Tag: Independent Focus

Movie Review: ‘Martha Marcy May Marlene’

Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011)
This is a guest post from Carrie Nelson.
Martha Marcy May Marlene is a story told in fragments. Interspersed in the narrative are flashbacks, dreams and hallucinations, so it isn’t always clear what events are happening when, and which ones are actually happening at all. But that’s part of the power of the film – the fragments set an uneasy tone, allowing the viewer to easily slip into the mindset of the heroine as her sense of self and reality slowly unravel.
When we meet Martha (Elizabeth Olsen), she is escaping from a cult in the Catskills. Once she contacts and reunites with her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson), we learn that she has been out of touch with her family (and ostensibly living with the cult) for two years. The film chronicles Martha’s adjustment to life in a wealthy Connecticut suburb with Lucy and her husband Ted (Hugh Dancy), all while Martha privately reflects on the traumatic experiences she’s left behind.
Through flashbacks, we learn that charismatic leader Patrick (John Hawkes) gave Martha the name Marcy May when she first visits his wilderness compound. At first, Patrick’s home seems like a harmless hippie commune, with rotating chore lists, sustainable gardening and guitar sing-alongs. Soon, though, the façade disappears, and Marcy May is stuck in an ongoing cycle of abuse. At the risk of giving too much away, I will say that one of the more disturbing elements of the film is watching Marcy May transform from the abused to the enabler of abuse. She buys into Patrick’s manipulations so easily that by the time she realizes what’s happened, too much damage has already been done.
We never learn much about Martha’s life before she became Marcy May, but the lack of information does not take away from the audience’s ability to connect to the character. Through her conversations with Lucy, we understand that Martha spent much of her adolescence without close family ties. Lucy was in college when Martha needed a support system, but the sisters never had a close bond. The viewer gets the sense that Martha did not have much of a plan after graduating from high school – not college, not job prospects, not reuniting with her sister. She was drifting, looking for a purpose, which is how she falls in with Patrick. She has nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to – why wouldn’t she connect with such a group? Though we don’t know the specifics of Martha’s history, she is developed strongly enough that her actions are plausible, believable and even disturbingly realistic.
One of the strengths of the film is the emphasis it places on female relationships. The core of the film is Martha’s relationship with Lucy at home and Marcy May’s relationship with Zoe (Louisa Krause), Sarah (Julia Garner) and Katie (Maria Dizzia) at Patrick’s. Much like Margaret Atwood’s brilliant dystopian novel The Handmaid’s Tale, these relationships take place within the confines of patriarchal communities. In Ted and Lucy’s marriage, Ted is the head of the household. He takes issue with Martha moving in with them, and his actions – and the stress he puts on both Lucy and Martha – strain the already tenuous relationship between the sisters. In the cult, the male members are overtly privileged over the female members. In the opening scene, we see that the women in Patrick’s house are not allowed to eat dinner until the men have finished. Chores appear to be segregated by gender, with the men chopping wood and the women sewing, cooking and childrearing. There’s also an incredibly creepy moment when we learn that the children born on the compound, all fathered by Patrick, are all male. The audience never learns what happens to the female babies, but the insinuation is horrifying.
And still, in both of these environments, bonds between women flourish. Martha and Lucy have their differences, but it is clear that they both want to have a relationship again, and they are determined to do whatever they can to make that possible, even while Ted makes Martha feel threatened and unwelcome. Meanwhile, Zoe takes Marcy May under her wing and eases her into the community; this relationship is mirrored later in the film, when Sarah joins the cult and Marcy May transitions from initiated to initiator. Despite the traumas witnessed and experienced by these women, their relationships stay strong. They share support, laughter and strength in the face of abuse, time and time again. Complex relationships between women aren’t commonplace in film these days, so Martha Marcy May Marlene is a refreshing change of pace in this regard.
I’ve heard Martha Marcy May Marlene repeatedly compared to last year’s Winter’s Bone; both films feature beautiful young blondes in breakout roles, playing tough, dynamic characters, opposite creepy performances by John Hawkes. I love both films, but Martha Marcy May Marlene is sticking with me in a way that Winter’s Bone has not. Though Winter’s Bone is a challenging and emotionally difficult film, its protagonist, Ree (Jennifer Lawrence), has closure at the end of her journey. The chilling, ambiguous ending of Martha Marcy May Marlene, however, does not give Martha any sense of closure. No matter how one interprets the ending, it’s clear that it represents the beginning of her horror, rather than her escape from it. The ending of Martha Marcy May Marlene offers no comfort, and its power is still felt long after the credits roll.
I don’t know if Martha Marcy May Marlene can be called a feminist film, per se. None of the underlying messages are inherently feminist or socially progressive; the politics aren’t what make this film interesting. But I do know that this film contains more strong, developed female characters than one typically sees in films today, and the relationships between those women are the backbone of the movie. In particular, Olsen’s performance as Martha/Marcy May is stands out as one of the best I’ve seen this year. Martha Marcy May Marlene is one of the best films you will see this year, featuring some of the most dynamic female characters to appear on-screen this year. Check it out.
Carrie Nelson has previously written aboutPrecious, Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire, The Social Network, Sleepaway Camp, and Mad Men for Bitch Flicks. She is a Founder and Editor ofGender Across Bordersand works as a grant writer for an LGBT nonprofit organization in NYC. 

Guest Writer Wednesday: Cardboard Cutouts Beware! A Review of Good Dick

Good Dick (2008)

