Tarantino has created dynamic and interesting female characters throughout his cinematic career, celebrating their strengths, personalities, and never presenting gender as an obstacle—instead, being a woman in his stories is often an advantage.
It’s exhausting to consume any media as a trans* person. It’s not really a matter of if I will become a punchline, but when. This goes triple or quadruple for comedy, and Louis C.K., for all his good qualities, is no exception.
So, yes. Raleigh Becket is a Strong Female Character. Sure, he’s not female, but as far as our understanding of SFCs goes–which here means well-written female and feminine characters–he’s aces. Raleigh Becket is supportive, sweet, intuitive, and loving, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Not a damn thing.
And in a society where male revelations about abuse, physical, emotional, or sexual, are still considered a mark of weakness, it’s fantastic that such a successful figure is willing to set an example. Especially when that person is Captain Jean Luc Picard, a super smart, sexy, sensitive, nerves-of-steel spaceship captain. I have a feminist daydream of Kirk (Shatner), Janeway (Mulgrew), Sisco (Brooks), and Picard (Stewart) doing a women’s rights PSA: I would make it my ringtone forever.
Adelle, Willow, Zoë, Natasha–you name her, Joss Whedon offers a multitude of heroines with a wide range of diverse identities. A topic as extensive as this, regarding a person with as much output as Joss Whedon’s, would serve to fill entire volumes.
Canadian-born Ryan Gosling is a talented actor, charismatic movie star and global sex symbol. The Notebook (2004) made Gosling a romantic screen icon but he has also, of course, given a number of inspired, thought-provoking performances in both independent and mainstream movies. His roles have been mostly varied and complex, but if you want a general sketch of his screen persona, I would say it’s a potent mix of melancholy, vulnerability, romanticism and sensuality. There is also an aggressive side. While they may retain a vulnerable aspect, he has played quite a few violent men. A seductive presence on the screen, Gosling is also an object of desire for multitudes of women around the world.
Vedder has spent his career fighting for a modern world that accepts and promotes women–he’s fought for reproductive rights, spoken out against sexual assault, and worked for worldwide safe pregnancy/childbirth.
Caroline somehow knows that Adam is not a typical young man simply working for minimum wage at a local diner in Minnesota; he is a heavenly catalyst sent not to offer completeness in Caroline’s life, but to remind her that she is worth loving, even in his absence.
… Kang seems to be a strong advocate for feminism in film. Though South Korea cinema (and the country as a whole) clearly needs far more women in off-screen positions of power, Sunny seems like a small but hopeful step towards equality, and may well inspire girls in today’s high school cliques to one day demand those positions.
When you think about feminism in television, The OC and teen soaps in general are probably not the first example to come to mind. If you’re not familiar with The OC, it’s about a troubled youth named Ryan Atwood (Ben McKenzie) who is taken in by the Cohens, a very wealthy family, after his own family has abandoned him. I’m very passionate about The OC and it is much more than that, but I shall not digress (or at least try not to). The Cohens are comprised of Kirsten (Kelly Rowan), a wonderful mother as well as a successful architect and businesswoman, Seth (Adam Brody), the awkward and endearing pop-culture-referencing son, and Sandy (Peter Gallagher), a righteous public defender, father, and husband.
My first introduction to Matt Damon was the same as many movie viewers – Good Will Hunting, a film that he starred in and co-wrote with Ben Affleck. It was my favorite film of 1997 and still holds a special place in my heart for its humor, poignancy, and moving portrayal of the lasting effects of abuse.
So what’s feminist about it? Although the word “feminist” is never uttered, Michael plays Dorothy as a bold, liberated woman. At the audition, slimy director Ron Carlisle (Dabney Coleman) tells Dorothy she’s too “soft and genteel” and “not threatening enough” for the part. Dorothy replies: “Yes, I think I know what y’all really want. You want some gross caricature of a woman. To prove some idiotic point, like, like power makes women masculine, or masculine women are ugly… Well shame on the woman who lets you do that.” Right out of the gate, Dorothy not only speaks her mind, but also openly protests sexism.
As we wrap up our week of celebrating male feminists and allies, it seems appropriate to conclude with the words of singer/songwriter/actor John Legend.
“All men should be feminists. If men care about women’s rights the world will be a better place…
“We are better off when women are empowered – it leads to a better society.”
While the role of an ally can sometimes be murky, it would be hard to deny that more male feminists who care about women’s rights and empowering women have a clear role in the move toward equality.
There can be women’s movement after women’s movement, but until men move with us, we can’t all move together. And at the end of the day, the best society will be one full of equally empowered women and men, working together to crush harmful gender stereotypes and expectations, which harm everyone.
So what’s feminist about it? Although the word “feminist” is never uttered, Michael plays Dorothy as a bold, liberated woman. At the audition, slimy director Ron Carlisle (Dabney Coleman) tells Dorothy she’s too “soft and genteel” and “not threatening enough” for the part. Dorothy replies: “Yes, I think I know what y’all really want. You want some gross caricature of a woman. To prove some idiotic point, like, like power makes women masculine, or masculine women are ugly… Well shame on the woman who lets you do that.” Right out of the gate, Dorothy not only speaks her mind, but also openly protests sexism.
Movie poster for Tootsie
This guest post by Rebecca Cohen appears as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
Have you seen the 2012 AFI interview with Dustin Hoffman, where he gets emotional about his role in the cross-dressing 1982 comedy Tootsie? In the video clip, Hoffman relates his disappointment in discovering that, although makeup artists could help him pass as a credible woman, he would never be a beautiful woman. Hoffman says he cried, realizing that if he were at a party he would never approach a woman who looked like him. He concludes tearfully, “There’s too many interesting women I have … not had the experience to know in this life because I have been brainwashed.”
The video of those remarks went viral recently, and most reactions were enthusiastically positive. Hooray for Dustin Hoffman, breaking through his social conditioning to see the world from a woman’s perspective. Thank you to Dustin Hoffman, for expressing the harshness of beauty standards in such a concise and heartfelt way. Making Tootsie made Dustin Hoffman a feminist ally.
Right?
Well… yes and no. Hoffman’s statements, like the movie Tootsie itself, are a good start. They’re a sincere attempt by a well-intentioned man to address feminist issues. Still, both his words and the movie fall short in many ways.
The Good
In Tootsie, Hoffman plays unemployed actor Michael Dorsey, who disguises himself as a woman to land a job on a daytime soap opera. After winning the role, Michael must continue to pretend to the world that he’s actress Dorothy Michaels. Hilarity, as you might expect, ensues.
So what’s feminist about it? Although the word “feminist” is never uttered, Michael plays Dorothy as a bold, liberated woman. At the audition, slimy director Ron Carlisle (Dabney Coleman) tells Dorothy she’s too “soft and genteel” and “not threatening enough” for the part. Dorothy replies: “Yes, I think I know what y’all really want. You want some gross caricature of a woman. To prove some idiotic point, like, like power makes women masculine, or masculine women are ugly… Well shame on the woman who lets you do that.” Right out of the gate, Dorothy not only speaks her mind, but also openly protests sexism.
Michael non-apologizing to Julie
Although the role she’s auditioning for, Emily Kimberly, is written as a ball-busting harridan, Dorothy plays her with both fire and vulnerability. Director Ron remains unimpressed, but producer Rita Marshall (Doris Bellack) is obviously moved by the portrayal, and Michael/Dorothy gets the job.
This in itself is pretty layered and rather feminist, if you think about it. The role of Emily Kimberly is written as a sexist stereotype, a cardboard cutout of an unfeminine woman – basically, a man in a dress. But when presented with an actual, literal man in a dress, Ron declares him too feminine. The film thus (probably unintentionally) unpacks some complex ideas about gender and performativity. In order to pass as a woman Michael must play Dorothy as delicate and refined; in a way, he has to present as more feminine than a “real” woman. And this, ironically, almost costs him the role.
From there, the movie continues to develop an overtly feminist narrative. In order to avoid kissing a male co-star, Michael refuses to perform a scene as written. Instead of swooning, the character asserts herself. Producer Rita loves it. Michael/Dorothy continues to depart from the scripts, insisting on making Emily Kimberly feisty and self-assured, and Rita continues to allow it. The character’s popularity grows, Dorothy’s fame grows, and soon Dorothy becomes an outright feminist role model, even appearing on the cover of Ms. Magazine (and Cosmopolitan too, perhaps so we can be assured she’s not that militant). At one point, Rita marvels at what Dorothy has accomplished: “You are the first woman character who is her own person, who can assert her own personality without robbing someone of theirs. You’re a breakthrough lady for us.”
Dorothy also becomes a personal role model for co-star Julie (Jessica Lange). Through her friendship with Dorothy, Julie gains the strength and self-confidence to break up with Ron. She tells Dorothy, “You wouldn’t compromise your feelings like I have. You wouldn’t live this kind of lie, would you?… I deserve something better, you know? I don’t have to settle for this.” Through the movie, Julie repeatedly expresses how Dorothy has taught her to stand up for herself.
At the same time, Michael learns his own lessons about feminism, drawn from his experiences living as a woman. He’s taken aback by the effort and expense required of women to keep themselves attractive. He attempts to voice concerns on set, but gets frustrated when Ron dismissively talks over him. Experiencing the world as Dorothy, Michael comes to believe he really has a new understanding of what women endure. He tells his agent, George (Sydney Pollack): “I feel like I have something to say to women, something meaningful,” explaining how he knows what it is to feel helpless and not in control.
