Maria Ramos – Bitch Flicks

‘The Witch’ and Female Adolescence in Film

This blame, fear and guilt are heaped upon Thomasin right as she starts to blossom into womanhood… This may be why ‘The Witch’ so strongly resonates.

This guest post written by Maria Ramos. Spoilers ahead.

One of the most chillingly spooky suspense films released this year, The Witch uses ancient superstitions and fears within a feminist critique that rings as true today as in the pre-Salem time period in which the film is set. The parents in the film utterly fail to protect their children from the wicked witch in the woods, especially the obstinately pious patriarch, while turning the blame on their teenage daughter. Religion warps into destructive superstition as the family tries to root out the cause of their ill fortune.

Though the trouble really starts when the male head of the family (Ralph Ineson) gets them expelled from the safety of town, it isn’t until the youngest child is kidnapped that the family really starts to break down. The fact that this happens while the baby is under the care of big sister Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), immediately turns the spotlight onto her. Her age and intelligence only makes her more of a target. Mothers — and babysitters by extension — are expected to keep children safe, so the disappearance of a child is not only a tragedy in itself, but represents a failure at motherhood. Losing a child paints Thomasin as unfit to mother, in a certain way, and therefore also unfeminine by the mores of the time.

This blame, fear and guilt are heaped upon Thomasin right as she starts to blossom into womanhood, something director Robert Eggers plays upon skillfully. Failing crops, illness, animals who behave strangely, and, worst of all, a missing baby — the parents interpret all of these signs as supernatural and ungodly. Who’s to blame, though? This is a time when society views women, as the descendants of Eve, as inherently sinful at the best of times. The label of suspected witch was quickly earned but hard to shed. Therefore, it is easy to believe when the misfortunes the family faces are placed at Thomasin’s feet. Intelligent and sometimes too quick to speak, she is a natural target.

Nor are we so far past that time today. Young women are still expected to behave and conform to social norms more than young men. In a world where “boys will be boys,” girls who step out of line are often said to be asking for trouble. When a young woman survives rape or assault, her outfit, behavior, and sobriety are questioned far quicker than those of her assailant, due to rape culture. We may not call girls witches today, but there are a long list of other names almost every teen girl has been called at one point or another. This may be why The Witch so strongly resonates. Adolescence is hard at the best of times, whether a girl fears being being called a slut or a witch. If the wardrobe was updated and the religiosity toned down, it would be easy to set it in today’s world. The film, produced by A24 Films and DirecTV, draws clear parallels between the victim-blaming of today and the more extreme version endured by Thomasin.

Not that Thomasin is the only character who shines in the movie. Harvey Scrimshaw plays the second oldest child, Caleb, and excels in his role. He also becomes the catalyst for the accusations of witchcraft. Close to his sister and, as a preteen himself, Caleb is also intrigued by Thomasin’s recent transition away from childhood. When he also disappears, and then returns seemingly raving and possessed, the two youngest children are quick to point the finger at their elder sister, even manufacturing some additional evidence of their own. Scrimshaw dominates this scene and hypnotizes the audience with his performance, one in which the suffering Caleb unwittingly puts the final nail into his sister’s coffin.

Eggers wrote and directed a supernatural horror film set hundreds of years ago, yet the themes translate clearly to today’s society. Though the father causes the family thrown out from the safety of the town, and the parents together failed to keep their children safe once in the wilderness, the blame in the end falls squarely onto Thomasin. A scapegoat was needed and she was both vulnerable and, as a girl, the most expendable. Though the film’s creepiness builds upon the horror the family endures, perhaps what remains the most frightening element is how closely the characters’ behaviors mirror reality.

Maria Ramos is a writer interested in comic books, cycling, and horror films. Her hobbies include cooking, doodling, and finding local shops around the city. She currently lives in Chicago with her two pet turtles, Franklin and Roy. You can follow her on Twitter @MariaRamos1889.

Pollution, Energy Crisis and… Sexism? A Feminist Look at the ‘Soylent Green’ Dystopia

The film’s female characters seem to have accepted their fates and although they may not be okay with it, they don’t do much to fight against it. Today, women’s voices are constantly silenced, even (and especially) when conversations and arguments are about our own bodies.

This is a guest post by Maria Ramos.

Trigger warning: discussion of rape and sexual assault

Soylent Green, Richard Fleischer‘s 1973 classic sci-fi film, makes huge statements about class division, overpopulation, and global warming. Many have drawn parallels between the future depicted in the movie — where the greenhouse effect has taken its toll and much of the world’s wildlife is extinct — to the course of environmental destruction that humanity is currently on in the real world. While the movie’s message about the environment is much needed, its treatment of women makes an even bigger statement.