A feminist romcom that fails to pass the Bechdel Test? How can that be? Good Dick (2008) suggests that it is not only possible, but that it can be done in a way that makes one wonder about the typical inanity of the genre.  Why must the overwhelming majority of romcoms perpetuate a status quo that lionizes men while demeaning women? Why can’t we be presented with complicated characters who navigate the complexities of sex and love instead of cardboard cutouts who confirm dangerous conventions?
On the surface, Good Dick, which Marianna Palka wrote, directed and stars in, seems conventional, albeit quirky. A video store clerk (Jason Ritter) is attracted to a woman (Palka) who comes into his store to rent “bad ’80s girl-focused porn” (Cynthia Fuchs). The clerk looks up the woman’s address on the store’s computer and pays her a visit. Through cracks in her window blinds, he spies her masturbating to the video rental and decides to set up camp in a nearby parking lot, living in his car so he can pursue her affections in closer proximity. Eventually, the peeping Tom gains entrance into her apartment by lying about a dead relative. Despite our reservations about this character—as Fuchs writes, “In another movie the boy would be a serial killer”—he proves to be patient and persistent enough to gain the woman’s hard-earned trust and eventually win her heart.
I admit, the setup of the story sounds awful. In Palka’s Director’s Statement, she writes, “The story is almost like a knight slaying a dragon to save a damsel in distress.” Palka’s observation that the dragon is part of the woman does not reassure that this flick will rise above the regressive romcom fantasy fare of man-as-savior, woman-as-saved. The fact that there are no women in the supporting cast, let alone strong women, does not seem to help matters. Nor does a clichéd scene of an old man (Charles Durning) who visits the video store to deliver the moral of the story to the suitor and his coworker-compadres (in so many words, find love before it’s too late). 
At this point, I might use a turn of phrase such as “In spite of these pitfalls, Good Dick succeeds…”. However, transitioning from a well-wrought counterargument misses my overall point that Good Dick succeeds because of these pitfalls, not in spite of them. The argument in the film lies firmly within the counterargument; it could be no other way. In other words, the only way for Palka’s debut film to overturn conventions is to court them with all the attendant dangers, much like the man in the film does with the woman who, it becomes more and more apparently clear, is struggling to overcome sexual abuse. The film succeeds because it romances romcom normativity to buck it in two vital ways.
First, the woman’s sexual abuse is not sensationalized. The film portrays its lingering effects with a subtle realism that would leave the Hallmark channel crowd squeamish, and rightfully so. The last thing a woman who has been sexually abused by her father needs is some paperback-Fabio-figure to waltz in the picture and show her how “it’s supposed to feel.” Palka hits the right note by including no sex in a film permeated by it. The cure for a “bad dick” is not a “good dick,” sexually speaking.
The title “Good Dick” is more ironic than literal. The man is a dick in the eyes of the woman because he will not leave her alone. He is dogged, pesky, slavish. He at once confirms and frustrates her beliefs about men (that they are all dicks all the time). He wants to have sex with her, but he seems capable of waiting forever for her consent. In short, he seems to be in love with her. But instead of love being treated as the goal and the lover as the prize, as is the case with most romcoms, love is perceived by the woman as abhorrent and the lover as a contemptible (“a dick”). The abuse she suffered at the hands of her father has corrupted her sense of love; love has been confused with abusive sex. The man represents “good dick” because he disentangles the notion of love from sex, thus opening up a space for her to discover (on her own terms and at her own pace) the possibility that good love and good sex can exist, and simultaneously at that. (The father (Tom Arnold) appears in one scene at the end. In this scene, we discover that he is not only sexually abusive but wealthy and financially supporting his daughter. In short, she is a victim not just of her “bad dick” father, but of patriarchy at large, another subtle touch in the film that opens up the scope of its social commentary). 
Although made by a woman, the film strikes me as a romcom aimed at men as much as women—not in that sense of norming guys to carry the torch of patriarchy or apologizing for their man-child behavior. Rather, the film exposes men to how damaging these norms are to women while offering them an alternative form of masculinity. From Palka’s Director’s Statement again:
For the lead male role I wanted to see the lover archetype illustrated in a way that is all loving, all kind, all ways. I knew the guy had to be strong and thereby protective, but not in a stereotypical sense. Definitions of masculinity often tend to be deformed in our culture, forgetting the good fight and glorifying what I like to call, “The cardboard cutout man.” In Good Dick the man’s power has nothing to do with his physical strength, his appearance or his social status.  He is masculine in a way that is genuine; this masculinity stems from his lack of chauvinism. His chivalry is his depth of kindness.

Good Dick reminds men to fight this good fight against the abusive power of cardboard masculinity. It challenges men to redefine masculine power in a way that is genuine, benevolent, and (dare I say?) loving. Although not a perfect film, Good Dick’s merits lie with warning men and women not to confuse our culture’s “deformed” definitions of masculinity with masculinity itself. “Man up” can mean something other than the masculinity peddled in Miller Lite commercials.

Kirk Boyle is an Assistant Professor of English who will be joining the University of North Carolina at Asheville’s Literature and Language Department in August. He previously contributed pieces on The Day the Earth Stood Still and Revolutionary Road to Bitch Flicks.

Preview: Meek’s Cutoff – A Feminist Western?

Shirley Henderson, Zoe Kazan, and Michelle Williams star in Meek’s Cutoff

I’ve never really talked about my love for Westerns here, or all of my jumbled ideas about the genre and feminism (someday I’ll write a long post about it, or an essay, or a book). But, let me try to (briefly) sum up my interest here, and express how excited I am about Meek’s Cutoff.
The Western genre is traditionally tied up in all kinds of rugged masculinity, and of all film genres, maybe best exemplifies the dominant way the United States collectively imagines itself: sturdy, adventurous, self sufficient, brave, and, well, pretty butch. The problem is, however, that this narrative leaves out a significant number of people, and a significant portion of the story. The Western (and the story of the U.S. West) tries to be the story of the United States itself, and reveals ideology so clearly where it fails–namely, in its depiction of women, indigenous peoples, immigrants, and African-Americans. The genre is, in other words, ripe for retellings and allegory.
Directed by Kelly Reichardt (who also directed Wendy and Lucy and Old Joy), Meek’s Cutoff opens this weekend in New York, followed by a limited-release roll out. The critical consensus is positive, and Reichardt is already being praised for making an artistic and accessible film. Not-so-subtle connections are also being made between the film’s title character and a certain former U.S. president who may have also been overconfident in his ability to lead.

Mahohla Dargis has called the film “unabashedly political,” and J. Hoberman of The Village Voice, writes

Having split off from a larger wagon train, the party elected to follow Stephen Meek (Bruce Greenwood), an extravagantly hirsute, self-regardingly loquacious guide who, in his most obvious misjudgment, brings them not to the foothills of the Cascade Mountains but the shores of a great saline lake. Is he “ignorant or just plain evil?” the Williams character asks her husband (Will Patton). “We can’t know. . . . We made our decision,” he tells her. “I don’t blame him for not knowing—I blame him for saying he did,” she replies, establishing herself as the party’s moral compass.

In a NYT piece, “Oregon Frontier, from Under a Bonnet,”  Nicolas Rapold writes

“There was a quote I remembered that I had liked when I was 18 or something, that popped into my head: ‘I’ll go where my own nature would be leading,’ ” Ms. Williams said of her character, Emily Tetherow. The verse, by Emily Brontë, which continues, “It vexes me to choose another guide,” proves peculiarly apt for Mrs. Tetherow, who emerges as Meek’s prime skeptic and becomes an unusually vocal opponent. The actual diaries of women migrating West were also a source of inspiration for Ms. Williams. She said she marveled at the effort spent on writing at “the end of the longest day you could imagine.”

The forbearance and point of view in the journals comes out in Ms. Reichardt’s shading of events through the women’s perspective. Besides the constant visual metaphor of the obscuring bonnets, there are the intervening moments devoted to their chores (laundry, grinding coffee) and wide shots from their point of view that suggest their exclusion from major decision making, like when Meek and the men consult upon arriving at a lake that proves unpotable. But it’s also Mrs. Tetherow who first spies an Indian (Rod Rondeaux) who becomes another competing voice of authority as they drift along in increasing distress and disagreement.