In one of the most memorable moments of the film, Michael/Dorothy, fed up with Ron’s patronizing treatment on set, stands up to him:
Michael/Dorothy: Ron, my name is Dorothy. It’s not Tootsie or Toots or Sweetie or Honey or Doll.
Ron: Oh Christ.
Michael/Dorothy: No, just Dorothy. Now Alan’s always Alan, Tom is always Tom, and John’s always John. I have a name too; it’s Dorothy. Capital D, O, R, O, T, H, Y. Dorothy.
Titling the film Tootsie emphasizes that Michael’s experience of being marginalized, of struggling to demand respect, is meant to be understood as a focal point of the film.
So, clearly it’s a feminist movie. In some ways.
Dorothy and Michael
The Bad
So why does Rita Marshall, a seasoned and capable TV producer, never include independent, assertive women on her show until Dorothy Michaels comes along and steamrolls her into it? Did it never occur to her that such a thing was possible, or that her mostly female audience might enjoy it? Similarly, why is Dorothy the only woman who stands up to Ron’s harassment, even though it’s evident he’s been behaving this way with impunity for years?
The film seems to imply that Michael, coming from a position of male privilege, is uniquely positioned to call out sexism. He isn’t accustomed to enduring second-class status. Women deal with it grudgingly, because, you know – that’s how the world works. But Michael hasn’t been conditioned to accept it. So he doesn’t.
Here’s the thing. This situates Michael as the White Knight, the male savior of women’s rights. Spending only a few months experiencing how the world treats a woman, he’s better able to challenge the status quo than the women who’ve spent their entire lives experiencing it. Like many cross-dress comedies, Tootsie falls into the trap of implying that a man is better at being a woman than any woman knows how to be.
Also, what does Michael do with his newfound understanding of the struggles women face? He sees how Ron mistreats Julie, lying to her yet claiming it’s to spare her feelings. But Michael does essentially the same thing to his longtime friend Sandy (Terri Garr). He sleeps with Sandy to cover up his secret, then lies to her and strings her along even as he’s steadily falling in love with Julie. It’s women, specifically Sandy and Julie, who bear the brunt of the harm caused by Michael’s deceit. Recognizing how men use lies to abuse women doesn’t stop Michael from doing it himself.
Dorothy shaving
Even after the truth is revealed, Michael never apologizes to Julie for deceiving her. (Interestingly, he does apologize to her father in suitably man-to-man fashion.) He tells Julie, “I just did it for the work. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.” In other words, instead of acknowledging her hurt and owning the harm he caused, he tries to explain and justify. He tells her, “I was a better man with you as a woman then I ever was with a woman as a man.” This is the lesson Michael draws from his experience as Dorothy: it has made him a better man… somehow.
Thus the film undercuts its early feminist promise. Michael never has to answer to the women who admired him as a feminist icon, only to find out he was a man all along. He never apologizes to the women he deceived on a very intimate level. He doesn’t, when all is said and done, make anything better for women. But that’s not important. What matters is that he has become a better man. “I just gotta learn to do it without the dress,” he explains.
Terri Garr, speaking to the Onion AV Club in 2008, shared her thoughts about Dustin Hoffman’s Tootsie-inspired insights about gender: “They put a man in a dress, and he’s supposed to know what it feels like to be a woman. But of course he doesn’t. I think what Dustin [Hoffman] says is, ‘I realize now how important it is for a woman to be pretty. And I wasn’t pretty.’ God! That’s all you realized? Jesus Christ. Oh well. Don’t quote me. Actually, quote me.”
Dustin Hoffman’s epiphany about women being judged based on their looks is most certainly A Good Thing. So is his acknowledgment of his own role in marginalizing women who don’t meet a certain beauty standard. But even as he laments all the interesting women he never took the time to know, Hoffman’s comments still center on himself. It’s about his loss in not getting to know these hypothetical women. It’s about his regret. And fundamentally, as Terri Garr points out, something is still missing.
[youtube_sc url=”http://youtu.be/Ch57pIuYhbM”]
I’m genuinely pleased to know that making Tootsie taught Dustin Hoffman to be a better man, just as his character Michael Dorsey learned to be a better man. But being a male feminist or feminist ally isn’t primarily about men’s personal character growth. It’s supposed to be about liberating and empowering women. And it’s frustrating to see people respond as though Hoffman has discovered some earth-shattering truth, when women have already spoken and written about these issues at length. Why does it carry more weight when a straight, white, cis, wealthy, famous man expresses it?
Of course, like it or not, people listen when straight, white, cis, wealthy, famous men speak. So I can’t criticize Dustin Hoffman for using the platform he has to amplify a feminist message, even if what he says should be obvious to everyone by now. Terri Garr is absolutely right: Dressing as a woman for a day does not convey the entirety of what it means to be a woman in a patriarchal society. But I wouldn’t object if more men wanted to give it a try.
Rebecca Cohen is the creator of the webcomic “The Adventures of Gyno-Star,” the world’s first (and possibly only) explicitly feminist superhero comic.
My first introduction to Matt Damon was the same as many movie viewers – Good Will Hunting, a film that he starred in and co-wrote with Ben Affleck. It was my favorite film of 1997 and still holds a special place in my heart for its humor, poignancy, and moving portrayal of the lasting effects of abuse.
Written by Lady T as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
Where’s Matt Damon’s “hey girl” meme?
My first introduction to Matt Damon was the same as many movie viewers–Good Will Hunting, a film that he starred in and co-wrote with Ben Affleck. It was my favorite film of 1997 and still holds a special place in my heart for its humor, poignancy, and moving portrayal of the lasting effects of abuse. While the main focus of the film is on Will’s character development and his relationship with his psychologist, Sean Maguire (Robin Williams), the romantic subplot plays an important role in the story and features an intriguing love interest.
Skylar, played by Minnie Driver, is one of the more fleshed-out female supporting characters I’ve seen in film. Because she is a supporting character, she is, by definition, in the movie to assist with Will’s development, but she’s still a fully developed human being rather than an obligatory “girlfriend” archetype included in the script to throw a bone to a female audience. She loves Will and is committed to their relationship but is primarily motivated by her academic and career ambition, and we’re encouraged to sympathize with her when Will lashes out at her. While much of the success with Skylar’s character lies with Minnie Driver’s performance, Damon and Affleck share credit for writing a woman who has a backstory and motivation beyond, “Hey, this movie needs a girl in it.”
Damon and Minnie Driver in Good Will Hunting
Considering the level of care put into the writing of Skylar’s character, it’s no surprise that Damon is an outspoken feminist ally and supporter of issues that directly affect women.
Public education is one of Damon’s major political causes, largely inspired by the lifelong work of his mother, Nancy Carlsson-Paige, Professor Emerita of early childhood education at Lesley University. Outspoken advocates for teachers and education, Damon and Carlsson-Paige were questioned two years ago by libertarian ambush reporters who alleged that job insecurity was motivation for teachers to improve their performance, to which Damon gave this now well-known response:
“So you think job insecurity is what makes me work hard? I want to be an actor. That’s not an incentive. That’s the thing. See, you take this MBA-style thinking, right? It’s the problem with ed policy right now, this intrinsically paternalistic view of problems that are much more complex than that. It’s like saying a teacher is going to get lazy when they have tenure. A teacher wants to teach. I mean, why else would you take a shitty salary and really long hours and do that job unless you really love to do it?”
As a former public school teacher who left the profession largely because of this “intrinsically paternalistic view of problems” that Damon speaks of, I appreciated this interview on multiple levels. I appreciated that Damon deferred to Carlsson-Paige’s superior knowledge in the field (even though the interviewers only referred to her as “Matt Damon’s Mom”), challenging the reporter’s incorrect assumptions by reminding her that an expert in the field was proving her wrong. I appreciate that Damon is so invested in a field where over 70 percent of teachers are women, showing that he believes women’s work is valuable.
Most of all, I love that Damon criticizes the “intrinsically paternalistic” nature of education reform, pointing out that problems are very complex, and solutions need time to grow. Similar to the way many people would like to pretend that complex problems like racism, sexism, and homophobia are of the past, many leaders in education reform would like to believe that the next set of standards or change in tenure policy will fix all the problems in public schools. Acknowledging the complexity of systemic problems is a key component, regardless of whether or not Damon is directly tying his public school advocacy to women’s rights.
She has a name, “Reason”.tv!
There is, however, at least one cause where Damon specifically advocates for women, and that’s through Water.org, a nonprofit organization that he co-created with Gary White. Water.org’s main goal is to improve access to safe water and clean toilets. The website makes a point of saying that “We believe people in developing countries know best how to solve their own problems,” showing that there’s a level of respect for different cultures that is sometimes absent from other charities.
Perhaps even more remarkable than the lack of a “white American savior” attitude is the fact that Water.org has its own page for “the women’s crisis,” showing how the water crisis affects women specifically. The page also details the organization’s approach to helping women:
“Around the world, women are coming together to address their own needs for water and sanitation. Their strength and courage transforms communities. With the support of Water.org and its local partners, women organize their communities to support a well and take out small loans for household water connections and toilets. They support one another, share responsibility. These efforts make an impact, taking us one step closer to ending the global water crisis.”
