Tag: Lady T

A Feminist Look at The Women of ‘Arrested Development’

Written by Lady T. 

The fourth season of Arrested Development is in production, and fans are blueing themselves in delight. Every time I turn around, entertainment news is buzzing with more information about the show’s upcoming revival. Right after we fans calm down over our initial excitement at seeing Jason Bateman’s tweet of the first set photos, we hear more good news from David Cross as he hints at a longer season than originally planned.

It’s a good time to be an Arrested Development fan. I pulled out my season 1 DVDs the other day and watched the first two discs, and suddenly felt inspired to write about a topic that I’ve put on the back burner for too long: the women of the Bluth-Funke clan.
Arrested Development has three main female characters, outnumbered 2 to 1 by the main male characters, but they each lend their unique comic touch to the show and help make the Bluth family the wonderfully dysfunctional family they are.
The first main female character is the matriarch of the Bluth family, Lucille Bluth, who is probably the worst human being on the program.
Lucille Bluth (Jessica Walter) and the wink that makes her son uncomfortable
Of all the dysfunctional, vain, shallow, spoiled members of the Bluth family, Lucille is the closest to being pure evil. Despite showing a glimpse of humanity here and there, she is ruthless, cruel, and enjoys playing favorites with her children. She constantly relies on Michael to get her out of any scrape the family gets into, mocks GOB and Lindsay and purposely reinforces their biggest insecurities, and clings to Buster to his own detriment. She’s a proud alcoholic and a racist – in fact, the only time she ever shows affection for her son GOB is when he makes a crack about “horny immigrants.” She’s mean and proud of it.
Classic line: “If that’s a veiled criticism of me, I won’t hear it, and I won’t respond to it.”
The feminist case for Lucille: I’ve seen too many family sitcoms where the mother and wife is portrayed as the most logical, sensitive, caring person, the glue holding the group together – endlessly patient except for the rare times when she’s not, the person who takes responsibility while the irresponsible man-children get to run around and have all the fun. Seeing Lucille reject that responsibility and use her influence for evil is so refreshing, and watching Jessica Walter tear into that role is a real treat. I rarely see an actress given the opportunity to enjoy playing an evil character to the extent that Walter does.
Lucille’s bad influence can be seen in her children, including her only daughter, Lindsay Funke.
Lindsay Funke (Portia de Rossi) in her infamous Slut shirt
Of the Bluth children, Lindsay is the clear third favorite of her mother’s, slightly preferable to GOB, but below Michael and far below Buster. Lucille’s constant negative comments about Lindsay’s weight and appearance have left her insecure and determined to be a better person than her mother, but she doesn’t always succeed. Even though Lindsay is more conscious about social issues than her parents are, she’s also the biggest hypocrite in the family next to Michael. She fights for causes that she doesn’t quite understand, protesting against leather while still eating meat, fighting against circumcision and annoying the Jewish Defense League, and refusing to be objectified for her looks while feeling insulted that prison inmates don’t sexually harass her.
Classic line: “You know, we’re not the only ones destroying trees. What about beavers? You call yourself an environmentalist, why don’t you go club a few beavers?”
The feminist case for Lindsay: Lindsay is probably the only character on the show that would think to call herself a feminist, though she’d probably get the definition wrong and contradict herself several times while standing up for feminist beliefs. When there are very few feminist characters on television to begin with, Lindsay’s clueless activism could be interpreted as problematic, but the show is clear that Lindsay’s hypocrisy and shallowness are the problem, not the feminist/environmentalist ideals themselves. The joke is on her, not on her beliefs. Lindsay is also frequently put in the role of criticizing Michael’s hypocrisy, showing that she has some intelligence even underneath the shallowness, making her a more well-rounded character.
Like her mother, Lindsay is often neglectful of her own daughter, Maeby Funke.

Maeby is confused, and not impressed.

Maeby has a complicated relationship with her mother. While Lindsay often seeks Lucille’s approval only to get smacked down and criticized, Maeby tries to get any kind of attention (mostly negative) from her mother only to be ignored. In fact, Maeby is often overlooked and ignored by most of the members of the Bluth-Funke family – except for her cousin George Michael, who’s in love with her. This neglect leaves Maeby free to do whatever she wants, whether it’s skipping school, breaking into offices to steal evidence for her grandfather, or bluffing her way into the position of movie executive while she’s still in high school.

Classic line: “Marry me!”
The feminist case for Maeby: She might be the most underappreciated character on the show (or she was, until all of the “Call Me Maeby” song parodies came out), but I’ve always enjoyed the way Maeby combines cleverness and ignorance. She has almost no math skills or understanding of numbers, thinking that six twenty-dollar bills add up to $200, but she’s a master at manipulation. For two seasons, she manages to convince an entire movie studio that she’s an adult, and when her real age is eventually exposed, she still manages to work that to her advantage, making a made-for-TV movie about her life and tricking her family members into signing release agreements. When watching her effortlessly trick the people around her, the audience gets the impression that the Bluth family would have solved their problems long ago if anyone had bothered to consult their youngest member.
The Bluth-Funke women make up some of the most entertaining, well-rounded characters on television. They provide just as much laughs as the male characters on Arrested Development and help to dispel the ridiculous claims that “women aren’t funny.” I can’t wait to see what’s next for Lucille, Lindsay, and Maeby in season four. I’m blueing myself in anticipation.

Welcome New Contributors!

