Jessica Quiroli – Bitch Flicks

‘A League of their Own’: The Joy and Complexity of Sisterhood on a Baseball Field

The bond between the sisters is at the heart of the wartime baseball movie, directed by Penny Marshall… Their competitive nature is a motivation to be the best… It’s obvious that Dottie always seems to have one up on Kit, which sets up the relentless struggle of the spirited Kit who wants, finally, to be better than Dottie. … Kit and Dottie are the embodiment not just of sisterhood, but of the true nature of a teammate relationship.

This guest post written by Jessica Quiroli appears as part of our theme week on Sisterhood.

It only takes a few minutes into A League of Their Own that we learn what drives the Keller sisters, Dottie and Kit, as individuals. Their competitive nature is a motivation to be the best, even in the smallest ways, like racing home to see who can run faster. It’s obvious that Dottie (Geena Davis) always seems to have one up on Kit (Lori Petty), which sets up the relentless struggle of the spirited Kit who wants, finally, to be better than Dottie. It’s immediately clear they genuinely love each other and are devoted to family, and Dottie (now Hinson) to her husband Bob. When a scout comes calling, it’s obvious that they’ve always played the game, and he considers Dottie the bigger talent. But Kit is the driven one, filled with an intense desire to play, and not just to compete, but to win.

The bond between the sisters is at the heart of the wartime baseball movie, directed by Penny Marshall, and it serves as the energetic force in many key scenes. There are many female-bonding movies, but this is a rare one that passes the Bechdel Test with flying colors. There are few sports movies focused on women, and none like this. Add to that the driving theme of sisterhood, both forged and biological, and it makes for a complex and emotional ride.

There are a lot of themes at work here. World War II created a lack of spirit in the U.S., with many of the men who once played sports serving their country overseas. Based on the real All-American Girls Professional Ball-League, the film shows the unfolding drama of the Rockford Peaches: women learning to be professional ball players and prove that they’re perfectly capable of playing the game, mixed with the fear of losing their husbands, which throbs beneath the surface every moment.

When scout Ernie Capadino (Jon Lovitz at his acerbic best) finds them on the farm, there’s something striking about the parallels to other jobs in sports; slots are few, so women must battle harder, and, hopefully, uplift each other along the way. Dottie wants to help her sister succeed and does what she can to make sure she too has a slot. Kit’s opportunity is a hard-fought chance, something any woman in any area of sports can relate to. In 2012, A League of Their Own was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress for being “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant.”

The theme of overcoming barriers and refusing to settle is threaded throughout the stories of some of the single women, like Doris Murphy, portrayed so beautifully nuanced by Rosie O’Donnell in one of the most tender, throat-tightening moments (at least for me). She quietly tells her teammates on the team bus about her boyfriend who treats her poorly. She explains that she stays with him because, “They always made me feel I was wrong, you know? Like I was some sort of weird girl… I believed them too. Not anymore. There’s a lot of us. I think we’re all alright.” In a moment of inspired strength, surrounded by support, she tears up his photo and throws the pieces out the window.

Similarly, Megan Cavanagh, in one of the more memorable roles, has a heart-wrenching scene with her father, as he sends her off at the train station. Her character embodies the constant struggle women, particularly those in sports, endure as “tomboys” (let’s ban that word). As women we’re judged first by appearance, and judgments hold even after we’ve proven our ability. Marla plays through taunts from fans, and being openly mocked in a team introductory video. In these days of social media, women athletes are subject to that verbal abuse every day at an overwhelming level. Hooch, like any female athlete, just keeps on playing.