There are many wonderful things about this organization’s work, and one of my favorite aspects of this activism is the language used. “With the support of Water.org and its local partners, women organize their communities.” This careful phrasing shows not only investment in issues that directly affect women, but respect for women’s empowerment. The language used shows a key understanding of effective ally work: not to rescue or save a marginalized group, but to give the support needed so that people in that group can improve their own lives. Given Damon’s other criticisms about an “intrinsically paternalistic view of problems,” I can’t think that the phrasing is a coincidence.
Whether he’s advocating for causes that affect women on a global scale or simply writing a decent female character, Damon has proven to be an ally to women. No wonder Sarah Silverman was so proud to be f***ing him:
When you think about feminism in television, The OC and teen soaps in general are probably not the first example to come to mind. If you’re not familiar with The OC, it’s about a troubled youth named Ryan Atwood (Ben McKenzie) who is taken in by the Cohens, a very wealthy family, after his own family has abandoned him. I’m very passionate about The OC and it is much more than that, but I shall not digress (or at least try not to). The Cohens are comprised of Kirsten (Kelly Rowan), a wonderful mother as well as a successful architect and businesswoman, Seth (Adam Brody), the awkward and endearing pop-culture-referencing son, and Sandy (Peter Gallagher), a righteous public defender, father, and husband.
This guest post by Victor Kirksey-Brown appears as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
When you think about feminism in television,The OC and teen soaps in general are probably not the first example to come to mind. If you’re not familiar with The OC, it’s about a troubled youth named Ryan Atwood (Ben McKenzie) who is taken in by the Cohens, a very wealthy family, after his own family has abandoned him. I’m very passionate about The OC and it is much more than that, but I shall not digress (or at least try not to). The Cohens are comprised of Kirsten (Kelly Rowan), a wonderful mother as well as a successful architect and businesswoman, Seth (Adam Brody), the awkward and endearing pop-culture-referencing son, and Sandy (Peter Gallagher), a righteous public defender, father, and husband.
Now that we’ve got some of the basics down, I’ll get to why Sandy Cohen is a feminist and an ally to the movement. First of all, as previously mentioned, he is a public defender and is always fighting for the underdog. He strives for equality and justice for all, even if it’s for his ruthless neighbor Julie Cooper (Melinda Clarke) or coldhearted father-in-law Caleb Nichol (Alan Dale). He simply never refuses to help and always tries his best to do what’s right. Judging from that description alone, it’s clear to see that Sandy is an ally.
When it comes to married life, Sandy and his wife Kirsten break all conventions. Kirsten is the main and sometimes sole financial provider. She helps run her father’s company, the Newport Group, a company mostly involved in real estate and housing development, making her and her family millionaires. Kirsten is also a terrible cook and by far the stricter parent. She does the majority of the grounding and often says Sandy has a “hippie” way of parenting. However, Sandy is always supportive of her; he loves that Kirsten is successful at what she does. The only time he ever wants Kirsten to quit her job is when he sees that it’s making her unhappy, and still he doesn’t tell her to quit and stay at home, he knows she values work and suggests she goes into business for herself and get away from her manipulative and controlling father. As long as Kirsten is happy with what she’s doing, Sandy could care less about who makes more money. He’s happy doing the cooking and being a stay-at-home dad. When Kirsten’s ex Jimmy Cooper (Tate Donovan) tells him, “You live in a fantasyland, you’re married to the richest girl in the county, you live in a house you’ve never paid for, you get fired–Kirsten wouldn’t even notice it! You have no idea what it’s like to provide for a family!” Sandy simply responds, “I think there’s more to providing for a family than money.” This stands out because it not only displays that a father can have a role in a family other than bread winner and still be a great dad, but it also says the same for mothers. This statement stands up for all the stay-at-home moms, arguing that just because you may not bring in a lot of money, doesn’t mean that your role is any less important in the family.
Another testament to Sandy and Kirsten’s marriage as well as Sandy’s inner feminist, is the way that they dealt with their marital problems. When another man threatens to come between them in the second season, Sandy never goes the route of slut shaming Kirsten or attacking her character in anyway. He chooses to trust Kirsten, to look at the things he’s done wrong that could have caused a rift between him and his wife, and he and Kirsten work together to fix their problems. No matter what issues they’re facing, whether it be Sandy’s law firm suing the Newport Group, differences in parenting techniques, Kirsten’s drinking problem, or deciding whether or not to move back to their small home in Berkley (small being relative to their Newport mansion), Sandy never tried to pull being the alpha or “man of the house.” Sandy and Kirsten always effectively communicated with one another and made decisions together as a team.
Sandy was a man that many people went to for help, and he would provide guidance time and time again without judgment. Instead of vilifying Dawn (Ryan’s biological mom, played by Daphne Ashbrook) and casting her out as a bad mother, Sandy searched for her and when he found her, he sympathized and tried to understand the reasons she left Ryan. Sandy never judges her for her decisions, even when Kirsten does. He and Kirsten do their best to help Dawn get back on her feet and reunite Ryan and his mother. In the end, for the sake of the show, Dawn decides that Ryan is better off with the Cohens, but Sandy never attacks her character and he and Kirsten continue to encourage Ryan to reach out to Dawn when he’s ready.
In the second season, when that ruthless neighbor Julie comes to Sandy for help because her ex, a porn producer, is trying to extort her with a pornographic film she starred in, Sandy helps her without question. Despite Sandy and Julie being far from buddies, Sandy never judges her for making a porn film and doesn’t think any less of her for it. He understands why she made it, and understands why she would like to keep it secret from her husband and two daughters (,though he does encourage her to tell her husband and allow him to help her.) He also lets her know that, even though she may view the film as a mistake, she shouldn’t be ashamed of it and she should try to trust her family with it.
Also in the second season, when Renee Wheeler (Kathleen York) reveals that she and Caleb have a love-child together, Lindsay (Shannon Lucio), from an affair they had while she was his secretary, Sandy helps her. Even though she’s going to cause a major divide in his family, he doesn’t attack her or judge her, he helps her do what’s right and pushes to make the reveal as easy of a process as it can possibly be.
Sandy never tires to coerce or manipulate any of the women who he helps. His help isn’t always selfless, but he doesn’t try to use his help as a play for power which is a route often taken by men in positions to help women on television.
Another great thing about Sandy is that he does his best to dissuade Ryan from being hyper-masculine and thinking he always has to save the day. To Ryan’s defense, this doesn’t come from him thinking he has to be a macho man, but rather from the fact that he grew up being the most responsible person in his household. He’s used to stepping in and taking control of a situation and Sandy helps him to realize that that isn’t always his job. When Sandy sees that Ryan is involving himself too much with Marissa’s (Mischa Barton) problems in the first season he tells him, “Marissa is going to have to figure this out on her own, and you gotta let her. You’re here with us now. You don’t have to be the parent anymore.” When Ryan finds out Theresa’s (Navi Rawat) boyfriend is physically abusing her, Sandy encourages Ryan not to resort to violence to try and resolve the problem, but to use his head. “Theresa has to decide on her own to leave Eddie. You can’t force her. …I’ve seen way too many kids just like him and I know that it will not be you to suddenly make him change.” Though it takes Ryan until the third season to fully take these teachings to heart, he does eventually get it. With Sandy’s help Ryan realizes that women are fully capable of handling their own problems and that he doesn’t always have to step in. Everyone needs help now and then, but you have to also allow people to help themselves.
There are a other, more obvious male feminist allies I can think of in television, Ron Swanson, Eric “Coach” Taylor, and Cliff Huxtable to name a few, but I grew up watching soap operas with my mom and I LOVE teen soaps. Seeing a character like Sandy Cohen in the teen soap genre is rare and something I consider very important. It shows young women (the core audience of this genre) that they should not allow the men in their lives, whether it be their brothers, fathers, uncles, boyfriends, teachers or whoever, to view them as someone always needing to be guided and saved. It allows them to see that a relationship should be a partnership and that they shouldn’t be expected to aim low to avoid hurting some guy’s ego or stand on a higher moral ground because they’re a woman.
I grew up surrounded by an abundance of strong female role models and seeing a male character on television that respects women, doesn’t consider powerful women to be a threat to his manhood, and just generally treats women as equals is something that stood out to me and that I admired. As a male viewer I looked up to Sandy Cohen because he exhibited all these traits and helped to further instill them in me. I still strive to one day be at least half the husband, father, and friend that Sandy is.
If you’ve never seen The OC, I highly recommend giving it a try and if you have, I recommend watching it again…and again…and again. I’ve learned a lot from it and fell in love with its characters and I think that you will too. I’ll leave you with a mash-up I found of some of Sandy Cohen’s best advice.
Caroline somehow knows that Adam is not a typical young man simply working for minimum wage at a local diner in Minnesota; he is a heavenly catalyst sent not to offer completeness in Caroline’s life, but to remind her that she is worth loving, even in his absence.
