is one of Audrey sitting in the break room at her office, mutually ignoring the rest of her colleagues who are eating together and chatting. Audrey only breaks out of her shell when a friend approaches her and asks her about the new clothing she bought for her daughters. The implication seems to be that Audrey is materialistic and a bit of a snob, but we do not find out more about that. I wish we had – it might have provided more insight into why she adopts such a conventional view of female gender identity and sexuality.
One cannot discuss Pariah without acknowledging the fact that it is a film about queer women of color made by a queer woman of color. It’s rare that women of color are given the opportunity to tell their own stories, and in a year during which The Help is receiving enormous critical praise and attention, it is disheartening that a film like Pariah is receiving so much less notice. Pariah is a vitally important film, and its story and performances are as strong as you will find in any other film from 2011. At the time of writing this review, Academy Award nominations have yet to be announced, and I am hoping that, when they are, Pariah and its creator, Dee Rees, will receive their well-deserved recognition. Whether or not they do, I encourage you to seek the film out in theatres. It may not be the flashiest or most technically elaborate film of the past year, but it is without question one of the most honest. 
Carrie Nelson has previously written about Martha Marcy May MarlenePrecious, Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire, The Social Network, Sleepaway Camp, and Mad Men for Bitch Flicks. She is a Founder and Editor of Gender Across Borders and works as a grant writer for an LGBT nonprofit organization in NYC.

Guest Writer Wednesday: Shia LeBeouf Mocks Megan Fox for Feminist Thinking

Megan Fox in Transformers
This guest post by Melanie Taylor previously appeared at her site The Feminist Guide to Hollywood in June 2011. 
For a while on my blog, I had the pleasure of highlighting various men who were espousing impressive feminist rhetoric in the Hollywood landscape. Today, I do not have that pleasure. Actor Shia LeBeouf, who worked on the Michael Bay franchise, Transformers, with Megan Fox, spoke to L. A. Times about how the vibe on the set of the newest Transformers is different and why. The reason is because Megan’s replacement, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, doesn’t have a problem with Michael Bay being a total douchebag.

This is the quote:

Huntington-Whiteley is equipped for Bay’s brusque shooting style in a way that Fox (who in the media likened her director’s on-set behavior to Napoleon and Hitler) was not, according to LaBeouf.

“Megan developed this Spice Girl strength, this woman-empowerment [stuff] that made her feel awkward about her involvement with Michael, who some people think is a very lascivious filmmaker, the way he films women,” LaBeouf said. “Mike films women in a way that appeals to a 16-year-old sexuality. It’s summer. It’s Michael’s style. And I think [Fox] never got comfortable with it. This is a girl who was taken from complete obscurity and placed in a sex-driven role in front of the whole world and told she was the sexiest woman in America. And she had a hard time accepting it. When Mike would ask her to do specific things, there was no time for fluffy talk. We’re on the run. And the one thing Mike lacks is tact. There’s no time for [LaBeouf assumes a gentle voice] ‘I would like you to just arch your back 70 degrees.’”

Huntington-Whiteley, on the other hand, must have arched her back just right when Bay shot her in a Victoria’s Secret ad in 2009, because months after Fox’s trash-talking peaked, the director cut the actress’ character, Mikaela Banes, from the third Transformers movie and replaced her with the newcomer.

“Rosie comes with this Victoria’s Secret background, and she’s comfortable with it, so she can get down with Mike’s way of working and it makes the whole set vibe very different,” LaBeouf said.

First of all, it’s hilariously stupid that Shia equates feminist thinking with the Spice Girls. It’s a braindead and belittling comparison. Second of all, where it says “woman-empowerment [stuff],” I’m guessing the magazine redacted a more offending word — shit or bullshit. I wish they hadn’t, because it would have been a more honest reflection of Shia’s true feelings.


