Tag: Lena Dunham

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie‘s Picks:

Girls’ Choice Movie Awards Survey for Adults from New Moon Girls

The Nerve of Lena Dunham by Linda Martin Alcoff for The Feminist Wire

Megan‘s Picks:

Geena Davis: Movies’ View of Women Is Unbalanced via The Wall Street Journal

Hollywood’s War on Women by Natalie Wilson via Ms. Magazine Blog

Take Action: Anti-Trans Victim Blaming in The New York Times by Jos Truitt via Feministing

Females Grossly Underrepresented and Misrepresented in Top Grossing Films of 2011 by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood 

Zoe Saldana Angry About Lack of Diversity on Magazine Covers by Nicholas Robinson via Rolling Out

The Upfronts: Race and Gender in Fall Television by Alyssa Rosenberg via ThinkProgress

On Our Radar: Push Girls by Latoya Peterson via Racialicious

New TV Shows Created By Women for 2012-2013 by Melissa Silverstein via Women and Hollywood

Portland Queer Documentary Film Festival by Kjersten Johnson via Bitch Magazine Blog

Ethical Style: Vogue‘s Ban on Underage, Unhealthy Models Won’t Solve Its Image Problem by Amanda Hess via Good

Reproduction & Abortion Week: ‘Girls’ and ‘Sex and the City’ Both Handle Abortion With Humor

(L-R): Hanna (Lena Dunham), Allison Williams (Marnie), Zosia Mamet (Shoshanna) in Girls
Vacillating between vitriolic condemnation and laudable praise, Lena Dunham’s Girls has dominated pop culture dialogue. I eagerly anticipated the serie’s premiere. Yes, the show depicts economically privileged characters. Yes, the incredibly white and homogenous cast should be more diverse. And yes, staff writer Lesley Arfin is absolutely a racist asshole who’s bullshit must be called out. All of these rightfully scathing critiques are not only valid but crucial. But a mere 2 episodes in, Girls portrays potentially nuanced female characters with candid dialogue on sex, friendship, aspirations and relationships. And abortion! Huzzah!
Many critics compare Girls with Sex and the City. Both HBO series revolve around 4 female friends in NYC who talk openly about sex, career goals and relationships. Dunham herself addresses the parallels. Although she feels SATC portrays aspirational female friendships whereas Girls, which is messier and more awkward (kind of like real-life), depicts nurturing friendships still fraught with “jealousy and anxiety and posturing.” It’s also hard not to compare as both trendy series tackled abortion.
In the latest episode of Girls, the hilariously titled “Vagina Panic” (which seriously sounds like something I would declare to my friends), centers around abortion, atrociously bad sex and STDs. When Hannah (Lena Dunham) tells Adam, the despicable douchebag she’s hooking up with that she’s accompanying her friend Jessa (Jemima Kirke, who’s had an abortion in real-life) to have an abortion (we found out she was pregnant at the end of the first episode), she says, “How big a deal are these things actually.” Hannah then talks about not having “sympathy” for people who don’t use condoms. Yet it’s great that she’s still supporting her friend.
Later in the episode, while sitting on a bench eating ice cream, Shoshonna (Zosia Mamet) whips out the book Listen, Ladies: A Tough Love Approach to the Tough Game of Love (yikes!) — a la SATC’s Charlotte and reminiscent of that bullshit book The Rules. Hannah says she “hate read” it and then they start hilariously debating who precisely constitutes “the ladies.” (Hmmm, should I stop calling my female friends “ladies??”) Irritated, Jessa tells Hannah:
I’m offended by all the supposed to’s. I don’t like women telling other women what to do or how to do it or when to do it. Every time I have sex, it’s my choice.”

Yes, yes, yes! It’s great Jessa says a proverbial fuck you to the things she’s supposed to do in life. She declares that what she does with her body is her choice. Hannah then asks Jessa if she’s scared or angry or sad. Jessa tells her she’s not some character from one of her novels and says eventually wants to have children and that she’ll be a great mother.
When the women go to the Soho Women’s Clinic to support Jessa, who’s blowing off her abortion by drinking White Russians at a bar, Hannah, Marnie (Allison Williams) and Shoshanna discuss STDs, the play Rent, infertility, condoms, abortion and virginity. Hannah tells Marnie, who’s pissed Jessa hasn’t shown up:
“You’re a really good friend and you threw a really good abortion.”