Everything always comes back to Dottie and Kit’s push-pull relationship. Dottie’s quiet leadership guides the team, while Kit’s frenetic nature pops in almost every moment she’s on-screen. On the field, their teammate relationship is tempered by that leadership. Dottie is asked to be honest about her sister’s limitations when Jimmy Dugan (the unbelievably perfect Tom Hanks) wants to lift Kit for another pitcher. Kit’s explosive anger is a snapshot of the experience of women in sports, today and throughout history. Women, especially in that era, were made to feel small, incapable of physically achieving what men could. In this story, however, Kit’s main adversary isn’t a man with an agenda, but a sister whom she regards as a more capable rival. Dottie’s loving and supportive (she’s the reason they’re on the team after all), but she takes the upper hand when necessary. That pivotal moment in the game embodies the rich, emotional bond of sisterhood.

There are no male heroes in the traditional sense. There’s an equal respect that grows between Dottie and Jimmy. She doesn’t stand down. He stands up. In the scene that is a turning point for Dugan, he and Dottie give competing signs to Hooch. It’s a classic moment, perfectly performed. And, more pointedly, a man and a woman, on equal ground, communicate (argue really) through the language of baseball.

Other characters emerge in their own way and aren’t lost by the central storyline. But how could Madonna ever just blend in? Not here. As Mae Mordabito, she’s the other half of the comedy duo with O’Donnell and, although opposites in a number of areas, their relationship shows what drives the soul of sisterhood. She’s flirtatious and free-spirited, while Doris struggles with self-confidence, but is also good for a scrappy on-field fight. Their loyalty and love for each other shines through, despite personality differences.

Watching A League of Their Own is a meditation of sorts for me as a baseball writer and fan. My heart swells, and my eyes fill, and I feel tremendous pride. I’m moved by the loss, the confusion, and the struggle the women face to keep going and to, eventually, let go. Kit and Dottie are the embodiment not just of sisterhood, but of the true nature of a teammate relationship.

We need these images of women physically competing, motivated by a love of a sport, winning, and the unique bonds of teammates and sisters.

Jessica Quiroli is a minor league baseball writer for Baseball Prospectus and the creator of Heels on the Field: A MiLB Blog. She’s also written extensively about domestic violence in baseball. She’s a DV survivor. You can follow her on Twitter @heelsonthefield.

‘Gorillas In the Mist’, Dian Fossey, and Female Ambition in the Wild

This guest post written by Jessica Quiroli appears as part of our theme week on Women Scientists.

When we first see Dian Fossey — portrayed by Sigourney Weaver, nominated for an Oscar for her performance — in the biopic Gorillas in the Mist, she’s briskly walking up stairs at a sprawling college campus in Louisville, Kentucky. She looks pristine, as do her surroundings. She’s well-dressed, her hair perfectly coiffed, her eyes glowing with hope and curiosity. She’s the image of health, intelligence, cleanliness, and acceptable American womanhood in the 1960s.

That will not last.

Dian Fossey, a zoologist, primatologist, and anthropologist, was a controversial figure because she approached her work with primates in their natural habitat in a radical and unconventional way. But it was, of course, also because she was a woman in the wild. Before Cheryl Strayed wrote her book Wild about hiking the Pacific Coast Trail, and Reese Witherspoon made a feminist masterpiece of it on the big screen, there was Gorillas in the Mist: a film that tells Fossey’s complicated story, three years after she was murdered in 1985 in her cabin in Rwanda.

The film celebrates the beautiful creatures Dian was sent to track by famed anthropologist Louis Leakey and her profound connection to them, which led to her living on a mountain, endangering her life in the process. She ultimately positioned herself to battle frustrated poachers protecting their way of life, despite the illegal killing of gorillas.

Dian’s arrival in the Republic of the Congo (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) in Africa illustrates a rejection of all that was traditionally feminine in her previous life — an engagement to a man, not to mention her blow dryer, which she insists on having in the early part of her journey. By the end, she’s stripped herself of all those aesthetic concerns, at least outwardly.