Watch the official preview:

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

At home (and away) with Agnes Varda from BFI

The Day the Movies Died from GQ

Why are films so sexist? from Ad Fontes

Hall Pass: I apologize to my mother for the review I’m about to write from Slate

The ‘Blue Valentine’ Conundrum: Why So Many Boring Women In Indie Film? from The Atlantic

James Cameron the Feminist? from AMC Blog

Young Rapping Girls Call Out Lil Wayne for Misogyny from Jezebel

Insulting Chuck Lorre, Not Abuse, Gets Sheen Sidelined from The New York Times

“30 Rock” takes on feminist hypocrisy–and its own from Salon

In Which We Have to Consider Why Shorty Always Wanna Be a Thug from This Recording

The Women of ‘!W.A.R.’ from The New York Times

Not another terrorised film female from The Guardian UK

Women in Film: Where have all the strong women gone? from The Vancouver Sun

Oscar winner Geena Davis hits out at Hollywood’s female stereotypes at UN Women gala from The Herald Sun

Women breaking glass ceiling in Malayalam film industry from Sify News

No Country For Old Men Presented by The Girls on Film from YouTube

Ladies Wear the Blue (1974) from Fyddeye


2011 Spirit Award Winners

The 2011 Film Independent Spirit Awards Ceremony took place on Saturday night–the night before the Academy Awards–and aired on IFC. (Which I didn’t watch, because I don’t get IFC.)
In terms of who and which films were nominated, there was a good bit of crossover this year for indie films: four of the five Best Feature nominees were also Best Picture Oscar nominees (Greenberg didn’t make the cut); five of the six women nominated for Best Lead also received Oscar nods; and the Best Foreign Film award went to the Best Picture award winner–The King’s Speech.
But there are some very important differences, some of which we highlighted in our post about the Spirit Nominees. Namely–you guessed it–how much better women fare in the indie world. Here is a selection of winners, and some thoughts about each. You can see a list of all nominees and winners here.
Best Feature: Black Swan
There is nothing near a consensus on how to read this film. Some find it a feminist statement about the unbearable pressures put on women in modern society, while some find it a misogynist exploration of madness and exploitation of the female body. Nevertheless, it is a female-centered film.
Best Director: Darren Aronofsky for Black Swan
Although a man won, there were two women (Lisa Cholodenko for The Kids Are All Right and Debra Granik for Winter’s Bone) in contention, and the winner directed a woman-centered film. 
Best Screenplay: Lisa Cholodenko and Stuart Blumberg for The Kids Are All Right
This was a great category for women. In addition to Cholodenko, Debra Granik and Anne Rossellini were nominated for Winter’s Bone, and Nicole Holofcener was nominated for Please Give.
Best First Screenplay: Lena Dunham for Tiny Furniture
The best “first” categories are important, in that they give exposure to mostly little-known films (in terms of the mainstream audience) and help launch new voices into the world of filmmaking. The other female nominee in the category is Diane Bell, for Obselidia.
Best First Feature: Get Low

In addition to promoting new filmmakers, this category is exciting because it often introduces films many of us haven’t seen, or haven’t heard much about, including Tanya Hamilton’s Night Catches Us and Dunham’s Tiny Furniture.

Best Female Lead: Natalie Portman for Black Swan
The winner here is no surprise; Portman swept the awards for her portrayal of determined ballerina Nina, which, regardless of how you feel about the film, was an amazing performance. The other nominees were Annette Bening, Greta Gerwig, Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Lawrence, and Michelle Williams.

Best Supporting Female: Dale Dickey for Winter’s Bone
This is another exciting Spirit category, as was the corresponding Oscar category (for different reasons), though there was no overlap between nominees. Other nominees were Ashely Bell for The Last Exorcism, Allison Janney for Life During Wartime, Daphne Rubin-Vega for Jack Goes Boating, and Naomi Watts for Mother and Child.

While the Spirit Award nominees represent a slightly more progressive and inclusive range of stories and people who tell them, they also reveal a continuing problem: the lack of films about, centering on, made by, or starring people of color. As far as I can tell (as I haven’t seen all the films, nor do I know each storyline), Hamilton’s Night Catches Us is the only nominee focusing on the experience of people of color, specifically Black Americans.

The Spirit Awards may be better than the Oscars, but we still have a long way to go.

Athena Film Festival Preview

This weekend we’re attending the Athena Film Festival in New York City, billed as a “celebration of women and leadership.” Why a festival dedicated to women and film? 
From the official website:
In 2010, for the first time in history, a woman won the Oscar for best director. Directing is the most visible leadership position in film yet, in 82 years, only 4 women have been nominated for best director, and only a single woman has won. In 2009, in the 250 top-grossing domestic films, women made up only 7% of directors, 8% of writers, and 17% of executive producers. 98% of these films had no female cinematographers. And, in front of the camera, as of 2007, women had less than 30% of the speaking roles.

In addition to feature films, documentaries, and short films, there will be events such as “A Hollywood Conversation with actress Greta Gerwig” and a panel on “The Bechdel Test – Where Are the Women Onscreen?” among others.

Here are previews of some of the films we’re planning to see. You can purchase tickets for individual films or a pass for the entire weekend. If you’re in the area, you won’t want to miss this festival!

Chisholm ’72: Unbought & Unbiased
Synopsis from the official site:

Unbought & Unbossed is the first historical documentary on Brooklyn Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm and her campaign to become the Democratic Party’s presidential nominee in 1972. Following Chisholm from the announcement of her candidacy in January to the Democratic National Convention in Miami, Florida in July, the story is like her- fabulous, fierce, and fundamentally “right on.” Chisholm’s fight is for inclusion, as she writes in her book The Good Fight (1973), and encompasses all Americans “who agree that the institutions of this country belong to all of the people who inhabit it.”


The Mighty Macs
Synopsis from the Athena site:
In the early 70s, Cathy Rush becomes the head basketball coach at a tiny, all-girls Catholic college. Though her team has no gym and no uniforms — and the school itself is in danger of being sold — Coach Rush looks to steer her girls to their first national championship.


Miss Representation
Description from the official film website:
Writer/Director Jennifer Siebel Newsom brings together some of America’s most influential women in politics, news, and entertainment to give us an inside look at the media’s message. Miss Representation explores women’s under-representation in positions of power by challenging the limited and often disparaging portrayal of women in the media. As one of the most persuasive and pervasive forces in our culture, media is educating yet another generation that women’s primary value lies in their youth, beauty and sexuality—not in their capacity as leaders. Through the riveting perspectives of youth and the critical analysis of top scholars, Miss Representation will change the way you see media.


There are plenty more films being shown at the festival–be sure to check them out!

Ripley’s Pick: ‘Winter’s Bone’