It’s surprising that Fox never trashed him too, given his apparent contempt for the concept of female empowerment. “It’s summer. It’s Michael Bay’s style.” So…during the summer and when around Michael Bay women should just throw out their copies of The Feminine Mystique and do their best pouty lip? You can have a sexy character without being degrading to the actress. I’m guessing the vibe on Jennifer’s Body and Jonah Hex, both films where Fox plays a sexy vixen, was pretty different too, different in that she wasn’t treated like another slice of ham on the directors Lazy Susan.

Where Shia says there is no time for “fluff” and Bay “lacks tact,” what he probably means is, Bay says things like, “Megan, in this scene I want you to stick your tits and ass out,” then she would get pissed off, tension would arise on the set, and everyone would blame Fox. That’s my guess. While I’m sure that type of “direction” wasn’t written into the script, she must have had an inkling of Bay’s “lasciviousness.”


It’s been reported far and wide and openly admitted to that Michael Bay made Megan Fox wash his Ferrari in her bikini while he video taped her as part of her “audition.” That’s not great for Fox, but big money and big career opportunities don’t come around often. This is what makes Hollywood a complicated place for some women. Where do you draw the line? Obviously, Megan Fox had enough. But that’s rarely the way it’s framed in media.

This article is claiming that Megan Fox was “cut” from the film because she “trash-talked” her boss. It sounds more to me like Megan Fox walked away from Transformers because she was sick of her sexist boss. Most media outlets want to frame her situation in a way that makes it look like “see what happens little girls when you back talk”. When in reality, she spoke out against a man known for offending the women he works with and basically for being a sleazy, power-happy misogynist.


Would it be a stretch to call Megan Fox a trailblazer? She really took a beating from the media, who’s response to her unabashed honesty was to call her dumb and difficult.

Megan Fox deserves props if she really walked away from Transformers, and I respect her for speaking out about her boss, although, I think publicly trashing people who you plan to keep relationships with (your boss) is not the best approach. If she had worded it more carefully in interviews, it could have had a very different impact. For instance, she could have talked about the dynamic between playing a sexy character and how her director takes liberties with her because of that. And how it’s complicated to be a pin up girl, but to also want to be treated like a full human…or something along those lines. But there is no play book on “How To Deal With a Sexist Boss While Working in the Public Eye.

She has, however, expressed ideas similar to this that rarely get reported on. One of my favorites is when she was discussing sexism in Hollywood:
I’ve worked with people who have been difficult to work with, but have been male, and there is never a complaint made about them. There is never an issue made about them. I have friends who are actresses, who if they go to work one day and they show up on set and they don’t have a smile on their face they’re tagged a bitch and that is really unfortunate. But I can’t single-handedly change that process, but I’m trying.

With that said, Megan Fox is in a upcoming movie called Friends With Kids starring Jon Hamm and Kristen Wiig! I can’t wait.

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Melanie Taylor writes for The Feminist Guide to Hollywood. She is also a singer and a musician, under the name tigersnap


Top 10 of 2011: Rom-Coms Don’t Suck

#6 of 2011 comes from guest writer Amanda Krauss, who originally posted “Rom-Coms Don’t Suck” on her humor theory blog, Risatrix. Recent incarnations of the rom-com may not be our favorites, but the genre has a long history that we shouldn’t dismiss.
________
Romantic comedies have existed for literally thousands of years; the same historical genre, comoedia, is also responsible for today’s sitcoms.
But romantic comedies, especially, have suffered a great deal in the last few decades. These supposed “chick” flicks (male-authored for millennia, and still mostly male-created) get ridiculously low scores on MetaCritic and Rotten Tomatoes. Meanwhile, most “guy” comedies (e.g. an Apatow joint) or action flicks get decent scores, seemingly without even trying.
This is pure and simple sexism. You sure as hell can’t defend action flicks on aesthetic grounds. And any reviewer who accuses a rom-com of being predictable should have their license revoked — of course it’s predictable. So was that action flick, by the way. Oh, didn’t you see it coming that the hero dude was going to save the world? I did.