This show doesn’t say that all women should not be kidnapped, murdered, and raped. It says White cisgender heterosexual women, particularly ones who are young, skinny, and meet current White cultural expectations of beauty, should not be kidnapped, murdered, and raped. While the show was not cancelled after its first season, the second season showed more “nice guy” characters, probably to placate White male viewers who had a problem with the basics of White feminism depicted in the first season.
During the Second World War, Bletchley Park was the UK’s central site of its Government Code and Cypher School. It was at Bletchley Park where Alan Turing and many others decoded Nazi and Axis intelligence, bringing the war to an end two to four years earlier than it could have stretched, saving thousands of lives. The BBC’s TV series The Bletchley Circle follows four (and later, five) fictional White female Bletchley Park code breakers in their lives after the war in the 1950s, during which they start solving crimes. The first season premiered in September of 2012, and the series did not return until April and May of 2014. During the second season there was a female director on the show, and, while there had always been White feminist aspects to the show, the writer Guy Burt’s theme of (White) women standing up for (White) women was taken to a whole new level under Sarah Harding’s direction. That this White (and somewhat) feminist show, which was written by and often directed by White men, was not renewed despite mainly addressing only the basics of White feminism – that (White) women shouldn’t be kidnapped, murdered, and raped (in the first season, the villain worked in that order) – is upsetting. This is the most palatable kind of feminism for rich White men, and yet even this story is silenced.
Not only is the story “palatable,” but the heroines themselves are written as overly “perfect” and not very “threatening.” They are kind, intelligent, empathetic, humble, and rarely confront the men in their lives for their condescension and sexist comments and actions. Meanwhile, shows about White men who solve crimes show the “heroes” as egotistic, unkind, confrontational, and violent. The shows about these male heroes and anti-heroes are everywhere on television, and they get renewed again and again. There is hardly a man or Woman of Color to be seen in The Bletchley Circle, and all of the romances of the characters, all of whom are cisgender, have been heterosexual. This show doesn’t say that all women should not be kidnapped, murdered, and raped. It says White cisgender heterosexual women, particularly ones who are young, skinny, and meet current White cultural expectations of beauty, should not be kidnapped, murdered, and raped. While the show was not cancelled after its first season, the second season showed more “nice guy” characters, probably to placate White male viewers who had a problem with the basics of White feminism depicted in the first season. Though the heroines were still standing up for each other and saving themselves from “bad” guys, the show started depicting more “nice guys” on which the heroines could not only occasionally rely, but also date. The most prominent of these “nice guys” was offended that the character Lucy did not trust him right away, and the show seemed to say that she should have trusted him. If this man is supposed to be an ally to women, a male feminist, then why was he so offended?
Lucy
It would have been different if this were the start of a character arc, one that showed a man just starting his journey as an ally, showing him making mistakes and learning from them. However, that’s not what happened, and was essentially a “not all men” argument displayed in story form. This is especially problematic because the writer chose Lucy out of all the other female characters to be put in this position. Lucy, played by Sophie Rundle, is quieter and seemingly more “submissive” than the other White female characters, seeming to more easily fit into what is traditionally desired of White women by the White patriarchy. However, being quiet, submissive, “feminine,” and marrying young does not save her from violence at the hands of men.
Lucy’s husband is verbally and physically controlling and abusive. In one day, she is almost raped by a man on the train, only to return home where her husband nearly kills her. And yet, she is shamed for not having trusted this “nice” male coworker in the second season right away? Made to feel embarrassed for being wary of this man who has been overtly flirting with her? Wary of this man who is sometimes condescending to her and gives backhanded compliments? This was seemingly a story line to comfort White male viewers who were made uncomfortable by the basics of White feminism and by White women saving and supporting White women. Instead of Lucy being “the ball,” as Anita Sarkeesian states, in a “nice” men vs “bad” men competition, she is saved from “bad” men by fellow women and her own strength. Though there are times when men assist and support the women of the show, the women are the ones leading the fight against sexism and violence against women. Evidently, many White cismale and (mostly) heterosexual viewers and studio execs were made uncomfortable by the notion that these White women are, for the most part, not saved by White men, but by themselves.
Susan
The first season has The Bletchley Circle, led by protagonist Susan (played by Anna Maxwell Martin), solving a serial murder case in which a man is killing women and raping them post-mortem. While the villain could easily have been made into a straw-chauvinist by the male screenwriter to make the other male characters look good, this is not the case. In fact, it is often in regard to the serial murder case that the misogyny in the other male characters surfaces. This underlines the fact that the allowance of microaggressions sets the stage for more blatant sexism, which then makes violence against women and girls more permissible in Western society, and thus creating a culture where rape and violence against women and girls by men and boys is often excused, not taken seriously, and not thoroughly addressed. When Susan’s husband accuses her of neglecting her duties as a mother due to her not staying home as often as he would like, the truth is that she was being a good mother by trying to make the world safer for their daughter and not as damaging to the character of their son.
In the first story arc of the second season, Susan is naturally still traumatized by events of the first season, which include almost being murdered and raped by the villain. Though she leaves the crime solving life behind, she does not leave it until she makes certain that the circle is in good and capable hands. This adds realism to the story in that trauma is not something that can just go away or be ignored, especially not at a moment’s notice. However, it is sad that this rare and realistic portrayal of a hero and the trauma they face was done with one of the few positive and complex female leads of television, while male heroes of similar shows are not shown dealing with their trauma in any where near as realistic a way. They stay on their shows and keep “fighting the good fight” for years despite whatever trauma they face.
The Bletchley Circle, including Alice and Lizzie
Though the show’s cast were always a sort of ensemble, they become more so in the second season. The capable hands in which Susan leaves the circle belong to Alice (played by Hattie Morahan). Alice fits more easily into White cultural expectations of beauty than Susan does, being blonde, blue-eyed, taller and thinner. However, the character is complex, and instead of her “taking charge” of the team, she is welcomed into it, helps in the ways that she can, and the show becomes more of an ensemble than it was previously. This is not to say that Susan was always “taking charge,” just that she pulled the team together in the first place and the script followed her story more than the others. Susan had a child out of wedlock, and was forced to give up the child to adoption due to stigma and cultural standards. During the second season, she reconnects with her now adult daughter Lizzie (played by Faye Marsay), and the two form a sort of warm friendship rarely seen between women on TV and film. The other women of the circle never judge Alice for having sex and a child out of wedlock, nor do they judge each other for whatever choices they make. Shy and conservative Lucy never judges Millie (played by Rachael Stirling), the more outgoing one who likes tight fitting clothing, make-up, and the color red, and Millie never judges Lucy. Jean, the “mother hen” played by Julie Graham, is not judged for being a mature single woman, nor does she judge her younger female friends in their choices. Not only do these women save each others lives, but they also support each other as friends in their personal lives, outside life as code breakers and crime solvers.
Millie
In the second arc of the second season, which is the final arc of the show, the story follows Millie just as much if not more than Alice. This is possibly what lead more to the end of the show than other aspects of it. Millie has arguably more autonomy than any of the other characters. Though she is shamed for “getting in trouble” with the Greek mob, what lead her to it was not her fault. She was laid off from work with the government despite being one of the best workers there and having had a history with them, most certainly due to being a female employee. In order to stay financially dependent, she started selling unsanctioned perfume and stockings, not realizing that she was helping the Greek mob in the process. When she realizes that she is helping people who, among other things, traffic underage girls, she works with her female friends to bring the operation down, which they do with very minimal help from “nice” guys. That the female character who is seemingly most in control of her sexuality is the heroine of this arc was probably threatening to male viewers, and probably the reason why this story arc was the show’s last. In rape culture, women supposed to be sexualized but not be sexual. That Millie, a sexual woman, stopped the sexualization of women and girls was “threatening” to rape culture and patriarchy.
This show has strong feminist aspects and is arguably feminist. If it had been allowed to continue, its feminism would most likely have become stronger, and hopefully would have eventually shown Women of Color supporting each other. As it stands, this show that only really showed the basics of White feminism was cancelled, while shows that promote White male supremacy continue to air.
Esmeralda is a multi-faceted female character who deserves more attention, especially as she has been denied Disney Princess status. There has been little news about it since 2013, and like the stage musical, it seems to have been shelved, or at least is still being worked, and reworked, upon. Certainly, before they can premiere or re-premiere, these pieces need work in regard to racial sensitivity. As someone who has followed the progress of Disney’s stage musical, I know that small steps have been taken, such as the inclusion of the word “Roma,” in the stage musical, though the word “Gypsy” is still offensively used much more frequently.
As announced yesterday, April 6, Paper Mill Playhouse’s production of Disney’s stage musical The Hunchback of Notre Dame will not be transferred to Broadway. This news has come only two days before the International Day of the Roma on April 8. “Roma” describes many different groups of people of similar ethnic and cultural origin, specifically who immigrated under persecution from Northern India into Europe, and who have pejoratively been called “Gypsies,” due to the inaccurate belief that they originated in Egypt. Roma play a large part in Victor Hugo’s novel and in Disney’s film and stage musical.
The stage musical is a loose adaptation of Disney’s animated movie musical, which in turn is a very loose adaptation of Victor Hugo’s novel, Notre Dame De Paris. The stage musical was workshopped in New York, made into a full production in Germany, recently re-imagined and put up at La Jolla Playhouse in California, and then transferred to and altered at Paper Mill Playhouse. The animated film “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” is more explicit in adult themes than many of Disney’s other films. Among its adult themes, it addresses race, racial discrimination, and even the subject of genocide, all in regard to Roma. As Roma and their history often face erasure, especially in the regard to the genocide of Roma both during and prior to World War II and The Holocaust, it is important that Roma be positively, respectfully, and more often depicted in the media, and for racism against them to be thoroughly and accurately addressed.
Esmeralda in Disney’s animated film The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Unlike Hugo’s novel, which villainizes Roma, Disney attempts to dispel some of the negative stereotypes surrounding Roma, and is definitely against physical violence in regard to them. However, Disney’s attempts at an anti-racist message are undermined by various aspects of its own film, including, but certainly not limited to, its use of the racial slur “Gypsy” throughout the film by both villains and protagonists, and by the overt sexualization of Esmeralda, the musical’s leading lady. Unlike in Hugo’s novel, Disney’s Esmeralda was not just raised by but is ethnically Roma, and is also an independent and multi-faceted female character. Though vocal about the rights of her people and the rights of others, Esmeralda does not, nor does any other character, point out to the villains and the audience that “Gypsy” is a racial slur, and nor, have I found in the film, are the words “Roma” or “Romani” ever used. Though a woman having sexual autonomy is a positive message, Disney has historically sexualized Women of Color, especially in the 1990s, and in ways that it has not sexualized its White female characters. This reinforces rape culture with the harmful message that White women need to remain “pure” and Women of Color can be lusted after and pursued sexually, specifically by White men, without constraint.
Though the villain Frollo’s sexual harassment of Esmeralda is depicted as wrong, White Captain of the Guard Phoebus also lusts after her. In their first scene together, Phoebus walks a fine line between sexual harassment and flirtation in his comments to Esmeralda. In the scene, she feels threatened by him, afraid he will arrest or hurt her. When it becomes clear that Phoebus came to talk to Esmeralda due to romantic and sexual interest, she oddly sees this as nonthreatening and becomes less defensive, despite her people’s history of being sexually assaulted, enslaved, fetishized, and marginalized by White men. Eventually, Esmeralda and Phoebus become a romantic couple. In the original novel, Phoebus uses Esmeralda as a sexual conquest and later oversees her unjust execution, with the “real” tragedy being that she turns out to not be ethnically Roma after all, and not that such violence and racism is inherently wrong. The Disney film and the stage musical end Phoebus’ character arc with him standing up for Esmeralda and her people in the face of violence, persecution, and genocide. For being anti-genocide, Phoebus is problematically rewarded with a relationship with Esmeralda. The fact that Disney’s stance of being anti-rape and anti-genocide of People of Color was considered progressive in the 1990s, and even considered progressive today, is incredibly sad. Erasure, micro-aggressions, and fetishization are also acts of violence, and set the stage for more overt forms of violence to be carried out and tolerated in the first place.
Esmeralda and Phoebus at the end of the film.
Though leading man Quasimodo is also Roma, he is problematically drawn as White-passing, looking little like his parents, who are depicted at the beginning of the film. Quasimodo has a hunched back and other rare physical features, and through his character the film emphasizes that a person’s character is more important than their physical appearance. In light of this message, there are continued arguments in Disney fandom about how Quasimodo “deserved” Esmeralda more than Phoebus, which often unintentionally objectifies Esmeralda even further as a “reward.” It is also problematic that the “looks don’t matter” message is written beside a message of racial tolerance, as this encourages the audience to “not see race” or “look past race,” as if non-White ethnicities are flaws to be “looked past,” or ignored and left unseen. If a White person adopts the label of being “colorblind,” it often silences any argument in opposition to when they say or do something racist, such as sexualizing and fetishizing People of Color, as Disney and its character Phoebus do in regard to Esmeralda.