You’ve probably noticed some wonderful new writers around here. They’ll each be writing weekly posts, so you’ll definitely want to check back here often to read their fabulous pieces. In case you missed any of their introductions last week, I’ve included excerpts below. Make sure to read their full bios to learn more about them–and then welcome them to the Bitch Flicks team!
Myrna Waldron: I am a lifelong film enthusiast, but my particular passion is animation. (I like live action television too, but I’m fairly picky) Since a young age I have obsessively consumed animation in all forms, whether they be slapstick cartoons like Looney Tunes or abstract experiments like Begone Dull Care. I am particularly interested in American animation (Chuck Jones is my hero), but I have some interest in Canadian (particularly the short films distributed by the National Film Board of Canada) and Japanese animation (mostly from the 90s) as well. It is a pet peeve of mine when people refer to animation as a genre rather than a medium, or, even worse, to assume that all animation is for children – so don’t do it! 😉 [click here to read more about Myrna]
Lady T: If I can describe my approach to feminism in one sentence, it would be this: “There’s always room for improvement.” Occasionally, I blog about media that really grates my cheese, but I’m more likely to criticize and analyze works of media that I really love and admire. I like the female characters on The Vampire Diaries, but I think the show’s portrayal of its black characters leaves a lot to be desired. I love the late, great George Carlin for many reasons, particularly his stand-up about abortion and grammar, but I don’t agree with his opinions on rape jokes. Most works of art that I love have some problematic aspects and I think it’s worthwhile and necessary to analyze our favorite things. [click here to read more about Lady T]
Robin Hitchcock: I’ve been a movie lover since I was a young teen, when my dad instituted “Movie Camp” in our house to fill in the gaps in my cultural heritage.  I’ve been a feminist since longer than I can remember.  I have a small amount of formal gender studies training in the form of a certificate in Women’s Studies from my alma mater the University of Pittsburgh (2006), but that department was so small they couldn’t even offer a minor in Women’s Studies, much less a major degree concentration.  I also have a J.D. from the University of Pittsburgh (2010), but I do not practice as a lawyer.  I am always trying to learn more and strengthen my feminist muscles.  I find it more or less impossible to see a movie and not want to write about it.  Even when I really hate a movie, I still tend to enjoy watching it, thinking about it, and writing about it. [click here to read more about Robin]
Erin Fenner: I love cult films, “bad movies” and directors who try their damndest to say something new in a different way. I love black and white, foreign and Cannes Film Festival. I get excited by trying-to-be-subtle symbolism and am a sucker for allegory. I value the filmmakers who push a feminist agenda, and even those who willingly ignore politics but still manage to convey a message that is keenly relevant. Not to say that I don’t like blockbusters and Oscar nodding. Explosions and played-out sensuality don’t titillate me, but I am fascinated by the process, the message and am obsessed with the mistakes. [To be clear, my notion of “liking” or “loving” something is often interchangeable with most people’s notion of “morbid fascination.”] [click here to read more about Erin]
Max Thornton: I am a third culture kid who grew up in the USA, Kenya, and Great Britain. I am a trans* queer person who gets angry a lot. I am a grad student in theology, which I define broadly as the processes by which people create meaning in their lives, and my especial interest is the interrelationship of politics, culture, and religion.

I love film, books, and sci-fi in any medium, and I have an especial passion for television. My favorite show of all time is Mystery Science Theater 3000; my favorite show currently airing is Community; the list of shows I love is ever expanding with series both new and new-to-me, but among my very favorites are Adventure Time, Archer, Arrested Development, Breaking Bad, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Farscape, Firefly, Freaks and Geeks, The League of Gentlemen, Parks and Recreation, Phineas and Ferb, Pushing Daisies, Spaced, The Thick Of It, Venture Bros, and Wonderfalls. [click here to read more about Max]
Rachel Redfern: While I grew up in California and still consider it home, I’ve moved around a bit since then; currently, I live in South Korea where I teach English and stuff myself with Kimchi and Toblerone bars and watch way too much TV. My tastes extend into the realm of the eclectic and some of my favorites are Arrested Development, Castle, pretty much anything by HBO but specifically True Blood and Game of Thrones (ditto for BBC), and loads of old shows, Star Trek, I Dream of Jeannie, Murder She Wrote, Northern Exposure, most of which are campy and nostalgic (who else loves the original Doctor Who?). [click here to read more about Rachel]
Leigh Kolb: It was only after graduating college and working in the real world (where one male boss actually told me women’s lib was a bad idea) that I realized feminism needed to be a part of my life. I opened my eyes and saw a world of gendered roles and expectations–from the media to the workplace–and I didn’t like it. I embraced the f-word.

My love for pop culture, analysis, argument and feminism created the person at this keyboard. I’ve learned to bring notebooks with me to the movies, keep one handy in the living room when we watch TV, and keep my eyes and ears open constantly to connect representations of gender roles in the media to our culture. [click here to read more about Leigh]