Winter’s Bone
I first saw Winter’s Bone last summer. I remember leaving the theatre feeling that I’d never seen a film quite like the one I’d just watched. The viewing experience had left me mentally exhausted; more than an hour-and-a-half of tension and suspense made me incapable of arguing exactly why the film was so astounding. After watching it again on DVD, I think I can discuss it with more clarity; however, this remains one you must see for yourself.
Spoilers ahead!
The Dolly family lives in rural Missouri, in the bleak, eerie, and impoverished Ozarks countryside. Ree Dolly  (Jennifer Lawrence) needs to find her father, who has recently been arrested again for cooking methamphetamine–seemingly the only profession in her community. She’s 17, has already left high school to care for her two younger siblings and chronically-depressed mother, and learns that her father put their house and property up as collateral for his bail. She clearly does not live the life of the so-called average American teenage girl; she teaches her siblings to shoot (both to hunt for their food and protect themselves) and skin a squirrel, she gives away their starving horse, chops firewood, and has precious few moments of camaraderie with someone her age–and even in these moments, the film’s ominous tone doesn’t lift.
This is a patriarchal world of heightened gender roles, where women operate as shields to protect their men, and have little power independently. Ree, having no one to speak out for or protect her, becomes an investigator, and thus an agitator. Instead of keeping the peace, keeping quiet, and knowing her place, she refuses to allow herself and her immediate family to be the victims of an irresponsible and criminal man–even if he is her father. She visits the homes of people she’s known her father to associate with, beginning with a low-level junkie and dealer, and her father’s brother, Teardrop (John Hawkes). As she continues her determined climb through the countryside, the men become less accessible as woman after woman warns Ree against pursuing her father, and warns her, implicitly and explicitly, that there will be harsh consequences for asking questions.
What becomes clear, fairly early in the film, is that her father may be dead. This is, at least, the story her neighbor would have her believe, when he shows her a burnt meth lab. As with all characters in the film, however, he has his own motives. While her father’s death may seem like a solution–or the end of the story–it is not. For Ree–and those in her community, if you can call it that–simply knowing her father is dead proves nothing to those ready to seize her home; to them, he’s just a criminal on the run from his debts. Small acts of kindness (a joint, small amounts of cash, a borrowed pickup truck from a friend) help Ree along the way, but each is met by the cruelty of people desperate to protect their livelihood. We see a tenuous relationship develop between Ree and her uncle, a man who uses and seems always a breath away from violence, as the cast expands to include the county sheriff, a bail bondsman, and a powerful figure in the local trade. Cruelty and kindness collide in a climax so powerful that I won’t give it away here,
Rarely do films–mainstream ones, at least, with distribution deals and Oscar buzz–depict poverty–real poverty. Our main character has no resources. People in this situation exist in America–whether we like to think so or not. They’re not all criminals and they can’t all just remove themselves from bad situations by getting a corporate, minimum-wage job. In this film we see a teenage girl navigate a hostile and dangerous world which she had no hand in making. Despite her maturity and toughness, she hasn’t turned to “cooking crank” to financially survive, nor has she developed a “taste for it yet” to temporarily escape. Instead, she relies on the charity of neighbors (though we see little altruism from them; every instance is a coded threat, warning, or new debt to repay) and naively hopes join the Army and bring her family along. (We see Ree visit a recruiter in hopes of receiving a signing bonus she’s heard about–plenty of money to save her home. The even-handed scene plays straight and with little emotion, but nonetheless breaks your heart.)
Winter’s Bone was shot on location in Christian County, Missouri, with mostly non-professional actors–some of whom went back to regular, blue-collar jobs the day after filming their scenes, which likely adds to its authentic feeling. With a budget of only $2 million, Winter’s Bone was written by Debra Granik and Anne Rosellini, and directed by Granik. It has already won several awards–including the Grand Jury Prize and the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival, and the Best Ensemble Cast and Best Film Awards at the 2010 Gotham Awards–and has been nominated for numerous more, including seven Independent Spirit Awards (cinematography, director, feature, female lead, screenplay, supporting female, and supporting male), two Screen Actors Guild awards, and a Golden Globe. Oscar nominations come out Tuesday, January 25, and Winter’s Bone is expected to garner several nods from the Academy as well (although its odds for winning major awards–Best Picture and Best Director–don’t seem great, I’m still pulling for it).
Watch the excellent trailer below. Even after seeing the film twice, its trailer still gives me chills.

 

Ripley’s Pick: ‘Tiny Furniture’

Tiny Furniture. Starring Lena Dunham, Laurie Simmons, Grace Dunham, and Jemima Kirke. Written and directed by Lena Dunham.
The film follows Aura (played by writer/director Lena Dunham), a 20-something self-described misanthrope who, after graduating from a film program at a small liberal arts school in Ohio, moves back to New York City to live with her famous-artist mother, Siri (played by Dunham’s real-life mother Laurie Simmons) and her budding-genius sister, highschooler Nadine (played by Dunham’s real-life sister Grace Dunham). The film wants to show that Aura is, in fact, Having a Very, Very Hard Time, as the tagline reveals, and it puts her through the typical hell that’s common in the heterosexual coming-of-age stories of early twenties womanhood: the struggle to find a reasonably paying job, a desire to make that college degree mean something, and, of course, a few random hookups with emotionally unavailable men.
But more than anything, Tiny Furniture is a film about the relationships among women.
When Aura arrives home from college, she’s immediately confronted with her mother photographing her younger sister among a setup of, literally, tiny furniture. And, while the first indication of sibling rivalry appears, it already seems more refreshing and complicated than the traditional cliched portrayal of sister-hate and woman-on-woman divisiveness. The women converse with one another as if Aura hadn’t been in Ohio for four years; in fact, the casualness of their interaction–her mother barely looking up from her photography, her sister making sarcastic comparisons about her slender legs versus Aura’s heavier frame–suggests a comfort with one another that transcends their almost performed familial coldness.
Perhaps most intriguingly, the on-screen relationships feel so authentic that the unmentioned absent father is hardly noticeable. Who cares, after all?  Women rock the screen, and, unlike a couple of recent woman-centric films (The Kids Are All Right, Winter’s Bone–both arguably feminist) it has nothing to do with a need to compensate for the failings of the men in their lives.
Almost immediately when Aura moves back to New York, she meets up with her childhood friend Charlotte (played by Jemima Kirke) at a party. Charlotte is portrayed as a spoiled, drama-craving brat, but Aura clings to her, at one point even referring to Charlotte as her best friend. (Her mother later says sarcastically in response, “After two weeks?”) They hang out in Charlotte’s apartment, getting high together and talking about art, men, joblessness, addiction, their parents–and they flatter each other; the audience is never encouraged to view these women as rivals. The point of their friendship is to illustrate the absolute aloneness of being an aimless twenty-something and not knowing what the hell to do in life. In several hilarious scenes, Charlotte begs Aura not to leave, once going as far as to roll around on her bed saying, “Please stay,” which the audience is meant to find both endearing and pathetic.
And while the relationship between Charlotte and Aura works mainly because of their shared loneliness and need to connect, the onscreen relationship between the two sisters thoughtfully investigates the obstacles inherent in familial relationships. In fact, it didn’t surprise me at all when I discovered that they’re actually real-life sisters because their sibling rapport feels incredibly authentic. While Aura drinks bottle after bottle of her mother’s wine with her friends, Nadine runs on the treadmill, does crunches while reading a book, writes award-winning poetry, and teases Aura about her directionless existence. But the back-and-forth nitpicking between them is perfectly juxtaposed against scenes exhibiting such tenderness as can only occur in close relationships.
One of my favorite scenes in the movie involves Nadine throwing a party while her mother is out, leaving Aura to supervise things. Of course, the party gets out of hand–we’re dealing with a slew of highschoolers railing against Aura-as-Authority-Figure (because, let’s face it, if Aura is anything, Authority Figure isn’t on the list)–and Aura starts to have a panic attack. She does the only thing she can think to do, call Charlotte to come over and help her get the party under control. Which is hilarious. Because Charlotte is more of a disaster than Aura is. So, it isn’t surprising at all when Charlotte starts giving lap dances and Aura starts walking around the party in her underwear.
The screaming match that ensues between Aura and Nadine could’ve been taken from a direct transcript of a real-life sibling fight. I cringed at the truthfulness of Nadine’s accusations as she criticized Aura for craving the attention of high school boys. (Those boys, however, reciprocated by making fun of Aura and dissing her body.) And when Nadine starts smacking Aura with a spatula and storms off, the audience feels sympathy for both sisters; neither is the villain in this film, and Dunham’s navigation of that terrain seems effortless from beginning to end. I won’t spoil the brief make-up scene between Aura and Nadine because the film is worth watching for that moment alone.
Aura spends much of the film, when she isn’t fighting with her sister, thinking of herself as somewhat of an artist/filmmaker, as evidenced by her YouTube videos (where she usually wears only her underwear or a bathing suit). Since Aura isn’t traditionally beautiful, and isn’t a size two like most of the half-naked women we’re used to seeing onscreen, at first it’s almost shocking to watch her walk around barely clothed throughout the film (which further illustrates the level of comfort and intimacy she feels with her mother and sister). But Dunham doesn’t include those scenes merely for shock value. The comments left on her YouTube videos consistently make fun of her weight and her looks. She reads the insulting feedback aloud to Charlotte, and they both try to blow it off, but not without Aura remarking on how difficult it is to put that negativity out of her mind.
For anyone who’s ever browsed the comments on YouTube videos, it’s impossible not to notice the disgusting misogyny and homophobia that plague them. Not only does Dunham subtly comment on that, but she also manages to reinforce the importance of supportive women friendships as a way to help combat the barrage of bullshit women deal with daily, especially when it concerns unattainable beauty ideals. It’s interesting to note, too, that Charlotte is traditionally attractive, and yet their friendship never digresses into any sort of competition, least of all one that involves some stereotypical competition over men.
The film doesn’t completely shy away from the subject of men, though, and the two men Aura meets both basically suck. One spends the first half of the movie mooching off Aura–and she lets him–staying in her house, eating her food, drinking her mother’s wine, but when she tries to take their “friendship” to the next level, he refuses. For Aura to attempt to hook up with such a caricature of a loser further drives home her loneliness and desire for connection. With anyone. So it isn’t surprising either when she goes after the chef she works with, who likes “Asian tentacle rape” pornography–whatever the hell that is–and exploits Aura’s obvious crush on him to get her to give him pills (even though he has a girlfriend).
Watching the film, one can’t avoid thinking, “C’mon, Aura, you know better than this.” But the material is so impossible not to relate to–who hasn’t lusted after the entirely wrong person, and known it?–that one can’t fault her for putting herself through it.
Those interactions with men accompanied by Aura’s reading aloud of her mother’s diary (written during her twenties) give further insight into the relationship Aura has with her mother. In many ways, regardless of how often the two women clash, Aura admires her. She’s a successful artist who’s clearly independent. She’s rich. She has no apparent need for a man in her life. Yet her diary reveals many of her obsessions in her twenties: with body image–she constantly journaled her food choices, with men and their inadequacies, and particularly with feeling like she wasn’t living up to her potential as an artist.
The final scene of the film, with Aura curled up with her mother in her mother’s bed, discussing the diary, openly discussing Aura’s horrid sexual encounter from earlier in the evening (completely absent of judgment from her mother–her only concern is that Aura practices safe sex), discussing Aura’s own fears of failure, which her mother squashes with, “Oh, you’ll be much more successful than I am,” feels so heart-wrenchingly honest it’s almost difficult to watch. And the ending, which features a literal ticking clock that could’ve felt contrived and artificial, totally works. It isn’t that the two women desire to stop time; they just don’t want the obvious reminder of its passing.
As Aura struggles with all these issues, reading her mother’s diary (and sharing it with the audience) serves to remind us that even though coming-of-age ain’t fun, particularly for young women navigating the patriarchy, it’s still possible to come out on the other end fairly unscathed.