This guest post by Jenny Lapekas appears as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
In Tony Bill’s romance Untamed Heart (1993) Adam (Christian Slater) is very much a Christ-like figure throughout the film–he carries an aura of secrecy, we see him consistently bathed in light in many scenes, and he saves Caroline (Marisa Tomei) from her would-be rapists in a dark park in Minneapolis. In fact, Adam–whose name echoes the biblical Adam of the Garden of Eden–saves Caroline throughout the film, and it only makes sense, after proving his sacrificial love for the waitress, that he dies at the film’s conclusion. The film immediately focuses on Adam as it opens with his upbringing as an orphan raised by nuns. When the juvenile Adam has medical issues with his heart, one of the concerned nuns pleads, “Don’t you break our hearts,” a clear indication of his divine links as a person and a child of the church.
When Caroline questions Adam about fighting off the pair of drunken men, she is almost accusatory: “You follow me home?” After her attack, the last thing she wants to believe is that Adam’s sweet gaze is actually predatory. Adam interrupts her charming babbling with a sobering, “I wasn’t finished,” which becomes his mantra throughout the film; Caroline tends to talk herself in circles, but Tomei has a way of winning over viewers with her cyclical monologue when interacting with the dreamy Christian Slater.
The street lamp looks almost like a halo above Adam’s head as he carries home an unconscious Caroline, post-attack.
To further emphasize Adam’s goodness, all other male characters found in Untamed Heart are in some way flawed: Two men who show interest in Caroline end up as her assailants, Caroline’s father is uptight and largely absent, and her immature little brother fails to pick her up from work, causing her to walk home alone. After her attack, we see a defeated-looking Caroline at the mall amidst the holiday bustle. As she rises on an escalator, we see Adam pass by on the descending side–we’re almost surprised to see such a saintly man traveling downward rather than ascending upward, albeit in the space of a mall. Caroline is taken by surprise when he lovingly places his hand over hers.
Most noticeable is that Adam is bathed in light as he floats downward and gazes at Caroline.
“If you look up long enough, you’ll see a shooting star,” Adam tells Caroline when he begins walking her home from work: not only evidence of his virtue but also a pleasant reminder that Caroline can take a break from suspiciously looking around her long enough to look above her. The couple’s nonverbal agreement to walk home together after their shifts secures Adam’s placement as Caroline’s guardian, protector, and confidante. While the men Caroline typically encounters are quick to dismiss, forget, or victimize her, Adam is fixated and irrevocably in love with her.
Even as the two first become intimate, Adam appears “too good” to engage in earthly pleasures. Because Caroline is studying to be a beautician, she invites Adam over to cut his hair, but it’s delayed when Adam begins touching Caroline’s breasts as he sits before her; rather than sexual attraction, this scene highlights the awe Adam feels for Caroline. Although she leads him to the bedroom, it is Caroline that is being led to understand what true love looks like. After Caroline undresses and sits with Adam on her bed, he begins to cry, and she tells him, “I’m gonna fall in love with you,” which halts any possibility of sex or foreplay we anticipate in this scene; rather, this vow is their foreplay. As he continues to cry, she explains that he doesn’t have to return her love; this scene can be read as the couple merging as one, giving themselves to each other, in a landscape of celibacy.
When Caroline explains to Adam that his heart is diseased, visibly agitated, he exclaims, “No one is taking away my heart!”
When Adam dies, he does so peacefully, and not so unexpectedly. After he is stabbed by Caroline’s attackers while taking out the garbage, he leaves the hospital early and finds Caroline. He believes that he has the heart of a baboon and that he will survive, despite what doctors tell him. Because Adam knows that his love is innocent, he equates this to the state of his heart, and ultimately, how he feels about Caroline. Because Adam seems to exist on a different plane than those around him, it only makes narrative sense that he passes away after he and Caroline have fallen in love. We don’t expect any violent or traumatic death; rather, Adam sort of burns out, like the sun. At his funeral service, Caroline describes him as an angel and attributes agency to herself within the romance: “I was good at loving him.” Adam enters Caroline’s life not only to care for her but also to prove that she is not as flaky as she may have thought.
Caroline spots Adam’s massive scar as he changes at work.
The pair find one another amidst rude customers, raucous holiday gatherings, and those who fail to understand their young relationship. Caroline tells her best friend Cindy, “I don’t make sense, he doesn’t make sense, together we make sense!” Slater brings instant mystery to this role as the quiet busboy who secretly admires his waitress co-worker, and ensures that she arrives home safely every night after making the walk from work. We also fall in love with Tomei’s vulnerability and her willingness to trust the newness of a young romance after so many failed relationships. Caroline somehow knows that Adam is not a typical young man simply working for minimum wage at a local diner in Minnesota; he is a heavenly catalyst sent not to offer completeness in Caroline’s life, but to remind her that she is worth loving, even in his absence.
We love Adam because he comes to Caroline quietly, modestly, seeming to have always existed in the shadows, behind the scenes, loving her selflessly from afar, making his presence known only out of necessity. In a busy city that seems to challenge our mousy heroine at every corner, Adam is an ally, a soul mate, and a reason to watch the not so tired plot of “boy meets girl.”
Jenny Lapekas has a Master of Arts degree in English, and she teaches Composition at Alvernia University in Pennsylvania. Her areas of scholarship include women’s literature, menstrual literacy, and rape-revenge cinema.
“… as we all know, in all movements, the only way to effect change is for everyone to be moving it forward.”
Equal Rights Amendment march (Phil Donahue, center)
Appearing as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
In “Guys Who Get It: The Men of the Women’s Movement,” longtime women’s rights activist Marlo Thomas writes about the importance of having men march beside women in the fight for equal rights (and the importance of recognizing their efforts and working together). She quotes Gloria Steinem, who said, “Cooperation beats submission.”
Feminism–at its best, and how it should be–is not about submission. It’s about equality and a more fair power structure, where gender, class, race, ability, and sexuality intersect and fight for an equal playing field. Divided, we are all easily oppressed. Together, we can dismantle the power structures that work against those not in power.
Thomas says,
“For all that’s been written about the passionate and courageous women who have led the march to gender equality throughout history, often overlooked are the men who have marched (and continue to march) at our sides. That’s understandable. Their commitment notwithstanding, the number of men willing to step forward and take a public stand on behalf of women’s rights — to speak out, to raise awareness — is simply smaller than the coalition of women that has been forming and reforming for centuries.
“But men’s presence in the movement is vital. As my late friend, Bella Abzug, once noted, ‘We have done almost everything in pairs since Noah, except govern — and the world has suffered for it.’ And, as we all know, in all movements, the only way to effect change is for everyone to be moving it forward.”
We talk a great deal about the women’s movement in American history (specifically in the 1960s and 1970s) and women’s fights for suffrage and rights before second- and third-wave feminism. For a movement to truly move, however, we need everyone on board. All too often men are left out or left behind when we discuss women’s rights (sometimes by their choosing, sometimes not). If we expect them to fight with us and for us–which we should expect–then we have to recognize them as pieces in this movement that we need to move.
Feminism isn’t just about women. Feminism isn’t just for women.
Sexism, patriarchy, misogyny–these cultural scourges hurt everyone.
In an accompanying slide show to her piece, Thomas recognizes 18 men who “get it” and have been integral in women’s rights. These men include William Moultan Marston (the creator of Wonder Woman), comedian Dick Gregory, Frederick Douglass, Alan Alda, Eddie Vedder, and more.
Check out the tumblr Men Who Are Feminist for even more reminders that feminism is for everyone, and everyone is invited to the fight.
Vedder has spent his career fighting for a modern world that accepts and promotes women–he’s fought for reproductive rights, spoken out against sexual assault, and worked for worldwide safe pregnancy/childbirth.
Gloria Steinem and Eddie Vedder
Written by Leigh Kolbas part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
Toward the end of Pearl Jam’s Oct. 16 show in Oklahoma City, Eddie Vedder turned the microphone over to a woman in the front row who wanted to propose to her boyfriend. She got down on one knee, proposed, and kissed the man who had said “yes.”
Vedder congratulated them and said, “That’s beautiful–it’s a modern world.”
Vedder has spent his career fighting for a modern world that accepts and promotes women–he’s fought for reproductive rights, spoken out against sexual assault, and worked for worldwide safe pregnancy/childbirth. Vedder’s feminism has followed him from the highest rafters at Lollapalooza in 1992 to being the father of two daughters in 2013.
His politics have never taken second stage, and his feminism has always been a part of what is stereotypically a masculine, male-dominated, female-unfriendly world of rock.
Vedder’s ethos shaped my adolescence, and normalized feminism. While Pearl Jam as a whole (Jeff Ament, Stone Gossard, and Mike McCready) presented itself as a progressive force in the grunge scene, taking female protagonists and feminist issues to the radio and MTV, Vedder’s voice and actions made an incredible impact on me as I fully realized my own feminism, even if I couldn’t name it at age 10.
Listening to Pearl Jam growing up, I consistently heard songs with female protagonists. I loved reading the lyrics–they weren’t against me or at me. The lyrics told stories about women and girls facing mental health issues, disappointing relationships, being misunderstood by parents and men, and aging in a small town–all from the woman’s perspective. They commented on the privilege of being white and male in our society, the ramifications of not having that privilege, and the damaging and idealized masculinity of guns.