The dystopian future shown in Soylent Green is downright miserable for everyone but a handful of people — the lucky few aren’t actually seen in the film, but are noted as living away from the chaos of the city in heavily guarded country estates. The movie’s opener lists the population of New York City in the year 2022 at 40 million. Charlton Heston‘s character, Detective Frank Thorn, can’t go to or from his dilapidated apartment without seeing throngs of homeless people in the streets while law enforcement disperses crowds with a garbage truck that literally scoops people out of the way. Food is so scarce that folks take to primarily eating soy and lentil blocks — Soylent Red and Soylent Yellow — while the more popular Soylent Green is in short supply. It’s clear that poverty and overpopulation are major themes in Soylent Green, but the biggest victims of this are the women seen in the film.

Soylent Green stays true to the handling of women in the book on which it is based, Harry Harrison‘s Make Room! Make Room!. Several key details, some names, and the ending change, but one thing stays the same: women are screwed from beginning to end, literally and figuratively. Few women in the film get a break, not the poor or the ones who are “lucky” enough to have access to real food and a place to stay. The latter are actually referred to as “furniture,” and they’re basically attractive women who come as a package deal with the upscale apartments being rented out. A Craigslist ad for such an apartment might read, “Condo comes with a refrigerator, dishwasher, 23-year-old, slim, blonde furniture, and access to a concierge.”

Just like a chair or a hat rack, the women who are considered “furniture” don’t get to choose who uses them and must obey men’s commands, including visitors off the street. They’re routinely subjected to rape, violence and abuse from their renters and any men with whom they come in contact. Leigh Taylor-Young plays the film’s female lead, Shirl, who is at the mercy of the men who rent out the apartment where she lives. She sees her fellow “furniture” friends being beaten up by the building’s owner. Shirl is told, rather than asked, to have sex with Detective Thorn, and has very little control over her own destiny. She displays no anger at her condition and has clearly accepted her lot in life, as have the other women in the movie.

Aside from the sexist treatment experienced by the “furniture,” other women in Soylent Green are treated as disposable. Homeless women are shown being shot in the streets and in a homeless shelter while simply trying to survive. They are picked up by the scooper trucks while struggling to get food and are left to fend for themselves on the streets as they hover over their children.

While overpopulation is the big problem presented in this film, the solutions are rather absurd. No one in the movie thinks to punish the men who rape women and have stripped them of their reproductive rights, as women have no control over their own fertility and bodies in this world. The society depicted in Soylent Green is an extreme patriarchy, and an incompetent one at that. No women have positions of power and none are depicted as heroes who display courage. The men have all the employment opportunities and men make all of the social, political, and economic decisions.

As the film was released in 1973, a time when more women than ever were claiming their own destinies and demanding equal treatment, Soylent Green didn’t depict women’s place in the real world. However, it makes sense in a dystopian setting where political corruption and social chaos run rampant — history shows that women and children typically get the worst treatment in such situations.

One thing that made Soylent Green such an influential movie is that is seems to depict the possibilities if people continue on at their worst. The political system would become a nightmare, police would become defenders of corporations rather than people, and advocating for the rights of women and protecting nature would become afterthoughts. These are all things that have happened in one way or another, especially when it comes to the environment. As the EPA has reported, human fossil fuel consumption in the U.S. alone is adding between 5,000 to 6,000 million metric tons of CO2 to the atmosphere each year, which is thought to be driving temperatures upward. Global warming and climate change are real, and we’re spurring it on.

But would the country’s young women be forced into accepting rape and degradation if our society slips into mayhem in the future? The film’s female characters seem to have accepted their fates and although they may not be okay with it, they don’t do much to fight against it. Today, women’s voices are constantly silenced, even (and especially) when conversations and arguments are about our own bodies. Although definitely not ideal, a future where patriarchal ideas and control over women’s bodies and rights could be a frightening possibility, as seen in the debates around abortion in current political headlines. As for the homeless women being trampled and shot in the streets, that could definitely happen to a significant portion of the female population, especially as violence like this does happen now, particularly to Black women. If we ever see social unrest like that in Soylent Green, women’s rights and social justice would deteriorate as people struggle to survive and men fight to keep their power.