It was announced in 2013 that Disney was in “talks” to make a TV show/miniseries of the story of The Hunchback of Notre Dame from Esmeralda’s point of view. More media from the perspective of Women of Color certainly need to be made, and positive representation of Roma is definitely lacking. Esmeralda is a multi-faceted female character who deserves more attention, especially as she has been denied Disney Princess status. There has been little news about it since 2013, and like the stage musical, it seems to have been shelved, or at least is still being worked, and reworked, upon. Certainly, before they can premiere or re-premiere, these pieces need work in regard to racial sensitivity. As someone who has followed the progress of Disney’s stage musical, I know that small steps have been taken, such as the inclusion of the word “Roma,” in the stage musical, though the word “Gypsy” is still offensively used much more frequently.
Ciara Renée as Esmeralda in Disney’s stage musical The Hunchback of Notre Dame
After casting notices stating that Disney was looking for someone “exotic” (fetishization much?) to play Esmeralda were released, talented mixed-race Black actress Ciara Renée was cast as Esmeralda, and played her both at La Jolla Playhouse and Paper Mill Playhouse. Seeing a Black woman sing “God Help The Outcasts” and “Someday” during the #blacklivesmatter movement certainly makes the subject of race more tangible to a contemporary American audience, and yet racial minorities and marginalized groups, dubbed “outcasts” by the White male team behind Disney’s musical, are not interchangeable, nor does each group face the same kind of struggles and discrimination as another. Disney Theatrical Productions has a history of seeing non-White races as interchangeable, as seen in its ethnically diverse casting of Aladdin, which problematically was completely devoid of Arab and Arab-American performers. Though the argument can be made that casting a Person of Color of a different ethnicity than the Character of Color they are to portray, whether in the case of Esmeralda or Aladdin and Jasmine, is arguably better than White-washing the character, especially as there are so few theatrical roles written for People of Color, especially Women of Color, Disney certainly needs to learn the specific histories and challenges faced by the ethnic groups it attempts to depict if it is going to thoroughly, accurately, and respectfully address race and racism.
The music of Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame is beautiful, and the actors who have been cast in its various incarnations have all been extremely talented. The subjects the story addresses need to be addressed, both for child and adult audience members. It is for these reasons that it is sad that Disney’s stage musical is being denied a chance on Broadway yet again, and that the Esmeralda-centric TV series has apparently been shelved. However, Disney still has a lot to learn in regard to how to address matters of race, and a lot of alterations still left to make in its adaptations and its approach to storytelling.
Though the villain of ‘Oliver & Company’ is a loan shark, the film mainly portrays poverty as something that just happens through strokes of bad luck, and which doesn’t have institutionalized causes via intersectional oppression from a capitalist society.
Disney’s Oliver & Company (1988), which is very loosely based on Charles Dickens’s novel Oliver Twist, is about an anthropomorphic ginger male kitten named Oliver, voiced by Joey Lawrence, navigating New York City and trying to find a sense of belonging. In his day-to-day-survival, Oliver in confronted with issues of class, race, and gender. The title of the film is both indicative of a stage musical “company,” as the animated film is a musical, that of a business company, due to its economic and capitalist themes and its taking place in bustling metropolis New York City, and even to companionship itself, highlighted by most of the characters being companion animals. Oliver eventually finds a friend and what Bitch Flick’s Brigit McCone refers to as an “unruly mentor[s]” in Dodger, a mutt Terrier voiced by Billy Joel, who introduces himself with the song “Why Should I Worry?”
Dodger and Oliver
While Oliver may seemingly be the protagonist of the film, the audience in encouraged to see Dodger as the hero that Oliver learns to see him as, and the story is largely from Dodger’s White cismale heterosexual perspective. While Dodger is a flawed character, he is also shown as the ideal urban dog/man, who is going to “cross that line” into success despite his impoverished past. He states that he belongs anywhere, and that he is “love[d]” in every part of town and by all kinds of people/dogs. In the same scene, if not sentence, he switches between slang, Spanish, and a use of language showing “higher” learning. As Natshee Blu Barnd states in her essay “White Man’s Best Friend: Race and Privilege in Oliver and Company,” Dodger is representative of a mixed European heritage, a sort of White “mutt,” and is representative of a blue-collar worker who feels he can “own” the town and is capable of “wear[ing] the crown” of fame and monetary success.
Tito
Dodger is able to feel comfortable wherever he goes and with whomever in the city, but Dodger’s friend, Tito, a Chihuahua voiced by Chicano comedian Cheech Marin and whose character is written to exhibit some harmful stereotypes of Latino men, does not have this same privilege. Both Tito’s speaking patterns and behaviors are frequently criticized by other characters, including Dodger. In order for Tito to be even slightly included by mainstream or upper class White society, or even in Dodger’s company (in every sense of the word), he is pressured to change himself, such as when the wealthy White Georgette attempts to make him wear clothing she finds more acceptable of a romantic partner. While Dodger’s appropriation of various cultures is considered “cool,” Tito’s very identity is considered comic relief, at best, despite both him and Dodger being poor, both stealing, both wearing bandanas, and both being able to switch back and forth between English and Spanish. The fact that Dodger is voiced by Billy Joel, a musician capitalizing on a working class background and appropriation of the musical styles and culture of People of Color, is not coincidental.
Rita
Tito, representative of a Man of Color, gets more screen time than Rita, a character coded to be a Woman of Color, most likely Afro-Puerto Rican. Both Rita’s speaking and singing voice actresses are Black (Sheryl Lee Ralph and Ruth Pointer), while she is drawn as an Afghan hound (a dog breed often incorrectly referred to as an “African hound”), but having a light brown coloring (though there are black Afghan hounds), and has a name often associated with Latinas. Rita is Dodger’s second in command of Fagin’s “gang,” Fagin being a White semi-homeless man who occasionally but often unsuccessfully steals and cons in order to survive, and who is voiced by Dom DeLuise. Rita and Dodger are good friends and possible love interests, and while they both show sexual interest in other dogs, Rita and Dodger are close and flirtatious with one another. However, Rita, the only female in Fagin’s “gang” of dogs, is always second to Dodger, and even though she questions him and makes fun of him, they do not have an equal partnership.
Rita is the closest character in the film to Dickens’s character Nancy, the sex worker with a heart of gold who protects Oliver. Oliver Twist was serialized from 1837-1839, and yet, sadly, Nancy has a more active role in the original story than Rita does in Disney’s 1988 film. Nancy goes against the wishes of her abusive boyfriend, Bill Sikes, to return Oliver to his grandfather and a wealthy lifestyle. She defies the men in her life, Bill and the successful criminal Fagin, for Oliver’s sake, and risks her own life to do what she thinks is right. Fagin manipulates Bill into murdering Nancy for this attempted act, since he fears it could compromise his safety and his pickpocketing business, but it is the murder of Nancy that brings down not only Bill, but also Fagin and his entire enterprise. Without the threat of these men, Oliver is able to live in safety and comfort with his wealthy grandfather. Though hardly a feminist character, Nancy is crucial to the story of Oliver Twist. Rita’s character in Oliver & Company has much less of a role, is no longer the leading lady, and is much less defiant to the male characters.
Rita and Oliver
Rita briefly “mammies” the young White Oliver in her song “Streets of Gold,” encouraging him to see New York City as less threatening and to see survival via crime as fun, before Dodger and the others push Oliver into being their “lookout.” Dodger talks before the song, makes room for Rita’s song, then abruptly ends the song, showing his dominance over Rita and controlling her contribution to the story. When it comes to physically protecting Oliver, the closest Rita comes to it is when she sees Oliver blissfully sleeping in Penny’s mansion, and says to Dodger “Honey, let’s just forget the whole thing” about taking Oliver back with them and into poverty once more. Dodger instead chooses to listen to Georgette, a rich White dog show champion, over Rita. The gang then successfully kidnaps Oliver, though it is later shown that Rita was correct in that Oliver is happier living with a rich young White girl than he is with them. Though Dodger declines a romantic or sexual entanglement with Georgette, he still prioritizes the opinion of a rich White poodle/woman over that of a poor Woman of Color’s, even despite having just met Georgette and having worked and lived closely with Rita for what appears to have been a very long time. It’s also sad that while Rita is based on a lower class character from the film’s source material, the film added in a new female character who is wealthy and who takes up more screen time, contributes more to the story, and has more of a character arc than Rita. Wealth and Whiteness are clearly privileged over poorness and Blackness, despite the supposed but badly executed moral of the film being acceptance of one another.
Dickens’s novel addresses poverty and crime in 19th century Britain, specifically London, though Dickens largely blames these issues on Jewish people, specifically “the old Jew” Fagin, though Dickens also in part blames unjust laws and political corruption. Though the villain of Oliver & Company is a loan shark, the film mainly portrays poverty as something that just happens through strokes of bad luck, and which doesn’t have institutionalized causes via intersectional oppression from a capitalist society. In fact, the film largely blames poor people for being poor, tells them not to “worry” about the challenges and the kinds of stigma they face, glamourizes acts of survival, and overall tells oppressed peoples to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, as it were. Rita shows how this oppression has been internalized when she tells Oliver she will teach him how “the best survive,” implying that poor and oppressed peoples who have difficulty surviving just aren’t “the best,” or at least need to trying harder at their survival. She “others” people who are like her, and teaches Oliver this “othering.” These “others” are implied to be unwilling to learn the “best” ways of surviving, and to be lazy. The story harmfully moralizes that if poor and oppressed people cannot get by without government programs such as SNAP, then they are just lazy, or at best just need to learn the correct way to “survive.” Instead of addressing the underlying causes of poverty and oppression, Oliver & Company gives the conflicting messages of “Why should [you] worry [about your own poverty]” and the message that if you can’t get by in life, it’s largely your own fault. Yet, even characters who find economic success are criticized.
Roscoe and Rita
Roscoe and Desoto are Dobermans coded as Black, and having shiny black fur; they work for the loan shark Sikes. Sikes demands strict obedience from Roscoe and Desoto, while the hierarchy in Fagin’s gang is more relaxed. Roscoe and Desoto are drawn very similarly to one another, differentiated only by their voices and their red and blue collars. Roscoe criticizes Rita, saying, “You know Rita, I can’t figure out why you’d rather hang around a dump like this when you could be living uptown with a class act, like myself.” Though the male dogs in Fagin’s “gang” are the ones to respond to Roscoe’s statement, criticizing his intellect and ego, Rita makes her reason in choosing to stay in Fagin’s “gang” clear. When Sikes summons Roscoe, Rita says, “Run along, Roscoe. Your master’s calling,” her speaking voice actress Sheryl Lee Ralph emphasizes the word “master” and Roscoe’s fierce loyalty obedience to a rich White man. While Rita is loyal to Fagin, a White semi-homeless man, and to Dodger, she is not under contract to heed their every call, unlike Roscoe is to Sikes. At the end of the film, Rita interrupts Dodger’s reprise of “Why Should I Worry,” changing it to “Why Should We Worry,” and pulls him away from ogling other female dogs, though this hardly upsets their status quo, and Dodger’s position of dominance is not undermined by the inclusion of her voice in his song.
Rita joins in Dodger’s song.
Sikes and his henchmen/dogs are shown to be the villains of the story due to their physical violence, but Dodger’s violence in interrupting or censoring Tito’s and Rita’s words and actions are harmfully shown as good leadership. Rita is permitted a short song of her own so as to benefit Oliver and Dodger. Tito, and other characters representative of People of Color never have their own songs, while White characters Dodger, Georgette, and Jenny do, with Dodger’s song being not only reprised, but being the film’s main theme. Inclusion in an oppressive system/Dodger’s privilege does not result in equality or equity for People of Color. As Audre Lorde famously said, “The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” Dodger allowing Rita to change his “I” to her and Tito’s “We” does not negate that Dodger constructed the song, and it is his words, his tune, and his message that he is permitting them to support. America is run by a White capitalist patriarchy, and like Dodger’s song, its occasional and token inclusion of People of Color does not make a post-racial and post-feminist world.
At its heart, ‘Ouran’ is about gender and, for better or worse, how it is perceived and performed. Though often praised and adored for its challenges to heteronormativity and gender roles through its range of characters, especially its protagonist, it ends up reinforcing heteronormativity and the gender binary to a large extent.
Written by Jackson Adler as part of our theme week on Asian Womanhood in Pop Culture.
