Profile of a Wit: A Review of ‘Public Speaking’

Aesthetic influences, talent, and genius are key subjects addressed in the documentary. Although she praises the book reviews of Dorothy Parker, most of the cultural references and influences Lebowitz cites are male. She explains that “much older” gay men constituted her social and intellectual circle from the moment she arrived in the city as a young woman. Although the humorist is a friend of Toni Morrison, Scorsese does not ask why so few of Lebowitz’s influences are women, gay or straight. What has she, for example, gained intellectually and culturally from her relationship with Morrison? This is a missed opportunity.

Public Speaking, 2010
Public Speaking, 2010

 

Written by Rachael Johnson

Public Speaking is an HBO documentary by Martin Scorsese about the writer and public speaker, Fran Lebowitz. Unsurprisingly, the humorist and cultural commentator makes an interesting, entertaining subject. Lebowitz’s words–as the title promises–provide the focus of the film although shots of the writer strolling the streets of Manhattan and driving in the city at night serve to add atmosphere as well as identify the writer as a quintessential New Yorker. We see Lebowitz deliver pointed observations about contemporary US culture at public speaking engagements, share the stage with the great Toni Morrison, and hold court at the famed Waverly Inn. There are, also, clips shown of a younger Lebowitz on Conan as well older television footage of the humorist at speaking and reading events. Lebowitz takes on a wide variety of topics in Public Speaking: artistic talent and genius, the New York gay and arts scenes of the 70s, present-day Manhattan, current LGBT rights issues, gender, race, writer’s block, and, yes, overgrown children in strollers. As you would expect from Scorsese, there is, also, some great footage featured. Much of it is of significant cultural figures of Lebowitz’s youth, particularly those who served as models of inspiration. There’s a great and glorious clip of the magnetic James Baldwin whom Lebowitz cites as the first intellectual she set eyes upon, although clips of Truman Capote and Gore Vidal equally fascinate.

Lebowitz public speaking
Lebowitz public speaking

 

Aesthetic influences, talent, and genius are key subjects addressed in the documentary. Although she praises the book reviews of Dorothy Parker, most of the cultural references and influences Lebowitz cites are male. She explains that “much older” gay men constituted her social and intellectual circle from the moment she arrived in the city as a young woman. Although the humorist is a friend of Toni Morrison, Scorsese does not ask why so few of Lebowitz’s influences are women, gay or straight. What has she, for example, gained intellectually and culturally from her relationship with Morrison? This is a missed opportunity.

At the Waverly Inn
At the Waverly Inn

 

Artistic talent is also a central theme in the documentary and Lebowitz underscores the importance of aesthetic standards as well as knowledgeable art critics: “See, what we have had in the last, like 30 years, is too much democracy in the culture, not enough democracy in the society. There’s no reason to have democracy in the culture. None. Because the culture should be made by a natural aristocracy of talent. …. By which I mean… it doesn’t have to do with, you know, what race you are, or what country you’re from, or what religion you are, it should have to do with how good are you at this thing, and that is a natural aristocracy…” Many of her observations do make a refreshing change from the self-affirming, self-stroking mantras of today’s online culture. I must admit that I laughed at her put-down of the populist appropriation of that famous Toni Morrison quote:  “If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” Lebowitz rightly reminds us, “Writers have to know things…”

Lebowitz is both a believer in cultural aristocracy and a politically liberal. She deeply laments the touristification and commercialization of New York, a city only the rich can now afford: “You cannot say that an entire city of people with lots of money is fascinating. It is not.” There’s a hilarious dig at the Bush administration to enjoy but I wish Scorsese had foregrounded and explored her progressive politics more. She has made many eloquent, passionate, dead-on statements elsewhere about America’s worship of money.

Driving in Manhattan
Driving in Manhattan

 

Her views on contemporary LGBT politics are, perhaps, more fully articulated in the documentary. Lebowitz provides an interesting window into 1970s New York. A young woman at the time, she was a witness to the appalling, everyday oppression of gay people during the era. She talks about gay bars being raided and customers being fired from their jobs for being gay after being named in The New York Times. She, however, takes issue with the focus of contemporary LGBT politics. Although she would vote for same-sex unions, Lebowitz finds the contemporary focus on marriage, as well as the inclusion of gay people in the military, mystifying. They are, she cries, “the two most confining institutions on the planet”. Gay marriage is, fundamentally, a civil rights issue and also, of course, a matter of individual choice yet Lebowitz has the right to ask the deeper, more politically radical question that is not commonly addressed in contemporary mainstream liberal discourse: why is gay culture embracing such a traditional institution? Some may, of course, accuse her of mocking the struggle for equality and happiness but she is not speaking out against the right. Some may also argue that Lebowitz’s stance is somewhat romantic and out-of-date in its seeming support of outsider otherness and difference? Regarding the military debate, it is outrageous that people who are willing to put themselves in harm’s way for their country can be barred from serving. Yet, from a progressive, left-wing perspective, the military is a fundamentally reactionary, right-wing institution.