No question: pro-choice
When Vedder scrawled “Pro-Choice” on his arm with a Sharpie during an MTV Unplugged performance, he did what many celebrities don’t–loudly proclaim to a huge audience a commitment to the right to choose. Pearl Jam performed at Rock for Choice concerts. Vedder wrote an essay for SPIN magazine in 1992 (“Reclamation”) looking at abortion on a macro and micro level.
Penning first-person narratives of abortion experiences is still groundbreaking 20 years later, and too often women are held responsible for telling stories to effect change.
Vedder’s essay is gorgeous and powerful–he manages to stress that reproductive choice is a human rights issue, and men and women must come together and “shout” to make their voices heard. He points out that if it were about men’s bodies, “there would be no issue.” In just a few paragraphs, he acknowledges patriarchy, religious influence, the notion of “freedom,” women’s autonomy, and weaves in his personal experience with abortion.
Twenty years later–we still need more of these voices. And although I’ve read Vedder’s account over and over, I’m moved every time.
Voters for Choice concert
In 1995, Vedder took to the airwaves, citing Ms. Magazine and Gloria Steinem, and reading a lengthy memo from Voters for Choice about the heightened violence against abortion providers.
Eddie Vedder and Gloria Steinem at a Voters for Choice press conference
Vedder still brings up a woman’s right to choose as one of his top priorities when talking about his activism.
Anti-rape messages have also been woven through Vedder’s rhetoric over the years. At the very beginning of their career, Vedder commented on a Red Hot Chili Peppers’ song entitled “Party On Your Pussy” before launching into a cover of Fugazi’s anti-rape “Suggestion.” He said, “Don’t go partying on anybody’s pussy unless they want you to.”
What a novel idea… one that still doesn’t seem clear in our culture.
While Vedder and Pearl Jam’s commitment to reproductive rights and women’s sexual and bodily autonomy stand out, they’ve also consistently been outspoken about other feminist causes–environmentalism, gun control, the justice system, health care, bullying, unjust war, and child abuse. Certainly not all of their fans appreciate their politics, which makes their conviction all that more poignant.
Vedder has also recently contributed “Skipping” (which features his daughter’s voice) to the compilation Every Mother Counts, an album that raises funds for women and maternal health in underserved areas around the world. Fatherhood hasn’t softened Vedder beyond recognition; in fact, he’s said that fatherhood just “fueled” his anger about the world around him and the injustices he sees. In a recent interview, he discusses the importance to be present as a father, reasons to celebrate in our society (increased gay rights and pot legalization), and reasons to mourn (compromised voters’ rights).
As Pearl Jam wrapped up their weekend-long 20th anniversary PJ20 celebration in Troy, Wisconsin in 2011, Vedder said to the crowd, “Everybody, every member of this group has a very powerful woman next to us, behind us and in front of us… We love you.”
Their career has proven that they see women in general as behind, beside, and in front of them. This clearly goes for the women in their personal lives, but it has always felt that way for their audiences as well.
As a girl, I would press my forehead against the cool glass in the backseat of my parents’ car, having convinced them to put in Vitalogy as I flipped through the fascinating liner notes. I never felt like a girl or an object, or otherized by their music and lyrics. It was just part of me. As I grew older, and more political–naming my feminism and activism–how surprised and relieved I’ve been to realize that Vedder and company have been there all along. Next to me, behind me, and in front of me, normalizing women’s stories, fighting for women’s rights, and working for a greater, more equal world.
Canadian-born Ryan Gosling is a talented actor, charismatic movie star and global sex symbol. The Notebook (2004) made Gosling a romantic screen icon but he has also, of course, given a number of inspired, thought-provoking performances in both independent and mainstream movies. His roles have been mostly varied and complex, but if you want a general sketch of his screen persona, I would say it’s a potent mix of melancholy, vulnerability, romanticism and sensuality. There is also an aggressive side. While they may retain a vulnerable aspect, he has played quite a few violent men. A seductive presence on the screen, Gosling is also an object of desire for multitudes of women around the world.
A typical “Feminist Ryan Gosling”
Written by Rachael Johnson as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
Canadian-born Ryan Gosling is a talented actor, charismatic movie star, and global sex symbol. The Notebook (2004) made Gosling a romantic screen icon but he has also, of course, given a number of inspired, thought-provoking performances in both independent and mainstream movies. His roles have been mostly varied and complex, but if you want a general sketch of his screen persona, I would say it’s a potent mix of melancholy, vulnerability, romanticism, and sensuality. There is also an aggressive side. While they may retain a vulnerable aspect, he has played quite a few violent men. A seductive presence on the screen, Gosling is also an object of desire for multitudes of women around the world.
The star’s off-screen image is also engaging. There is a welcome lack of smugness and he comes across as charming and good-humored in interviews. In his personal life, he seems to have a refreshing preference for women older than him. Thanks to the “Feminist Ryan Gosling” tumblr, the actor has also become a sweetheart of online 21st century feminism. For people who have not yet heard of Danielle Henderson’s site, it features funny memes that couple photos of Gosling with gender studies quotes. The man, himself, has also exhibited a certain feminist awareness in public life. When Blue Valentine (2010) was given an NC-17 rating by the MPAA for a scene showing his character giving his wife oral sex, Gosling slammed the decision as sexist. He pointed out that it is “okay” to show sexual violence in American movies but not “a woman’s sexual presentation of self.” Mixing the romantic and the progressive as well as the courtly and the hip, Gosling’s star persona is attractive to female and feminist audiences. Any appraisal of Gosling’s feminist reputation should, therefore, not only consider his online image, star persona and political opinions but also reflect on his roles and performances. How is masculinity embodied in his screen characters and how do his films represent gender? Let’s first look at that site.
Ryan Gosling in Blue Valentine
Danielle Henderson started “Feminist Ryan Gosling” in 2011 when she was a graduate student. As she explains on her site, the blog was started as an academic joke. Her internet memes typically feature shots of the star–paparazzi, publicity and film stills–accompanied by quotes by feminist cultural and intellectual figures. They reference Gosling’s romantic appeal and the source of the humor, of course, comes from the mismatch between text and image. Although an essentially humorous site, “Feminist Ryan Gosling” is actually a pretty important pop cultural phenomenon. First, it is an entertaining example of the democratic potential of online culture. It shows that we do not have to be mere passive consumers of the Hollywood star product. We can, moreover, appropriate the image of the star for our own purposes. This is a quite subversive thing, of course. It may even be dangerous in other contexts–imagine a right-wing, homophobic appropriation of a star’s image–but “Feminist Ryan Gosling” is a positive, good-natured tribute with progressive aims. A gender studies student has contributed to the shaping of a male Hollywood star’s persona while advancing feminism in a way that is seductive to a mass audience. “Feminist Ryan Gosling” was, incidentally, turned into a Running Press book in 2012.
Gosling’s good looks play a starring role in all of this, of course. Although the actor is perhaps not classically handsome, he is an exceptionally good-looking guy with a classically desirable Hollywood body. His slim, muscular form is, in fact, part of his star persona. In the comedy-drama Crazy, Stupid, Love (2011), it is even the object of humor. Here, Gosling plays a womanizer who gets involved with a young law school graduate played by Emma Stone. When she first sees his buffed body, she protests, “Fuck! Seriously? It’s like you’re photoshopped!” It is a nice send-up of a certain side of his image. Gosling may not display his body or express himself sexually on the screen like Michael Fassbender–few do–but he has shown interest in thought-provoking sexual themes. He is also not frightened of being the object of the camera’s gaze.
Handsome and charismatic, Gosling, of course, fulfils the norms and ideals of Hollywood stardom. For more than a decade, however, he has been one of the more interesting younger male talents in American cinema. Gosling has, in fact, made some fascinating choices and many of have been conspicuously atypical. He’s never really been a boring pretty boy and he’s rarely played it safe. In the controversial The Believer (2001), Gosling plays a young Jewish man who becomes a neo-Nazi. That was his first major role. Gosling is not frightened of playing unconventional male roles. In Half Nelson (2006), he plays a charismatic history teacher with a drug habit. Many of his characters also complicate our ideas of American manhood. In fact, he’s played men who destabilize traditional norms of masculinity. I’m going to look at a couple of roles that offer complex, subversive portraits of masculinity–Blue Valentine and Lars and The Real Girl (2007)–as well as one that is more typical of his more conventionally or mythically masculine roles, the part of the stuntman and getaway driver in Drive (2010).
Ryan Gosling in Crazy, Stupid, Love
Directed and co-written by Derek Cianfrance, Blue Valentine is one of the great love stories of the Millenium. Intimate, intense and naturalistic in style, it is a world away from The Notebook. While The Notebook is a distinctly old school affair, an epic romance steeped in sentimental clichés, Blue Valentine is an inventively structured drama that depicts both the ecstasies of sexual and romantic love and the painful collapse of a marriage. It’s the story of Dean (Gosling), a house painter and Cindy (Michelle Williams), a nurse. When they first meet, she is a student and he is a furniture mover. Cindy’s background is middle-class and Dean is the son of a janitor. They fall in love and Cindy becomes pregnant. It is not certain if Dean is the father as Cindy has had a recent relationship with a fellow student. He accompanies her to the abortion clinic but Cindy decides to keep the child. They start a family together.