Trigger Warning for sexual harassment and assault.
The anime/manga/(and, yes, there’s even a live action adaptation) Ouran High School Host Club is a satire of shoujo (girls’) manga and anime, which often have strong romantic elements to them, and the stereotypes and clichés usually found within them. An example of this is how the story’s protagonist Haruhi, who was assigned female at birth and for whom I am using gender neutral pronouns in this post, is far from the romantic and bashful “heroine” often found in these stories, and rarely appreciates the romantic gestures of the boys who fawn over them.
At its heart, Ouran is about gender and, for better or worse, how it is perceived and performed. Though often praised and adored for its challenges to heteronormativity and gender roles through its range of characters, especially its protagonist, it ends up reinforcing heteronormativity and the gender binary to a large extent.
The Ouran High School Host Club, with Haruhi center.
Real world host clubs have a bit of scandal and infamy attached to them. Traditionally, a host club is a place for rich men (and sometimes women) to talk with pretty young women who are hired to flirt with them, though there are a few host clubs with attractive young men who cater to rich women (and sometimes men). The idea of a high school host club turned many would-be readers off to the manga at first, as evidenced by the write-ins published in the manga, before the readers realized how tame the story is. Leading man Tamaki decided to create a host club of attractive young men (himself included) to cater to female students at his elitist high school because it seemed like a fun idea for a bored rich boy (and also because he has mommy issues).
The host and client interactions in the story are generally limited to hand holding, complimenting, and overall flirtatiousness. Haruhi attends Ouran High School on a merit scholarship, for which they applied due to the favorable academic environment, since they want to become a lawyer, like their late mother before them. By an accidental breaking of an expensive vase, Haruhi joins the host club, taking on the identity of a cisboy, in order to pay off the debt. This fate was largely decided for them, leading to financial abuse, and starting the beginning of a trend of the cismale characters to ignore Haruhi’s own autonomy. Haruhi is largely indifferent to how others perceive their gender, and, in Japanese, usually uses a gender neutral pronoun to refer to themselves. Haruhi does not seem to care much for labels, being largely apathetic to which pronouns are used by others for them, so whether the character, in English, could be interpreted to be genderqueer, agender, bigender, genderfluid, or even a transboy, what’s most important is that Haruhi identifies as Haruhi. However, most of the main characters see Haruhi as a girl, and treat them as such.
A number of the characters put Haruhi in situations in which they did not choose to be, and pressure them to wear feminine clothes when not working. Haruhi often shrugs off this ill treatment of them, and yet even when they call the their male schoolmates out on their sexual harassment of them, the boys ignore Haruhi’s protests. This is incredibly disturbing, since, while sexual harassment is still rampant in America, there are fewer laws against it in Japan, and there are no laws at all against sexual harassment in the workplace. Though the host club is in many ways a student club, it is clearly also a business, and those in the host club are coworkers. Haruhi is the newest host in the club, with most of the hosts being older than themselves, so it is mainly their superiors and bosses who harass them. This behavior includes forcefully holding Haruhi in unwanted and prolonged embraces, something often done by Tamaki while saying how “cute” Haruhi is. Ouran is popular in America, with the American dub and English subtitled version available on Netflix, and the show’s frequent displays of Haruhi being pressured into wearing dresses and the male characters stating how cute and adorable they are plays into the American stereotype of the Asian girl/woman as an object, a “China Doll,” to be looked at, admired, and eroticized. This is all the more emphasized by Tamaki being drawn in the anime to have blonde hair and blue eyes, highlighting the character’s whiteness (and his therefore racialized abuse of Haruhi) before it is even revealed that his mother was a blonde Frenchwoman and only his father Japanese.
Kyouya, Tamaki’s cofounder of the club and the main person running it, takes sexual harassment of Haruhi to a new level in the eighth episode, in English called “The Sun, The Sea, and the Host Club!” This episode is deeply flawed, and much can be and has been written about it. In the anime, while the host club and its female clients enjoy a day at a private beach, two drunken young men sneak onto it and start harassing and assaulting three of the girls. Haruhi confronts the young men, and one of the girl successfully runs away to get help. Haruhi is thrown off a cliff by one of the young men, and is rescued by Tamaki while the rest of the host club confronts the young men and sends all the girls in attendance home. Haruhi did everything right, and though they could have been seriously hurt or killed, the outcome could have been much worse for everyone. The host club and the anime itself does not see Haruhi as in the right, and the story takes a terrible turn.
This storyline is present in the manga, the anime, and the live action, and at some point one would have hoped it would have been altered, but sadly and infuriatingly, that is not the case. The host club reprimands Haruhi for not recognizing their weaknesses “as a girl,” stating that Haruhi should have called for help themselves before even attempting to confront the perpetrators and stop an assault from taking place. They imply that Haruhi could have been raped or killed, and when Haruhi becomes upset that Tamaki is so angry and possessive about it, the club asks Haruhi to apologize for upsetting him by attempting to stop the assault of the girls in the first place. After Haruhi apologizes in private to Kyouya about worrying everyone, Kyouya takes it upon himself to drive home the sexist message of the episode, and even goes further with it. In a scene full of rapeculture and victim-blaming, Kyouya pretends that he is going to rape Haruhi in order to point out how helpless they, “as a girl,” really are.
Kyouya seriously abusing his power over Haruhi.
After Haruhi gives in to pressure and needlessly apologizes, though in private and only to Kyouya, Kyoua points out how much money had to be spent to send the girls home early and to give them flower bouquets in an attempt to make up for it. He says that the money will be added to the debt Haruhi owes the club, and when Haruhi wonders how they’ll achieve paying it off, Kyouya responds that they can pay him back “with [their] body,” then throws a surprised and fearful Haruhi onto a bed and climbs on top of them. In this way, he is abusive as a superior in the workplace, financially abusive, and physically and sexually abusive. In the manga and the live action, he even holds down her wrists, while in the anime he only positions himself over her. He then points out, via verbal abuse, how weak they are “as a girl,” how much stronger he is as a man, and, in an excellent example of victim blaming, saying how they should be more careful (because how dare a “woman” trust a friend and coworker with their safety?). Haruhi then states that “[he] won’t do it” because he has nothing to gain by raping them (what?), and he backs off, laughing, and says that they’re “an interesting young woman.” They then thank him (no, really) for the valuable lesson, and says what a nice guy he is.
The original story was written by a female author/mangaka, and the scene is meant to be sexy and a rape fantasy. However, the messages within this storyline are incredibly harmful, not to mention triggering. They are bad enough for an American audience, especially due to America’s fetishization and objectification of Asian women. However, as Japanese feminist Chizuoka Ueno points out, sexual harassment and the gender wage gap are important issues in Japan, with not only no laws against sexual harassment in the workplace, but very few laws against gender discrimination in regards to wages, with women making 70% of what their male counterparts make. Kyouya and Haruhi had just started becoming friends, despite the differences in privilege is position, age, and wealth between them. Kyouya took advantage of his privilege and abused his power by scaring Haruhi, and while having (sort of) good intentions, reinforced rapeculture, rape myths, and victim-blaming, and lead Haruhi to further internalize misogyny. Sadly, this is just one example of a host club member’s misguided attempt to help or protect Haruhi.
The host club, and other characters, are often incredibly possessive of Haruhi, claiming they are being “protective” of them while disregarding Haruhi’s own desires and autonomy. When Hikaru, a character in Haruhi’s own grade level, meets a former classmate of Haruhi’s from her previous school and who had once asked them out on a date, he is first cold and brooding, and then loud and angry, vehemently insisting that “We are [Haruhi’s] friends!” While the message is clear that Hikaru should not be so upset at Haruhi having friends outside of the club, possessiveness of Haruhi is supported by other scenes and storylines. The boys of the club feel it necessary to “protect” Haruhi from lesbian students, particularly ones from the all girls’ school Lobelia, to which the girls wouldn’t mind Haruhi transferring. The three and only lesbian characters we meet are all highly stereotyped. They spew man-hate and make overt sexual advancements on Haruhi.
While at first the girls from Lobelia encourage Haruhi to make their own choices, and condemn the host club for trying to control Haruhi, the girls also become possessive of Haruhi, even kidnapping them at one point. When the host club realizes that Haruhi might be happier at Lobelia than at Ouran, instead of respecting Haruhi’s wishes, the club dresses in drag in an attempt to make Haruhi feel more at home with them. This misguided attempt only brings laughter to Haruhi, who insists that they are remaining at co-ed Ouran, though not because of the club, but because they feel it is a better school academically. When the host club attempts to “rescue” Haruhi after they are kidnapped, they don’t so much as help Haruhi as defend their own egos and revel in the chance to put down the Lobelia students. Through storylines such as the ones involving the Lobelia girls, the story is assertive in its message that heteronormativity is the most desirable and correct way to live.
Haruhi at the host club.
Through Haruhi and other characters, including Haruhi’s parents, the show does imply that sexuality and gender identity are not choices. However, it does encourage people who are bisexual to enter heterosexual relationships, and encourages those with a more fluid or non-conforming gender identity to choose to wear clothes and adopt habits that fit into the binary and are heteronormative. Haruhi often speaks and dresses as they want, but is most praised, even by their surviving parental figure, when they fit into the binary. The anime ends with Tamaki’s and Kyouya’s fathers debating which of their sons Haruhi will eventually marry, the manga ends with Tamaki and Haruhi engaged to be married, and the live action ends with an “accidental” kiss and implies romantic feelings between Haruhi and Tamaki. Haruhi is never stereotypically female, and is allowed some room to be themselves, but only within certain limitations largely set by the cismen in their lives.
If the story is a gay man attempting to make over a straight woman, it simply emphasizes that all men of all sexualities in a male-dominated society need to respect women, and women should feel free to and be able to express confidence in themselves.
Last year, and 100 years after George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion premiered on London’s West End, film producer Cameron Mackintosh announced that his remake of the Lerner and Loewe classic musical My Fair Lady, and its subsequent 1964 film adaptation starring Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison, which are based off of Bernard Shaw’s play, was being shelved after “various things that happened with the rights and the studio and everything like that.”
Emma Thompson had written the screenplay for this new adaptation, and it was supposedly to have been truer to Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion. The same reason I was excited about Emma Thompson’s screenplay was probably the main reason the project was shelved. I say this because aspects of Pygmalion, especially its ending, have been under fire for what is now over a century. Pygmalion is a play on the Greek myth in which a sculpture falls in love with his own creation of a beautiful female statue. In Bernard Shaw’s 1914 story, a phonetics professor Henry Higgins and his new friend Colonel Pickering make a wager that Higgins can give a makeover in speech, manners, and dress to flower girl Eliza Doolittle and successfully pass her off as a duchess. However, it is Eliza’s efforts that win Henry his bet, and when she isn’t praised for it, she learns to stands up for herself, and eventually Henry learns to respect her for it. Unlike in the Greek myth, there is no romance at the end.
Eliza confronts Henry of his mistreatment of her in Pygmalion (1938) starring Wendy Hiller and Leslie Howard.
Bernard Shaw, though not always a great ally, was a feminist, and his play was only adapted into a musical after his death. He had refused to allow a musical adaptation of his play, afraid the relationships between his main characters Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins would be romanticized and the ending, in which they do not enter a romantic relationship or marriage, would be changed, something the 1938 film adaptation of Bernard Shaw’s play had already done, with Eliza pretty much crawling back to Henry at the end. Bernard Shaw did not want a musical version to do the same. His feelings were completely ignored after his death, and lyricist and librettist Alan Jay Lerner and composer Frederick Loewe stuck on a conventional Hollywood ending to the story and created My Fair Lady, with an ending similar to the 1934 film.
Hollywood still likes its romantic and “happy” endings, and no doubt there were disagreements over how Thompson’s and Mackintosh’s My Fair Lady should depict Eliza’s and Henry’s relationship. Bernard Shaw wrote an entire epilogue to his play to emphasize that, no, the characters did not nor never would marry each other or have a romantic or sexual relationship. This is not tragic or sad, it’s just that they don’t belong together, but still respect each other and continue to be friends long after the events of the play.
Hollywood still struggles with the ridiculous question “Can (cis and heterosexual) men and women be just friends?” even though common sense and observation have always proven that, yes, they can, many are, many always have been, and many will continue to be so. As Henry Higgin’s mother tells him, in what seems to be every incarnation of the play and musical, Eliza is not an “umbrella” – not an object or a piece of property that can be owned or mistreated or thrown aside. Yes, women are people, and do not merely exist to support men. Both Henry and Eliza live in a world in which close friendships between men and women are discouraged, and marriage encouraged. That they each defy this, refuse to marry each other, and continue to be friends regardless of their other friendships or romantic partnerships, is wonderful – and, seemingly, something Hollywood still refuses to see as a valid choice. Whether its When Harry Met Sally, or No Strings Attached, or Friends With Benefits, Hollywood still teaches us that close relationships between (cis and hetero) men and women should ideally only be close if they are romantic, though occasional exceptions can be made if one of them is “taken,” such as in the case of How I Met Your Mother’s Ted and Lilly.