Martin Scorsese
Martin Scorsese

 

Lebowitz also addresses race and sexual difference in Public Speaking. At an event in the company of Toni Morrison, she describes race as a “fantasy of superiority” and believes that it is an evil that has more hope of ending than inequality between men and women. The latter will persist, Lebowitz maintains, because of non-fantastical, “real” biological differences between the sexes. Men are naturally aggressive, courtesy of testosterone, and this gives them an “advantage”. They also seek to maintain their social dominance: “Men don’t want women to have power because they already have it. People don’t want other people to have what they have.” Contemporary, child-centered fatherhood is simply a sham for Lebowitz. It’s a “style”, she says. The humorist’s views on motherhood are equally provocative. “Women having babies is really a disadvantage. It is a disadvantage to women. ….It does kind of put you out of commission in lots of ways”, she insists. Unlike a new father, she tells an audience, a woman is “so interested” in her baby. “A woman in a room with her baby is looking at that baby. Ok? Is that who you want for your lawyer?” So then, what to make of these words? Are they not insulting to working mothers everywhere? Do they not ignore women who do not want to have babies? Lebowitz is not, of course, advocating a conservative cultural regime but I have a serious problem with her essentialist thinking here. Are these supposed “real” differences between men and women biological? While it is perfectly valid and feminist to point out the difficulties women encounter bearing and raising children in a still anti-woman society, these difficulties issue from patriarchal social structures, structures that should, of course, be changed. I do, however, agree with Lebowitz’s observations about men- or any dominant social group- refusing to give up power. I also personally believe that modern human society still blindly worships the nuclear family and that it is still fundamentally pro-natalist.

With Toni Morrison
With Toni Morrison

 

Certainly, by today’s bland standards, Lebowitz is a character. She smokes like a demon, sports Savile Row suits, and drives a Checker Marathon cab in New York City. Despite her self-confessed, aesthetic elitism and snobby digs at out-of-town “hillbilly” tourists, she does not, somehow, radiate smugness or arrogance. Despite her comments about women and babies, she also somehow manages not to come across as a Camilla Paglia-like female misogynist. She’s funny about herself, honest about her alleged extraordinary sloth-“I am the most slothful person in America,” she claims- and utterly content with her total disregard for technology.

It is perfectly valid to criticize Public Speaking as too chummy, too self-indulgent, and, simply, too New York. Lebowitz is not a household literary or comic name around the world. Nor is she one of America’s leading public intellectuals. The humorist is, however,  an amusing, articulate speaker. There are things she says that viewers would question and challenge, and there are those that ring true. More often than not, her pointed wit entertains. A stimulating subject for a documentary, she would, also, no doubt, make an excellent dinner guest. And she would not be checking her iphone because she doesn’t have one.

‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ and an Audience of Sheep

When Jordan says to his staff, “Stratton Oakmont is America,” he wasn’t, as he typically was, full of shit. That was one of the truest statements in the film. … But even if we are adequately critical of the reality of Jordan Belfort’s story, how much can we expect from audiences who, like the audience at the end of the film, want at some level to know Jordan’s secrets?

The-Wolf-of-Wall-Street-Trailer-Wallpaper-poster

Written by Leigh Kolb.

At the end of The Wolf of Wall Street, Jordan Belfort (played by Leonardo DiCaprio) gives a motivational sales speech to an audience. The audience members stare at him, slack-jawed, trying to absorb his infinite sales “wisdom.”

They are revering and listening to a criminal–a man who had been indicted and served time for fraud.

The problem with Martin Scorsese’s treatment of the real Jordan Belfort autobiography isn’t the misogyny. It isn’t the drugs, or the perceived celebration of excess.

Instead, the problem with The Wolf of Wall Street is those slack-jawed (or cheering) audiences who don’t seem to understand that this is meant to be a post-modern morality play. The fact that Scorsese doesn’t adequately “punish” Jordan in the film is necessary, because Jordan wasn’t adequately punished in real life 

That audience at the end of the film? That’s us.