The effortless weaving of a frank discussion of sexuality with effacing humor on a topic like abortion felt authentic. Hannah gets an STD test at the clinic and veers off into an awkward, cringe-worthy yet weirdly humorous diatribe on fearing AIDs…and then wanting AIDS, so not funny. Meanwhile, Jessa makes out with a guy at the bar. When she tells him to put his hands down her pants, her tells her she’s bleeding. Girls which “pushes the envelope” the entire episode, ultimately cheats, evading the actual decision as Jessa either gets her period or has a miscarriage.
So how does this portrayal differ from SATC’s? Entertainment Weekly’s Hillary Busis writes:

“SATC uses Samantha’s quest for a Birkin as comic relief after a lot of heavy abortion talk. But in Girls, the abortion talk is the comic relief.”
In SATC‘s “Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda,” one of my favorite episodes, Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) contemplates an abortion after an accidental pregnancy. While telling her friends, Samantha (Kim Cattrall) irreverently reveals she’s had two abortions while Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) had one when she was 22. Even though Miranda doesn’t go through with the procedure (and I totally wish she had), I liked that 2 out of the 4 characters had an abortion. Within that brief episode, we see multiple reactions to abortion. Miranda feels conflicted. Charlotte (Kristen Davis) grapples with infertility. Samantha exudes a casual nonchalance and forthright approach to abortion which I found refreshing. Carrie, who knows she made the right choice, lies to her boyfriend Aiden when he asks her if she’s ever had one, worried he’ll judge her for her choice.

Therein lies the difference between Girls and SATC. What SATC always excelled at was showcasing various perspectives on an issue, albeit from all from a privileged lens. But Girls doesn’t do that here.

While they support Jessa, Hannah and Marnie are critical of people’s choices and mistakes. Hannah apologizes for her seemingly “flippant” attitude towards abortion, saying it stems from her condemnation for people who don’t use contraception. Marnie appears to denounce abortion (all while rallying the women at the clinic) saying it’s “the most traumatic thing that can ever happen to a woman.” Really?? Although maybe from her character’s perspective it is. But the argument could easily be made that if we had seen the SATC characters 10 years younger, the age of Girls’ characters, perhaps we would have witnessed similar reactions. And maybe that’s the point. These young women make so many mistakes; maybe they’ll become less judgmental as they get older. But it still annoys me as it seems to reek of the “I’m pro-choice but I would never have an abortion” attitude that sometimes plagues pro-choice dialogue, playing into the stigma that abortion is bad.
I always adored SATC for the way the women transcended friendship, nurturing and validating each other, and became a family. Girlsmay be more realistic in its depictions of simultaneous annoyance yet support for friends. But ultimately, abortion, which 1 in 3 women have had, doesn’t occur on either show which is unfortunate. But at least SATCcontained 2 characters who had abortions in their early 20s, the same age as the characters on Girls. From what we know, and granted it’s still early on, the Girls characters have not. For a show that revels in bold candor and raw honesty, it would have been fantastic to witness an abortion.

Despite the ending, my friend Sarah at Abortion Gang deems Girls’ abortion plot a success as it engages in abortion dialogue:
 “But even if the ending of Jessa’s pregnancy is a copout, we still got close to thirty minutes of frank discussion of abortion. Which means Girls has given us, oh, twenty-seven more minutes of abortion talk than any other show this year, even shows that purport to be about the lives of women.”

Don’t get me wrong. It’s awesome to hear abortion uttered so many times on the show. While I’m delighted Girls talks about abortion so easily and frequently, I’m still pissed and annoyed an abortion never transpired. Choosing not to portray an abortion contributes to its insidious stigmatization.
Audiences don’t often expect weighty issues in comedy. Fem2pt0’s Christina Black asserts the difficulty in finding humor in serious topics like abortion and rape. Girls attempted humor on both issues in one episode; one successfully, the other not so much. But comedy — and other genres like sci-fi, horror, and fantasy — not only entertains. It can reflect our values and critique society.

I applaud Girls for raising the issue of abortion so early on, and I adore that Dunham, who wants to talk about feminism and point out misogyny and sexism (hells yeah!), says she’s excited “the feminism conversation could be cool again.” But I can’t help but feel cheated.