Though the argument can certainly be made that Higgins is homosexual (he and Colonel Pickering move in together at the start of the story, and continue to live together the rest of their days, despite both being financially independent) or asexual, and many have claimed that Bernard Shaw himself was closeted, Henry’s sexuality is perhaps not as important in the overall story as Eliza standing up for herself and Henry respecting her for it. This is emphasized in the 1983 TV adaptation of Pygmalion in which Peter O’Toole, who had previously and famously played gay or bisexual Henry II of England in Becket and The Lion In Winter, plays Henry Higgins, and Higgins’ mother knowingly states that “I should be uneasy about you and her if you were less fond of Colonel Pickering.” While this line was also added in the 1981 TV adaptation with Robert Powell, and also knowingly states, O’Toole’s reply of “nonsense” in regard to himself and Pickering is less adamant than Powell’s. If the story is a gay man attempting to make over a straight woman, it simply emphasizes that all men of all sexualities in a male-dominated society need to respect women, and women should feel free to and be able to express confidence in themselves.
Rex Harrison as Henry and Audrey Hepburn as Eliza in My Fair Lady (1964)
Hollywood has loved and still loves the story of the makeover, whether shown in the newest Cinderella, or in the recent film Kingsman (in which My Fair Lady is referenced, a move all the more insightful since Colin Firth had supposedly been set to play Henry Higgins in the now shelved adaptation), in 1999’s She’s All That, or in various episodes on various Disney channel shows throughout the years. As Pygmalion points out, issues of class, gender, sexuality, and beyond cannot be solved overnight, or even in a few months, and certainly not just by a change of clothes and habits. In Bernard Shaw’s story, respect for one another is of vital importance, more important than romance. Eliza does find romance, but it is on her own terms and with someone who has shown her more “kindness” than Henry. Though she and Henry have multiple scenes together, assist each other, and clearly care for each other in their own way, they have no obligation to enter into a romance with each other, a message that, hopefully, Hollywood will remember the next time they choose to adapt Pygmalion or My Fair Lady.
As I hope is obvious by me being a writer for ‘Bitch Flicks,’ I am a feminist, as well as a transman, and it therefore positively enraged me when I found out which character ‘Glee’ was outing as a transman.
FOX’s Glee, a show about a high school glee club, its teachers, and, later, its alumni, is airing its final episode March 20, after six seasons. Glee has been a show aimed at families, teens especially, and has no doubt been an introduction to LGBT issues and representation to many. While not always perfect in how it addresses various issues, it has certainly raised awareness in America to LGBT rights and acceptance. Due to the show having had a fair amount of tokenism of various groups, although it has improved in terms of representation in regard to some of those groups, when it was announced that one of the show’s characters was going to come out as a transman, I was simultaneously unsurprised and excited. I was several seasons behind on the series, and that announcement made my ears perk up and lead me to binge-watching the show again. At that point in time, I had literally seen zero representations of transmen and transboys in fictional media, and it was going to mean a lot to me to see my identity validated. As I hope is obvious by me being a writer for Bitch Flicks, I am a feminist, as well as a transman, and it therefore positively enraged me when I found out which character Glee was outing as a transman.
Dot-Marie Jones as Coach Beiste.
Football Coach Sheldon (formerly known as Shannon) Beiste has been one of my favorite characters on the show. Dot-Marie Jones is a phenomenal actress, and though the writing quality of her character is incredibly fickle, she commits beautifully to every moment. She and her character are tall, broad, muscular people, and much of Bieste’s character arc is about how every woman deserves to be respected, to feel pretty, and to have a chance at love. Her character has been repetitively bullied by those whose narrow definition of femininity and womanhood is beyond her character’s reach. It is therefore highly important that other characters started to acknowledge Beiste’s femininity, and to see Beiste as a woman who should be treated and respected like any other. When the writers of Glee decided to make Coach Beiste their token transman, it undermined her character arc and a powerful lesson about sexism and bodyshaming. It was a slap in the face to girls who had written to Dot-Marie Jones sharing their personal stories of being bullied for not meeting the narrow physical image of feminine beauty that is wrongfully promoted in our culture. I felt insulted for the actress, because it is her own body that is on display and is argued about in the episodes in which she stars. I felt awful for every woman and girl, and those raised as such, who has ever faced bodyshaming. There are so many other characters on the show from which the writers could have chosen to be their token transman, so choosing Coach Beiste was far from the only, and definitely not the best, option. In my opinion, two of the best characters the writers of Glee could have chosen to be a transman would have been Emma Pillsbury and Quinn Fabray.
Jayma Mays as Emma Pillsbury.
School counselor Emma Pillsbury has anxiety and OCD, and for much of the show was terrified of sex. Many transpeople develop anxiety and OCD due to the pressures they have felt to present and pass as a gender that was assigned to them, and not their true gender. While it would have been great for the character to be out as asexual, another possibility would be that the character is uncomfortable with sex due to physical dysphoria in regards to their own body. Emma Pillsbury coming out as a transman would have also required glee club teacher Will Schuester to address his stance on homosexuality on a more personal level, due to his romantic relationship (and now marriage) with Emma.
Dianna Agron as Quinn Fabray.
Quinn Fabray was always obsessed with being the best girl at the school, the best cheerleader with the best boyfriend, the best hair, the best clothes, with being the homecoming and prom queen. Wouldn’t it be interesting if this obsession was revealed to be a way of compensating for not being a girl at all? What if her attraction to fellow blonde Sam Evans was because he was a representation of the type of boy Quinn secretly wanted to be? Then Quinn’s various past partners, including Quinn’s on and off boyfriend hypermasculine Noah “Puck” Puckerman, would have to contemplate their own sexuality and their opinions on homosexuality in a more personal way.
Dot-Marie Jones as Coach Beiste.
Both Emma and Quinn are skinny, White, and fit what society deems to be attractive. They often wear makeup and “feminine” clothing. Writing either Emma Pillsbury or Quinn Fabray as a transman would have challenged societal views and myths in regard to femininity and masculinity. It would have meant more thorough discussions about identity and sexuality, and the societal biases towards them. Glee so often provides “lessons” for its viewers, so why not address the subject of transmen in a way that thoroughly addresses issues surrounding that identity, instead of going the route that it did and promote a misogynistic message that Coach Beiste really isn’t and never was a woman who should be respected and treated like any other? Though Glee is ending, hopefully other shows, especially family and teen shows, will promote LGBT issues just as often, if not more so, than Glee – though hopefully in a more thorough and respectful way.
What I believe she means to say by talking about “color” and “shadow” and being “politically correct,” is that with Fish Mooney, she can be a powerful Black woman without worrying about coming across as too threatening to a White patriarchal society.
Mob boss and nightclub owner Fish Mooney is an original character in Fox’s Batman and Jim Gordon origin TV series Gotham. Jada Pinkett Smith understands Fish Mooney, and portrays her with intellectual, emotional, and visceral fervor. However, the writers and directors of Gotham don’t seem to understand the character as well, nor how she makes herself fit into the world of Gotham.
In her audition, Pinkett Smith walked in to “show” who Fish Mooney is, not to “talk” about her. She did this by walking into the audition in a short wig, a long gown, and a man on a leash. In an interview with Lance Carter on the Daily Actor, Pinkett Smith elaborates on what “room” she is allowed on set in terms of character input and improvised dialogue, since the writers and directors are still finding Fish’ “voice.” However, it seems that while the writers and directors are still figuring out Fish Mooney, Pinkett Smith has a firm grasp At San Diego Comic Con on the character. She pulls from the background and traumatic childhood of mob boss Griselda Blanco, using that for Fish Mooney’s “triggers” and “violence,” and the “classy” and “fabulous” Norma Desmond from Sunset Boulevard and the actor Joan Crawford for Fish Mooney’s “mask.” This creates what Pinkett Smith rightfully describes as “a scary chick” whom the audience can realistically believe will “go after Gotham” and “just might” succeed in taking it over.
In her interviews, Pinkett Smith uses the words “color” and “shadow” in describing her approach to the character, using a very different vocabulary in describing the character and her “voice” than the show’s creator Bruno Heller. Pinkett Smith states how fun it is for her to delve into “those shadow parts” of herself and not worry about being “politically correct,” like she has to be in her everyday life. What I believe she means to say by talking about “color” and “shadow” and being “politically correct,” is that with Fish Mooney, she can be a powerful Black woman without worrying about coming across as too threatening to a White patriarchal society. Fish Mooney can “hold her own” in the “male dominated Gotham,” and while “these men are no joke,” “Fish can handle” – and sadly, women in such powerful positions are something that we still “don’t see a lot.” She can delve into a fierce side of herself that she normally can’t show in front of the camera. As I’ve written before, as hard as Gotham tries (and fails) to be colorblind, it doesn’t work, because race is a huge part of people’s lives, and to ignore Fish Mooney’s Blackness is to deny much of her lived experiences.
Jada Pinkett Smith as Fish Mooney
Fish Mooney doesn’t ally herself with White patriarchal characters and organizations under some delusion that doing so will protect her. She rightfully lives on the verge of paranoia, questioning those closest to her to be sure they won’t betray her. She states that head of the “family” mob boss Carmine Falcone has grown “soft” and “old,” even before his true decline because knows that even though she may be Falcone’s “favorite,” it is highly unlikely that he will give the position of head of the “family” to her. The rest of the higher ups in the “family” are White men, and when she asks one of them what they think of the idea of her taking on Falcone’s position, the man responds “sure, why not. Women’s lib and all that,” but that he doubts that Falcone will allow her to take the position, though he does not state why. Fish Mooney decides to take the position by force, but did not count on her underling Oswald Cobblepot/The Penguin to betraying her. She took Cobblepot “under her wing” and treated him “like a son,” but he developed strong resentment toward her. Cobblepot is a skinny and somewhat effeminate character who seems to have romantic feelings for Jim Gordon. (Honestly, when he presented Jim with an invite to his new club, it was like a seven-year-old presenting their crush with a homemade valentine.) A Black woman gave a job to and mentored a queer White boy, giving him an opportunity many of the other mob bosses would most likely have denied. She made him into the resourceful and crafty man he shows himself to be, and he resents her. For what? For verbally reprimanding him when he doesn’t do his job correctly? Perhaps he resents being her umbrella boy and confidant, but if he can’t hold an umbrella steady, why should she promote him? Perhaps Cobblepott has some sexist and racist tendencies, in addition to his apparent mommy issues due to his smothering mother.
Jada Pinkett Smith as Fish Mooney
Fish Mooney embraces her femininity, as is evident even by her mob boss name. As the only female mob boss we see, her womanhood definitely stands out. She has evidently played on fear and hatred of women to create or adopt her name: “Fish” as in how many refer to the vagina as “smelling fishy,” and “Mooney” as in the menstrual cycle. This way of creating a name, by playing upon fear and hatred, and taking something meant as an insult and reclaiming it for ones own purpose. This is not just a nickname given to her. It is an act of power and defiance. This way of forming an identity is later used by The Penguin, her former protégé, as well as many other characters, including Batman himself. Sadly, character after character, mostly White men, is going to appropriate the actions of a Black woman, of Fish Mooney’s way of finding a new name. The focus of the show is undoubtedly upon the coming of age and the loss of innocence of White men and boys, specifically Jim Gordon, Bruce Wayne, and even Oswald Cobblepot. When Fish Mooney first meets Jim Gordon, a police officer hard on crime, she says “well aren’t you a tall glass of milk,” wary of him from the start. He is the equivalent of a White liberal who wants to “do good” without realizing how intersections of classism, racism, and sexism affect one’s life and career options. He sees her choices as “bad” without taking the time to understand what institutionalized biases lead her to make seemingly “bad” choices in the first place. In Batman lore, “heroes” Jim Gordon Bruce Wayne mostly arrest and lock up people, without noticing what Zach Wein’s comic points out – that crime is not just evil people looking to be evil. Hopefully, like in its somewhat sympathetic depictions Cobblepot and even future Riddler Edward Nygma, Gotham will thoroughly address Fish Mooney’s rough beginnings and her coming of age and loss of innocence, giving her more of the sympathy allotted for the White male leads.