Instead of being outraged at how dreadfully Soylent Green treats women, let’s take it as a forewarning and a lesson. We should think of what we can do to secure the future of women in our society if we ever get to a point where our civil liberties and legal protections are gone. We can either be proactive now, or resign to a life of furniture-like serfdom later.

How Home Invasion Films Reinforce Gender Stereotypes and Portray Domestic Violence

A woman’s domain is her home – it’s an archaic idea, but it’s one still perpetuated in today’s horror films, especially the subgenre of home invasion horror. These films serve to scare us because they take place in the one setting we’re supposed to feel safe, and their horror is much more realistic than ghosts or monsters. But how does a home invasion affect men and women so differently?

This is a guest post by Maria Ramos.

One of the most suspenseful films of all time, 1967’s Wait Until Dark, was one of the first home invasion films to hit the silver screen. It was also one of the first films to present a heroine who was absolutely helpless, even in her own home. Susy (Audrey Hepburn) is blind after a car accident, making her the perfect vulnerable target for a bunch of criminals trying to find a drug-stuffed doll that Susy’s husband may have. This film prisons Susy in her home to fend off these criminals, keeping her passive while her husband is removed from the drama. But the film’s portrayal of Susy is not negative – in fact, even though she’s vulnerable, Susy manages to outwit the criminals and show her strength when she needs it most.

In 1997, the famously misanthropic director Michael Haneke made Funny Games, one of the more brutal, violent films in the home invasion genre. Two murderous young men entrap a mother, father, and son in their vacation home to torture and eventually murder them with their sadistic games. Anna is the last surviving victim, forced to watch the brutal slaughter of her husband and son before she herself is killed. Funny Games plays into sexist ideas of women in that it does now allow Anna any agency at the end – she is not allowed to fight for her life at all.

Sometimes female characters are put into situations that limit their agency, but they end up outwitting the foes in their path to come out on top. This is the case in 2002’s Panic Room. The two main victims are a mother and daughter who are trying to make a life for themselves after a rough divorce. The film initially makes Meg (Jodie Foster) out to be a woman scorned, angry about her failed marriage and trying to win the trust of her daughter (Kristen Stewart), but once the burglars break through their security system and enter the home, she must fight to survive in the titular panic room. This enclosed space offers no communication to the outside, making it both a literal and metaphorical prison for Meg – she’s trapped, and the only way out is through violence.

In other cases, home invasion films seem to want to keep women in roles lacking agency. In 2008’s The Strangers, a couple on the verge of a breakup must face an intense night battling a group of masked killers who keep finding their way into the house. James, the boyfriend, is the one who consistently takes action while Kristen, his girlfriend, is left screaming and hiding. He’s the one who shoots the gun and calls the shots, and when he can no longer help, Kristen is totally helpless. This is an example of a film that perpetuates the stereotype of the woman who cannot fend for herself.

Luckily, the past few years have given us horror films with kick-ass heroines who can fend for themselves. In 2011, Sharni Vinson played a survivalist “final girl” in You’re Next who refused to let a group of masked killers assault her in her boyfriend’s country home. Even though the odds were against her, she used her wits and courage to get herself out of trouble, proving that home invasion films don’t always have to trap their heroines in an inescapable situation. However, it’s almost inevitable that the horror genre will continue to perpetuate stereotypes of women and place them in vulnerable roles and in inescapable situations of unnecessary violence. Let’s just hope we’ll see at least some films that go against this outdated trope.

The Disappearance of Sexism and Racism in Dystopian Fiction

Certainly, teenagers strain against authority and exert their independence. This doesn’t mean they’re immune to other big issues that plague society – issues such as sexism and racism. If the novels being written for this demographic want to call themselves true dystopias based on a futuristic society in which our current way of living led to some global disaster, then the writers of the novels and the film adaptations shouldn’t shy away from some of the biggest issues in current politics and society.

This is a guest post by Maria Ramos.

If book sales and box office numbers are any indication, young adults love their dystopian fiction. So much so that the creative powers that be are intent on keeping the momentum going with more and more additions to this fairly recent genre phenomenon, for better or for worse. Unfortunately, the repetition breeds dilution of the initial idea of a dystopia as an opposite of a utopia, or perfect world.

The idea of dystopia takes into account basic and flawed human nature, hinging on the idea that power, political in this case, corrupts, leading to a small group of oppressors and a greater group of oppressed. YA dystopian fiction tends to present this oppression as a necessary sacrifice to save the rest of humanity after some global and apocalyptic disaster, often environmental in nature and with the clear message that we should take care of our environment now or suffer our own dystopia later.