Media shapes our perception of social issues, relationships and ourselves. When film and television so rarely even mentions the full scope of reproductive health, I want abortion depicted honestly, without stigmatization or condemnation. Is that really too much to ask?

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie‘s Picks:

“Ashley Judd, Kate Winslet and Jennifer Lawrence vs. Our Toxic Misogynist Culture” by Sophia Savage for Thompson on Hollywood

“The Hunger Games, Hollywood and Fighting Fuck Toys” by Caroline Heldman for Ms. Magazine

“Talking to Lena Dunham About Being A ‘Girl'” by Kase Wickman for The Awl

“Film Corner” (On The Lucky One) by Melissa McEwan for Shakesville

“The Hunger Games’ Feral Feminism” by Katha Pollitt for The Nation

“The Five Most Pathetic Female Film Characters of All Time” by Lindy West for The Guardian

Amber‘s Picks:

Betty Draper Francis Needs Your … Ice Cream? A Few Notes on the Evil TV Ex-Wife by Sady Doyle for Tiger Beatdown

What to Make of Barbie’s Presidential Run by E. Cain for Gender Focus

“Pull up your skirt to prove you’re a real woman” by Elin Weiss and Hennie Weiss for The F Word

The Hunger Games Movie vs. The Book from Feminist Frequency

Future of Feminism: The Complete Works from Fourth Wave

We need to talk about women filmmakers: or, two cheers for the BFI’s Made in Britain season by Sophie Mayer for The F Word

Megan‘s Picks:

Why You Should Get Excited About Next Big-Screen Heroine — Sabrina The Teenage Witch by Alyssa Rosenberg for Think Progress

Interview with Vamps Director Amy Heckerling by Melissa Silverstein for Women and Hollywood

Tavi Gevinson: “Feminism is not a rulebook but a discussion” by Lori Adelman for Feministing

Lena Dunham Interview, Part One: What Girls Is Made Of by Jamie Poniewozik for Time

Lena Dunham Interview, Part Two: The Personal Factor by Jamie Poniewozik for Time

Are Evil Stepmothers the New Anti-Hero? by Erik Kain for Forbes

Lena Dunham’s HBO Series ‘Girls’ Preview: Why I Can’t Wait to Watch

(L-R): Jemima Kirke, Lena Dunham, Alison Williams in HBO’s ‘Girls’
I cannot tell you how ecstatic I am to see Lena Dunham’s new HBO series Girls. I mean, April 15th…hurry up and get here already damnit! After the first 3 episodes received rave reviews at SXSW, the buzz swirling around the indie darling’s new show has grown even louder. And with good reason.
From the trailer, here are just a few of the clever lines that made me laugh out loud:
“I’ve been dating someone who treats my heart like it’s monkey meat.”

 “I think I may be the voice of my generation. Or at least, a voice of a generation.”

“This is why you have no friends from pre-school.”
“I have a lot of friends from pre-school. I’m just not speaking to them right now.”

“You could not pay me enough to be 24 again.”
“Well, they’re not paying me at all.”

Created by the ridiculously talented Dunham, who wrote, directed and starred in Tiny Furniture, and executive produced by Judd Apatow and Jenni Konner, some have called Girls a “game-changer” and claim it “solidifies Dunham’s place as a bold new voice in American comedy.” Considering there’s so few leading roles for women, so few films or series that showcase female friendships and even fewer women in Hollywood write and direct, it’s refreshing to see Dunham spearhead an HBO series.
Explaining her motivation to create Girls, Dunham said:
“I felt like there wasn’t a pop culture mirror reflecting girl my age experiencing the trials and tribulations of being female at this specific time.”

Dunham plays editorial intern and aspiring writer Hannah, “a post-college Brooklynite with big if uncertain ambitions, a perpetual lack of money and a coterie of friends with personal lives as jumbled and complicated as her own.” While Dunham’s vision – she writes, directs and stars in Girls – this appears to be very much a female ensemble. The other female characters include Marnie (Alison Williams), Hannah’s “seemingly perfect,” “more put-together roommate” working at a PR firm looking to practice environmental law; Jessa (Jemima Kirke), a “headstrong,” “loosey-goosey free spirit” who yearns to be an artist/educator; and Jessa’s “innocent” cousin Shoshanna (Zosia Mamet).
“These characters are a really funny mix of sort of highly educated and very naïve…Every woman I know is such a bundle of contradictions. It was so important to me that there could be a girl who was confident but sex made her incredibly anxious, or a girl who respected herself but was using sex to push boundaries to understand herself better.”