Blue Valentine is a riveting, heartbreaking tale, and both actors give powerful, first-rate performances. Dean is, in many ways, characterized as an average, heterosexual working-class guy. In terms of physical appearance and dress, the character conforms to conventional masculine norms. Thankfully, he’s not a working-class type conceived by Hollywood. His portrait is well-drawn, persuasive and sympathetic. A contented beer-drinker and chain-smoker, he is generous, caring, feisty and romantic. Note that Gosling’s character is not a traditional patriarchal figure. He is capable of sexual jealousy, it is true, but because of his love for Cindy, Dean is willing to embrace the child of another man as his own. Biological paternity, paternal ‘ownership’ of a child has, of course, been integral to patriarchy and his generosity of spirit goes against these conventions. Dean’s lack of ambition- ambition in the conventional sense- also defies cultural expectations of gender. He’s quite happy with his situation. Being a father and husband, he says, is more important to him than work.
Danielle Henderson’s Feminist Ryan Gosling book (Running Press, 2012)
Dean ultimately comes across as the more vulnerable of the two. He clings to their dying relationship, refusing to believe that Cindy has fallen out of love with him. Interestingly, Dean rages against traditional conceptions of mature masculinity. When Cindy says she’s ‘more man’ than Dean in a heated argument, he asks her what being ‘the man’ means. It is Cindy who is unhappy with her position in life although she is proud of her nursing: she planned to study medicine before falling pregnant. It is, you sense, the source of her unhappiness despite her love for her child and husband. Blue Valentine accepts the messiness of love and life, and neither character is judged. What is interesting is that it shows a man perfectly content within the domestic space and a woman who feels suffocated and unfulfilled. Cindy’s understandable frustrations are sensitively addressed and Dean’s characterization is distinctly non-masculinist. In these ways, Blue Valentine could, therefore, be said to have a progressive take on the needs and desires of men and women today.
The portrayal of sexual love in Blue Valentine is intimate, authentic, and sometimes raw–too intimate and authentic, it seems, for the MPAA who gave it an NC-17 rating for a cunnilingus scene. Gosling rightly read the decision as “a product of a patriarchy-dominant society.” He criticized the MPAA for “supporting scenes that portray women in scenarios of sexual torture and violence for entertainment purposes” but not allowing “a scene that shows a woman in a sexual scenario which is both complicit and complex.” The ruling reflects unhealthy, archaic sexual attitudes but we should not be surprised by it. Hollywood still sanitizes sex and love, and it is still misogynist: oral sex should only be given to men, of course, and if cunnilingus is permitted, it must be stylized. Thankfully, the decision was overturned on appeal and the film was given an R rating. Gosling came off as impassioned and genuine in the debate.
In the comedy-drama, Lars and The Real Girl, Gosling also plays a man who destabilizes conventional notions of masculinity. He plays Lars, a deluded young man who has chosen to have a romantic relationship with a life-size sex doll named Bianca. It may sound downright creepy but Lars is effectively portrayed as sweet-natured, troubled guy much loved by his family and supported by his community. It is actually quite funny and moving to watch his loved ones and neighbors play along with the fantasy. It is the unspoken hope that he will one day not need his plastic girlfriend. Suffering from a childhood trauma, the vulnerable Lars fears physical intimacy. Note also that there is no sex between Lars and the doll: Bianca’s a missionary.
Ryan Gosling in Lars and the Real Girl
Written by Nancy Oliver and directed by Craig Gillespie, Lars and the Real Girl is an unusually warm-hearted, offbeat experience. Gosling is happily unglamorous in the role. The pale, mousy-haired Lars sports a moustache and distinctly unsexy sweaters. Gosling’s body is slacker, softer and fleshier than usual. In short, Lars is the antithesis of the hard, hyper-virile Hollywood hero. There is, ultimately, the blissful promise of real love for Lars with a real girl. Does this promise celebrate the romantic union of equals or does it actually indicate a conservative undercurrent at work in the film? In other words, does normalization mean masculinization and marriage? Or does it merely present a benign case for benevolent masculinity? In one scene, Lars asks his brother how he knew he was a man. He answers, “You grow up when you decide to do right…and not what’s right for you, what’s right for everybody, even when it hurts.” However you read the film, what Gosling gives us is a quite courageous portrayal of unconventional, non-hegemonic masculinity. In that sense, it is a feminist performance.
Drive is typical of the more conventionally and mythically masculine roles Gosling has embodied, especially most recently. In Nicolas Winding Refn’s ultra-stylish thriller, he plays a mechanic and Hollywood stuntman by day, and a getaway driver by night. He displays qualities that have been traditionally celebrated as masculine: physical strength, coordination, control and bravery. He is also, of course, a great risk-taker. He remains nameless throughout the film; he is only known as “the driver.” An outsider and loner, the driver befriends his neighbor, Irene (Carey Mulligan) a waitress with a young son to support and a husband in jail. The driver himself is drawn further into the criminal underworld when he agrees to race stock cars for a malevolent crime lord. When Irene’s husband is released, things get even more complicated. The driver takes it upon himself to protect the family from the mobsters.
Ryan Gosling in Drive
Gosling’s character combines archaic and modern attributes. He is a simultaneously romantic and dangerous figure, an unsettling blend of seductive melancholy and extreme brutality. Protecting the woman he loves, as well as her family, the driver plays the ancient role of a knight. His spirit of self-sacrifice is also evocative of the enigmatic protagonist of the classic Western Shane (1953). The drifter Shane is an outsider who protects a family who loves him from wicked men. The driver is also, however, capable of acts of extraordinary sadistic violence. In a scene set in an elevator, we watch the driver kiss Irene in Golden Hollywood fashion, guide her gently into a corner with a protective hand, and then kick the head of an assassin to a bloody pulp.
The driver is a man of few words and Gosling’s cool, minimalist turn brings to mind Steve McQueen’s performance style. Gosling’s role in Drive could be said to be mythically masculine. Unfortunately, the film does not have complex, charismatic female roles. Although she is also portrayed as a romantic figure in this chivalric romance, Irene’s character is just too insipid and asexual. The function of Christina Hendrick’s character, it seems, is to betray the driver and get her head blown off by a hired gun. The only other women seen in the film are topless strippers. Drive criminally fails in its representation of women. In terms of its representation of masculinity, however, it is more interesting and ambiguous. If the film does not, perhaps, critique masculinity, it could, nevertheless, be said to consciously comment on cultural constructions of masculinity in its allusions to conventionally masculine genres and ideals, as well as through its meta-characterization of the driver.
Ryan Gosling in The Notebook
What is also remarkable is how much the camera loves Gosling in Drive. Watching him give a master class in getaway driving, with a toothpick hanging from his lips, is a sexual experience. The driver’s gloves, jackets and t-shirted back are all fetishized in the film. This kind of focus serves to eroticize the character. It is an unusual thing still for a man to be looked at with such intensity. This looking undermines traditional representations of masculinity, as self-conscious display is culturally associated with femininity.
Courtesy of Danielle Henderson’s site, Gosling has become a witty symbol of contemporary male feminism. His online feminist persona has, of course, only increased his sex appeal. Gosling has also displayed a certain gender-awareness in both his public statements and roles. His choices often indicate an interest in truthful and challenging representations of gender and sexuality. He has empathetically embodied men who do not conform to conventional notions of masculinity. He has, of course, played traditional masculine characters but even they frequently mask vulnerable qualities and complexities. It’s going to be interesting following Gosling’s career. I hope he becomes more politically engaged in his public life, and even more adventurous in his choice of roles.
Adelle, Willow, Zoë, Natasha–you name her, Joss Whedon offers a multitude of heroines with a wide range of diverse identities. A topic as extensive as this, regarding a person with as much output as Joss Whedon’s, would serve to fill entire volumes.
Joss Whedon
This guest post by Artemis Linhart appears as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
Adelle, Willow, Zoë, Natasha–you name her, Joss Whedon offers a multitude of heroines with a wide range of diverse identities. A topic as extensive as this, regarding a person with as much output as Joss Whedon’s, would serve to fill entire volumes. Accordingly, this article addresses only a few specific aspects regarding the roles of women in Whedon’s oeuvre.
It is Darla who, in the very first scene of Buffy, sets the tone for things to come when she subverts the “Damsel in Distress” routine. What is more, female-fronted bands (as for example the great Cibo Matto themselves) playing the “Bronze” is an entirely normal thing. It is subtleties like these through which Whedon continuously subverts common tropes of fiction and pushes the boundaries of our viewing habits.
What is striking in most of his work is that women are not defined by their womanhood. They are simply characters who happen to be female–much like real life.
This holds true especially for the female villains of his shows. They tend not to suffer from what Anita Sarkeesian of “Feminist Frequency” fame calls “personality female syndrome,” wherein female characters are “reduced to a one-dimensional personality type consisting of nothing more than a collection of shallow stereotypes about women.” In general, their underlying motives are not characterized by psychological or emotional factors concerning “woman issues” or driven by some form of “hysteria,” as is the case in a lot of fiction centering around female villains. While they do tend to use their sexuality as a means of power or manipulation, they are, however, often indistinguishable from the classic, male “bad guy,” were it not for their, often “typically female” exterior.