This. (Image via College Humor.)
This. (Image via College Humor.)

 

I suppose it’s easy to miss that, since an aspect of America that’s as important as bootstraps and apple pie is to whitewash a white history that’s been written–or rewritten–by greedy white men. When Jordan says to his staff, “Stratton Oakmont is America,” he wasn’t, as he typically was, full of shit. That was one of the truest statements in the film.

From a feminist perspective, I can understand that the three-hours of objectified and largely one-dimensional female characters can seem overwhelming and disappointing. However, how do we think Jordan Belfort sees women? How do we think Wall Street treated/treats women? Feminists should want to be shown and disgusted by this, because we are supposed to be disgusted with everything in Jordan’s world. Our ire should be pointed toward audiences who don’t get it.

But even if we are adequately critical of the reality of Jordan Belfort’s story, how much can we expect from audiences who, like the audience at the end of the film, want at some level to know Jordan’s secrets?

Cheers.
Cheers.

 

The real tragedy in The Wolf of Wall Street isn’t that it doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test. The tragedy of this film is that it is so real, and that Jordan Belfort is out there, making money, granting interviews, selling his sales techniques, and gaining more and more followers. The reality is what makes me nauseous, not Scorsese and DiCaprio’s treatment of reality. What sent me over the edge was going home and googling “Jordan Belfort,” and then checking my bank account. This is surely how we are supposed to respond–with rage at the injustice of not just Belfort’s case, but also the insidious untouchability of the 1 percent.

In an excellent interview with Deadline, DiCaprio (who also was a producer) says,

I wanted to make an unapologetic film looking at a character in a very entertaining and funny way, and isn’t passing judgment on them but is saying, look, this is obviously a cautionary tale, and what is it that creates people like this? I thought that could somehow be a mirror to ourselves….

That theme has been prevalent in Marty’s work, since Mean Streets. It’s about the pursuit of the American dream, about the re-creation of oneself to achieve that dream, and the hustle that it takes to get there. I see that theme in so many of his films. He’s talking about a darker side of our culture in all these movies, and yet he’s vigilant about not passing judgment on them. He leaves that up to the audience. That’s why it boggles my mind a bit that anyone would ever not realize this is an indictment of that world.

The intent of the filmmakers is clear, and it’s reflected on screen. The humor and lack of judgment has more to do with our culture than with the story itself. And again, if audiences either cheer, or laugh heartily throughout Wolf of Wall Street–they are essentially celebrating a culture that allows this kind of story to happen. If audiences condemn the film itself, I would hope they would instead focus their condemnation on a culture that allows this kind of story to happen and leads audiences to cheer.

In reality, there’s just a little bit of this…
In reality, there’s just a little bit of this…

 

…and then more of this. (But only 22 months of a four-year sentence.)
…and then more of this. (But only 22 months of a four-year sentence.)

 

As the audience at the end of the film is trying to learn something from Jordan Belfort (while further lining his pockets), there’s a distinct sense of hopelessness. DiCaprio points out:

“As we are progressing into the future, things are moving faster and we are way more destructive than we’ve ever been. We have not evolved at all.”

The Wolf of Wall Street is a great film, and features incredible acting. It’s flashy, it’s shiny, it luxuriates in excess while we watch, stunned, powerless. And until we evolve, people will always be laughing and cheering, while desperately seeking Jordan Belfort’s advice.

Film Fall Preview

 


Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri. 

 

‘The Wolf of Wall Street’: C’mon Marty, You Can Do Better!

So if I knew all that, why did I even bother? Shame on me, right? Well, I try to keep an open mind when it comes to Scorsese. He’s a brilliant director capable of surprising his audience and expanding our sense of what a cinematic experience can be. He’s so good that I can even forgive him for making films that consistently fail the Bechdel test. The Wolf of Wall Street, though, is not Scorsese at his best. It might even be at his worst. And that’s because we all know how great he can be.

  wolf-of-wall-street-poster2-610x903

This is a guest post by Heather Brown.