Three Reasons to Like Gwen Stacy

I have now seen The Redundant Amazing Spider-Man twice in theaters – the first time with friends, and the second time with my brothers when it was a rainy day and we didn’t have time to see The Dark Knight Rises. I liked the film more than the previous Spider-Man movies, largely because of Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone, but I also liked the film’s treatment of Gwen Stacy.
Women in superhero movies don’t often get much to do. If they’re not completely invented for the film for the sake of throwing a bone to female viewers (Rachel Dawes in Batman Begins), they’re left in the role of damsel in distress who do nothing but get into trouble and get rescued (Mary Jane Watson in the original Spider-Man trilogy). Female superheroes and anti-heroes, like the Black Widow in The Avengers or Catwoman in Batman Returns and The Dark Knight Rises, are more complex, but if you’re not a hero and simply dating one, forget it – no good characterization for you.
That is, unless you’re Gwen Stacy in The Amazing Spider-Man. (Note: I haven’t read the comics and this post will only talk about Gwen in the film.)
Emma Stone as Gwen Stacy in The Amazing Spider-Man
 As far as superhero love interests go, Gwen Stacy is very cool. Here are three reasons why:
1) She’s intelligent for her own sake, not just for Peter’s.
In The Amazing Spider-Man, Gwen Stacy is a student at Midtown Science High School with Peter Parker, as well as an intern at OsCorp. She’s gifted in the field of science, hard-working, and has a good sense of humor, gently ribbing Peter after Flash Thompson beats him up in front of the school.
But she doesn’t come across as the Token Smart Female, the one-dimensional character archetype who’s thrown in the story so the hero can have a love interest and the female viewers can stop complaining about lack of female representation. She’s smart in a way that makes sense to the character and to the plot. Of course Gwen Stacy is smart; she’s a student at a magnet high school! She’s also shown researching and working at her computer in several different scenes, and the direction indicates that she’s a girl with an active life outside of Peter Parker and Spider-Man. We don’t get to see much of it, but we can tell it’s there.
Gwen in the hallway of Midtown Science High School
2. Gwen helps save the day.
The main hero of the movie is, of course, Spider-Man/Peter Parker himself, as it should be – it’s his name in the title, after all. But I was pleasantly surprised to see how active Gwen was in the plot of the film. When the Lizard tried to turn all of New York City into reptile-people, Gwen was the one who cooked the antidote. Captain Stacy passed it to Spider-Man, who released the antidote in the air and cured not only the people of New York, but Dr. Connors/The Lizard himself.
Again, I’m not used to seeing the superhero love interest take an active role in saving the world. Spider-Man could not have saved the world without Gwen’s help. She wasn’t just a participant in Spider-Man’s plot; she played a vital role – and she did it using her brain and applied knowledge.
Gwen working at OsCorp
3. Gwen has Peter Parker’s number. I loved that Peter told Gwen about his secret identity halfway through the movie. It felt like a fresh take on the story to have the love interest learn of the hero’s identity early in the story. But I groaned near the end of the movie where [spoiler alert!] a dying Captain Stacy asked Peter not to involve Gwen in his heroics anymore. I could see the plot of the next film playing before my eyes: Gwen would have hurt feelings that Peter was ignoring her, and there would be a Classic Misunderstanding between the two of them until the very end of the movie.
I should have given the screenwriters more credit. It takes about sixty seconds for Gwen to realize what’s going on after Peter tells her he can’t see her anymore. She understands very quickly that her father must have asked Peter to stay away from her and keep her safe. She doesn’t like it, but she gets it. 
Gwen and Peter (Andrew Garfield)
 I’m happy that The Amazing Spider-Man made Gwen Stacy an actual character instead of turning her into a nameless, faceless love interest. I hope the writers continue with Gwen’s strong characterization and put equal care and attention into writing Mary Jane Watson, if and when they introduce her. (And if they can have a red-haired Emma Stone play Mary Jane as well, that would be great, because Emma Stone makes everything better.)

New Bitch Flicks Regular Contributor: Lady T

Greetings and salutations. I’m Lady T and I’m thrilled to have been invited to be a regular contributor at Bitch Flicks. You may remember me from such guest posts as “Willow Rosenberg: Geek, Interrupted,” “Why Watch Romantic Comedies?“, and “Easy A: A Fauxminist Film”. I blog at The Funny Feminist, where I analyze media (mostly comedies) from a feminist perspective and smash trolls with my sarcasm hammer.
I’ve been a feminist my whole life, but it wasn’t until college that I felt comfortable calling myself one. I credit my feminist parents, my grandmother, my extended family filled with tough independent women (one of whom gave me the nickname Lady T in the first place), my college roommates, my younger brothers, the essay “Yes, You Are”, and the Internet blogosphere and sites like Bitch Flicks for helping me become the feminist I am today.
Before I was comfortable calling myself a feminist, I was a fan of comedy and television. The formative works that most influenced by sense of humor are The Simpsons, Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Sesame Street, and SCTV. Shows that I discovered later in life, but that are no less important to me, include Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Community, Arrested Development, 30 Rock, South Park, Daria, Freaks and Geeks, and The IT Crowd. I also enjoy the occasional excellent television drama like The Wire and Deadwood, the occasional excellent teen soap like The Vampire Diaries, and the occasional shameful guilty pleasure like a show I call The Creek because I hate Dawson.
As you can see, I’m a big fan of satirical, absurdist, supremely silly comedy. My favorite comedy films growing up were The Producers and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I also love romantic comedies and anything based on Jane Austen – When Harry Met Sally…, Clueless, Pride and Prejudice (BBC), Punch-Drunk Love. My favorite movie of all time is The Wizard of Oz, because I am a sentimental fool.
If I can describe my approach to feminism in one sentence, it would be this: “There’s always room for improvement.” Occasionally, I blog about media that really grates my cheese, but I’m more likely to criticize and analyze works of media that I really love and admire. I like the female characters on The Vampire Diaries, but I think the show’s portrayal of its black characters leaves a lot to be desired. I love the late, great George Carlin for many reasons, particularly his stand-up about abortion and grammar, but I don’t agree with his opinions on rape jokes. Most works of art that I love have some problematic aspects and I think it’s worthwhile and necessary to analyze our favorite things.
Or maybe I’m just nitpicky and should rename myself Lady Nitpick of Anal-Retention Land. Whatevs.
LADY T is a feminist blogger and snarky person. She has two degrees of English and English Education from Hofstra University. She taught middle school English for four years in Brooklyn, but gave up that career to pursue a more fulfilling life of blogging about Disney princesses, posting sketch comedy videos, and snarking about The Baby-sitters Club. She writes for educational websites and regularly volunteers to work with adults and children with disabilities. Her first novel, Fanged, is now available for purchase. Her dream career is a combination of Tina Fey and Mindy Kaling’s – head writer/creator of a sitcom while playing one of the minor side characters. In the meantime, she’ll continue to nitpick like hell at her favorite things.