The common element in a true dystopia is politics, but in these YA versions, the politics have become metaphors for the seemingly oppressive nature of adult and school rules under which teenagers often chafe. This conversion leaves the stories one-sided and shallow, expecting the reader to assume that, because this is a common problem within the young adult mindset, it is also the biggest problem facing young adults today. At best, such an assumption stems from laziness, and at worst, it’s insulting.

Take The Hunger Games, for example. Society is divided by geography and profession as each of the 12 districts supplies the capital city with a specific product or skill. The districts live in various extremes of poverty and deprivation. While some would argue that such suffering would bring out the best in some people, the situation is also ripe for the desperation that leads to an irrational fear of other, a prime motivator of racism. And yet, while the author created a diverse group of characters, including Katniss who was described as “olive-skinned,” the discrimination based on this diversity is simply missing.

The same could be said for The Maze Runner series (the first film is available on demand through Google Play and DirecTV), which provides representation of various races to include Asian and African American and yet never a hint of racial tensions either in the grove or once they’re out of it and into The Scorch Trials, the second installment of the book and movie trilogy. Possibly the worst offender of recent offerings, however, is the Divergent series, in which society is divided by faction only, with each faction based on a particular character trait. Not only is there no hint of racism anywhere in any of the three novels of this trilogy, but sexism is gone, too.

This latter is particularly hard to swallow given that the domestically abusive and oppressive male leader of one faction (while actively opposing the female leader of another) never once makes a disparaging reference to her being deficient because she’s a woman, even after his true character is brought to light and his crimes against his own family are revealed to all. There is one comment made by a male to the lead female Tris when Peter tells her she has nice legs for a “stiff,” but this is a reference to her previous faction only. No reference to her appearance as a female, only faction.

Overall, if writers and filmmakers wish to reach the widest possible audience, they’ll need to take a harder look at more than struggles with authority. By leaving out other important problems faced by today’s young people, they leave a glaring hole in the message.

How Female Characters in ‘Fear the Walking Dead’ Are Represented

Outside of their relationship, the fleeting glimpses of strength illustrated in the women are immediately overpowered by their lack of emotional self control. Alicia’s weaknesses lay in her annoyance and resentment of Nick and Travis. However, Madison’s issues run a little deeper.

This is a guest post by Maria Ramos.

Recently, AMC premiered their new show Fear The Walking Dead to the tune of 10.1 million viewers. We were all introduced to a highly dysfunctional family unit living unwittingly at the outset of a zombie epidemic. The episode began with teenaged drug addict Nick (Frank Dillane), waking up in an abandoned church and discovering that his friend Gloria has eaten at least two people. As he runs away into traffic, he’s hit by a car and hospitalized. These events are also our introduction into the lives of the female characters, Madison (Kim Dickens) and Alicia (Alycia Debnam-Carey).

In ideal televised femininity, Madison enters the show juggling a semi-chaotic household and loving relationship with boyfriend Travis (Cliff Curtis). Her initial moments of happiness are interrupted as she and her family are summoned to the hospital for her son Nick. It is obvious she is frustrated with Nick’s addiction, but her overly haughty attitude towards the details of his accident is perplexing. She is initially portrayed as a ball of emotions, both rude and dismissive. Eager-to-please Travis steps up (again and again) as the voice of reason. Although his efforts are initially dismissed by Madison, his rationality allows Nick (who doesn’t seem to like him) to confide in him.

Alicia is Madison’s daughter. We get the sense that she has the potential to be a strong character, but her scenes are relegated to a huffy annoyance at her mother’s relationship with Travis and junkie brother Nick, as well as a puppy love relationship with boyfriend Matt (Maestro Harrell). Unfortunately, the introduction of Alicia is no more than a hackneyed down portrayal of a teenage girl with a modest case of raging angst. It’s a waste of the smart and witty nature we see glimpses of throughout the episode. It is also pretty worrying that Alicia’s relationship with her mother largely concerns the men in their lives. When she’s not offering moody wisecracks about Travis, she is complaining about Nick. The show’s failure to produce a meaningful dynamic between mother and daughter is one of the ultimate fails of feminine portrayals as documented by the Bechdel Test.

Travis is brought front and center due to his role in solving Madison’s problems, despite having a major one of his own. He is solitary in his struggle to connect with his estranged son, yet Madison surrenders to a complete reliance on him. It is also important to note that most of the male characters are well versed in her problems. With the historic premiere of the show, Madison has joined the endless ranks of emotionally delicate women needing to be saved in television. Yes, she’s a working mom and an authoritative figure at her job, but it’s a thin veil of independence written to mask her reliance on the men around her.