Fish Mooney does all she can for every interaction, every conversation, to be on her terms. She does not want to be used, betrayed, hurt, or killed, and she has no doubt had to fight harder than any of the other characters to be taken seriously. This is a woman who has literally gouged out her own eye and gone down on her own terms rather than be used and hurt by someone else (in this case, another White man). In Gotham, the crime families own the police, the judges, and the politicians, and decide who gets promotions and who ends up dead. These are mostly White men, and yet there is a surprising amount of Black women – perhaps the work of Fish Mooney. While there would no doubt still be violence and criminal activity in a Gotham run by Fish Mooney, all kinds of marginalized groups would be breaking through glass ceilings. A “fisheye” is a kind of camera lens, and the term comes from the way in which a fish sees the world above, looking from the water into the open air. Fish Mooney sees what lies beyond her glass ceiling, and she is going to smash through it or die trying, all played brilliantly by Jada Pinkett Smith. I can only hope that the writers, directors, and producers of Gotham keep giving her more chances to shine.
Umbridge works as Undersecretary to Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. Through her position in the patriarchal wizarding government, Umbridge enables job discrimination, segregation, incarceration and harsh sentencing, and physical violence and genocide against marginalized people. She not only politically supports these efforts, but personally enacts violence against marginalized people and their allies, including children.
Written by Jackson Adler as part of our theme week on Unlikable Women.
When I saw the words “Unlikable Women” in regard to this Theme Week, I immediately thought of Dolores Jane Umbridge from the Harry Potter franchise. Umbridge works as Undersecretary to Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. Through her position in the patriarchal wizarding government, Umbridge enables job discrimination, segregation, incarceration and harsh sentencing, and physical violence and genocide against marginalized people. She not only politically supports these efforts, but personally enacts violence against marginalized people and their allies, including children. She is assigned by the ministry to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in Harry’s fifth year of schooling, and also as the Hogwarts High Inquisitor to make sure that the school is run how the ministry desires. Umbridge was already representative of every person to was put in a position of power and trust who abuses that power and trust for their own self interest and sense of self worth and enjoyment. Many children have experienced such ill behavior from teachers, though hopefully not to the same extent as Umbridge treats her students, and Umbridge is arguably the most hated Harry Potter character by the fandom. However, when they vocally condemn the character, fans don’t always list the many violent actions the character condones and practices, but instead often insult Umbridge for her looks, for her love of pink, for her age, for her size, and for her love of cats, getting some form of satisfaction from this sexism and ageism against a character they despise so much. This is certainly problematic, especially since by condemning these aspects of this cruel character, they condemn middle-aged and older women as a whole, including the talented actress Imelda Staunton who plays her in the films. Also, overlooking Umbridge’s oppression of marginalized groups (even the ones to which she belongs) is erasure, which in itself is a violent act and promotes other violent acts, of marginalized groups and their experiences. While merpeople, werewolves, and centaurs do not exist in the real world, the ways in which they are marginalized and attacked in Harry Potter are very real for many people around the world and throughout time, including those being persecuted today.
On J.K. Rowling’s website Pottermore, “the place to explore more of the magical world of Harry Potter than ever before and to discover exclusive new content from J.K. Rowling,” Rowling has confirmed that Dolores Jane Umbridge is “half-blood,” and provided more of the character’s background. While not entirely a surprise for fans, it confirms that the Umbridge in the Harry Potter books sets herself against those with whom she has shared lived experiences as both a female non-“pureblood,” making her more culpable than many of the other villains in the story, who have largely lived in ignorance and privilege since childhood, such as Bellatrix Lestrange. There is a strong correlation between “blood status” in the wizarding world and racism in our world, and I believe that Umbridge is representative of a Biracial Black and White woman who claims only Whiteness and helps the White patriarchy in its violence against people of color, especially fellow women of color, and their allies in an attempt to gain power and decrease its marginalization of her own life.
Fan art of Hermione Granger via mariannewiththesteadyhands.tumblr.com
The British wizarding society in Harry Potter is in many ways more equal in terms of gender and race than real world Britain and America. While characters in the book series still face microaggressions (and occasionally stronger discrimination) due to their gender or ethnic makeup, it seems that J.K. Rowling wanted to create a (somewhat) diverse cast of characters whose abilities are not (typically) questioned due to their gender and/or ethnicity, similar to Shonda Rhimes’ approach to casting for Grey’s Anatomy. Sadly, those who cast the Harry Potter films mostly cast White actors, and screenwriter Steve Kloves and the many directors of the film series limited the lines and character development of White female characters and male and female characters of color. The role of Dean Thomas would probably not have gone to Alfred Enoch, and been given to a White actor instead, had Rowling not insisted that the character is Black to director of the first two films Chris Columbus, who she described as “slightly taken aback” by the amount of background information she had for the character. Despite the casting of Emma Watson, much of the fandom sees main female character Hermione Granger as a woman of color, usually Black or Black and White Biracial, and some see Harry himself as Biracial, usually Black and White. Race and gender are (almost) non-issues for most witches and wizards in J.K. Rowling’s story, but discrimination itself is still a strong topic, just often in regards to fantasy creatures in place of people of color. This can be interpreted as dehumanizing the lived experiences of people of color, and while it can be argued that J.K. Rowling’s approach puts the focus more on the actions of the oppressors than on the bodies of the oppressed, thereby possibly avoiding victim-blaming or grief porn, there is a strong tradition of White sci-fy and fantasy authors appropriating the experiences of people of color to add drama to their whitewashed stories, and however good her intentions may have been, Harry Potter still falls into that trend in many ways. However, the main topic of discrimination in Harry Potter is “blood status,” the story’s middle ground between the Grey’s Anatomy-style representation and the appropriation of people of color’s lived experiences of oppression.
In the wizarding world, many witches and wizards look down on muggles (people with no magical abilities), and believe that the fewer muggles in one’s lineage, the better. Witches and wizards who come from muggle families are called “muggle-borns” or by the highly discriminatory “mudblood,” and are considered by many to be just as inferior as muggles. “Half-bloods” are more generally accepted, though they still face some discrimination, and in order to be successful in wizarding society, many “half-bloods” play up their wizarding lineage, or deny that they have any muggle lineage at all, thereby claiming to be “pureblood,” such as in the case of Dolores Jane Umbridge. Rowling’s use of “blood status” in the wizarding world can easily be compared to peerage in Great Britain, and while it is not a requirement of “blood purity”/peerage that a “pureblood”/peer have no people of color in their lineage, or that they are wealthy, it remains that Whiteness and wealth often go hand in hand with “blood purity”/peerage. The first character the reader meets in the series who vocally prides himself on being “pureblood” is Draco Malfoy, who has a “pale” face, “white-blonde hair,” “cold grey eyes,” is from an incredibly wealthy family, lives in a mansion, has two devoted parents, a servant (just one is enough, as Dobby is a talented house elf capable of powerful magic), and is overall a clear representation of a child raised and wrapped up in privilege. White patriarchal Draco is the first character we hear use the word “mudblood,” and he uses it against Hermione Granger, who, again, is often and can easily be seen as a Black girl. She is described as having “bushy brown hair,” has brown eyes, and is the first to voice that house elves are “slaves,” taking the shocking revelation that Hogwarts runs on slave labor quite personally. Pansy Parkinson, the eventual girlfriend of Draco Malfoy, often teases Hermione about her hair, and also teases Angelina Johnson (who is indisputably Black) about her hair, going so far as to say that Angelina’s braids look like “worms coming out of [her] head.” Draco also teases Hermione about her hair, and in a chilling scene in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in which Lord Voldemort’s supporters start marching through a huge wizarding event, openly torturing muggles, Draco says to her “Keep that big bushy head down, Granger” if she doesn’t want to be attacked by Death Eaters (of which Draco’s father Lucius is one) and be forced to “show[…] off [her] knickers in midair,” though it would “give us all a laugh.” In this scene, he is saying to her that she needs to be submissive, or that she will be forcibly, and possibly sexually, assaulted by his father and his father’s friends. The first time, and every time after, that Draco calls Hermione a “mudblood” there are strong racial overtones specific to violence against Black women, and it carries throughout the entire series, and especially into scenes such as the one described above.
“Blood status” is then a thinly veiled metaphor for race in the Harry Potter series, and most often in terms of Black and White. Dolores Umbridge claims that she is “pureblood,” and enjoys the privileges of passing as such. Umbridge grew up with a wizarding father who worked as a janitor, and a muggle mother. Umbridge lived the intersectional oppressions of race, class, and gender. Umbridge’s sadism is compared to Bellatrix Lestrange’s by Rowling, and they share further similarity by their devotion to patriarchal figures, with Umbridge’s devotion to Cornelius Fudge, and Bellatrix’s to main villain Lord Voldemort. As Audre Lorde states in “Age, Race, Class, and Sex: Women Redefining Difference,” “white women face the pitfall of being seduced into joining the oppressor under the pretense of sharing power.” Umbridge also “face[s] [this] pitfall” by metaphorically only claiming her White/wizarding lineage. This is because “For white women there is a wider range of pretended choices and rewards for identifying with patriarchal power and its tools.” Audre Lorde further explains “It is eas[y] […] for white women to believe the dangerous fantasy that if you are good enough, pretty enough, sweet enough, quiet enough, teach children to behave, hate the right people, and marry the right men, then you will be allowed to co-exist with patriarchy in relative peace-“. Umbridge certainly internalizes this fantasy, using her “girlish” laugh, dressing herself and her office overtly and extremely feminine, and by the way in which she chooses to teach her students. Bellatrix is not only “pureblood”/White, but is naturally conventionally attractive. As Rowling states, she marries a man she does not love, taking “a pureblood husband, because that was what was expected of her,” though “her true love was always Voldemort,” albeit as obsessive form of love, which I think is more like that created by Stockholm Syndrome. Much like White women’s relationship with the patriarchy, Voldemort had no love for Bellatrix, loving “only power and himself,” “value[ing] people whom he could use to advance his own objectives.” Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters are more openly violent than the ministry, though the Ministry of Magic has many of the same biases as Voldemort, and are more discrete in how they treat those they deem inferior to themselves. Cornelius Fudge is “blinded by the love of [his] office” to what is best for the wizarding community at large, as Dumbledore states in the novel of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Fudge and the ministry most likely overlook Umbridge’s sadism because, on the surface, she comes across as unthreatening to their privilege. She plays into the single, middle-aged cat lady stereotype, and constantly compliments and supports Fudge in order to gain favor.
(Left to Right) Imelda Staunton as Dolores Umbridge, Emma Thompson as Professor Trelawney, and Maggie Smith as Professor McGonagall
Umbridge finds an enemy in Professor Minerva McGonagall, whom Rowling has revealed on Pottermore to also be “half-blood,” as well as a feminist. McGonagall works closely with Albus Dumbledore, a known ally to all marginalized groups in the wizarding world. Professor Dumbledore uses his White male/wizard privilege to uplift the talented women/witches around him, as well as that of marginalized people of all genders, giving the deserving McGonagall the position of Deputy Headmistress. Umbridge has had to resort to less direct means to get favor from the patriarchal ministry, including become extreme in her violence against those against whom the ministry is biased, including fellow female non-“purebloods.” McGonagall, who usually shows solidarity with her fellow female colleagues, frequently makes her ill feelings towards Umbridge clear, and is unabashedly happy when Umbridge is forced to leave the school. Due to their ages, it is likely that McGonagall either taught or attended school with Umbridge, and she and Dumbledore are further threats to Umbridge due to their knowledge of her past and her “blood status.” Umbridge is therefore relentless in her ambition to gain and then use authority over McGonagall and Dumbledore. Though betrayal and loyalty to “blood status”/race is not as much of a theme in the relationship between Umbridge and McGonagall in the films, especially as both actresses are White and Rowling’s biographical information on the characters may not have been known by most of the film team, Imelda Staunton and Maggie Smith portray the resentment and anger between two opposing women well. Maggie Smith’s McGonagall is particularly supportive of Emma Thompson’s Professor Trelawney, opposing Imelda Staunton’s Umbridge in her ill treatment of other women. Their characters are then representative of White women who support the patriarchy, and White (perhaps even intersectional) feminists.