Preview: Toe to Toe

In his NYT review of Toe to Toe, A.O. Scott says

If “Toe to Toe” were a young-adult novel, it would be embraced and argued about in classrooms and eagerly read by thoughtful teenage girls. The film’s observations about race, class and friendship are clear and accessible without being overly didactic, and its sometimes harsh candor about female sexuality would not be unfamiliar to devotees of contemporary adolescent literature. But because it is a movie — the first nondocumentary feature film by the writer and director Emily Abt — “Toe to Toe” is likely to languish in art-house limbo, far from the eyes of its ideal audience.

He’s probably right, and it’s a shame. As much as we adult women want movies that speak to our intelligence and experience, I’d guess the need is at least double for adolescent girls.
Melissa at Women and Hollywood summarizes the movie:
Tosha (Sonequa Martin) is a poor African American girl in a private prep school who is pushed by her grandmother (Leslie Uggams) to believe in herself and her ability to get into Princeton.  She also encourages her to play lacrosse because no African American girls do.  It is on that field that she meets Jesse (Louisa Krause) a troubled, sexually provocative white girl who has been kicked out of many schools.  Jesse and Tosha are drawn to each other and become friends even while the outside world is conspiring against them.  But like most teenage girls they also compete.  Their friendship is messy, and at times disappointing and destructive.  But they try, which is more than can be said for Jesse’s busy single working mom (Ally Walker) who is so oblivious to her daughter’s needs and desperation that you want to throttle her.
 Be sure to check out the interview with Emily Abt on the same Women and Hollywood post.
Watch the trailer. (The official movie site seems to have vanished; if anyone has the link, please leave it in the comments section.)
Toe to Toe is currently playing in NYC and LA.
Written and Directed by: Emily Abt

Movie Review: Precious, Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire

*This guest post also appears on Gender Across Borders.

Last week, I saw the much-anticipated film Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it all week. Not because I’m in shock, though the film does depict a number of truly horrific and violent situations. And not because I’m blinded by completely uncritical love, because the film is far from perfect, and I recognize that. The reason Precious has stuck with me is because it is, by all accounts, an extremely well-made film. The acting is tremendous and the visuals feel authentic. And, best of all, the film is filled with strong, nuanced, and interesting female characters. In a time when women are often relegated to forgettable romantic comedies and bit parts in “male-centric” films, and when plus-sized women and women of color barely star in mainstream films at all, Precious is a welcomed break from typical multiplex fare.

I want to start by addressing the criticisms of Precious, because many of them are valid. The material is bleak — at times, perhaps, too bleak. Considering the lack of decent portrayals of people of color in film today, do we really need another film that highlights all the most negative things that might happen to a young woman of color?

From Racialicious:

So when I found out Push was being adapted for the silver screen, I cringed at the prospect of revisiting Precious’s bleakly rendered world. I dreaded watching in technicolor all the awful things I’d imagined while reading. And I reeeally didn’t want to return to the hollowness that haunted the ending. What possible reason would Hollywood have for further dramatizing an existence as heinous as Precious’s?

It was certainly something to think about. Black American dramas have the tendency to pull their viewers into dark corners and assault them. The grittiest ripped-from-the-headlines realities and the woes so commonplace the news doesn’t bother covering them at all bogart their way into our fiction. Push will be no exception and I wasn’t sure if I should be pleased about that.

And, at the same time, the response to the film, though overwhelmingly positive, has tended to be superficial. As Latoya writes:

While Precious puts forth an array of issues, these are not engaged with by the reviewers. Is it because of the heaviness of the subject matter? Perhaps. But I find it interesting that I have seen more discussion of Mariah Carey appearing without make-up than any discussion of the underlying issues in the film.

Finally, there is the significant issue of colorism. Though Precious Jones has dark skin, the women of color who help her have light skin. While this is problematic all on its own, it’s even more of an issue when one considers that this casting doesn’t actually reflect the character descriptions in the book Push. Feministing has more:

In the book, the description of Blue Rain, the half-messiah, half-educator that delivers Precious from the bondage of illiteracy and abuse is as follows: “She dark, got nice face, big eyes, and…long dreadlocky hair.” (39-40) This character in the movie is played by Paula Patton, a light-skinned African American woman with straightened hair. By no means do I doubt the talent of Patton, but it means something that the directors chose to cast one of the most central characters of the film against Sapphire’s original description.