 

Women in Science Fiction Week: ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s Willow Rosenberg: Geek, Interrupted

Willow Rosenberg (Alyson Hanigan) on Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Written by Lady T. 
Joss Whedon is known for creating and writing about strong female characters in his science fiction shows. One of the most popular and complex of these characters is Willow Rosenberg from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Willow speaks to many people and quite a few have named her their favorite character on the show, from Mark at Mark Watches to Joss Whedon himself, who put the most Willow-centric episode of the series (“Doppelgangland”) on his list of favorite episodes.
Another thing that makes Willow so appealing is the fact that her character arc over seven seasons can’t be described in only one way. Some see Willow’s story as a shy, brainy computer geek embracing her supernatural power in becoming a witch.Others relate to her arc as one of a repressed wallflower who explores her sexuality and finds more confidence in coming out as a lesbian. Still others are fascinated with the different ways she handles magic, and her recovery after drifting too far to the dark side.
What story is told when those three arcs are put together? For me, the story of Willow Rosenberg is the story of a woman who spends years defining and re-defining herself, rejecting roles that other people have chosen for her – for better and for worse.
From the very first episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Willow has been presented as a shy, sweet, helpful friend to the titular heroine– and from the very second episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Willow has shown herself not to be as sweet or innocent as everyone thinks she is. When she meets Buffy for the first time, she’s eager and friendly, bubbling over with information, in awe that this mysterious, cool new girl is talking to her, but also wanting to help in any way she can.
 Willow (Alyson Hannigan) talks to Buffy (Sarah Michelle Gellar)
This eager beaver persona is the one that Willow adopts for most of seasons one and two.She becomes the Hermione to Buffy’s Harry, using her computer hacking skills to assist whenever Buffy needs more research for demon-fighting and she can’t find the answers in one of Giles’s books. And for these two years, Willow is notonly content in this role, but she thrives in it. Like her best friend Xander (my favorite character on Buffy), she’s found a place where she belongs. She’s found a purpose in fighting the good fight against the forces of evil, and she doesn’t seem to mind that she’s a second banana to Buffy. As long as she can put her skills to use and she’s fighting the bad guys, she’s happy.
This changes when Willow discovers magic.
Near the end of season two, Willow begins exploring supernatural arts. She doesn’t do much beyond research and reading, but despite her lack of practice, she thinks that she has what it takes to perform a spell that will restore Angel’s soul.
Watching the season two finale with the perspective of hindsight is more than a little uncomfortable, because we know how much Giles turns out to be right when he tells Willow, “Challenging such potent magics through yourself…it could open a door that you might not be able to close.” It’s also uncomfortable because we can see that Willow is more interested in proving her skills in magic than doing the right thing. She wants to help Buffy, obviously, but she also wants to prove to everyone – and to herself – that she can do the spell.
And she does.
Willow possessed as she performs the spell
Angel’s spell is restored several minutes too late, and Buffy has to kill him anyway. But Willow doesn’t think about this potential consequence. She excitedly tells her friends, “I think the spell worked. I felt something go through me.”
After that,Willow becomes less meek, less shy, and more risky with her use of magic. She tries to use magic to make her and Xander fall out of lust with each other (in a plotline that I hate and always will hate, by the way), and is angry with him when he confronts her for resorting to spells. She becomes even angrier in season four when she, Oz,Buffy, and Xander are trapped in a haunted house and Buffy criticizes her aptitude in magic, saying that Willow’s spells have a 50% success rate. Willow responds with a flustered, “Oh yeah? Well – so’s your face!” but then follows up with a bitter, “I’m not your sidekick!”
Shortly afterwards, Willow tries to perform a spell that winds up failing. This is in an episode entitled “Fear, Itself,” where each major character confronts his/her major fear. Oz is afraid of the werewolf inside him, Xander is afraid of being invisible to his friends, Buffy is afraid of abandonment, and Willow…seems to be afraid of her spell going wrong?
Willow’s spell goes wrong
Compared to her friends’ worries, Willow’s fear seems a little superficial. At the end of the season, though, we learn that Willow’s fears are about much more than simple experiments going wrong.
By the end of season four, Willow has gone through a few pretty significant changes. She’s become more focused on magic and less focused on her scientific, “nerdy”pursuits. She’s farther apart from Buffy and Xander than ever, despite loving both of them. She’s entered a romantic relationship with a woman. Most significantly of all, Willow is confident. She has a life that is fully her own, where she has two things (Tara and magic) that are hers. She’s entered a new phase in her life.
Or has she? After watching Willow’s dream in “Restless,” we can’t say that this new Willow is any more confident or self-assured than the old one who couldn’t stand up for herself when Cordelia Chase insulted her by the water fountain.
Joss Whedon’s writing for Willow’s dream is clever and filled with misdirection. Characters talk about Willow and her “secret,” a secret that she only seems comfortable discussing with Tara. Dream-Buffy constantly comments on Willow’s “costume,”telling her to change out of it because “everyone already knows.” We’re led to believe that Willow is afraid that her friends will judge her for being gay and being a relationship with another woman…but this isn’t the case at all.
Instead, when Dream-Buffy rips off Willow’s costume, we see a version of Willow that is eerily reminiscent of season one Willow: a geek with pretensions of being cool.
Dream-Willow delivering a book report
In her dream,Willow is dressed in schoolgirl clothes, delivering a book report on The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.Anya and Harmony are snarking at her from the audience, Buffy is bored, Xander is shouting, “Who cares?!” and Tara and Oz are mocking her and flirting wit heach other.
This sequence is haunting, heartbreaking, and foreboding. Those of us who watched Buffy for the first four years know that Willow’s perceptions are far from accurate. Buffy was supportive of Willow far more often than not and Xander defended Willow against anyone who threatened her. As for her love interests, well, Tara practically worshiped the ground Willow walked on, and Oz admitted that Willow was the only thing in his life that he ever loved.
But none of that changes the way Willow feels. Despite the friends she’s made, despite thechanges she’s had, she still thinks that everyone will eventually discover her secret: that she’s an uncool, childish, awkward geek.
I think that this fear, more than anything else, is what motivates Willow’s actions over the second half of the series. The show talks about magic addiction and getting high off of power, but ultimately, Willow wants to change who she is. She doesn’t want to be the nerdy, lonely bookworm that defined so much of her childhood and adolescence. She jokes to Tara, “Hard to believe such a hot mama-yama came from humble, geek-infested roots?” and she might as well be pleading, “I’m not that geek anymore, am I? Tell me I’m not.” She says to Buffy, “If you could be, you know, plain old Willow or super Willow, who would you be?…Buffy, who was I? Just some girl. Tara didn’t even know that girl.”
Willow talks to Buffy after coming down from a high
Eventually, Willow confronts her addiction and power issues with magic. Her arc in the last season of the show is largely about the way she learns to be more careful with magic, her steps forward and her steps back, until she handles her power more responsibly. But one thing she never does is confront her deepest issue: her fear of being an unlovable geek.
I could write for another two thousand words about how Willow’s insecurities made her dangerous to people around her, and how her arc paralleled the arc of the three misogynistic sci-fi geeks who provoked terror all throughout season six, and how her fear of abandonment turned her into the abuser in a controlling relationship, but that’s an essay for another day. I will probably write that essay in the future, but for now, I want to talk about how Willow’s insecurities affected Willow.
A part of me feels truly sad that Willow could never find it in her to reclaim the geek label. I look back at the cute, eager computer nerd from the first two seasons and feel nostalgic for her Hermione Granger-like enthusiasm. I wish she had felt comfortable enough in her own skin to realize that being smart and knowing a lot about computers is a good thing, dammit!
At the same time, I wonder if there’s another lesson in Willow’s story. Audience members like me might yearn for the days when Willow was more interested in computers than she was in magic, but who’s to say that hacking and breaking into government files was the best way for Willow to spend her life? Sure, she was good with computers, but did she had to let that skill define the rest of her life? Isn’t it positive for her to branch out and explore that she has talent in other things in more than one area? After all, even if we’re nostalgic for Willow’s nerdier days, doesn’t she have the right to explore other sides of herself, even if she makes mistakes along the way?
To this day, I still don’t know how I feel about Willow’s arc. I’m glad she discovered another side to her personality, but I’m disappointed that she couldn’t reclaim her geeky days and make it a source of power instead of embarrassment and loneliness. Ultimately, I would have liked to see the show address Willow’s “geek-infested roots” in the last season of Buffy,so we could have seen her make a choice about that part of her life and her identity, instead of seeing that part of her character fall to the wayside. 
Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen.