If you’re thinking about going to see The Wolf of Wall Street, you might just consider staying home and watching Goodfellas, which you’re sure to catch on TV (because it’s never not on TV).  Or get The Departed on Netflix. Or Raging Bull. Or Taxi Driver. Even better, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.  There are numerous other fixes to sate a Scorsese appetite without forking over your holiday cash to this three and a half hour slog through wealth, uppers, downers, hookers, orgies, scumbags, and more scumbags.  Let me first say that I went into the film expecting to be disgusted.  About all I knew was that the story was based on the memoir The Wolf of Wall Street, written by Jordan Belfort, a former stockbroker convicted of securities fraud and money laundering. Throughout most of the 1990s, Belfort ripped off stock buyers to the tune of $110.4 million dollars. He trafficked in penny stocks, and founded a brokerage house called Stratton Oakmont, and as a result of his scams many people suffered—and continue suffering.   So if I knew all that, why did I even bother? Shame on me, right? Well, I try to keep an open mind when it comes to Scorsese. He’s a brilliant director capable of surprising his audience and expanding our sense of what a cinematic experience can be.  He’s so good that I can even forgive him for making films that consistently fail the Bechdel test.  The Wolf of Wall Street, though, is not Scorsese at his best. It might even be at his worst. And that’s because we all know how great he can be.

wolf-of-wall-street-dicaprio-hill

Let’s set aside that there are many, many, more beautiful naked women than men in this film, and that they are often acting out porn fantasies for the delight of devastatingly unattractive males (sorry Jonah Hill and Henry Zebrowski!). There’s also much casual misogyny expressed in small talk about women’s shaving habits and a lengthy explanation of the three types of hookers, “classified like publically traded stocks,” which Scorsese couldn’t seem to help but dramatize in particularly cringe-worthy scenes.  Worse than all that, though, are the thinly drawn relationships between Jordan (Leonardo DiCaprio) and the women in his life.  First, there’s his first wife Teresa, played by Cristin Milioti.  When we first meet the couple, Jordan is nowhere near as addicted to drugs, sex, and money as he’ll soon become, and we see them both as young upstarts trying to make their way.  Once Jordan gets his penny stock racket under way, so follows the debauchery.  Surely, we think, Teresa must know at least some of what the audience knows: that Jordan’s “working late” is not motivated by the pure drive to provide superior service to his customers.  Surely there are more than a few popular culture instances of wives being fully aware of the compromises they’re making with their high-powered husbands (Mellie Grant, anyone?). If Teresa knows the score, Scorsese never tells us. It’s not until Naomi, played by Margot Robbie, enters the picture that Teresa finds out Jordan is a dog.  Then she disappears from his life and the narrative.

The-Wolf-of-Wall-Street-Trailer7a

If there was a ever a woman who should know the deal she’s making with a man like Jordan it’s Naomi.   She’s every bit as materialistic and entranced by wealth as her husband, yet Scorsese give us nothing like the fire or toughness that Sharon Stone’s  Ginger had in Casino or that Lorraine Bracco’s Karen had in Goodfellas. And it’s not Robbie’s fault—she’s tremendous and does the best she could with the role—it’s Scorsese’s for missing the opportunity to go beyond the trope of the trophy wife to a create a character with just a touch a more depth.

The real kicker for me comes in the film’s final act. During the Jordan’s last speech to his staff—and there are more than a few speeches—he turns his attention to a woman named Kimmie, a character we have never met before this scene. He tells the staff Kimmie’s story: she came to him as a desperate single mother in need of a job and a $5,000 cash advance to pay her son’s tuition. She tells everyone that Jordan gave her $25,000, changed her life, made her rich, and tearfully says, “I fucking love you, Jordan!”  Is this just another moment of dark comedy, or are we supposed to be manipulated into believing our main character has a generous soul, especially when it comes to women?

I will say there are two good things about this film: 1) Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings are on the soundtrack and make a cameo at Jordan and Naomi’s wedding, and 2) Fran Lebowitz makes an appearance to set Jordan’s $10 million bail.  But make no mistake: that’s not a reason to see this film. Just stay home and watch Scorsese’s documentary about her, Public Speaking, a couple of times. That’s just enough to cleanse the palette.

 


Heather Brown lives in Chicago, Ill., and works as a freelance instructional designer and online writing instructor. She lives for feminism, movies, live music, road trips, and cheese.

 

 

 

 

Unsentimental Love and ‘Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore’

I’ve long been a little troubled by the women characters in Martin Scorsese’s films. I say this as compliment overall, because though the female protagonists are few, they’re far from shallow and weak. From Lorraine Bracco’s Karen in Goodfellas to Vera Farmiga’s Madolyn in The Departed, Scorsese has shown that he can depict women who are multi-faceted and complex. It’s just that their stories are always told in relation to the men their lives. Theirs is always a kind of power struggle with their husbands or boyfriends, and in the end, that power is rarely on par with men’s. I had heard that Scorsese’s 1974 Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore was different, but since it’s one that so rarely talked about, it took awhile for me to finally check it out. And I’m so glad I did.