None of these issues can be ignored in discussing this film. And, sadly, these are the problems that will prevent Precious from being a great film, rather than just a very good film. In particular, I wonder why the decision to cast Paula Patton and Mariah Carey was made. While both women deliver fantastic performances, it’s hard to believe that there weren’t any actresses of equal talent who fit more closely to Sapphire’s descriptions. Though I haven’t read Push, it is my understanding that Blu Rain (the character played by Patton) is meant to be the positive embodiment of everything Precious dislikes in herself and her mother. The casting of a light-skinned woman makes this point much less clear, and it’s disappointing that Lee Daniels and the others involved in the casting of Precious didn’t do more to be true to Sapphire’s intents.

All that being said — Precious is still a very, very good film. Both Gabourey Sidibe and Mo’Nique deliver career-defining performances; this was Sidibe’s first film, and I hope we’ll be seeing much more of her in the coming years. And all of the female characters, including Precious, her mother, Blu Rain, Mrs. Weiss (a social worker, played by Carey), and the other girls in Precious’ GED class, are well developed and complicated. For instance, though Precious’ mother is characterized as a villain, I don’t think she can be seen in such polarizing terms. Though she commits horrible acts of violence and abuse against Precious throughout the film, we learn that there’s more to her than meets the eye and that her actions (as horrifying as they may be) are motivated by her own fears and insecurities. She may be a villain, to some degree, but she isn’t evil — much like Precious, she’s a victim of her own circumstances, and she is forced to make difficult choices. A similar character in another film may be depicted as completely one-dimensional, but Mo’Nique’s performance shows us that there is more to this woman — and to all of the women in the film, for that matter — than what initially appears on the surface.

Another strength is the way in which Precious handles its subject matter. Certainly, all of the issues addressed in the film — including (but not limited to) rape, incest, teen pregnancy, poverty and illiteracy — have been addressed before by other films, and when addressing such topics, it’s all too easy to come off sounding preachy or melodramatic. Precious does not fall in to this trap. Precious addresses these topics honestly and directly, never undermining the horror of it all but still making it clear that these are real aspects of life, and that they aren’t death sentences. Though the character Precious is forced to deal with a huge number of issues that no young woman should ever need to face, the audience is not supposed to pity her. Precious is too strong a character for that. Though the film ends on an ambiguous note, I left the theatre confident that she would go on and do well in life, because I had just spent the past two hours watching her face incredible odds and constantly surviving them with grace. We don’t want to see Precious experience all of the terrible situations she encounters, but we never fear or doubt her. She is clear-headed and determined, and she is a fantastic role model for all young women, from all walks of life. And we ultimately feel empathy, not pity, for her.

If you haven’t had an opportunity to see Precious, I highly recommend checking it out. It’s a flawed film, and it’s not something that will appeal to everyone. But for all its faults, Precious remains a strong film that addresses a wide variety of issues that need to be discussed candidly in film more often. And, if nothing else, it’s bound to be one of the most feminist movies you see this year.

Carrie Polansky is one of the Editors of Gender Across Borders. She graduated from Emerson College in 2008 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Visual and Media Arts (and a minor in Women’s and Gender Studies). Today, she works for an LGBT nonprofit organization in NYC and continues to be passionate about media and feminism.

Independent Spirit Award Nominations: A Closer Look

As I took a closer look at the list of nominees for the Independent Spirit Awards, I couldn’t believe, once again, how many of the films are male-driven. While this list certainly involves many more female-driven films than is usually the case with Oscar nominees or even Golden Globe nominees, I still can’t help feeling frustrated by this. I was immediately reminded of the words of Eileen Hunter, a guest reviewer of the film Pirate Radio. She wrote:
I had a discussion with my husband after the film, and pointed out that most women perceive themselves as the protagonists of their own lives, not as an avid audience for men as they play out their stories. My experience throughout my life when watching movies like this has been to desperately try to find a place for myself among the male characters …

… The sad thing about this film is that I could have really enjoyed it otherwise. As I was watching it I wondered why I was feeling so fatigued, and I realized it was because it was yet another time that I was expected to happily stand in the sidelines and watch boys have lots of fun. That’s such a bummer to me nowadays that I can’t even pretend to be enthused anymore.

And that’s pretty much how I feel right now, after examining the nominees and realizing that, with the exception of Precious, every single female-driven film that was nominated for an Independent Spirit Award (with the possible exception of a few of the performance-related nominees) is, in fact, a non-English language film. (Note: An Education, though an English-language film, is still considered a foreign film—and is nominated in that category—because it’s from the UK.)
So, what gives? What do all the readers think about this phenomenon? Is it that we’re just not making progressive films in the U.S.? And is a female-driven film something we should actually have to consider progressive at this point?
Below, I’ve listed the nominated films and have gathered a brief synopsis of each from either imdb or rotten tomatoes. For the films that don’t seem to be exclusively either male- or female-driven, I’ve listed them as ensemble-driven. (One could argue, as I did in my review, that a romantic comedy like 500 Days of Summer treats the male as the protagonist and might not fit in the ensemble-driven category, but it walks a fine line, so I’ll leave it off the male-driven list.)

Male-Driven Film Nominees

Zero Bridge: In occupied Kashmir, where every day is another lesson in survival, a teenage petty criminal’s last chance at escape is threatened when he faces a moral crisis over his last victim. (Urdu/English)

Humpday: Two guys take their bromance to another level when they participate in an art film project.

Big Fan: Paul Aufiero, a hardcore New York Giants football fan, struggles to deal with the consequences when he is beaten up by his favorite player.

A Serious Man: A black comedy set in 1967 and centered on Larry Gopnik, a Midwestern professor who watches his life unravel when his wife prepares to leave him because his inept brother won’t move out of the house.

Two Lovers: A Brooklyn-set romantic drama about a bachelor torn between the family friend his parents wish he would marry and his beautiful but volatile new neighbor.

A Single Man: A story that centers on an English professor who, after the sudden death of his partner tries to go about his typical day in Los Angeles.

The Messenger: An American soldier struggles with an ethical dilemma when he becomes involved with a widow of a fallen officer.

Easier With Practice: In an effort to promote his unpublished novel, Davy Mitchell sets out on a road trip with his younger brother.

Crazy Heart: Bad Blake is a broken-down, hard-living country music singer who’s had way too many marriages, far too many years on the road and one too many drinks way too many times. And yet, Bad can’t help but reach for salvation with the help of Jean, a journalist who discovers the real man behind the musician.

Anvil: At 14, best friends Robb Reiner and Lips made a pact to rock together forever. Their band, Anvil, hailed as the “demi-gods of Canadian metal,” influenced a musical generation that includes Metallica, Slayer, and Anthrax, despite never hitting the big time.

More Than a Game: This documentary follows NBA superstar LeBron James and four of his talented teammates through the trials and tribulations of high school basketball in Ohio and James’ journey to fame.

Un Prophete: A young Arab man is sent to a French prison where he becomes a mafia kingpin. (French/Arabic/Corsican)

Adventureland: A comedy set in the summer of 1987 and centered around a recent college grad who takes a nowhere job at his local amusement park, only to find it’s the perfect course to get him prepared for the real world.