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

Movie poster for the romantic comedy Love Actually

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

———-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But maybe I’m being too critical.

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

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

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

But maybe I’m being too critical.

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

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

But maybe I’m being too critical.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———-

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

Guest Writer Wednesday: ‘2 Broke Girls:’ How NOT to Respond to Criticism that Your Show is Racist

(L-R): Kat Dennings, Matthew Moy, Beth Behrs; ‘2 Broke Girls’ still frame

Written by Lady T. Originally published at The Funny Feminist. Cross-posted with permission.
I watch 2 Broke Girls. Do you watch 2 Broke Girls?
Watching that show from a social justice perspective is a bizarre experiment in emotional whiplash. On the one hand, it’s a show about a complementary friendship between two smart, hardworking young women, whose storylines do not revolve around dating or shopping, but about their entrepreneurship and growing bond. It’s one of the few shows in my recent memory that frequently passes the Bechdel test.
On the other hand, it’s a show about two white girls who work at a diner with a supporting cast of racial stereotypes that make the crows from Dumbo cringe in secondhand embarrassment.
That’s really the problem with 2 Broke Girls right there. Max and Caroline are allowed to be fairly complex (at least for a sitcom), but Earl, Oleg, and Han seem like they’re on a completely different program. They have very few (if any) character traits that exist outside their designated stereotypes.
Fans and critics (not that those two things are mutually exclusive) asked questions about the ethnic/racial jokes and stereotypes at the press tour, to which Michael Patrick King (co-creator of the show) essentially said, “I’m gay so that makes it okay for me to make fun of other marginalized people!”
That’s not an exaggeration. Read more here.

Of course, someone pulled out the “equal opportunity defender” card. Someone always pulls out the “equal opportunity defender” card. We make fun of all groups! FREE SPEECH STOP REPRESSING ME WAAAAH!
I’m so glad Michael Patrick King and his defenders can use the “free speech/equal opportunity” defense for their so-called “irreverent” comedy that “pokes fun at all groups.” Because if there’s something that comedy really needed desperately, it was another sexless Asian male character. Han Lee is a pioneering character in the comedy world, because Michael Patrick King said so.
Reading about this controversy over 2 Broke Girls was oddly refreshing, to tell the truth. King’s butthurt response to the criticism was not refreshing, but the criticism itself was. I was pleasantly surprised to see several members of the mainstream media push forward with the “Seriously, what’s up with all the racist stereotypes?” questions.
In response, King did what any socially responsible or creative person would do: he made a creative decision to add a “hot” Asian male character to his show so people would shut up about the stereotyping in his existing characters.
*facepalm*
This is not an exaggeration, people. Read more at The A.V. Club:

“Keeping CBS’s promises that the future would see 2 Broke Girls creator Michael Patrick King attempt to “dimensionalize” some of its racist stereotypes—this despite King being gay, which means he doesn’t have to—the show recently put out a casting call for a “hot Asian guy” to come and romance Beth Behrs’ character with some of his hot Asianness. The arrival of this hot Asian guy would provide a much-needed balance to the comedy’s Korean caricature Han, demonstrating that there are many colors in the Asian rainbow: hot, hilariously indecipherable, unable to drive, etc. Of course, the blog that first picked up the casting call, Angry Asian Man, argues that showing that Asians can also be hot and worthy of making out with Beth Behrs doesn’t exactly make up for 2 Broke Girls’ egregious, simplistic Asian stereotyping. But then, he’s probably just upset that he’s an angry Asian man instead of one of those hot ones.”