 

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore poster
Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore poster

 

This is a guest post by Heather Brown.

I’ve long been a little troubled by the women characters in Martin Scorsese’s films.  I say this as compliment overall, because though the female protagonists are few, they’re far from shallow and weak. From Lorraine Bracco’s Karen in Goodfellas to Vera Farmiga’s Madolyn in The Departed, Scorsese has shown that he can depict women who are multi-faceted and complex. It’s just that their stories are always told in relation to the men their lives. Theirs is always a kind of power struggle with their husbands or boyfriends, and in the end, that power is rarely on par with men’s. I had heard that Scorsese’s 1974 Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore was different, but since it’s one that so rarely talked about, it took awhile for me to finally check it out.  And I’m so glad I did.

Ellen Burstyn’s Alice is a 30-something mother in Socorro, New Mexico, where she lives with her husband Donald (Billy Green Bush) and son Tommy (Alfred Lutter). Donald is an overbearing bastard of a man who does little more than bark at Alice and Tommy, who each take care to stay out of his way.  Nothing Alice does is ever good enough for Donald. Thelma and Louise fans won’t be able to help but compare him to Darryl, the lout of a spouse who bullies Thelma. Unfortunately, there’s no Louise in this film to whisk Alice away in a 1966 Ford Thunderbird Convertible.  Alice’s release from Donald is spurred by a freak car accident that kills him and leaves her and Tommy to fend for themselves. Just like the viewer up to this point, Alice has wished for Donald to disappear, but her guilt is raw, and Tommy senses her ambivalence.  Rather than remain in a town she hates in a house she can no longer afford, Alice packs up the station wagon and heads to Monterey, California to reclaim her first love: singing. What ensues is an unlikely road movie with a mother and son at the center, and men on the periphery.

Alice and Tommy
Alice and Tommy

 

Alice’s first stop is Phoenix, which is about as far as her money will take her. When she and Tommy settle in to a motel, Alice must go shopping for clothes that will make her look younger, as she tells her Tommy. It was at that moment in watching the film that I saw the story come into focus: what happens when a parent doesn’t hide the difficulty of making ends meet from her kid, but instead matter-of-factly involves him in the day-to-day slog of getting by, promising that good things are to come despite the current circumstances? Rather than keep Tommy in the dark about how broke she is and how no one will hire her for a living wage, Alice unsentimentally–yet lovingly–informs Tommy of her plans as she makes them.

Well, almost. Given that Tommy is still young (10 or 11), Alice does prefer to keep intimate details to herself, particularly when it comes to the first man she meets since her husband’s death, Ben (played by Harvey Keitel), who’s a regular customer at the bar where she lands a singing gig in Phoenix. Tommy is no fool, though, and when he asks one too many personal questions Alice tells him she’s not going to talk to him about her sex life. Sure, she doesn’t take this moment to have the birds and bees discussion, but when was the last time you heard a parent acknowledge the existence of a sex life to their kid? Its instances like that that make this film a fascinating study of a parent-child relationship in the context of shifting gender dynamics in a changing society.

Alice_Doesnt_Live_Here_Anymore_28780_Medium
The film is a fascinating study of a parent-child relationship.

 

A glance at the movie poster for Alice tells you that she’s going to eventually make her way into the arms of a rugged and mostly affable Kris Kristofferson, but she must deal with Ben first. While Alice initially rebuffs his advances, he eventually wears her down and wins her over. Yay, we think! Someone who will treat Alice with the tenderness she deserves.  It doesn’t take long for Ben to reveal himself as a philanderer and psychopath, and this realization prompts Alice and Tommy to once again pack up the wagon for the next town, Tucson. Alice decides to make a pragmatic move and start working a job that’s close to their motel and will ensure free food: waiting tables. At this point in the plot the story expands to include the women at the restaurant—the brassy Flo (Dianne Ladd) and timid Vera (Valerie Curtain)—and Tommy’s new friend Audrey, played by a very young and very boyish Jodie Foster (creepy alert: two years later she and Harvey Keitel would be joined as the prostitute/pimp dyad in Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, which makes you feel gross when you watch them in Alice). Alice also meets David (Kris Kristofferson), and like her, we’re not altogether sure that his fixation with Tommy is genuine or just a sneaky way to pick up his mom. We see Alice try to work through the challenges of managing her expectations of love and work, and there’s real narrative power in how she fully inhabits all her choices, be they selfish, selfless, stupid, or sane. Though billed as a romance, the real love story has two couples at its core: Alice and Tommy, and Alice and herself.