Bold and Beautiful
Indeed, strong women are altogether normal in Whedon’s work. This suggests that they can be forceful, resolute and–quite simply–badass, without having to look “butch” or display characteristics commonly associated with men. By way of example, Buffy can be described as a stereotypical “Barbie” on the outside, yet that does not make her weak or squeamish. On more than one occasion she is seen fighting demons while wearing a mini skirt or even a prom dress.
Correspondingly, female strength is not something to be fundamentally feared by Whedon’s male characters. On the contrary, it is a desirable quality. It is Firefly’s Wash who puts this so eloquently, as he claims to be “madly in love with a beautiful woman who can kill [him] with her pinkie.”
However, Whedon makes it quite clear that not everyone has to be a hero(ine)–especially not all the time. This is what makes his characters multi-dimensional and complex. There have been many discussions amongst fans concerning Buffy’s “shortcomings” and whether she is truly a strong character. This lively, ongoing discussion just goes to show society’s overly critical attitude towards women in film and TV. Buffy should not have to be denied her strength whenever she shows weakness. After all, human beings (and even superhuman beings like The Slayer) have feelings, are vulnerable and even weak at times.
It is treated quite nonchalantly that Firefly‘s Kaylee is an excellent mechanic who also happens to enjoy wearing a pink, frilly dress. And why wouldn’t she? What Whedon portrays are multi-faceted, realistic characters.
In Buffy‘s musical episode “Once More With Feeling,” Buffy sings, “Don’t give me songs, give me something to sing about!”
And indeed, with Whedon, female characters get not only songs, with prefabricated attributes and story arcs, to work with. They get a chance to flourish into something that is their very own selves. They get real substance, real problems, personalities, flaws–lives.
This is mirrored in Buffy‘s series finale, “Chosen,” where it becomes clear that–together with both the “Scoobies” and the “Potentials,” they have created a sheer army of Slayers. Buffy is no longer The Chosen One. It doesn’t take a Slayer to fight evil. Not only does this emphasize that all women can be powerful but, more importantly, it defies the tradition constructed and determined by the Shadow Men. Buffy creates an opportunity for the “Potentials” to unfold and evolve into greater beings–with greater stories.
While all of this should be common practice in today’s fiction, the truth is that it very much isn’t. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that, as a male TV writer, Whedon is praised by feminists despite there undoubtedly being room for improvement.
In spite of all of the female-positive representation in his work, certain aspects remain controversial. There is, for example, Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, which has two male protagonists fighting over the affection of their desired female. Penny, seeming innocent and pure, is clearly idealized and functions more like an instrument to the story of Dr. Horrible and Captain Hammer. It wouldn’t be Whedon, however, if he didn’t subvert this cliché framework using nuanced details of clever subtlety.
While the Watcher–considered by some to be the personification of the Male Gaze–in itself is an integral part of the concoction of male authority that is the tradition of the Slayer, and while it is repeatedly undermined by Buffy’s stubborn and autonomous spirit, it remains Whedon who created him. Whedon may place the responsibility on those evil, ancient patriarchs called the Shadow Men, and call it a metaphor for real life patriarchy, yet he allows for a solution only in the very finale of the TV series.
Furthermore, there is a considerate amount of mansplaining in the Whedonverse. Besides Whedon himself, who took the liberty of explaining the word “feminist” to the world, there are such delightful characters, for instance bookwormish Giles or cocky whiz kid Topher–the latter of whom so smugly refers to himself at one point, saying “I don’t want to use the word genius, but I’d be okay if you wanted to.”
Nonetheless, Whedon does offer female counterparts to the likes of them. Bennet Halverson appears as somewhat of a female version of Topher and, unlike Amy Acker’s character, she proves not to be an “Active” imprinted to replace a male scientist.
Jenny Calendar and Willow Rosenberg, on the other hand, function in a very meta way as a modern extension to the intellectual bibliophile Giles. The antiquated order of the man explaining things can’t keep up with the modern world, just as Giles hands over control when it comes to computer-related things.
Innocence
Buffy is certainly no “Final Girl.” While Whedon does play with this trope in Cabin in the Woods, virginal purity is no requirement for the Slayer to survive. What is more, instead of escaping death, Buffy seeks our danger and demons with an aggressive, empowered stance.
Similarly, the sex worker Inara is portrayed in a way that acknowledges her self-determination and poise. Unlike the “metaphorical whores” in Dollhouse, she can take charge of her own work life.
Generally, Whedon’s work resonates with a limited amount of “othering.” This is especially notable in Inaras character, pertaining to her line of work. Whedon incorporates one of the most marginalized professions in an ostensibly non-pejorative manner. While the character of Inara is pro-sex per se, form and content do at times cast her in a “gazed upon” role.
The male fantasy is further exploited, as she is seen in a sex scene with a female client. Though the visual representation of same-sex intercourse merits acclaim, in this case it implies the concept of the girl-on-girl porn fantasy, as Inara is hardly shown this explicitly in her interactions with male clients.
It seems that, not least by making the role of Willow a pioneer of lesbian representation on TV, Whedon has become so idolized that he is now held to much higher standards of feminist sensibility than other TV writers. At the same time, he can get away with a great deal when it comes to questionable representations of gender, sexuality, and relationships. Therefore it is refreshing to see that Whedon’s recent rant has sparked an active discourse among fans. This demonstrates that, while broadly adored, Whedon’s feminism does not remain unchallenged.
Here’s hoping that this will lead to many more positive representations in his cinematic and TV work, including issues inclusive of sexuality as a broad spectrum, as well as non-cis individuals.
And in a society where male revelations about abuse, physical, emotional, or sexual, are still considered a mark of weakness, it’s fantastic that such a successful figure is willing to set an example. Especially when that person is Captain Jean Luc Picard, a super smart, sexy, sensitive, nerves-of-steel spaceship captain. I have a feminist daydream of Kirk (Shatner), Janeway (Mulgrew), Sisco (Brooks), and Picard (Stewart) doing a women’s rights PSA: I would make it my ringtone forever.
Written by Rachel Redfernas part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
Sir Patrick Stewart being amazing for Amnesty International.
At a spry 78 years old, Sir Patrick Stewart is just as popular as he was 25 years ago in Star Trek: The Next Generation, perhaps even more so now as his persona has popped from talented dramatic actor to powerful women’s rights activist, and an almost mythic status as an all-around amazing human being.
And part of that love and general good feeling toward Sir Stewart is his vulnerable and very personal campaign to end domestic violence, support battered women, and fight for women’s rights. In a world filled with Alec Baldwins, Todd Akins, and Hunter Moores, perhaps we just expect old white men to be entitled and offensive. Similarly, in a world filled with Katy Perrys and Taylor Swifts who insist on denying the need for feminism (how nice for them as wealthy, successful white women) and insisting that they are NOT feminists, it is inspiring to see a man willing to not only own the label, but wear it.
“This is what a feminist looks like”–and it looks good.
And really, it seems mind-boggling that Sir Stewart is seen as an original, groundbreaking human being when in reality he’s fighting for basic human rights. Why is saying, “Stop Hitting Women” such a unique perspective for a male public figure?
But considering the overwhelming response pretty much every time he steps in front of a camera, millions of people are connecting with him in a profound way. It must come from his willingness to share the painful and intimate details of his own past with domestic violence on a global scale, then turn around, listen to someone else’s story, and respond with empathy and sincere compassion. It probably helps that he does all that in a brilliant English accent and fantastic deep, rich voice—that man could read my stereo instructions and I’d breathlessly wait for a plot twist.
And his interest in women’s causes isn’t just a cause-of-the-day as, let’s be honest, most celebrity causes are only to foster a positive public image and distract from that time they hit a pedestrian while doing 90 MPH in their Porsche. As an obviously huge participant in sci-fi conventions where there is a lot of fan interaction, fans are constantly reporting that he is just as committed to spreading awareness when there’s a line of 300 hundred Deanna Trois and William Rikers waiting to get his autograph as when there’s a microphone and a camera in his face.
One blogger tells of the time she got to ask him a question about his fight against domestic violence at an Austin Comic Con convention panel and he was great; then she asked him a similar question when she was standing in line to talk to him and he made a special point of spending extra time with her discussing resources she might be personally interested in.
Sir Stewart’s involvement with Amnesty International has also led him to be the face of a very public campaign, posting his own and his mother’s experiences of domestic abuse at the hands of his father. And on top of that, adding his public criticism of the police’s handling of that situation; at that point, when his mother tried to report what was happening the police would respond, “Well, you must have done something to make him mad.” Or doctors would assert, “Mrs. Stewart it takes two to make a fight.”
The above stories highlight victim blaming at its finest; an unfortunate, but still daily experience for many women who report sexual assault, stalking, abuse, violence, and even the spread of intimate photos online. But I love that while Stewart is harshly critical of such terrible tactics, he’s also a huge proponent of increasing expectations for men and young boys. People are people, some are good and some are bad, but when the expectation is not, “How could you let him do this to you?” but rather, “How could you treat a fellow human being this way?” victims are treated respectfully and the default condition is “Real people don’t treat other people this way.”
And in a society where male revelations about abuse, physical, emotional, or sexual, are still considered a mark of weakness, it’s fantastic that such a successful figure is willing to set an example. Especially when that person is Captain Jean Luc Picard, a super smart, sexy, sensitive, nerves-of-steel spaceship captain. I have a feminist daydream of Kirk (Shatner), Janeway (Mulgrew), Sisco (Brooks), and Picard (Stewart) doing a women’s rights PSA: I would make it my ringtone forever.