Fossey established her own site in 1967, named the Karisoke Research Center, in a rainforest camp in Rwanda, where much of the film’s story focuses. Throughout the film, as she journeys away from that woman in the first frame, we watch her fall in love not just with her African surroundings and gorilla subjects, but with her own power. At one point Dian bellows, “Get off my mountain!” — which could be viewed as a problematic or colonial statement as she is a white woman claiming ownership of a land not hers. In that moment, she perhaps reveals a deeper desire to detach from people whom she felt controlled or judged her. In Africa, she’s hated by poachers, but she’s unapologetically claimed her agency.

The film also explores Dian’s relationship with photographer Bob Campbell (Bryan Brown). The two begin an affair after he becomes the sole photographer of her work with the gorillas. The photos serve as documentation of the emotional bond that Dian developed with them. But the images are also a foreshadowing; Dian long ago gave up notions of being a traditional woman or wife, a decision that ultimately impacts their relationship. Fossey’s friend Rosamund Carr (portrayed by Julie Harris) confirms that her heartbreak over the end of her relationship profoundly affected her, confirming the film’s accuracy as well.

At times it seems so clear that Dian should leave, where she looks worn out and miserable, as well as genuinely sick (Fossey had asthma, and was also a smoker). The inspiration that made her eyes glow in the first few scenes is gone, replaced by a determination to not surrender and a desire to control her environment. Her fearlessness, however, is admirable; her drive, awe-inspiring. She spent years sacrificing her own needs to do work that had never done before, work that would have long-term impacts. Weaver shows not only that Fossey was devoted to studying her creatures, but that, at a certain point, they were her true love, for better or worse.

In 1967 women were on the verge of a revolution, forging their path by demanding equal respect and opportunities. Fossey didn’t fight that battle in everyday society, but she lived and died as a symbol of defiance of the expectations put on women. Just by doing work that she loved and believed in, Fossey made a statement about women’s value in the world.

Gorillas in the Mist doesn’t rob you of mourning. But it also doesn’t paint Fossey as a fool or victim. Her death was a horrific tragedy. But the movie shows you her fearless leadership, as she faced peril. She had every opportunity to jump off the track and move far from her mountain. But she refused.

Adapted from the screenplay from Fossey’s autobiography, screenwriter Anna Hamilton Phelan offers insight into Fossey’s mentality. Phelan recalled her visit to Fossey’s cabin, in Linda Seger’s screenwriting book Creating Unforgettable Characters. The visit occurred just weeks after Fossey’s death. With police tape everywhere, Phelan was unable to go inside. However, she peeked in her closet from a window. Hanging in the closet, she saw a ball gown, which she later learned was from the department store Bonwitt and Teller. That moment inspired Phelan to write the screenplay. Why was Fossey holding on to a ball gown in the middle of the wild? Phelan and Weaver’s performance show that Fossey lived by her own standards and didn’t care to be desired or liked. Perhaps she looked at that fancy gown in her closet and recalled her past life; perhaps she even longed for her former life. But she never fully returned to it.

As risky as her decision was, she stayed the course, refusing to be any other kind of woman than the one she became with the gorillas on that mountain.

The Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund International carried on Fossey’s work in the Karisoke Research Center, “dedicated to the conservation and protection of gorillas and their habitats in Africa.”

See also at Bitch Flicks: Biopic and Documentary Week: ‘Gorillas in the Mist’

10 of the Best Feminist Comedies of the 1980s

10 feminist comedies from the 1980s that focus on women and their careers, friendships, families, relationships, and journeys of self-discovery. Also, a look at how well these films do (or don’t) pass the Bechdel Test.

This guest post written by Jessica Quiroli appears as part of our theme week on Ladies of the 1980s.