As a feminist and someone who cares about social justice, I feel like I should be outraged. But I don’t have it in me to be outraged because I’m just overwhelmed by the cluelessness behind this P.R. move.
I really need Seth Meyers and Amy Poehler (and Kermit the Frog) to help me with this, because…Really?!
King is criticized because his character Han Lee, the Asian male stereotype, is…well, nothing but an Asian male stereotype. Instead of, I don’t know, fleshing out his existing character, he decides to add a Hot Asian Guy character – like he’ll get EXTRA token points for having TWO Asian characters on the same program, and that it will shut up all those HATERZ who don’t like Han Lee!
Brilliant move, Mr. King. I’m sure Asians will be completely pacified and pleased knowing that you’re throwing in an obligatory Non-Stereotype Character whose sole purpose will be to sex up a white woman and prove that you are TOTALLY NOT RACIST.
I could point out how stereotypical characters just continue to perpetuate stereotypes and how harmful those stereotypes can be, but forget about that for a moment. When you get right down to it, the use of these stereotypes shows a complete lack of imagination.

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

Guest Writer Wednesday: Why Watch Romantic Comedies?

some romantic comedies


This guest post by Lady T previously appeared at her blog The Funny Feminist.

A few weeks ago, I announced my intention to tackle 52 romantic comedies over the course of one year. 2012 is the Year of the Romantic Comedy at my blog, and it shall henceforth be dubbed “The Rom-Com Project.” The Rom-Com Project is a completely serious endeavor, a social experiment, and in no way a cynical ploy to get a book deal by writing about a year of doing something. In my post where I first announced the project, I explained my reasons for focusing on the romantic comedy:
I also think that looking at romantic comedies is a worthwhile feminist project. I want to look at how men and women are represented in these films. I want to look at the way romantic expectations are presented in our popular culture. I want to look at issues of consent. I want to look at the way the comedy genre affects the romance genre and vice-versa.

Readers responded well to this post and left me more suggestions than I needed, to the point where I have to decide whether to narrow down the list to 52, or expand the project to “100 Rom-Coms in a Year.”

But why focus on romantic comedies (one might ask)? Why not focus on comedies that happen to feature women?

Well, just for a lark, I looked at the Wikipedia entry on “comedy film” and took note of the different sub-genres listed under the comedy banner, as well as the examples that were mentioned for each genre.

For the fish-out-of-water genre, the entry lists six examples. 0 of 6 of these examples have female protagonists.

For the parody or spoof film genre, the entry lists three examples. 0 of 3 of these examples have female protagonists.

For the anarchic comedy film genre, the entry lists two examples. 0 of 2 of these examples have female protagonists.

For the black comedy film genre, the entry lists fourteen examples. 1 of these 14 examples (Heathers) has a female protagonist without a male co-protagonist, and fewer than half have a female co-protagonist.

I think you can all start to see the pattern here, but let me continue just to belabor the point.

Gross-out films. 4 examples, 0 female protagonists.

Action comedy films. 9 examples, 0 female protagonists.

Comedy horror films. 9 examples, 1 female protagonist (in Scary Movie).

Fantasy comedy films. 6 examples, 2 female co-protagonists (The Princess Bride, Being John Malkovich), 0 female protagonists without male co-protagonists.

Black comedy films. 3 examples, 0 female protagonists.

Sci-fi comedy films. 8 examples, 0 female protagonists.

Military comedy films. 9 examples, 1 female protagonist (Private Benjamin).

Stoner films. 4 examples, 0 female protagonists.

Some might argue with me on particular examples, but it’s obvious that dominant characters in comedy films are overwhelmingly male. (I also understand that Wikipedia is not an entirely accurate source of information, but the examples that are used to represent these different genres explains a lot about our cultural attitudes.)

But what about the romantic comedy?

If you look at the entry on romantic comedies, you see many more films that have female protagonists, or at least female co-protagonists. Especially significant is the list of top-grossing romantic comedies. 22 films are listed. More than half of them have female co-protagonists, some have one female protagonist, and one has (gasp!) more than one female protagonist (Sex and the City).

The romantic comedy genre gets a lot of flak. It’s considered a genre that’s more “shallow” than drama, but not funny enough to be a “real” comedy. Is it any coincidence that the romantic comedy is one of the few film genres, and possibly the only film genre, that regularly features women?

To me, the romantic comedy genre is an example of the struggles women face both as entertainers and as consumers of entertainment.

Love stories are dismissed as “girl stuff” (as though something aimed at women is automatically less than something aimed at men). A male-centric romantic comedy like Knocked Up is something with “mass appeal” when a female-centric romantic comedy like My Best Friend’s Wedding is “girl stuff.” Judd Apatow makes the same type of movie over and over again and gets praised despite the striking similarity in many of his films (down to style, story, and casting), but reviewers of What’s Your Number? can’t resist comparing the movie unfavorably to Bridesmaids, even though “a female protagonist” is almost the only thing those two movies have in common.

It’s a double-edged sword. Romantic comedies are looked upon with scorn, as fluffy and unimportant compared to dramatic films, but also not “edgy” or irreverent enough to be “real” comedies. But if a woman wants to watch a movie that is both a) funny and b) featuring a female main character, she doesn’t have many options available to her.

Sexism is deeply ingrained in our culture. Just look at my last paragraph. I typed the last sentence of that paragraph saying that “if a woman wants to watch a movie…with a female main character…” Then I looked back and realized that I, who tries to make a point of combating stereotypes and gender essentialism, automatically assumed that ONLY women would ever want to watch a movie with a female protagonist. That a man wouldn’t seek out or enjoy a movie with a female protagonist. That a man wouldn’t think a movie with a female protagonist was funny.