As to why the show is called “Girls” and not “Women,” which I gotta admit is probably the one thing that irked me about the show (I hate the infantilizing term “girls” for grown ass women), Dunham says the female characters wouldn’t self-identify as “women” yet and occupy “that specific in-between space (not a girl, not yet a woman).” Okay, that makes sense.
But haven’t we seen this before? What about Sex and the City or Gossip Girl? Or 30 Rock and Parks and Rec? Or the new slew of female-centric comedies like 2 Broke Girls, The New Girl, Whitney or Up All Night? Well first of all, that’s sexist (and just plain stupid) to assume all shows featuring women are the same. I mean, how many shows feature vampires in love triangles or middle-age-men-who-act-like-boys or DNA-examining crimefighters?? But nope, Girls looks different. And here’s why. In all those shows, women have established their careers and/or relationships or at the very least know the direction they want to go. Most of them also sound painfully forced, lacking any shred of authenticity. Dunham wanted to address that confusing, nebulous time in women’s post-college lives when they don’t have a clue as to who they are or know what the hell they want to do (for some of us, this continues into our 30s…). It’s about trying new things, fucking up, and finding yourself along the way.
Talking about Girls and other shows, Dunham said:
“I really like all the new network “girl” shows. But someone once described the attitude of women on network TV as “Check it out, guys: ladies be talkin’!” And I think we were really careful about anything that rung false…

“The stuff that I’m naturally drawn to writing is stuff I’ve felt but haven’t seen. I’d seen “Gossip Girl,” which was an aspirational high school story. And “Sex and the City,” which I grew up on and completely respect, was about women who had figured out the career, figured out their friendships and were really trying to lock the love thing down. To me there’s this time of life where you don’t even know what you want, and you don’t know how to want it. It’s much more abstract and wandering.”

Exploring female friendship, sex, dating douchey guys, abortion (SO few shows deal with abortion…huzzah!) living in the ridiculously expensive yet awesome NYC – it looks like Girls contains awkward, painful yet ultimately funny moments that “resonate” with many of us. I may not be 24 anymore and I’m not financially privileged. I supported myself after high school, paid my own way through college and don’t live in NYC (yet). But watching the clips – hearing Dunham’s thoughts and the way the female characters interact with one another – feels like A LOT of my life. In the trailer, Hannah says,  “My entire life has been one ridiculous mistake after another.” YES!!! I mean, aren’t we all trying to figure shit out and find ourselves or our path in life??
Dunham clearly looks at the world through a feminist lens (does she call herself a feminist? I hope so…that would be badass) as she wants to focus on female relationships. In addition to Girls and Tiny Furniture, she curated a film series called “Hey Girl! Lena Dunham Selects” (running April 2-8) for the BAMcinématek, the film program of the Brooklyn Academy of Music.
Lena Dunham possesses a fresh, hilarious, intelligent and raw voice. Buoyed by funny dialogue, her must-see film Tiny Furniture makes astute commentaries on gender, body image, sex, dating and female relationships. But I also found myself irritated it didn’t move at a faster pace. I eventually realized I was partly annoyed because Dunham makes you witness uncomfortably awkward moments and doesn’t let the audience off the hook. She forces you to squirm right alongside her compelling characters, feeling their pain. After reading interviews and watching the trailers, it sounds like Girls will continue her theme of candor, humor, poignancy and self-discovery.
We desperately need to hear more feminist voices. I’m delighted Dunham’s getting a bigger stage in which to share her hilarious observations and vision of the lives some women lead.
Girls premieres on April 15 on HBO.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie’s Picks:

Celebration at Sundance from Wellywood Woman

New feature: Challenging rape myths in the mainstream from The F-Word

Amber‘s Picks:

French women directors: the great news & the not-so-great from Wellywood Woman

Why I’m (Probably) Not Watching ‘The Game’ from The Crunk Feminist Collective

International contest of short films against homophobia from The F-Word

LEGO & Gender Part 1: Lego Friends from Feminist Frequency



Megan‘s Picks:

Red Tails and Tuskegee: The Women Left Out of the Picture from The Root

The Athena Film Festival: 10 Movies That Can Change the World from Huffington Post 

Vanity Fair‘s Hollywood Issue Pushes Actresses of Color Aside (Again!) from Jezebel

Why Is Hollywood So Afraid of Black Women? from ColorLines

Sexism Watch: Film Trailers from Women and Hollywood

Can Lena Dunham’s Girls Be a Game Changer? from Women and Hollywood 

What have you been reading–or writing–this week? Leave your links in the comments!