The Vicious Kind: A man tries to warn his brother away from the new girlfriend he brings home during Thanksgiving, but ends up becoming infatuated with her in the process.

Cold Souls: Paul Giamatti stars as himself, agonizing over his interpretation of “Uncle Vanya.” Paralyzed by anxiety, he stumbles upon a solution via a New Yorker article about a high-tech company promising to alleviate suffering by extracting souls.

Bad Lieutenant: While investigating a young nun’s rape, a corrupt New York City police detective, with a serious drug and gambling addiction, tries to change his ways and find forgiveness.

Female-Driven Film Nominees

Treeless Mountain: In Seoul, Korea, two sisters must look after one another when their mother leaves them to search for their estranged father. (Korean)

Sin Nombre: Honduran teenager Sayra reunites with her father, an opportunity for her to potentially realize her dream of a life in the U.S. Moving to Mexico is the first step in a fateful journey of unexpected events. (Spanish)

Precious: In Harlem, an overweight, illiterate teen who is pregnant with her second child is invited to enroll in an alternative school in hopes that her life can head in a new direction.

Amreeka: A drama centered on an immigrant single mother and her teenage son in small town Illinois. (English/Arabic)

Everlasting Moments: In a time of social change and unrest, war and poverty, a young working class woman, Maria, wins a camera in a lottery. The decision to keep it alters her whole life. (Swedish/Finnish)

The Maid: A drama centered on a maid trying to hold on to her position after having served a family for 23 years. (Spanish)

Mother: A woman is forced to investigate a murder after her son is wrongfully accused of the crime. (Korean)

An Education: A coming-of-age story about a teenage girl in 1960s suburban London, and how her life changes with the arrival of a playboy nearly twice her age. (English, from the UK)

Ensemble-Driven Film Nominees

The New Year Parade: When Mike and Lisa separate, their children suffer quietly in the middle of the annual Mummer’s Parade.

The Last Station: The Countess Sofya, wife and muse to Leo Tolstoy, uses every trick of seduction on her husband’s loyal disciple, whom she believes was the person responsible for Tolstoy signing a new will that leaves his work and property to the Russian people.

500 Days of Summer: An offbeat romantic comedy about a woman who doesn’t believe true love exists, and the young man who falls for her.

Paranormal Activity: After moving into a suburban home, a couple becomes increasingly disturbed by a nightly demonic presence.

Which Way Home: Which Way Home is a feature documentary film that follows unaccompanied child migrants, on their journey through Mexico, as they try to reach the United States. (English/Spanish)

October Country: October Country is a beautifully filmed portrait of an American family struggling for stability while haunted by the ghosts of war, teen pregnancy, foster care and child abuse.

Food, Inc.: An unflattering look inside America’s corporate controlled food industry.

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About a month ago, Publisher’s Weekly made news with its list of the Top Ten Best Books of 2009. Not surprisingly, the list included no women, and the group WILLA: Women in Letters and Literary Arts, spoke out strongly against the embarrassing omission. They decided to compile their own list, with the help of anyone wanting to contribute, called Great Books By Women In 2009. As awards season for films continues to gain momentum, and considering past and current evidence of the omission of women in all areas of film, I’d love to see us come up with a list of Great Female-Driven Films of 2009. Leave your favorites in the comments section!

Antichrist Roundup

Lars Von Trier’s new film Antichrist opens in select cities on October 23, and already the controversy surrounding the film’s potential misogyny has the web and blogosphere buzzing. Much of it has to do with the Cannes Film Festival giving the director an anti-award. In the article, “Antichrist gets an anti-award in Cannes,” Jay Stone writes:
The ecumenical jury—which gives prizes for movies that promote spiritual, humanist and universal values—announced a special anti-award to Antichrist.

“We cannot be silent after what that movie does,” said Radu Mihaileanu, a French filmmaker and head of an international jury that announced the awards Saturday.

In a statement, Mihaileanu said Antichrist is “the most misogynist movie from the self-proclaimed biggest director in the world,” a reference to a statement by Danish filmmaker Lars Von Trier at a post-screening news conference. The movie, Mihaileanu added, says that the world has to burn women in order to save humanity.

And, the New York Times article, “Away From It All, in Satan’s Church” by Dave Kehr summarizes the film as follows:

Antichrist is the story of a woman (Ms. Gainsbourg) who blames herself for the accidental death of her young son. With her husband (Willem Dafoe), a cognitive therapist, she retreats to a cabin in the woods with the hope of working through her debilitating grief. But rather than a source of calm and comfort, the forest manifests itself as an infernal maelstrom of grisly death and feverish reproduction. Seeing herself as another “bad mother,” Ms. Gainsbourg’s nameless character identifies with this nature, red in tooth and claw, and descends from depression to insanity. “Nature is Satan’s church,” she proclaims, before moving on to acts of worship that will have some viewers looking away from the screen (if not fleeing the theater).

Great, another film about a woman falling victim to the Bad Mother complex while her husband desperately tries to save her from her inability to not get all irrational and insane and shit. But what I find so interesting about the controversy surrounding Von Trier’s latest probable woman- hatefest (see Dancer in the Dark and Dogville for similar themes) is that many people who’ve seen it argue that Antichrist actually takes religion to task, illustrating its harmful contribution to the continued second-class citizenship of women.

I haven’t even seen this yet (will I?) and I’m skeptical to say the least. A film that, according to Cannes judges, positions a woman as essentially evil, unapologetically physically abusive to her husband, and in the end, so self-loathing that she cuts off her own clitoris, well, yeah, I’ve got some skepticism about the whole “but he’s merely exploring misogyny!” theme. However, through my web and blogosphere research, I’ve found that many reviews and articles attempt to argue that exact point—Von Trier’s latest film has nothing to do with misogyny.

Take a look at some of the following excuses I mean apologies I mean theories about Antichrist and the description of how it actually (heh) portrays women (or how it doesn’t intend to say anything about women at all).

Landon Palmer at Film School Rejects writes:

Antichrist has received many an accusation of being misogynistic. There’s certainly an argument to be made there, and the film will no doubt become a central text in feminist film theory and criticism, coupled with von Trier’s history of treating his lead actresses in not the most respectful manner (many of which have consequently resulted in some of the best performances of their careers, including Gainsbourg’s). But to call Antichrist misogynistic is like saying American Beauty is a movie the champions pedophilia. Just because the idea is introduced and explored does not mean the standpoint of the film, the filmmaker, or how we perceive the film simply and directly runs in line with that. To make such an accusation is dismissive and simplistic, ignoring the many of ideas going on in a film whose central flaw lies in its very ambition. That the message of Antichrist is confused and muddled is a reaction to be expected, but the accusation of misogyny entails a frustrated preemptive refusal to explore the film any further. If Antichrist should be lauded for anything, it’s the many debates on sexism, the depiction of violence, the responsibility and influence of the filmmaker, and the important differences between meaning intended by the filmmaker and meaning interpreted by the audience. But the only way these debates can be constructive is if one genuinely attempts to view this film outside its now-notorious knee-jerk reactions at Cannes and take it at face value.