9 to 5

If I may, this is the greatest women’s comedy of all-time. So perfect on every level, it’s hard to know where to begin; but how about with the three main characters? These are women on the verge: Judy, a woman in the middle of a painful divorce, is a bundle of raw nerves and professional inexperience. Rosalee is boss Franklin Hart’s secretary, experiencing his sexual harassment on a regular basis that she dutifully smiles through, while also putting a firm foot down. She’s also misjudged by women in the office about her relationship with Hart. Her story shows a side of women in the workplace that was too often kept secret, when women couldn’t freely report their superiors’ behavior without risking unemployment. And then there’s Violet, the woman who trained Mr. Hart, and is now his “right hand.” She’s so in control, so sharp, that it only makes sense that she’s who accidentally sends them into a madcap adventure of unintentional crime. Played by Jane Fonda, Dolly Parton, and Lilly Tomlin, this wild ride is a classic in any era, but a rare, feminist gem of the 80’s.

Bechdel Test Check: Of course! It’s a comedy about working women, workplace sexual harassment, fair pay, and a good old crime caper they alone must solve. First, they discuss matters of business, lamenting Mr. Hart’s horrible sexism and incompetence; then they band together to get out of hot water. They talk survival in the first half, then literal survival, and avoiding prison, in the second half. These women have a lot more to discuss than romance.

Private Benjamin

One of the best, if just for the ending alone. Goldie Hawn stars in this unique story about a young woman, Judy Benjamin, who seeks a challenge to her otherwise nice life by joining the U.S. Army. She quickly realizes the reality of that decision, but forges ahead. Judy rises to the challenge, bonds with the other women, and eventually has to decide what life she’d rather live. The other awesome thing about this movie: Hawn co-produced it with Nancy Meyers, who also wrote the screenplay.

Bechdel Test Check: Many conversations with the awesome Eileen Brennan, who plays Captain Doreen Lewis, including on arrival, when Judy explains she’s looking for the Army with “the condos.”

Desperately Seeking Susan

A buddy comedy without the buddies meeting until the very end. Susan, (pitch-perfect Madonna), is the exciting, perhaps dangerous woman leading an unapologetically carefree life. Rosanna Arquette’s Roberta is a woman married to a man she’s dissatisfied with, living a life she’s uninspired by. Reading about Susan’s life via a personal ads chain sparks Roberta’s imagination and she begins to follow Susan. All the action revolves around them; the men in their lives are the baffled bystanders. The women create the action, tension, and fun. Ultimately, we get two (!) heroines who’ve succeeded in the world by pursuing individual happiness they’ve refused to sacrifice.

Bechdel Test Check: Susan and friend Crystal discuss the working life. Crystal has a great monologue about feeling disrespected and being “legally blind.” Susan and Roberta’s sister-in-law Leslie chat, with Roberta’s husband Gary in the mix, about Roberta’s diary and how little they really know about her.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Stacy Hamilton isn’t waiting for the boys to find her. The high school girl Stacy, played by Jennifer Jason Leigh, embarks on a sexual awakening of her own design. She’s unsure, of course, but that doesn’t stop her. Stacy’s on a personal mission to achieve a rite of passage, a high school senior who’s sexually curious. She seeks advice from her experienced friend Linda (Phoebe Cates), hoping for tips and confidence. This movie’s viewed as a sex comedy for teenagers, but the subject matter’s depth, and how it’s portrayed, gives the film an emotional center with a genuinely sensitive, sometimes sad element. Yes, Jeff Spicolli, famously played by Sean Penn, is likely the most memorable character in most people’s minds (even IMDB lists him as the top billed-star). Stacy, however, is the heart and soul of the story. Her character is one we don’t see often enough: a teenage girl, discovering sex, sexual politics, and her own resolve to grow up and treat herself better.

Bechdel Test Check: There’s really nothing. If she’s talking to another girl, it’s about sex with boys.

Working Girl

Tess McGill’s devotion to her career is motivated by her desire to prove her self-worth, to no one else but herself, then to the corporate world. She has ideas, and plenty of intelligence and creativity to realize them. But her boss, Katherine (played by Sigourney Weaver) isn’t interested in helping her climb the ladder. The premise of a woman not wanting to help another woman is unfortunate, but realistically speaks to an earlier time in corporate America when it was even harder for women to succeed. Tess is fair, energetic, ambitious, and sexy. She doesn’t sacrifice anything to be loved, accepted, and successful. It’s inspiring and so fun to watch her emerge.