From the Archive: Tiny Furniture

I’m still in the process of getting my shit together in 2012, so here’s a review I wrote in January 2011. Basically, I loved Tiny Furniture. Check it out if you can — it’s streaming on Netflix.
The film follows Aura (played by writer/director Lena Dunham), a 20-something self-described misanthrope who, after graduating from a film program at a small liberal arts school in Ohio, moves back to New York City to live with her famous-artist mother, Siri (played by Dunham’s real-life mother Laurie Simmons) and her budding-genius sister, highschooler Nadine (played by Dunham’s real-life sister Grace Dunham). The film wants to show that Aura is, in fact, Having a Very, Very Hard Time, as the tagline reveals, and it puts her through the typical hell that’s common in the heterosexual coming-of-age stories of early twenties womanhood: the struggle to find a reasonably paying job, a desire to make that college degree mean something, and, of course, a few random hookups with emotionally unavailable men. 
But more than anything, Tiny Furniture is a film about the relationships among women.
When Aura arrives home from college, she’s immediately confronted with her mother photographing her younger sister among a setup of, literally, tiny furniture. And, while the first indication of sibling rivalry appears, it already seems more refreshing and complicated than the traditional cliched portrayal of sister-hate and woman-on-woman divisiveness. The women converse with one another as if Aura hadn’t been in Ohio for four years; in fact, the casualness of their interaction–her mother barely looking up from her photography, her sister making sarcastic comparisons about her slender legs versus Aura’s heavier frame–suggests a comfort with one another that transcends their almost performed familial coldness. 
Perhaps most intriguingly, the on-screen relationships feel so authentic that the unmentioned absent father is hardly noticeable. Who cares, after all?  Women rock the screen, and, unlike a couple of recent woman-centric films (The Kids Are All Right, Winter’s Bone–both arguably feminist) it has nothing to do with a need to compensate for the failings of the men in their lives. 
Almost immediately when Aura moves back to New York, she meets up with her childhood friend Charlotte (played by Jemima Kirke) at a party. Charlotte is portrayed as a spoiled, drama-craving brat, but Aura clings to her, at one point even referring to Charlotte as her best friend. (Her mother later says sarcastically in response, “After two weeks?”) They hang out in Charlotte’s apartment, getting high together and talking about art, men, joblessness, addiction, their parents–and they flatter each other; the audience is never encouraged to view these women as rivals. The point of their friendship is to illustrate the absolute aloneness of being an aimless twenty-something and not knowing what the hell to do in life. In several hilarious scenes, Charlotte begs Aura not to leave, once going as far as to roll around on her bed saying, “Please stay,” which the audience is meant to find both endearing and pathetic.
And while the relationship between Charlotte and Aura works mainly because of their shared loneliness and need to connect, the onscreen relationship between the two sisters thoughtfully investigates the obstacles inherent in familial relationships. In fact, it didn’t surprise me at all when I discovered that they’re actually real-life sisters because their sibling rapport feels incredibly authentic. While Aura drinks bottle after bottle of her mother’s wine with her friends, Nadine runs on the treadmill, does crunches while reading a book, writes award-winning poetry, and teases Aura about her directionless existence. But the back-and-forth nitpicking between them is perfectly juxtaposed against scenes exhibiting such tenderness as can only occur in close relationships.
One of my favorite scenes in the movie involves Nadine throwing a party while her mother is out, leaving Aura to supervise things. Of course, the party gets out of hand–we’re dealing with a slew of highschoolers railing against Aura-as-Authority-Figure (because, let’s face it, if Aura is anything, Authority Figure isn’t on the list)–and Aura starts to have a panic attack. She does the only thing she can think to do, call Charlotte to come over and help her get the party under control. Which is hilarious. Because Charlotte is more of a disaster than Aura is. So, it isn’t surprising at all when Charlotte starts giving lap dances and Aura starts walking around the party in her underwear.