I agree—the debate is refreshing. We’re actually talking about misogyny. In film. But why the desperate attempts to defend Antichrist against accusations of misogyny? Have these defenders gone to the movies lately? You can’t even see a movie that doesn’t on some level reflect our cultural values and beliefs, and unfortunately, we live in a society that still strongly portrays women in film through embarrassingly and unapologetically sexist, misogynist stereotypes. And they especially run rampant in the supposed oh-so-inoffensive, “perfect date movie!”: the romantic comedy. (To be honest, I often wonder if these supposed film critics can even identify misogyny.)

But perhaps more important than the apologism of critics like Palmer: Von Trier actually hired a misogynist consultant who took part in an interview regarding her role in researching centuries worth of misogyny (so that he could include it in the film). In the interview, she says:

Antichrist shows completely new aspects of woman and adds a lot of nuance to von Trier’s earlier portraits of women, but you can’t really tell from his films what his own actual view on women is, just like you can’t conclude from Fight Club that Palahniuk wants to promote more violence in society. Art doesn’t work that way. The good question is why it is such a provocation for so many to be confronted with the image of woman as powerful, sexual and even brutal?

If that weren’t enough, she also wrote her own piece, arguing that:

The indictment against women I composed for Von Trier sums up the many misogynistic views all the way back to Aristotle, whose observations of nature led him to conclude that “the female is a mutilated male”. Should we avoid staring into that abyss or should we acknowledge this male anxiety, perhaps even note with satisfaction that women are mostly described as very powerful beings by these anxious men?

Many of the defenders of Von Trier’s portrayal of women argue that he really attempts to explore people’s relationship to nature, or problems with psychiatry and an over-medicated society, or depression, or how we’re all inherently evil, or that it’s just too brilliant a film to even warrant analysis—it just needs to be experienced. Even Roger Ebert says:

I cannot dismiss this film. It is a real film. It will remain in my mind. Von Trier has reached me and shaken me. It is up to me to decide what that means. I think the film has something to do with religious feeling. It is obvious to anyone who saw “Breaking the Waves” that von Trier’s sense of spirituality is intense, and that he can envision the supernatural as literally present in the world.

But others came away from the film with an entirely different interpretation of being “shaken.” One of the most thought-provoking pieces I came across was an article in The Guardian, which asked several women—activists, artists, journalists, professors, and actors—to respond to Antichrist. Surprisingly, I felt like most of them dodged the “Is it misogynistic?” question by either choosing not to go there at all or barely glossing over it. Julie Bindel, however, had this to say:

No doubt this monstrous creation will be inflicted on film studies students in years to come. Their tutors will ask them what it “means”, prompting some to look at signifiers and symbolism of female sexuality as punishment, and of the torture-porn genre as a site of male resistance to female emancipation.

It is as bad as (if not worse than) the old “video nasty” films of the 80s, such as I Spit On Your Grave or Dressed To Kill, against which I campaigned as a young feminist. I love gangster movies, serial killer novels and such like. But for me they have to contribute to our understanding of why such cruelty and brutality is inflicted by some people on others, rather than for the purposes of gruesome entertainment. If I am to watch a woman’s clitoris being hacked off, I want it to contribute to my understanding of female genital mutilation, not just allow me to see the inside of a woman’s vagina.

Alas, I haven’t seen the film. And because of that, I don’t have much commentary to offer, other than the opinions of the critics who have seen it, and to say that getting people talking about misogyny in film certainly pleases me. However, the over-intellectualization of films like Von Trier’s (and Tarantino’s and other misogynist directors) irritates me not only because it tends to dismiss accusations of misogyny with “but you just don’t get it!” language, but critics who use that language also fail to convey what, for them, would actually qualify as misogyny.

I personally can’t name the last film I watched where I couldn’t identify at least some form of misogyny, the most “harmless” of which (romantic comedies, bromances, Apatow) get rave reviews from critics with rarely a mention of the extremely detrimental portrayals of women as one-dimensional sidekicks, either virgins or whores, love interests, nagging wives, irrational/insane and conniving, etc. So, maybe another question to ask is, why should I trust them in this debate at all?

Regardless, check out the links below for more commentary on the film.

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Antichrist shows that men have objectified women as being closer to nature because of their roles as mothers and their natural cycles; and while that can sometimes be seen as a positive stereotype Antichrist makes the case that this particular objectification also renders women terrifyingly alien to men by linking them to the darker aspects of nature that men universally fear.

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The notion of the ‘punishment of women’ in his work is not only the outworking of themes dealing with patriarchal oppression, but it juxtaposes the brutality of the world (power, money, hatred, etc) with the spiritual (forgiveness, love, transcendence, etc). While there’s nothing original about this, it seems (judging by reviews) that many people simply don’t get it.

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Some critics say that the film is misogynist because the mother takes on to herself all the guilt and blame for the loss of her child, while the father seems almost completely untouched by it. I’d say that sounds rather more like misandry, but what do I know?

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Like a number of Von Trier’s films, Antichrist too can and has come under the scanner for its alleged misogyny. While the aggressor in this film, be it in terms of sex or violence, is the woman, seeing her as the Antichrist would do the film a great deal of injustice. Von Trier has certainly moved on from the helpless Golden Heart(ed) girl as a protagonist, and this time around, he doesn’t have an agenda.

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Just as much as Antichrist is sure to provoke debate, it is likely to provoke disdain. Despite providing a historical context (both in the film and in his own body of work) to explain his misogynistic premise, von Trier has already been attacked as a misogynist. Such a reading of Antichrist is oversimplified. This is a movie that dares audiences to declare either one of its characters an aggressor, especially since it situates each of them in a realm that shows nature to be just as aggressive itself.

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If Antichrist escapes being labelled a misogynist film, Gainsbourg’s fiercely committed screen presence will be the main reason—you sense she’s in control of this character in a way Von Trier isn’t. Indeed, that’s the other reason it’s hard to call Antichrist misogynist: Von Trier made it on such an instinctive level, apparently even incorporating images from the previous night’s dreams into that day’s shooting, that I’m not sure he consciously intended it to be either misogynistic or feminist.

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Dafoe elaborated: “It’s not saying anything about women. It doesn’t speak. It’s telling you a story that evokes many things. It’s telling you things about the relationship between men and women. I think Lars has a very romantic idea about women, and in this configuration the man is the rational guy, the fool who thinks he can save himself, and the woman is susceptible to things magical and poetic. And she also suffers from an illness. He’s identifying with women.”

He added that just because misogynistic things might happen in the movie, it doesn’t condone or encourage that attitude. “A woman being self-hating can happen, without saying that’s the nature of women.”

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Here is a film that explicitly confronts the director’s intertwined fears of primal nature and female sexuality. But does a fear of femaleness automatically equate to hatred? I’m not convinced that it does. Yes, the “She” character is anguished and irrational; a danger to herself and those around her. And yet for all that, she proves more vital, more powerful, and oddly more charismatic than “He”, the arrogant, doomed advocate of order and reason.

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The actresses who have worked alongside Von Trier often attest to his bizarre relationship with women. Kidman famously asked the director why he hates women, while Bjork was so disturbed on set that she began to consume her own sweater. All that highly negative press is probably what led to Von Trier hiring a misogyny specialist for his latest film, ‘Antichrist.’ But he needn’t have bothered. Anyone in their right mind (i.e. none of the characters in the film) would realize this movie is not about men or women, at all, but about the repercussions of depression. Misogyny requires a certain commitment to hating women while anyone who knows anything about depression is aware that those afflicted with it have no attachment to anything at all.

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