Bechdel Test Check: Tess and best friend Cyn, played by Joan Cusack with the most Brooklyn accent you’ve ever heard this side of a Joe Pesci movie, discuss Katherine’s absence and business meetings. Also, toward the end, Tess calls her friends and colleagues to make a huge professional announcement.

Baby Boom

J.C. Wyatt’s clocked countless hours, challenging the male-dominated corporate world so relentlessly, she’s nicknamed “The Tiger Lady.” She’s close to being made partner when baby Elizabeth comes along, after a cousin leaves her to J.C. for reasons that baffle her. Her colleagues and boss begin treating her differently. And the man she’s in a relationship with (played by everyone’s favorite, Harold Ramis) politely opts out. J.C. eventually takes her baby and business sense to Vermont and due to a dose of cabin fever, she creates a lucrative baby food company called “Country Baby.” The natural baby food achieves national success and her old company comes crawling back to her. J.C. also meets a veterinarian played sweetly and seductively by Sam Shepard, who respects her as she is, loves her, and loves her child. The story isn’t run-of-the-mill, but women everywhere can relate to juggling all the plates.

Bechdel Test Check: Really only one and it involves discussion about Elizabeth, just not a man. When Elizabeth is handed over to her by the woman from the adoption agency, Diane Keaton hilariously stumbles from impatient, to confused, to stunned, becoming completely unhinged by the circumstances.

Broadcast News

This powerful comedy/drama about a female news reporter, starring Holly Hunter, is perfectly imperfect. The story, the characters, the choices, and the ending are raw reality, rather than the gift-wrapped stories Hollywood, and audiences, love. Of course we love them! But we also love the messy, relatable truth. Jane’s a highly-respected news-producer, handling the egos of news-men Albert Brooks and William Hurt, who compete professionally, and for her affections.

Bechdel Test: Joan Cusack again! Very, very briefly, Jane and Blair exchange words about a segment that needs editing. Cue the most famous scene in the movie.

Heartburn

There’s no way to omit a woman’s story that’s both legendary in literary and journalistic circles, and one relatable to many women. While many of us are merely observers of what it was like for female professionals in the 80’s (and 90’s) who were trying to balance family and career, writer Nora Ephron lived through all the societal stages. But this is a very personal story, with some really raw ugly stuff that you can easily judge, but are better off staying out of the way of, as Rachel Samstatt’s (played by freaking perfect Meryl Streep) friends and colleagues learn. Food writer Rachel has such intense doubt on the day of her wedding to Mark Foreman (played also horribly perfect by Jack Nicholson) that her friends and family, and finally Mark, have to convince her to marry him. There’s a lot to laugh at, and a lot to boil the blood, as we watch Rachel figure out who she is and what she needs to be happy.

Bechdel Test Check: One absolutely killer scene. Rachel returns to New York, after leaving Mark, and she runs into an old friend named Judith (played by Doctor Marsha from ‘Sleepless in Seattle’!). Rather than tell Judith about her husband’s affair, Rachel lies and says that her mother died. Judith tells her that she’s learned that the death of one’s mother can actually be “a blessing.” There are worse things, Judith tells Rachel. “I know, Judith. I know.”

Beaches

This is a love story between two lifelong friends. There’s no replacing the relationship, as C.C. Bloom (Bette Midler) tries explaining to husband John, played by the underrated John Heard. That might be because the friendship began when she and Hillary Whitney (Barbara Hershey) meet in early adolescence, before boys, before adult life pulls them in many directions. They’re each other’s foundation, the one thing that they can count on. Hershey plays Hillary so understated in the light of Midler’s raw, over-the-top performance, that when she falls apart, her meltdowns resonate. When they finally meet again as adults, Hillary flips a switch for a minute, announcing she’s “Free at last!,” prompting C.C. to recoil, uncertain about a person she knows to her core, but is getting to know in a whole new way. This ranks high in all-time great female friendship movies, because, mostly, they aren’t competing for a man’s attention. They’re most hopeful to receive each other’s love and acceptance.