J.K. Rowling’s biography of the Umbridge on Pottermore reveals a bit of how the character developed resentment, ambition, and cruelty. However, the Harry Potter film series does not contain such extra information. In the books, it is left up to the reader to decide if Umbridge truly believes the things she says, or if she is merely doing whatever it takes to keep and gain power. In the films, Imelda Staunton’s performance as Umbridge is absolutely terrifying in her sincerity of every discriminatory word she utters, every belief she claims to possess, and in every new rule and punishment she enforces. Her self-righteousness is reminiscent of White female conservative Christians who feel incredibly justified in her hate and discrimination, a sort of person with whom Rowling is perhaps particularly familiar, as she had faced discrimination from fellow Christians for raising her first child alone for a number of years. In interviews for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, in which the character of Umbridge first appears, Staunton states that she and her director worked closely to make sure that Umbridge came across as a multi-faceted and realistic character. In the scene in which Umbridge first forces Harry to write in his own blood “I must not tell lies,” the book Umbridge merely comes across as bullying, cruel, and sadistic, taking true pleasure in Harry’s pain. However, when both characters are seen as “half-blood”/”Biracial,” Umbridge’s actions can be seen as an attempt to educate a young Biracial boy in how to get by and get ahead in a world dominated by White patriarchy. Staunton plays up Umbridge as an attempted mentor to her students, even though Staunton and most of the actors playing her students are White. When Staunton’s Umbridge forces Harry to write in his own blood, she seems nervous, upset, and sad at the violence she is about to inflict upon him. However, she comes to the decision that such a drastic measure is necessary for the good of the wizarding world, and even to Harry himself. She wants the lesson to “sink in” that what he did was “wrong.” In an interview on the DVD for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1, Staunton reveals that her Umbridge is “making the most of what little power she has, [and] she will hang onto it […] until her last breath,” and, evidently, also onto her convictions. In the film Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, again playing up the connection to White female conservatism, this includes the right to dictate the sexual and romantic behavior of the students. Staunton’s Umbridge’s belief that supporting the patriarchy is the right thing to do, including the right thing to do for women and girls, which adds extra conflict to her arguments with Maggie Smith’s McGonagall and Emma Watson’s Hermione Granger.
Joe Walker as Dolores Jane Umbridge in Starkid Production’s A Very Potter Sequel
Another interpretation of Umbridge is that in Starkid Productions’ A Very Potter Sequel, the second of three musical parodies of Harry Potter franchise viewable on Youtube, and highly popular among the fandom. While not entirely feminist, Starkid does delve into the sexism that Umbridge undoubtedly must face in her day-to-day life, and the unhealthy way in which she copes with it. While J.K. Rowling compares Umbridge’s loyalty to Fudge with fellow sadist Bellatrix Lestrange’s loyalty to Lord Voldemort, Starkid Productions compares Umbridge with Hermione, with the common thread not being sadism, but the sexism faced by both from their male peers. Like Staunton’s Umbridge, Starkid’s Umbridge plays up Umbridge’s attempted mentorship of her students, especially in regards to Hermione. This is representative of what Brigit McCone describes in “Reclaiming Conch: In Defense of Ursula, Fairy Octomother,” with older female characters’ lessons often being important to the growth of female characters, though patriarchal storytelling reconfiguring these characters as villainesses instead of mentors/fairy godmothers. In the books and films, Hermione has this mentorship split between McGonagall and Umbridge, with them being similar to the nice mother and evil mother tropes described in Katherine Murray’s post “Child-Eating Parents in Into the Woods and Every Children’s Story Ever.” Starkid’s A Very Potter Sequel is void of McGonagall, and Umbridge takes on more of a multi-faceted role as attempted mentor to Hermione. Umbridge even gives life lessons to her female students, including Hermione, upon first meeting them, informing them of “the way the world works” for “frumpy” girls and women, and saying that she will be there “mama.” Umbridge is played by Joe Walker, who also plays Voldemort in the musical trilogy, and while the character being played by a cisgender man causes some potentially dangerous mixed messages, it does emphasize the harm both Voldemort and Umbridge has caused Harry Potter, with both being the only characters in the books to leave lasting scars on Harry, and also emphasizes the way in which the fandom relates to the two villains. Though both Umbridge and Hermione are again played by White actors, their physical and emotional similarities are explored in a way similar to how they could have been further explored in a film version that saw the characters as Biracial able to “pass” as White and a Black girl attempting to find her way in a White patriarchal world. Starkid’s Hermione claims about herself and Umbridge that “We’re both ugly, we’re both bossy, and nobody likes us,” showing how internalized unrealistic (and White) standards of beauty are internalized, how the assertiveness and confidence of women is erased by claims that they are “bossy,” and how reinforced these ideas are in every day life within a (White) patriarchal culture. Sadly, the characters’ needs for self-validation by White men is emphasized in Starkid’s production, with Ron and Hermione’s condescending monologues to Hermione about self-acceptance (undermined by their hope to gain a homework tutor/romantic partner), and Umbridge only finding happiness after rape by centaurs (no, really). Umbridge’s rape is somewhat representative of empowerment via rape fantasy, such as described in Brigit McCone’s “Blurred Lines: The Cinematic Appeal of Rape Fantasy,” though this positive interpretation of rape is still incredibly harmful, as McCone also describes. In the books, however, it is through gender and racial solidarity that lead to the defeats of Umbridge, the Minitry, Bellatrix, and Lord Voldemort.
Umbridge is a complicated character in each form of media she inhabits, and though her violence and discrimination is hateful, she is a woman (of color) trying to navigate through a (White) patriarchal world. She is successful in gaining (some) privileges for herself due to her actions, though at the expense of fellow non-“pureblood”/White women and other marginalized groups. Dumbledore claims that “it is our choices […] that define who we really are, far more than our abilities,” and yet this quote of his mentions nothing of the effect that circumstances can have in affecting life choices. Though circumstances do not entirely excuse her crimes against marginalized groups, and she is rightfully arrested and imprisoned after the defeat of Lord Voldemort, as confirmed by Rowling via interview and Pottermore, excusing her violence as merely innate is ignoring the way in which society institutionally encourages that sort of behavior. Hopefully a more thorough understanding of the character encourages a more thorough understanding of the ways in which society and individuals inhibit human rights, especially those of women of color.
It seems Disney is saying that The Baker’s Wife is a “fallen woman,” and that it is making a firm decision on how it wants the audience to interpret the affair that occurred. This is made more problematic by how the affair was shot and choreographed. In the film, Cinderella’s Prince pins The Baker’s Wife against a tree and kisses her. There is nowhere for her to escape, even if she wanted to.
This repost by Jackson Adler appears as part of our theme week on the Academy Awards.
CONTAINS SPOILERS for the stage musical and subsequent film adaptation of Into The Woods.
Previously, I have written on the racism in Disney’sInto The Woods, a film adaptation of the Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine musical that interweaves various European fairy tales into one tragicomedy. Sadly, while the movie certainly has its merits (and some great performances), it has a few more faults I would like to point out – particularly in regard to its subtle sexism towards women.
Much of The Baker’s Wife’s story is still the same as in the stage musical, with one major change – that of her death. Disney’s interpretation of her death has everything to do with the scene beforehand. Cinderella’s Prince uses his power as a nobleman, and the charm he has been taught to use, to seduce The Baker’s Wife. The Baker’s Wife is star-struck by The Prince, having even told Cinderella earlier that “[she] wouldn’t run if a prince was chasing [her].” However, when Cinderella’s Prince starts attempting to seduce The Baker’s Wife, she at first protests and even says “no.” He follows her protestations with “right and wrong don’t matter in the woods,” and continues to kiss her. While certainly attracted to him and star-struck, the question must be asked – What if she had continued to protest instead giving in and allowing herself to enjoy something that seemed inevitable? Would he have forcibly raped her? Would he have had her arrested on a trumped up charge? Did her consent matter at all? Certainly, he is more culpable in their affair, since he is an authority figure.
Cinderella’s Prince (Chris Pine) comes on to The Baker’s Wife (Emily Blunt)
After the brief affair, The Baker’s Wife sings “Moments in the Woods,” as a way of coming to terms with what has happened and to bring herself to return to the beauty of everyday life with her husband and child. In the stage version, as the Giantess walks by and her large feet make the ground tremble, a tree falls on The Baker’s Wife and kills her. The stage musical leaves the meaning of these events open to interpretation. I personally never interpreted The Baker’s Wife’s death as some sort of punishment. It seemed fitting to me that The Giant, who is avenging the murder of her husband and asserting her role as a wife, should accidentally damage/condemn the life of a woman who slept with a man other than her husband. However, while the stage musical leaves interpretations up to the audience, the film makes a firm judgment call. In the film, as the ground shakes, The Baker’s Wife falls off a cliff and dies.
It seems Disney is saying that The Baker’s Wife is a “fallen woman,” and that it is making a firm decision on how it wants the audience to interpret the affair that occurred. This is made more problematic by how the affair was shot and choreographed. In the film, Cinderella’s Prince pins The Baker’s Wife against a tree and kisses her. There is nowhere for her to escape, even if she wanted to. After some kissing, the affair seems over and the prince leaves (which is very different from most stage adaptations, where a lot more than kissing is implied). So The Baker’s Wife is condemned by Disney and made into a literally “fallen woman,” just because a prince kissed her? And even after she decides to return to her husband and child, content not to have another affair ever again?
Mackenzie Mauzy as Rapunzel
While only one major change is made to The Baker’s Wife’s story, half of Rapunzel’s story arc is cut, which in turn takes away from the character development of The Witch. Unlike in the stage musical, Rapunzel does not have a mental breakdown, and she does not get squashed and killed by the giantess (who was annoyed by her raving and screaming) in front of her mother and husband. In Disney’s film, the only consequence of Rapunzel having lived a sheltered childhood is that she runs away from her mother with the first guy she has ever met. The film even cut the fact that she becomes a mother to twins, something that would change anyone’s outlook on life, and certainly take a lot of responsibility – a responsibility for which Rapunzel is not ready. These cuts in the story take away entire conversations that are important for us to have as a culture. The Witch was trying to protect her daughter by sheltering her, but it is the fact that Rapunzel was so heavily sheltered that leads to her undoing, and ultimately leads to her death. Not only that, but Rapunzel develops a mental illness, something that still (and wrongfully) induces a terrible stigma in our society.
In addition, Rapunzel’s and The Witch’s story in the stage musical shows how our most well-intended actions can negatively affect those we care for most. Rapunzel was damaged by her upbringing in a way that made it impossible for her to be a functional human being in society. Not even her prince can help her. The Witch’s song “Witch’s Lament,” in which she sings about how “children won’t listen,” comes after Rapunzel’s death in the stage musical, but in the film it comes after Rapunzel and her prince gallop off into the sunset.
The song is still emotional, as her daughter has rejected her and left her forever. However, the pain within the song is incredibly undermined by the change in circumstances. The Witch then does not have as much justification for her breakdown in “The Last Midnight.” In the song, The Witch rages against all the “nice” people who have brought ruin upon her, her daughter, and the kingdom itself. She is fed up with the world, others’ treatment of her, and possibly of herself. The Witch then vaguely kills herself by goading the spirit(?) of her own mother, challenging her to curse her. Without the death of the person whom she loved most in the world, The Witch is denied what is arguably the most essential part of her character arc, and the story of Into The Woods is deprived of some of its most important themes.
The Witch (Meryl Streep) watches as Rapunzel (Mackenzie Mauzy) rides into the distance with Rapunzel’s Prince (Billy Magnussen).
To make matters worse, the way the special effects were designed during The Witch’s death reminds one of images of Hell, as if to imply that The Witch was sucked down into Hell by the spirit of her mother. This most definitely goes against the messages of the story, and in fact even some of the lyrics in “The Last Midnight.” The Witch is not “good or bad,” but she is “right” about many things (though not about how she raised her daughter). It is the fact that she is “right,” and yet an older and powerful woman (a “witch”) that has drawn condemnation from the other characters, many of whom don’t even know about (most of) the drama between her and Rapunzel. The Witch not only has had a large part of her character arc taken away from her, but she is then metaphorically sent to Hell. For what? For being a complicated human being? By the same line of thinking, what about The Wolf whose only crime was doing what wolves do? What about the adulterous princes who were raised “to be charming, not sincere,” and therefore abuse their power and influence? No, none of them are sent to Hell. The older woman is. Not only is there sexism in this, but there is also ageism. After her death in the film, The Witch’s body is swallowed up by a bubbling tar pit. Women are already overly punished in this film, and it’s no small matter that one of the greatest examples of it is for an older and powerful woman. The stage adaptation took a character that is the villain in fairy tales, and focused on her as a human being, making her into one of the main characters and a complicated human being to be played by a leading actress. The audience is invited to sympathize with her and her intentions, despite the fact that some of them backfire on her and her daughter. To take away so much of her arc undermines what makes the story powerful, and it is a disservice to the role, to the actress (Meryl Streep), and to the audience.
Into The Woods is a complicated story about complicated people, ending with the understanding that no one is completely good or evil, and we all must love and support each other as best we can. It saddens me that the female characters’ stories were altered in the way they were. I can only hope that this newer generation of film-goers is inspired by the film to seek out the many adaptations of the stage version and appreciate the story for what it is – one of community and caring, and not judgment and debasement.