And while we wish that things were better for women (and they sort of are), when the response to Rihanna’s own experience is for Chris Brown to get a tattoo of a battered woman on his neck and then sing at the 2013 VMAs, there’s still a long way to go. (Feminist fantasy number two where Stewart eloquently destroys Brown, shaming him so publicly that banks will freeze his bank accounts, give the money to a battered women’s shelter, and Brown won’t be able to find work as a birthday party entertainer in Wyoming.)
Imagine Chris Brown on the receiving end of this.
The truth of all this is that as much as we love Stewart the actor, we desperately need Stewart the activist as a substantial male proponent of feminism. As with any movement, people need leaders that they can identify with, and as dynamic as Gloria Steinem is, she might not always be the most relatable face for men who are interested in women’s rights.
Sir Patrick Stewart, we salute you (while possibly wearing a Starfleet uniform).
So, yes. Raleigh Becket is a Strong Female Character. Sure, he’s not female, but as far as our understanding of SFCs goes–which here means well-written female and feminine characters–he’s aces. Raleigh Becket is supportive, sweet, intuitive, and loving, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Not a damn thing.
Charlie Hunnam as Raleigh Becket
This guest post by Deborah Pless appears as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.
No, that is not a typo. No, you are (probably) not suffering from a stroke. Neither am I. Yes, I am really referring to Charlie Hunnam’s character from Pacific Rim, the alarmingly dude-shaped Raleigh Becket. He’s a strong female character. And it’s great.
So what do I mean when I say this? Well, obviously, Raleigh isn’t technically female. Not in the physical sense, at least. He does not identify as a woman that we know of, nor does he exhibit any strong feminine traits. At least, not externally. Dude goes from being a street brawler to a cocky Jaeger pilot to a welder–all traditionally very masculine jobs and roles. To top it off, he’s a dude’s dude, always talking about the mechanics of his Jaeger, Gipsy Danger, and slightly prone to getting into unauthorized fights. All of which doesn’t sound all that stereotypically female. I know.
But Raleigh does exhibit other traits, ones much less on the surface, and those traits, while not exclusively female, are more traditionally feminine in nature. What I mean is, out of everyone in the movie, Raleigh, not Mako, is closest to our understanding of the “strong female character” trope. And that’s awesome.
Still from Pacific Rim
For those of you who haven’t yet seen Pacific Rim, here’s a quick rundown. In 2013, Earth was first attacked by giant monsters that climbed out of an interdimensional rift in the Pacific Ocean. At first, these mega-godzillas devastated our shores, but the world quickly banded together to fight the threat. The solution? Giant robots, called Jaegers, which can fight the monsters, now dubbed Kaiju. The Jaegers are so massive that they need too pilots to “share the neural load” and for plot related reasons, the pilots have to be linked mentally to each other and the machine, so that they can work perfectly in sync.
Yeah, it’s a bit to get through just so we can start the story, but don’t worry. It’s worth it. Also, beware. This is gonna be SPOILERIFIC.
The film picks up seven years into the Kaiju War. Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam) and his brother Yancy (Diego Klattenhoff) are Jaeger pilots, and two of the best. Cocky, charming, and completely assured in their abilities, the boys charge out into the night-time Bering Strait to face another Kaiju–the biggest one ever spotted.
The Becket Brothers
They lose. Hard. Or rather, they win, but at a terrible cost. The Kaiju is both larger and stronger than they’ve ever faced, and as a result, they underestimate it. During the fight, it manages to tear off an arm of their Jaeger (which means that Raleigh experiences the sensation of having his own arm torn off), and then bites into the Jaeger’s head and straight up eats Yancy. Raleigh manages to kill it, but only barely. He pilots the Jaeger back to shore and then collapses.
Cut to five years later. The once thriving Jaeger program is on the brink of collapse. Raleigh has faded into obscurity as a drifting welder working on an anti-Kaiju wall, and the world is about to end. So naturally it’s right then that Marshall Pentecost (Idris Elba), head of the Jaeger program, finds Raleigh in order to recruit him for an end of the world mission to save the planet. The clincher? “Haven’t you heard, Mr. Becket? The world’s coming to an end. So where would you rather die? Here? Or in a Jaeger.”
It’s an easy choice.
Still from Pacific Rim
There’s just one problem. Raleigh was still in “the Drift” with his brother when Yancy was eaten, and that kind of mental scarring doesn’t just go away. He’s leery of having someone in his head again. It seems like the central emotional story of the film is clear. Raleigh will struggle to trust someone enough to pilot again, pulling it together, after a few hours of brooding, just in time to save the world and get the girl. Right?
Well, no, actually. Raleigh comes to the Hong Kong Shatterdome with the expectation that he can’t let anyone back in, a belief that lasts about five minutes. Because immediately upon arrival at the Shatterdome, Raleigh meets Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi), Pentecost’s adopted daughter and a potential Jaeger pilot. Immediately, Raleigh changes his tune from “I’m not sure I can let anyone in my head again,” to “That’s her, she’s perfect, everyone in the Jaeger, let’s go fight some Kaiju!” It’s shocking, and fast, and completely not the characterization you expect.
Still from Pacific Rim
In fact, the central emotional story of the film turns out not to belong to Raleigh, but rather Mako. An orphan of the Kaiju War, Mako wishes desperately to become a pilot in order to avenge her family, but is deemed too angry and emotionally volatile to make a good pilot. As it turns out, it’s Mako, not Raleigh, whose grief and rage endanger their connection, and it’s Raleigh’s job to emotionally balance her out and soothe the tempers around him.
This is what I mean when I say that Raleigh is a “strong female character.” Raleigh’s role in the film is that of friend, counselor, and emotional support–commonly the role given to a girlfriend or wife in a movie like this. He’s the Peggy to Mako’s Captain America, the Jane to her Thor, the Katara to her Aang. Raleigh is the supportive, emotionally intuitive counterpart to his impulsive, rash, and angry best friend. His journey is over in the first 20 minutes of the movie. Hers has just begun.
Part of what makes this film so remarkable is Raleigh’s complete lack of macho behavior. When verbally baited, both by a socially inept scientist (Charlie Day) and by an antagonistic pilot (Robert Kazinsky), Raleigh responds with honesty and tact. He’s calm, even when angry, and more in tune with the emotions of those around him than anyone else in the movie. The only time we see him react in anger is when the jerk-face pilot, Chuck, attacks Mako, and this particular scene actually feels rather out of character.
Still from Pacific Rim
Not only this, but Raleigh is supportive to a degree rarely seen in action films at all. Upon finding out that Mako wishes to be a Jaeger pilot, his reaction is not to offer advice or criticism or anything about himself. Instead, he just tells her that he’s sure she will be. Even after she insults him and his actions, his response is still not to denigrate her dream. Rather, he says, “Well, thank you for your honesty. You might be right. But one day when you’re a pilot you’re gonna see that in combat you’ll make decisions, you have to live the consequences. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
Yeah. That’s what he says when he’s insulted. I am 95 percent sure that I have never been that nice in my entire life. Ever. It’s crazy.
And when Raleigh realizes that Mako could be his co-pilot, he is fierce and relentless in his efforts to get her in the role she dreams of. He argues with Marshall Pentecost. He faces down Chuck. He even argues with Mako, insisting that she follow her dream. Throughout all of this, the message is clear: I support you. You matter. Your hopes and dreams and feelings matter.
When she shuts him down, Raleigh leaves her alone. When he and Mako fight, he doesn’t go easy on her, but he’s thrilled when she beats him. When Mako screws up their trial run, Raleigh is the first one demanding that they get another try. Basically, Raleigh, far from being a macho manly man dealing with his inner angst, is actually a cheerleader campaigning for presidency of the Mako Mori Fan Club.
Like I said above: none of these are actually gendered traits. Raleigh is supportive, but that’s not a women-only kind of thing. Lots of men are supportive. And he’s emotionally engaged as well, but that’s not an exclusively female trait either. Not in reality.
Still from Pacific Rim
But in movies? Yeah, kind of. Most movies, especially big-budget action flicks like Pacific Rim, the women are supportive and the men are emotional time-bombs. It’s so incredibly rare to see a man like Raleigh, who is both fully male and also incredibly feminine. Because that’s what these are. These are traditionally feminine traits, portrayed by a dude who likes to walk around with his shirt off.
And isn’t that what feminism is about, really? The right for women to pursue avenues traditionally held for men, and the right for men to pursue lives traditionally reserved for women. It goes both ways. Raleigh’s femininity in no way diminishes him as a character. In fact, it serves to enhance, and when combined with Mako’s masculinity, it makes them an unstoppable pair. Their partnership is built on their compatibility, and the fact that neither of them is cookie cutter masculine or feminine is just another part of that.
So, yes. Raleigh Becket is a Strong Female Character. Sure, he’s not female, but as far as our understanding of SFCs goes–which here means well-written female and feminine characters–he’s aces. Raleigh Becket is supportive, sweet, intuitive, and loving, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Not a damn thing.
Deborah Pless runs Kiss My Wonder Woman and works as a youth advocate in Western Washington. You can follow her on twitter, just as long as you like feminist rants and an obsession with superheroes.