Bechdel Test Check: Their first meeting is as young girls, but we sure need more of those girlhood stories. C.C introduces herself, as if in Technicolor, to the refined Hillary. A lot is revealed quickly about what these girls know, want, and need. Hillary hangs her head sadly, and in hardened monotone, explains that her mother died when she was a little girl. C.C. proudly announces she’s a singer, disappointed that Hillary hasn’t heard of her. C.C. also smokes, calls her mother by her first name, and attempts to calm her mother’s emotions. Hillary talks about her aunt and her concerns that she’s getting into trouble. In a sense, they’re already business women trying to meet their families’ expectations. They harbor too much responsibility, and they talk like the old friends they’ll become. In a later, pivotal confrontation they argue about envying each other.

Terms of Endearment

Essentially about two women obsessed with each other, Aurora Greenway and her daughter Emma spend their lives loving, fearing and fighting each other. Men are in their orbit, flying as close as they can, never fully understanding or appreciating them. The mother and daughter (played by Shirley MacLaine and Debra Winger) love one another in an indescribable way, and determine their purpose and happiness. They take what they can and they own it, unapologetically. When Emma begins her affair with Sam (John Lithgow) she proceeds simply and fearlessly. When Aurora talks about sex and stringing men along, or becoming a grandmother (more accurately yells like she’s been wounded), she’s confronting uniquely female experiences. Full disclosure, Emma Greenway Horton is my all-time favorite female fictional character. Created in the Larry McMurtry lab, she’s first introduced in early books as a background character. This story, in case you don’t know, ends badly. But, until then, you’ll be laughing a lot.

Bechdel Test Check: Emma’s best friend Patsy takes her to lunch with her sophisticated New York friends. After lunch, Patsy admits she told them about Emma’s illness and they argue. Later, Patsy tells Emma why their friendship is so meaningful to her.

‘Honey Pot’: The Super Fun Experience of Writing a Female-Driven Action-Comedy

Writing women as interesting, multi-layered individuals with a rich inner life isn’t impossible, so the fact that men continue to write women with so little substance isn’t because they can’t. It’s that they won’t. And the fact that there aren’t more female-driven comedies isn’t because (sorry to bring this nonsense up again) they aren’t funny, it’s because mostly men run the show and most of them don’t value women as anything other than wives and ‘yacht girl in bikini.’ They don’t see women as funny and interesting and smart and worthy of 90 minutes, so they don’t write for them and they don’t include them. It’s. A. Choice.

This is a guest post written by Jessica Quiroli.

In 2015, Glamour magazine published an article by Megan Angelo titled, “Let’s Rewrite Hollywood, Shall We?” In it, she cited frustrating statistics about the state of women in movies. One of them was that “in 2014 33% of speaking roles in major movies went to women.” While the article overall was fascinating and frustratingly informative, it was the sidebars that caught my eye; particularly one written by Nikki Glaser.

The sidebars were mini-stories written by women, re-imagining male-driven movies, such as Die Hard (One of my favorite action movies, by the way. Also, Christmas, but never mind that.). In the re-telling of famous movie scenes, women were given re-defined roles in the lives of the men the movies focus on. My favorite was by Glaser, who took on Entourage, the movie. Confession: I’ve never seen the TV show and definitely missed the movie. But I knew the premise and some of the characters’ names. I didn’t have an issue with the series as it was based on Mark Wahlberg’s friends, but was never interested enough to watch it.