Ultimately, the Fear The Walking Dead pilot fails to introduce a strong female character and it’s disappointing. To be fair, its sister series The Walking Dead has suffered notoriously with this as well, despite making modest strides in recent seasons towards the equality of the females in the group. The women of Fear The Walking Dead don’t need to be ruthless zombie assassins in order to exhibit strength. The real strength of character comes from the ability to recognize and deal with their own weaknesses. One can hope the show may address this through future episodes, but it may be too early to speculate. You can catch the show on AMC through cable TV and watch as its female characters unfold (or not).

Feminism in ‘Orphan Black’

‘Orphan Black’ tackles two very different hot-button topics in a way that’s considered entertaining, insightful, and groundbreaking: the possible repercussions of cloning and the dynamics of the female personality. Show creators Graeme Manson and John Fawcett are earning praise for breaking decades of television stereotypes that resulted in most female characters either taking a backseat role or displaying a single, overriding personality trait (i.e., the ditzy blonde, the butch female, the submissive housewife). As the feminism in ‘Orphan Black’ earns praise, however, there’s been some criticism of the show’s underdeveloped male characters–a glaring contradiction that may be intentional.

This is a guest post by Maria Ramos.

Orphan Black tackles two very different hot-button topics in a way that’s considered entertaining, insightful and groundbreaking: the possible repercussions of cloning and the dynamics of the female personality. Show creators Graeme Manson and John Fawcett are earning praise for breaking decades of television stereotypes that resulted in most female characters either taking a backseat role or displaying a single, overriding personality trait (i.e., the ditzy blonde, the butch female, the submissive housewife). As the feminism in Orphan Black earns praise, however, there’s been some criticism of the show’s underdeveloped male characters–a glaring contradiction that may be intentional.

While Canadian actress Tatiana Maslany plays all five clones, she displays very different, fully developed characters. In fact, it’s the diversity among those characters that adds another dynamic to the brand of feminism portrayed in the series. This has also earned praise from members of the LGBTQA community since two of the clones are openly gay and one is transgender. It’s this same diversity that the showrunners use to make a strong case for nurture over nature by clearly showing that, even with identical DNA, the clones have different personalities, sexualities, and gender identifications obviously fueled by the environments they encountered while developing into the individuals they are now.

In order to fully appreciate the feminism in Orphan Black, it’s necessary to take a look at how female characters have traditionally been portrayed on television, with only a handful of notable exceptions. The Walking Dead presents stereotypical women ranging from the tough-as-nails female out to prove she can kick butt just as hard as any man to the pretty blonde side character apparently only around to entice men. The women on Sons of Anarchy first come off as strong and independent. However, they often lose backbone and bend to the will of the men in their lives. Even a show as groundbreaking (at least when it comes to its male characters) as Modern Family relegates the character of Claire Dunphy to the role of a nagging wife and mother striving for normalcy whose concerns are often dismissed or not taken seriously for the sake of soliciting a few laughs.

The chief criticism of Orphan Black is that the male characters are given one dominating personality trait each while the female clones have complex personalities and not-so-obvious motives for why they’re doing what they’re doing. On the other hand, it doesn’t take much guesswork to figure out the motivations driving the male characters on the show. Manson and Fawcett have made no apologies for the obvious lack of male character development, instead implying that it’s a plot device meant to echo the point the show’s trying to make by intentionally playing up the female characters and downplaying the male roles. This inequality is apparently evident when it’s revealed that the male clones unveiled at the end of the second season were created for military use, suggesting a sole purpose for their existence. It remains unclear why the female clones were created and seemingly left to their devices.

For every Daenerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones) and Alicia Florrick (The Good Wife) there’s a one-note female character playing the token blonde girl or the unattractive smart girl who’s inevitably either a loner or a dateless third wheel. Even the show’s perceived flaws – underdeveloped male characters and strong female characters who sometimes resort to violence to assert their independence – are effective in the sense that these aspects drive conversations not often inspired by shows with lesser-developed female characters in either lead roles or supporting roles without much substance. Orphan Black joins shows like Orange Is the New Black in placing a long overdue emphasis on multidimensional female characters who have a story worth telling. Although the third season came to a close on June 20th, you can still follow these strong multidimensional female characters and rewatch episodes on BBC America on platforms such as Xfinity, DirecTV, or Netflix. Until the fourth season premieres next year, take a look back and appreciate the show for what it is about: women.