I have several problems with the romantic comedy genre. I dislike that women are almost always presented as people who are obsessed with fashion and shopping and shoes. (Not that there’s anything wrong with being obsessed with fashion and shopping and shoes – I would buy Zooey Deschanel’s entire wardrobe if I had the means. I’m only pointing out that we don’t see many female protagonists in rom-coms who are not obsessed with fashion and shopping and shoes, and I would like to see a wider variety of characters.) I dislike that funny women are usually “pretty women in high heels who adorably fall down.” I dislike that women in romantic comedies are almost always teachers and cupcake bakers or art gallery owners or trying to make it in the publishing industry. (Again, not that there’s anything wrong with those careers – I just want more variety.) Or, alternately, these women are high-powered career types whose journeys revolve around letting free-spirited men teach them how to loosen up. (For more of these romantic comedy cliches, read Mindy Kaling’s Flick Chicks, and then pick up Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? And Other Concerns. I just finished reading it, and it’s hilarious.)

And yet, despite all of these cliches and stereotypes in romantic comedy films, I still want to spend a year analyzing the genre. I think it’s a worthwhile project because I want to examine our culture’s expectations about men and women and gender and sex and romance, and how romantic comedies play into (or don’t play into) rape culture. I am looking forward to this project.

But I’m not going to a lie. I’m a little annoyed and bitter that, if I wanted to spend a year writing about black comedies starring women, or parodies starring women, or any other comedy genre starring women, I would probably not to be able to come up with a list of 52 movies for any of those genres unless I reviewed a slew of obscure films that most readers wouldn’t recognize.

Final note: Whenever a woman (or a person of color, or disabled person, or gay person, or a person belonging to any marginalized group) writes a piece criticizing the lack of representation in media, it’s only a matter of time before a troll makes a comment along the lines of, “Well, if you think there should be more movies starring [this group], why don’t you write one yourself?” To that, I say, “All in due time. Alllll in due time.” I’m not writing about my super awesome women-centric movie ideas here just yet because I don’t want anyone to steal them. *shifts eyes, holds screenplay closer to chest*

—-

Lady T writes about feminism, comedy, media, and literature at the blog The Funny Feminist. Her essay “My Mom, the Reader” has also been featured at SMITH Magazine. A graduate of Hofstra University, she writes fiction about vampires, superhero girlfriends, and feisty princesses, and hopes to one day get paid for it. She contributed a review of Easy A to Bitch Flicks. 

Guest Writer Wednesday: Easy A: A Fauxminist Film

Emma Stone stars in Easy A

This is a cross post from The Funny Feminist.
It appears that star power is on the rise for the funny, luminous Emma Stone.  She first caught my attention as the snarky cool girl who was way too good for Jonah Hill’s character in Superbad(and not because she was hot and he was fat, but because she was sarcastic and witty and he was whiny and entitled).  She continued to charm me all the way through Zombieland, which was no easy feat when she was the prickliest of the four main characters.  Finally, someone decided to give her a starring role in a movie called Easy A. I saw the trailer for this and was immediately intrigued.

I thought, “Ooh, feminist issues!  A comedic look at sexual hypocrisy in society, especially high schools!  A cast with funny actors!  Count me in!”
I saw it in the theater.  I laughed.  I sympathized with Emma Stone’s character Olive, found myself crushing on the character played by Penn Badgley even though he failed to even make a blip on my radar on the one episode of Gossip Girl I watched, and thoroughly enjoyed every scene with Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson as Olive’s quirky, hippie parents.  I went home with a smile on my face.
The smile soon turned into a straight line, which eventually became a scowl, as the more I thought about the movie, the more it annoyed me.  I think it’s much less feminist than it seems, and for that matter, not as funny as I thought it was when I first saw it.  (Warning: Spoilers ahead).
Why the Movie Fails on a Feminist Level
1) Olive is awesome.  All other women are bitches.
How would I describe Emma Stone’s character, Olive Penderghast?  First of all, she has the coolest name for a character in a teen movie since Anne Hathaway’s Mia Thermopolis in The Princess Diaries. She’s also independent, feisty, compassionate, and refuses to let other people define who she is.  When the school labels her as a slut, she decides to take her reputation into her own hands.  Note that it’s already inherently problematic that she’s embracing the “slut” label as a form of rebellion – it’s kind of a stupid rebellion, in my opinion – but her motive behind that rebellion is still laudable.  And of course she Learns and Grows from the experience and finally tells the world that her sex life is nobody’s goddamn business but her own.  That is a fairly satisfying conclusion, even if getting there was a bit of a struggle.
But let’s take a look at the other female characters.
We’ve got Rhiannon, the hypocritical best friend of Olive played by Aly Michalka.  At first, she eagerly devours Olive’s account of her made-up sex life, but then turns on her and joins the rest of the school in slut-shaming her.  She’s a pretty crappy best friend, and of course, she’s motivated by jealousy.
We’ve got Marianne, played by Amanda Bynes, the holier-than-thou religious girl who begins the campaign to slut-shame Olive.  In addition to being judgmental, she’s also a cheap, less funny ripoff of Mandy Moore’s character from Saved!
We’ve got all of Marianne’s friends, who join in on the slut-shaming campaign. 