Glaser wrote about “Topless Yacht Girl,” that stock female character that hangs on a man and has no other function and, of course, no lines, at least not often. Here, topless girl on a yacht finds the character of Johnny Drama to be “one of the dumbest people with whom she’d ever spoken.” She’s a pretender, trying to get by, putting up with men that annoy her because they have all the power. She’s also given a name (!) Catherine. Catherine eventually “grabbed her top, ran toward the railing, and dove into the shallow surf.” She swims “confidently to shore” to begin a better life, where she’s valued and happy.

That article has been on my desk throughout the writing process of my screenplay, Honey Pot.

Also hanging around in a stack of inspiration: another Glamour article, an interview with Glamsquad CEO, Alexandra Wilkis Wilson who’s quoted saying, “Be your own best advocate”; and a Women’s Health piece on Reese Witherspoon, who provided a tweet I’ve made an Instagram photo of: “Successful women don’t have a lot of time for people who don’t lift them up.” (I imagine Catherine reading that same article and getting inspired to yacht-dive to freedom). The other thing that Witherspoon inspired me to remember in that interview is that we must do something about all of this. And that’s going to take a lot of work, creativity, solidarity and commitment (Also see the study of women in film, focused on screen time and amount of dialogue for female characters in film by Polygraph Cool, conducted by Hannah Anderson and Matt Daniels.)

I’ve been dabbling in screenwriting for a few years, working on it, reading about it, and studying the art form in every way I could think of, outside of taking courses. In the absence of that, I bought the book by Lew Hunter, a professor of screenwriting at UCLA, which is his curriculum in book form, or as close as it gets. I reached out to him and consulted him for advice. After a mishap mailing him a script three years ago, I e-mailed him my first truly serious, heartfelt attempt a baseball screenplay called Minor League Guys in 2015, and he gave me some excellent feedback. Then I realized that I hadn’t told the story I wanted to, so I started over and e-mailed the new version a few months later. He gave high praise for the re-write and I began putting myself out there professionally. I’m still figuring that out. I’d been a baseball writer for a decade, skipping college, and over time figured out what I really wanted to do. I’ve logged many miles and hours developing my craft. Baseball kind of found me, but writing was always my destiny.

Minor League Guys is about four baseball players at different stages in their careers, it was about the world I knew; but what was also important to me, was that the women in the story be given a real voice, a rich inner life, and, you know, lines. The wives of the players aren’t background noise with nothing to do but serve the male characters stories: they’re women who own businesses, go to school, are supportive of one another, and also expect support from their husbands. They all have very equal partnerships with their significant others. Another of the main characters is a woman who works in the front office of the fictional team. In her introductory scene, she’s in command, giving directions and informing others around her. I was mindful with their lines. And none of them are unstable, without personality, or nameless, sitting around in bathing suits.

Perhaps this is what that golden beacon of light Witherspoon was referring to; create the thing you want to see in the world instead of just being upset about what’s missing. And so, that set me on a path I’d been thinking of for a while. A comedy about two women, who get caught up in a crime caper, full of wild twists and turns, lots of fun, and plenty of action. They would have so many lines!

I have a passion for comedies like Superbad and Pineapple Express, and I thought about how women don’t see enough of those kinds of comedies for themselves. The kind where life goes off the rails and your whole day or week is an unraveling adventure full of pitfalls and peril. And most of it is hilarious. My favorite feminist comedies in the past few years have both starred Melissa McCarthy: The Heat and Spy. What freaking fun films. I also admit, despite how much you might frown reading this, that I loved The Other Woman. Yes, it’s about three women in love with a dude that’s lying to them all. But they become instant friends and teammates. We root for them as friends, and as smart women who want to teach that guy a lesson. They outfox him. And they look glamorous doing it and I loved that, too.

But we need more and we deserve a variety of stories, particularly comedy, in which women are the center of the action and they’re not trying to win over a guy or have that be the entire focus. Think about buddy-cop movies like Beverly Hills Cop or action-comedies like The Other Guys or funny westerns or coming-of-age sex comedies. Women want those too. We want to see ourselves.