Jackson Adler is a transguy with a BA in Theatre, and is a writer, activist, director, teacher, dramaturge, cartoon lover, and vegan boba drinker. You can follow him on twitter @JacksonAdler, and see more of his writing on the blog The Windowsill at http://windowsillblog.com.
Atwood’s designs are stunning, but they also highlight the discussions of gender roles and racial relationships in America.
Written by Jackson Adleras part of our theme week on the Academy Awards.
Colleen Atwood is an Academy Award nominee for Best Costume Design for Disney’s Into The Woods. In order to represent the hodgepodge of characters, she based their costumes in differing time periods, ranging from Medieval European to 1930’s America. Each costume also has a bit of a modern flair, especially Cinderella and Cinderella’s Prince’s costumes. Atwood’s designs are stunning, but they also highlight the discussions of gender roles and racial relationships in America.
The stage play of Into The Woods has feminist moments, with all characters written to be complicated, not just the men and boys. An example of this, as Bitch Flicks’ Katherine Murray has previously covered, is the role of The Witch as multi-faceted. While the Disney film retains many of the feminist moments and aspects from the original stage play, it has made some changes to the story that undermine them. This is representative in some of the costumes. Rapunzel’s costume is wrapped in ribbon and fabric, symbolically showing how Rapunzel feels tied up and trapped by her mother, barely able to breathe freely. While in the Disney adaptation, we see Rapunzel’s unhealthy relationship with her mother, The Witch, we never see the original production’s outcome for Rapunzel. Rapunzel is metaphorically tied up and restricted, but we never see her metaphorically undone and unraveled. Riding off into the distance with her prince does not free Rapunzel in the stage play, as being locked in a tower all her life has, understandably, lasting consequences on her psyche. Rapunzel’s restrictive life with her mother is shown beautifully through her costume, but Disney’s cut of Rapunzel’s ending undermines how telling that costume is of her emotional and psychological well-being.
Colleen Atwood with her costumes for The Witch, Rapunzel, and Little Red.
Rapunzel’s white and pink costume is contrasted beautifully by The Witch’s first costume (black) and her second costume (blue). The Witch’s costumes take up more space than Rapunzel’s, showing the freedom The Witch has to move in the outside world, contrasting with Rapunzel’s captivity. They are also masculinized, as the two princes have the same color scheme – Rapunzel’s Prince in black and Cinderella’s Prince in blue. In order to have influence and power, it is implied by these costumes that The Witch has taken on some masculine and patriarchal qualities. This is evident by her treatment and dress of Rapunzel, wanting to keep her daughter soft, sweet, and subservient. Atwood has praised Meryl Streep’s use of her costumes, creating a collaboration between actor and costume designer in telling the story. In her song “Stay With Me,” The Witch switches back and forth between patriarchal abuse and maternal love, with Streep physicalizing this by standing above Rapunzel and yelling at her, to sitting next to Rapunzel and embracing her. When The Witch regains her former beauty, her costume takes up more space and Streep stands taller, symbolically showing the confidence that The Witch has gained from her beauty. However, though she looks younger and more conventionally beautiful, she has unwittingly lost her magic powers and her ability to defeat Rapunzel’s Prince. Streep’s performance combined with her costumes show how The Witch attempts to form her own identity and destiny amidst conflicting messages of how to be a powerful and successful woman in a sexist and patriarchal world. That The Witch is punished by Disney’s ending of her story, symbolically being sucked into Hell, is problematic, as it seems to eternally condemn her for attempting to be a powerful woman.
Cinderella’s Stepmother, with Lucinda and Florinda.
This is echoed in the color scheme for Cinderella’s Stepmother, and her stepsisters Florinda and Lucinda. The Stepmother and her daughters are in black and gold, while Cinderella wears gold when she attends the ball. This codes gold as representative of female glamour, while black is representative of women adopting patriarchal actions. Interestingly, Florinda and Lucinda are physically punished (their eyes are picked out by birds), but The Stepmother is not. Cinderella’s Father is cut from the Disney film, and it is in the stage play that we see that Cinderella’s Father is alcoholic and severely neglectful of his daughter. The storyline of Cinderella’s family can be interpreted in two different ways. Was Cinderella’s Father driven to drunken ineffectiveness by a cruel and greedy second wife? Or was it Cinderella’s Father’s drunken ineffectiveness that made The Stepmother take control of and be the head of the family because someone had to? We know that Cinderella’s Mother was incredibly kind, and that she died. Perhaps it was the death of his beloved wife that lead Cinderella’s Father to drink, and The Stepmother is merely trying to survive in a patriarchal world. What else would lead her to do something so drastic as to mutilate the feet of her daughters in an attempt to marry them off to a prince – someone with money who will financially take care of the family? Florinda and Lucinda are punished, perhaps, for not standing up to their mother and treating Cinderella kindly and as an equal, while The Stepmother isn’t blamed, since her cruelty was merely a misguided attempt to achieve security for herself and her family. Cinderella never wears black or blue, and she ends up rejecting her prince’s patriarchy. At the end of the story, Cinderella works closely with The Baker, someone who fits in with her color scheme of earth tones (though still wears a bit of blue), and who earlier learned that “it takes two” (meaning equality) to have a healthy relationship.
Cinderella and The Baker’s Wife.
The Baker’s Wife wears many different colors, with her main costume being mostly red, with a fair amount of blue, gold, and black. Atwood and Emily Blunt thought it important that The Baker’s Wife’s resourcefulness should be shown in her costume, and that it was made up of “whatever she could find.” The Baker’s Wife is a working class woman struggling to get by, who argues with her husband, who wants a child, and who also wants a fulfilling sex life. Her song “Moments in the Woods” debates the question of can women have it all? And should they? She has red for passion and sexual desire, blue and black for masculine traits that she adopts to get by, and gold because she would like a bit of glamour in her life. Disney arguably punishes her lust by making her a fallen woman via having her fall to her death from a cliff.
Red and blue are also the color scheme for Little Red Riding Hood, whose storyline with The Wolf is reminiscent of sexual assault. Little Red is more assertive than most of the other female characters, and her dress is blue and has puffed sleeves, and, in these ways, is similar to The Witch’s second costume. We never hear of Little Red’s male family members whether in the stage musical or the film adaptation. It is therefore implied that Little Red is raised solely by her mother (whom we never see) and her grandmother. With her black hair, blue dress, and cape of red, Little Red is an empowered and sexual woman in the making, guided by independent women. The Wolf is in black and blue, with a red boutonniere. When Little Red is hesitant about trusting The Wolf, he points her towards some (in the Disney film) blue and phallic looking flowers for her to gather – seemingly supporting her masculine independence. By taking Grandmother’s place in bed and wearing her clothes in order to attack Little Red, The Wolf is seemingly sensitive and more maternalistic – something he hopes will be attractive to Little Red. Though Little Red is wary, The Wolf deceives Little Red long enough to take her off guard and attack her, reminiscent of date rape.
Little Red and The Wolf
While the color scheme of The Wolf’s costume works well in telling the story, the design itself is incredibly problematic. As I have written before, The Wolf’s costume is a zoot suit, which has a rich racial history in The United States. In the 1930’s and 40’s, the zoot suit was a symbol of power among young people of color, and it was criminalized by the white populace and media. The Wolf wearing a zoot suit and attacking a white girl in Into The Woods is reminiscent of a white actor in blackface attacking a white woman in the controversial and highly racist Birth of a Nation. That Depp, Atwood, and director Rob Marshall all thought it was a good idea for the costume to be a zoot suit is upsetting to say the least.
As especially evidenced by the zoot suit, Atwood’s costumes are not all period appropriate to Medieval Germany. Many of them are similar to the neo-Medieval styles of British television series Merlin and Robin Hood, and the American series Reign. Merlin and Robin Hood have ethnic diversity, and Reign is (mostly) feminist. Into The Woods’ modernity highlights how relevant its feminist moments from the stage play are to contemporary audiences. However, Into The Woods has very little ethnic diversity. Even in a more period-appropriate adaptation, Into The Woods could have characters who are people of color, as centuries of trade, colonization, and war had brought diversity to Medieval Europe. While there are PoC extras in the film, as both peasants and royalty, any character with a line or a lyric is White. By Atwood making the costumes in varying time periods, with both contemporary and fantastical elements, it highlights that this is a story and a world in which anything goes – from talking wolves, to giants, to magic beans. However, evidently for Disney, the casting of people of color was too much.
Colleen Atwood’s costumes both contribute to the story of Into The Woods and, indirectly and directly, point out Disney’s flaws in the telling of it. Her costumes beautifully support the theme of gender roles in the story, and if it wasn’t for putting Johnny Depp in a zoot suit, I might support the idea of her winning an Oscar for her work on the film. Either way, I hope Hollywood does a lot of self-reflecting in regard to how it does and does not address gender and race.
Their strength lies in being able to laugh at the terrible or dangerous situations in which they find themselves, and this is particularly true of the female lead, Eleanor of Aquitaine, who declares that smiling is “the way [she] register[s] despair.” Indeed, while the 2003 adaptation shows Eleanor’s war with her husband Henry II of England at the beginning of the movie, and shows her in armor and taking part in the action, to take away or lessen Eleanor’s sense of humor is to take away both her greatest weapon and greatest defenses.
James Goldman’s 1964 historical play The Lion In Winter: A Comedy In Two Acts has twice been adapted to the screen, first in 1968 starring Peter O’Toole and Katharine Hepburn, and again in 2003 as a made-for-TV movie starring Sir Patrick Stewart and Glenn Close. When Goldman originally wrote his play, he attempted to make it as historically accurate as possible, but time has shown that some of his sources were incorrect in their information. However, the power of these characters is true to their historical counterparts, and Goldman’s dialogue and pacing have stood the test of time. While both screen adaptations are heavy handed with the moments of drama, and the second adaptation forgets that it’s a comedy altogether, which actually takes away from the strength of these characters. Their strength lies in being able to laugh at the terrible or dangerous situations in which they find themselves, and this is particularly true of the female lead, Eleanor of Aquitaine, who declares that smiling is “the way [she] register[s] despair.” Indeed, while the 2003 adaptation shows Eleanor’s war with her husband Henry II of England at the beginning of the movie, and shows her in armor and taking part in the action, to take away or lessen Eleanor’s sense of humor is to take away both her greatest weapon and greatest defenses. Katharine Hepburn’s delivery of Eleanor’s sharp wit depicts a woman of power, strength, and ambition. In the 1964 adaptation, it is not necessary to show Eleanor in battle because we can already tell that she has done much and ruled long just from the way she speaks and carries herself. Glenn Close rages, screams, and cries, but Katharine Hepburn as Eleanor is allowed by her director to simply be a badass and give no fucks, much like Katharine Hepburn herself.
The story of The Lion In Winter focuses on Henry II of England’s midlife crisis during a partial family reunion at Christmas with an incredibly dysfunctional family. The play was finished in 1964, only a year after the release of The Feminine Mystique, and appeared on Broadway in 1966, the year of the founding of the National Organization for Women (NOW). Much of the conflict in the play is between Eleanor and Henry, with Eleanor having been locked up for years by her husband for challenging his rule, much like middle and upper class women were confined to the home after World War II. This comparison would not have been so easily lost on the audience of the 1968 film, especially with Hepburn’s film history in the backs of their minds. The 2003 film could still have been powerful in spite of the different cultural context, but when combined with the lack of humor, and therefore a disruption of the pacing required by Goldman’s dialogue, it falls flat. The 2003 film’s saving grace is Yuliya Vysotskaya as Alais. The French princess Alais was raised with Eleanor and her family since she was betrothed to Henry’s and Eleanor’s second son Richard (the Lionheart). Eleanor was her surrogate mother, but after Eleanor is locked up, Alais becomes Henry’s mistress. Alais does not joke as much as most of the other characters, mainly because there are “Kings, queens, knights everywhere [she] look[s] and [she’s] the only pawn,” and she’s sick of their shit. She has never been permitted to rule any part of land, or any army of the any kind, unlike most all the other characters. As she says “[She] hasn’t got a thing to lose. That makes [her] dangerous.” Vysotskaya’s delivery of these lines of flawless, showing that while she lacks political power of her own, she has fierce determination to keep her self autonomy. The 1968 film attempted to contract Hepburn’s Eleanor with a soft portrayal of Alais by Jane Merrow, highlighting the fact that Henry would in many ways prefer a younger, more docile, and not as uppity female companion. However, this conflicts with how the character of Alais is written. At first glance she may seem and even purposefully act submissive to Henry, but her first act and line in the story are in defiance to Henry, refusing to come down from her room to interact with the family, whom she accurately sees as enemies. Jane Merrow’s portrayal of Alais forgets that she was raised by the powerful and independent Eleanor for a majority of her life, and while she may know how to pretend to be submissive in order to get what she wants, she can be just as fierce as any of the other characters. She proves this by almost getting Henry to lock up his surviving sons for life when the chance arises for Henry to annul his marriage with Eleanor in order to marry Alais and start a line of heirs of their own. Alais’ dream of becoming Henry’s powerful queen almost comes true, largely due to her own actions.