The screaming match that ensues between Aura and Nadine could’ve been taken from a direct transcript of a real-life sibling fight. I cringed at the truthfulness of Nadine’s accusations as she criticized Aura for craving the attention of high school boys. (Those boys, however, reciprocated by making fun of Aura and dissing her body.) And when Nadine starts smacking Aura with a spatula and storms off, the audience feels sympathy for both sisters; neither is the villain in this film, and Dunham’s navigation of that terrain seems effortless from beginning to end. I won’t spoil the brief make-up scene between Aura and Nadine because the film is worth watching for that moment alone.
Aura spends much of the film, when she isn’t fighting with her sister, thinking of herself as somewhat of an artist/filmmaker, as evidenced by her YouTube videos (where she usually wears only her underwear or a bathing suit). Since Aura isn’t traditionally beautiful, and isn’t a size two like most of the half-naked women we’re used to seeing onscreen, at first it’s almost shocking to watch her walk around barely clothed throughout the film (which further illustrates the level of comfort and intimacy she feels with her mother and sister). But Dunham doesn’t include those scenes merely for shock value. The comments left on her YouTube videos consistently make fun of her weight and her looks. She reads the insulting feedback aloud to Charlotte, and they both try to blow it off, but not without Aura remarking on how difficult it is to put that negativity out of her mind.
For anyone who’s ever browsed the comments on YouTube videos, it’s impossible not to notice the disgusting misogyny and homophobia that plague them. Not only does Dunham subtly comment on that, but she also manages to reinforce the importance of supportive women friendships as a way to help combat the barrage of bullshit women deal with daily, especially when it concerns unattainable beauty ideals. It’s interesting to note, too, that Charlotte is traditionally attractive, and yet their friendship never digresses into any sort of competition, least of all one that involves some stereotypical competition over men.
The film doesn’t completely shy away from the subject of men, though, and the two men Aura meets both basically suck. One spends the first half of the movie mooching off Aura–and she lets him–staying in her house, eating her food, drinking her mother’s wine, but when she tries to take their “friendship” to the next level, he refuses. For Aura to attempt to hook up with such a caricature of a loser further drives home her loneliness and desire for connection. With anyone. So it isn’t surprising either when she goes after the chef she works with, who likes “Asian tentacle rape” pornography–whatever the hell that is–and exploits Aura’s obvious crush on him to get her to give him pills (even though he has a girlfriend).
Watching the film, one can’t avoid thinking, “C’mon, Aura, you know better than this.” But the material is so impossible not to relate to–who hasn’t lusted after the entirely wrong person, and known it?–that one can’t fault her for putting herself through it.
Those interactions with men accompanied by Aura’s reading aloud of her mother’s diary (written during her twenties) give further insight into the relationship Aura has with her mother. In many ways, regardless of how often the two women clash, Aura admires her. She’s a successful artist who’s clearly independent. She’s rich. She has no apparent need for a man in her life. Yet her diary reveals many of her obsessions in her twenties: with body image–she constantly journaled her food choices, with men and their inadequacies, and particularly with feeling like she wasn’t living up to her potential as an artist.
The final scene of the film, with Aura curled up with her mother in her mother’s bed, discussing the diary, openly discussing Aura’s horrid sexual encounter from earlier in the evening (completely absent of judgment from her mother–her only concern is that Aura practices safe sex), discussing Aura’s own fears of failure, which her mother squashes with, “Oh, you’ll be much more successful than I am,” feels so heart-wrenchingly honest it’s almost difficult to watch. And the ending, which features a literal ticking clock that could’ve felt contrived and artificial, totally works. It isn’t that the two women desire to stop time; they just don’t want the obvious reminder of its passing. 
As Aura struggles with all these issues, reading her mother’s diary (and sharing it with the audience) serves to remind us that even though coming-of-age ain’t fun, particularly for young women navigating the patriarchy, it’s still possible to come out on the other end fairly unscathed. 

2011 Spirit Award Winners

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ripley’s Pick: ‘Tiny Furniture’

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