Honey Pot originated from a writing prompt and developed over a year and a half. I have to sit with characters a while, getting to know them and hear them (so writerly, I know) before I begin. I write down lines, scrawl scene ideas on a college notebook, and take mental note when something interesting or funny happens that I think I could become a scene.

When I sat down to begin, I had a page full of possible titles. I wanted something like Superbad, that had punch to it and sounded like a good time, but also sounded like the name of an awesome music group from the 70’s. I wanted it to imply something about the story in an animated way. But for all the fun I had in mind, other elements were pulling me to expand my vision. I was thinking about street harassment, women in small business, equal pay, single motherhood, how image defines us, and sexual shaming. I also wanted to make fun of movie-making when it comes to roles for women. They’re always the wife/girlfriend/fiancée/mistress on the phone, waiting for the guy to return from the fun, hi jinx, danger and actual story. I felt myself drawn very naturally to weaving these elements into a funny story. Ultimately, every comedy, even the most absurd, has heart. In the creative flow, I was hearing a new voice. The Catherines’ of the world have a lot going on and plenty to say about the way the world treats them.

On the first page of notes, the very first line I scrawled was about slut-shaming. It was funny and served a purpose to the overall story. I realized that this was clicking. I was doing all the things in every scene I needed to. I didn’t want to preach, but show professional, happy women with strong friendships, and healthy personal lives. They have their insecurities, inconsistencies, family issues, and uncertainty about what the future holds. But they’re confident in their abilities. They enjoy life on their own terms. And they’re each other’s allies.

In the midst of dealing with life, and making important business decisions while financially strapped, in walks a client that shakes things up, and sets the characters on a wild path. I ask myself, “Will women have fun watching this?” I remained mindful of the ways in which they spoke to each other, to others in their lives, and how they viewed themselves.

Writing women like that isn’t difficult. It really isn’t. Writing women as interesting, multi-layered individuals with a rich inner life isn’t impossible, so the fact that men continue to write women with so little substance isn’t because they can’t. It’s that they won’t. And the fact that there aren’t more female-driven comedies isn’t because (sorry to bring this nonsense up again) they aren’t funny, it’s because mostly men run the show and most of them don’t value women as anything other than wives and ‘yacht girl in bikini.’ They don’t see women as funny and interesting and smart and worthy of 90 minutes, so they don’t write for them and they don’t include them. It’s. A. Choice.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t know if I could be funny on paper. AND write an action-oriented movie that wasn’t about baseball. AND pay tribute to the mystery stories I’ve always loved. I had no idea if I could do any of those things. But I was inspired and motivated and went from there.

A few years ago, I wrote a screenplay that focused on the life of a woman who had grown up in baseball as the daughter of a player and married a player. She was full of life and sexuality and confidence. In the early part of her life, she was challenged by her father’s strident views and rebelled. I submitted it to the Francis Ford Coppola-created Zoetrope website, where readers were allowed to comment on scripts. One man sent me a message I’ll never forget. Of the heroine, he wrote, “She’s obviously a slut.” I stopped submitting my work there. Subjecting myself to a guy like that didn’t help me as a person or writer. But I remember that now as I pursue telling more women’s stories. I refused to allow the word “slut” or “bitch” (though I understand the use in things like, oh, an amazingly timely website!) or any of the words we use for women and don’t blink an eye about.

In Honey Pot, I wanted to elevate the female experience, the female language. I wanted to write a fun, smartly entertaining story that women could love. I want them to see other women rooting each other on, and working as a team. I want to see myself, having fun, and figuring out how to save the day.

It doesn’t feel groundbreaking. But when I look at women in comedic films, I realize that funny women doing fun, interesting things is still a work in progress. So, let’s keep making progress. We’ve been left out of the fun long enough. I believe Catherine agreed.