Yuliya Vysotskaya as Alais and Sir Patrick Stewart as Henry.
While the 1968 film does well at depicting Henry’s mid-life crises through his relationships with the women in his life, Alais’ character and her relationship with Eleanor is undermined. In the story, Alais and Eleanor share a particularly beautiful scene that briefly passes the Bechdel Test. In the scene, the true reason why Alais has been so cold to Eleanor in spite of Eleanor’s warmth toward her is revealed. Alais has heard that Eleanor poisoned Rosamund, Henry’s former mistress, and fears that the ambitious Eleanor might do the same to her despite their past mother-daughter bond. When Eleanor claims she never had Rosamund poisoned, Alais throws herself into Eleanor’s arms and starts to cry, and they are mother and daughter once more. Alais literally calls Eleanor by the French “Maman” for “Mom.” Henry interrupts this scene, partly because nothing could threaten him (or the patriarchy) more than the women in his life (or in 1960’s America) working together. Eleanor does not blame or hate Alais for becoming Henry’s mistress, but sees her as a victim of circumstance, though she does seem to have some bitterness for Henry over it. Hepburn is allowed to play all this very well, but Merrow has appeared particularly sensitive and vulnerable throughout the film so that when she becomes vulnerable in this moment with Eleanor, the change is hardly noticeable. Yuliya Vysotskaya was permitted by her director husband to show more of a range of character, and therefore gives a much more stirring portrayal of the princess, and creates a more touching moment between Alais and Eleanor.
Katharine Hepburn as Eleanor and Jane Merrow as Alais.
The story is not entirely feminist, as it not only centers on Henry, but emphasizes that the two women remain divided, in spite of their affection for one another, because of their romantic love for him. When Alais confronts Eleanor after it appears that Eleanor helped save her sons not only from being locked up for life, but from punishment for almost murdering Henry, Alais says, “You always win, Maman,” and Eleanor replies “Except the prize,” most likely referring to a romantic relationship with Henry.
The ending has conflicting messages, emphasizing the theme of the battle of the sexes between Henry and Eleanor, but also emphasizing Henry’s and Eleanor’s love for each other. When Henry complains about the tragedies of his life, Eleanor calls him out on it by saying, “I could take defeats like yours and laugh. I’ve done it. If you’re broken, it’s because you’re brittle.” Indeed, Henry, their sons, and the patriarchal laws of Medieval Europe have made her life nearly unbearable. Henry shifts in this last scene from feeling sorry for himself to having profound sympathy for his wife. Henry claims that he has nothing, in spite of his political power, land, armies, wealth, and freedom, though what he most likely is referring to is others’ lack of love and sympathy for him. Eleanor, however, responds, “You don’t know what nothing is.” The final scene is absolutely brilliant in the 1968 film, showcasing the chemistry between and the talents of Peter O’Toole and Katharine Hepburn. Due to the lack of relief from the drama and darkness of the 2003 one, though, the bittersweet and almost uplifting ending comes out of nowhere, despite featuring the two talented actors, Sir Patrick Stewart and Glenn Close.
The story’s best feminist virtue is that it depicts Eleanor as a complicated and at times particularly sympathetic character, not as a vicious man-eating harpy undermining the glory of an otherwise perfect man. This could easily have been done, as the play is almost a sequel to Jean Anouilh’s 1959 play Becket, or The Honor of God. A film adaption was made in 1964, starring Peter O’Toole, who has said that he could never have played Henry in the 1968 The Lion In Winter if he hadn’t first played the same character in Becket. Anouilh’s Becket implies that Henry had strong homosexual love for his frenemy Thomas Becket (played by Richard Burton in the film), and that Eleanor (barely present in play or film) was an annoyance to Henry, and hardly worthy of being a rival to his manly love for his friend. Pamela Brown’s Eleanor is particularly one-leveled, and it is supposed to be amusing when Henry yells at her and puts her down. However, it seems neither the play nor the film of Becket could deny the historical character’s astuteness, as it is Eleanor who first openly speaks of Henry’s love for Becket, saying that he loves him “like a woman,” to which Henry flies into a rage. In The Lion In Winter, the subject of the late Becket is broached, and while Peter O’Toole’s Henry evidently still has love for him. This time, he has a complicated and fully fleshed out Eleanor in Katharine Hepburn’s portrayal with whom he can have a more nuanced conversation about the subject. When Eleanor falsely claims to have had an affair with Becket, O’Toole’s Henry lividly responds, “That’s a lie!” to which an amused Eleanor responds, “I know it. Jealousy looks silly on us, Henry.” The scene is incredibly different in the 2003 film, which not only lacks the cultural context of the 1960’s, but has no tie to the play or the 1964 film of Becket. Sir Patrick Stewart dismissively, almost as if he is bored, responds “That’s a lie,” undermining the incredible history and emotion that can be present in the scene, and giving little to which Glenn Close’s Eleanor can realistically respond with her next line.
Richard Burton as Thomas Becket and Peter O’Toole as Henry in the 1964 film Becket.
While the consistency of the character of Henry through Becket and The Lion In Winter’s can be important for Henry’s character arch and motivations (and, arguably, also for his son Richard, who has a homosexual affair in The Lion In Winter), it’s a relief that the character of Eleanor was given so much more time and substance in Goldman’s story. Eleanor and Alais are not only queen and princess, but complex human beings fighting for self-autonomy as well as love. In this way, they are afforded the same care by Goldman as Anouilh gave in writing Thomas Becket and Henry. Goldman’s Eleanor is Henry’s mental equal and rival, and he loves her very much. However, it is implied that if she is ever “let out” by Henry (or if 1960’s middle and upper class women are ever permitted to leave the home to be equals in the workforce), that her ambitions will cause chaos and war (ignoring the fact that chaos and war had been occurring in Medieval Europe both with and without Eleanor and other women), and Henry will lose any and all of the power that he still possesses. Interestingly, it is also implied that Henry’s reign won’t continue for long, for better or for worse, hence the midlife crisis that he experiences.
Though this is implied in the dialogue, the stage directions of the play are explicit, stating that his physical health is “just before the start of the decline.” Hopefully, the fear that men reliant on the patriarchy (such as Henry) experience when women challenge their authority will diminish, and men and women will continue on the path to and reach equality, when no one oppress or have the other “locked up.”
“In the game of patriarchy,” says media critic Anita Sarkeesian, “women are not the opposing team. They are the ball.” This quote not only rings all too true with regard to the real world, but also to the world of Wes Craven’s 2005 thriller ‘Red Eye.’
TRIGGER WARNING for domestic abuse and sexual assault.
“In the game of patriarchy,” says media critic Anita Sarkeesian, “women are not the opposing team. They are the ball.” This quote not only rings all too true with regard to the real world, but also to the world of Wes Craven’s 2005 thriller Red Eye. In the film, Jackson Rippner (Cillian Murphy) is the face of the newest wave of patriarchy – a young man working to establish his power and masculinity to prove his worth and capability to the older generation of patriarchy. He and his terrorist organizations attempt to “send [their] big, brash message” by using phallic missiles and knives against the older generation, represented by members of the US government and the father of the heroine, Lisa Reisert (Rachel McAdams). Lisa is the ball, and is needed by Rippner and his team to score, in this case by using her in an assassination plot against US Deputy of Homeland Security Charles Keefe (Jack Scalia) and his family. In order to persuade Lisa to stay a subservient ball instead of a human being, Rippner informs her that they will kill her father, Joe (Brian Cox), if she does not do as she is told. Lisa’s loyalties to three different forms of patriarchy are tested – that to her father, Joe; her country/government; and her new (metaphorical) romantic partner Rippner. Lisa reveals herself to not be a ball, but instead a complex human being who refuses to be controlled, no matter how gently or roughly, by any of them. With a bit of help from other female characters, Lisa fights against Rippner, and saves Joe and Charles Keefe.
Rippner and Lisa toasting to Lisa’s grandmother Henrietta.
While on the surface the film promotes general female empowerment, it gets into the specifics of the expectations of gender and how damaging they can be to all involved. Lisa and Rippner’s relationship metaphorically addresses issues such as date rape, abusive relationships, and domestic violence. In the beginning of the film, Rippner is a seemingly nice guy who asks Lisa to get a drink with him while they wait for their delayed flight. Lisa politely declines, but later chooses to join Rippner at the bar. She changes her mind because she decides not to let the trauma of being raped two years prior control her and influence her interactions with men anymore. She and Rippner share mutual attraction, and though she is hesitant at first, she warms up to him. They share intimate conversation about their families, and toast to her recently passed grandmother (who was a total badass), from whose funeral she is returning. Later in the evening, when she has become more comfortable with him and is feeling a bit tipsy, Rippner reveals his ulterior motive, severely betraying her trust, and terrifying and hurting her. He insists that if she just keeps quiet and does what he says, that it will all be over soon. The film is clear that the blame for the date rape is entirely Rippner’s. Did Lisa drink a bit? Yes. Did she wear a skirt, heels, and V-neck top? Yes. Did she approach him at the bar? Yes. And none of that matters, none of that is bad, and the blame for the attack rests with Rippner because he made the choice to attack her.
Farther into the film, and when Rippner and Lisa have spent more time with each other, their interactions become textbook examples of an abusive relationship. According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence and the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network, his actions meet every indicator of psychological abuse, and also indicate financial abuse, physical abuse, verbal and emotional abuse, and partner sexual violence and rape. He switches back and forth between speaking pleasantly or even soothingly, and being forceful and threatening. He attempts to make her feel stupid by putting down her gender, saying that her “female driven” emotions are inferior to his “male driven, fact-based logic.” He financially restricts and abuses her by taking her credit card and locking up her purse. He isolates her from others, controlling with whom she speaks and how, and controlling when and where she goes – even telling her when she can and can’t use the restroom. When she tries to reach out for help to the stewardess or another female passenger, he interferes. At one point he chokes her to assert his control, stopping just short of her passing out. When he suspects that she had been raped before, he gets “jealous” (Craven’s own word to describe the look on the character’s fae) that another man had her, and angry that she kept this a secret from him. After a physical confrontation in the bathroom, he responds, “Thanks for the quickie,” trivializing his brutal assault of her.
It is implied that if Rippner does not succeed in his mission, his terrorist organization will kill him (something that Wes Craven confirms in the commentary). Rippner’s fear of physical death can be compared to a fear of social death for not conforming to traditional forms of masculinity – such as keeping a female romantic partner subservient. It is this fear that keeps Rippner from giving up his mission when he is tempted to do so. He clearly is attracted to Lisa, and even cares about her, but in a very twisted way. After he knocks her unconscious, he gently rests her head on a pillow and strokes her hair. When she confesses to him that she was raped before, he responds – as Craven says “like a friend,” – that it was “beyond her control.” However, Lisa is sick of being controlled by him regardless of the occasions when he seems kind. At the end of the plane ride, she silences him (albeit temporarily) by stabbing his voice box with a stolen pen, hindering his ability to call and order his associate to murder her father. When Rippner chases her to her father’s house, Rippner attacks Joe but leaves him alive so that he can “watch” what Rippner is “going to do to [Lisa],” further attempting to prove his dominance not just over Lisa but over other patriarchal figures. Lisa fights Rippner on her own until the very end, when Joe successfully incapacitates Rippner by shooting him in the chest – near his heart. However, it is not Joe’s shot that ends the climactic struggle, but Lisa’s reaction to Rippner’s defeat. She and Rippner share one last moment after he is shot, in which she could have acted out in anger or caring, but instead just turns and walks away – thereby walking away from the game of patriarchy altogether.
Cynthia and Lisa at the end of the film.
Lisa fought off, saved, and was supported by powerful men. However, she was also aided by the little girl who trips Rippner when he is in pursuit of Lisa, and emotionally supported by the women she knows and meets during the film, such as one of the stewardesses calling Rippner “trash” to his face. After his rescue, Charles Keefe thanks Lisa and her coworker and friend Cynthia (Jayma Mays) for saving his own life and that of his wife and children. Though Rippner treated Lisa as the ball in the game of patriarchy, it is not a game that she nor the other female characters are willing to play or support. The film ends with Lisa and Cynthia sticking up for each other in the face of irate hotel customers, and then going off to have a drink together in sisterly fashion, making a beautiful feminist ending to a well-written feminist film.