Alice
Alice


Heather Brown lives in Chicago, Ill., and works as a freelance instructional designer and online writing instructor. She lives for feminism, movies, live music, road trips, and cheese.

Oscar Best Picture Nominee: Hugo

Hugo (2011)

This cross-post from Scott Mendelson originally appeared at Mendelson’s Memos.
Hugo
2011
127 minutes
rated PG
Pardon my theoretical laziness, but I’m not in the mood to do a formal review for Martin Scorsese’s Hugo. And frankly, since I went in knowing almost nothing aside from the general time period and a few of the actors, I suppose I should do my readers the same courtesy. But know this: Martin Scorsese has crafted the most impressive and beautiful 3D you’ve ever seen in a live action film. Since the film somewhat revolves around the early days of cinema (it takes place in 1930s Paris), Scorsese uses 3D technology to create a dreamlike visual palette that attempts to replicate what it was like for the very first moviegoers, the ones who allegedly jumped out of the way of speeding trains and ducked when the train robber fired his pistol at the screen. There are times when this live-action feature feels like a living cartoon, and I experienced a kind of fever-dream sensation that I haven’t felt since Coraline. If ever there was a movie to justify that 3D ticket-price bump, this is it. 
As for the movie, it is a most curious sort of family film. It is certainly appropriate for children and its two main protagonists are indeed kids, but it also serves as a passionate plea to respect and preserve not just cinema, but all forms of art that enthrall and captivate audiences of all stripes. The film builds pretty slowly, with most of the first hour devoted to set-up and the friendship between its young stars (Asa Butterfield and Chloe Moretz). But if the first hour almost qualifies as ‘slow’, the pay off is more than worth it. Ironically, the film has more in common than you might think with The Muppets. Both films deal with nostalgia. But while The Muppets deals with how our generation clings to the entertainments of our past to deal with the disappointment of our present, Hugo presents characters who refuse to look back because it hurts too much to compare what was with what is. Both films build to (completely earned) stunningly powerful finales, and I’d argue that Hugo wins a point for actually ending on said high note instead of having a couple false endings.
That’s all you really need. Just know that Hugo is one of the best films of 2011, one of the best films Scorsese has made in the last twenty years, and easily a new high-water mark for 3D filmmaking. 
Grade: A-

Scott Mendelson is, by hobby, a freelance film critic/pundit who specializes in box office analysis. He blogs primarily at Mendelson’s Memos while syndicating at The Huffington Post and Valley Scene Magazine. He lives in Woodland Hills, CA with his wife and two young kids where he works in a field totally unrelated to his BA in Film Theory/Criticism from Wright State University.

Once Again, the Director’s Guild Nominates All White Men

If it wasn’t so offensive, it really would be funny. In fact, if you want a laugh, you really must check out The Guardian‘s article on the nominees, in which a picture appears (at the top) that you have to see to believe.
The Director’s Guild of America (DGA) released their nominees for Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Feature Film for 2011 yesterday, which often predicts the Academy Award nominees for Best Director (and certainly influences Best Picture noms). 
It’s difficult this time of year to keep up with all the nominations and awards, and there are certainly arguments to be made that negate their importance (we’ve made them before). However, when there is such a disconnect between the people being lauded as Artists and Masters of Film and the cultural, racial, and ethnic makeup of our society, well, my friends, we have a serious problem.
I’m not making any arguments here about the quality of the films for which these men are nominated. There may be arguments to be made about some/all being excellent. There might not be. What I’m talking about is that it is, yet again, “these men” we’re discussing. 
In the four years since we started this website, there has been a significant rise in the number of people and sites dedicated to women in film in particular, and the lack of diversity in film generally. However, year after year, we see little or no change, and we continue to make the same arguments, to ask the same questions.

  • There are women who make excellent films. Why aren’t they being recognized?
  • Why can’t Hollywood see that diversity–in storytelling, in actors, in filmmakers–is a good thing?
  • Why is it the same faces we see, year after year, being rewarded?


Here are the nominees:
Woody Allen for Midnight in Paris

David Fincher for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Michel Hazanavicious for The Artist 

Alexander Payne for The Descendants

Martin Scorsese for Hugo
Readers, what are your thoughts on this year’s nominees?