We’ve got Mrs. Griffith, played by Lisa Kudrow, who turns out to not only be an incompetent guidance counselor, but cheating on her husband with a student.  Of course, her husband is the best teacher in the school, making her crimes even worse.
In other words, Olive is a great character because she’s not like the other girls – implying that most “other” girls are bitchy, catty, jealous, conniving, and mean.
I can’t praise a movie for its feminism if ONE female character is strong and the others are horrible.
2) The boys get a free pass for their douchey behavior.
We’ve talked about why the girls are bitches.  But what about the boys?  Are they portrayed as being jerks for taking advantage of Olive, for participating in a system that allows her to be shamed while they reap the benefits of her fallen reputation?
No.  No, they are not.  We’re supposed to think that the boys are wrong, certainly, but we’re also to feel sorry for them.  Brandon asks Olive to fake-fuck him at a party so he can pretend to be straight and stop getting bullied.  Never mind that he’s indirectly asking her to put her reputation on the line, so she can get bullied in a different way.  We’re supposed to feel sympathy for the poor, bullied gay kid, not angry with him for being a hypocrite.
I also feel that we’re supposed to make the same kind of excuses for the other boys who ask Olive for permission to say they had sex with her.  It’s wrong of them to do it, but they’re shy nerds who aren’t good with girls, so all they want is to build their reputations so that girls will like them.  Wow, what a feminist message – guys use a girl’s fallen reputation to build up their own “street cred” so they can trick other girls into actually having sex with them!  And the girl participates in this deceit of other girls!  But that’s okay, because other girls are shallow!  I think I have to take back what I said about Olive being awesome.
There’s also Cam Gigandet’s character, a 22-year-old high school student named Micah, who is dating Marianne.  He is supposedly religious and chaste, but he turns out to be cheating on Marianne with Mrs. Griffith!  And he tells everyone that he got syphilis from Olive! DUN DUN DUNNN!  Is he condemned for this?  No.  Why?  Because the poor guy was under pressure to lie after – wait for it – his mother beat him over the head and threatened to beat him more if he didn’t tell her who he slept with!  His mother browbeats him, and his lover denies him.  Older women = bitches, amirite, guys?
On a less serious note, there’s Thomas Haden Church’s character, Mr. Griffith.  By Olive’s account, he is the best teacher in the school.  Yet, when one of Marianne’s minions calls Olive a tramp in the middle of the class, and Olive responds by calling her a twat, he sends Olive to the principal’s office!  This was all contrived so we could get a very awkward, unfunny scene in the principal’s office as he ranted about private schools vs. public schools (um…what?) but any teacher worth hir salt would have sent both Olive AND Nina to the principal’s office – or, at the very least, publicly condemned Nina for attacking Olive out of nowhere.  Come on.  That’s Classroom Management 101.
The only male character who the movie acknowledges to be a jerk is the guy who tries to pay Olive for actual sex.  The screenplay and tone of the direction clearly condemn him.  But he is the only one.  The rest of the men (excluding Olive’s supportive, quirky dad) are either being used by evil bitches, or using women because they can’t help it.
3) Sex is still bad, especially for girls.
I appreciate that this teen movie is acknowledging slut-shaming and why it’s wrong.  I really do.  But I feel like it chickens out, by the very fact that Olive is still a virgin by the end of the movie.  I think the movie is implying that slut-shaming Olive was bad because she never actually had sex.  Would the screenwriters have written a movie with the same message about a sexually active young woman?
I doubt it, because of the scene where Olive confides in her mother.  I didn’t mention Patricia Clarkson’s character under my first point because she’s not a bitch.  She’s a quirky, supportive, loving mother.  That’s great!  But she admits to Olive that, when she was in high school, she had sex with a bunch of people (“mostly guys,” HAHA LESBIAN EXPERIMENTATION LOL!).  But don’t worry, viewers!  She didn’t have sex because sex is fun and enjoyable.  She did it because she had low self-esteem.
Of course she did.  That’s the only reason why teenage girls ever have sex, or why adult women ever have sex outside of monogamous relationships. Low self-esteem.
Pffft.
At the end of the movie, Olive spells out the message, that it’s nobody’s business what people do with their private lives.  That’s admirable, and true. But the message means very little when the journey getting there is so icky and filled with double standards – the same double standards that the movie is supposedly criticizing, but tacitly embracing.
Why the Movie Fails on a Humorous Level: “Remember that funny line when…um…that person said that one thing?”
I have a great memory for dialogue.  It’s a family trait that I share with my younger brothers.  I can recite entire episodes of The Simpsons and Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and will do so upon request, though I’ve begun charging by the word.  Speak to my agent and we’ll talk rates).  I can recite movies after seeing them once.  But the movie has to make an impression on me before I can do that.  I have to really like the movie.  The dialogue has to be memorable.
When I left Easy A, I tried to recall particular lines of dialogue that struck me as funny.  I drew a blank.  I had to go onto imdb.com to look it up.  I never have to go to imdb.com to find funny dialogue.  Reading through the “memorable quotes” page, there was only one line that really made me laugh.  It was Mr. Griffith to Olive: “I don’t know what your generation’s fascination is with documenting your every thought… but I can assure you, they’re not all diamonds.”
That was very funny, and I like anything that mocks Facebook and Twitter (even though I use both).
But any other moments that made me laugh, I chalk up to the strength of the actors.  The scene where Olive’s parents try to find out the “T” word that their daughter used in class would’ve been insufferable and awful in the hands of lesser actors than Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson.  The movie has a strong cast that can handle any dialogue you throw at them.  I only wish they had better material to work with.
In Conclusion?
I didn’t talk about how the movie misses the point of The Scarlet Letter, because I hated The Scarlet Letter – I admire Hawthorne’s politics, but hate his prose, and when I was forced to read this book in my sophomore year in high school, I actually wrote in my annotations: “Does the scarlet A symbolize shame?  Because I didn’t get it the FIRST HUNDRED TIMES YOU MENTIONED IT!”  Misappropriating and misunderstanding literary themes seems like a very high school thing to do, so it oddly works for the film.
However, I’m afraid I can’t give Easy A the letter grade it wants.  On a humorous level, it gets a C for “Cast is Awesome Despite Mediocre Dialogue.”  On a feminist level, it gets an F for “Fauxminist,” with a note home to the parent: “Shows good effort, but fails to grasps key concepts.” 
Lady T writes about feminism, comedy, media, and literature at the blog The Funny Feminist.  Her essay “My Mom, the Reader” has also been featured at SMITH Magazine.  A graduate of Hofstra University, she teaches English to eighth graders and writes fiction about vampires, superhero girlfriends, and feisty princesses.