#Filmherstory: Six Royals Objectively Cooler Than Another Bloody Henry 8th

In honor of Henry’s wives and the #filmherstory campaign, here are six Royal women overdue the Hollywood treatment. To help with your visualizing, I’ll even toss in a pitch, director, and star.

Oh, not ANOTHER one
Oh, not ANOTHER one

 

Damian Lewis smirks at me from a magazine rack under the caption “Damian Lewis Makes Henry VIII Sexy!” Déjà vu. Clearly, I’m missing the exciting difference between Wolf Hall‘s sinister-but-sexy Henry VIII and Eric Bana’s sinister-but-sexy Henry VIII in The Other Boleyn Girl, which rewrote Jonathan Rhys Meyers’ sinister-but-sexy Henry VIII in Fifty Shades of Tudors (OK, OK, Natalie Dormer did rock), which updated Richard Burton’s sinister-but-sexy Henry VIII in Anne of the Thousand Days, which critics agree was sexier than Charles Laughton’s Oscar-winning sinister-but-lovable Henry VIII in The Private Life of Henry VIII. It would be easy to make this a feminist issue, considering that chronic womanizer Henry VIII executed two wives for infidelity, despite having won the right to divorce them. However, 18 actresses have immortalized Queen Elizabeth I on screen, earning Oscar nominations for portraying the woman who presided over campaigns of religious persecution and expansive colonization as heroic, or sinister-but-lovable at worst.

Nowadays, we theoretically agree that colonialism was a bad idea. Our conquering heroes have become conquering antiheroes. Yet antiheroes actually command empathy as effectively as heroes. A study by Chippewa researcher JoEllen Shively found that 60 percent of her Sioux focus group, viewing Western The Searchers, identified with John Wayne’s viciously racist (and misogynist) Ethan Edwards. While conflicted, “half breed” sidekick Martin Pawley is cited as evidence that the film is “morally complex,” according to Shively, “the Indians, like the Anglos, identified with the characters that the narrative structure tells them to identify with.” Tokens represent no-one, only their author’s urge to appear liberal, while vicariously identifying with conquerors. Meanwhile, today’s White Saviors admirably rescue natives from evil colonizers, thereby ironically reinforcing the colonialist assumption that white heroes should control the destinies of the colonized.

Women of the Third and Fourth World are doubly marginalized; they are the damsels-in-distress for the natives-in-distress for the White Savior: #filmheranticolonialstory. Here in Ireland, our anticolonial icons remain unfilmed, apart from Irish director Neil Jordan’s Michael Collins, but entry to the EU Colonizer’s Club has entitled our Mr. Rhys Meyers to play colonial icon Henry VIII (progress!). So, while I would love to see Fiona Shaw as Pirate Queen Grace O’Malley, storming fortresses and sailing to London to confront Elizabeth I (thereby nailing the elusive Royal Bechdel), it matters more to invite audiences to identify with female leaders of the Third and Fourth Worlds. In honor of Henry’s wives and the #filmherstory campaign, here are six Royal women overdue the Hollywood treatment. To help with your visualizing, I’ll even toss in a pitch, director, and star.


 Ava DuVernay’s Nzinga

QueenNzinga

The plot: Queen Nzinga Mbande fought and maneuvered in 17th century Angola. Serving as diplomatic envoy for her brother, Ndongo’s King, Nzinga personally negotiated a peace treaty with Portugal, sitting on a willing follower when denied an equal seat by their governor. Taking the throne in 1626, Nzinga forged alliances with African neighbors and Portugal’s Dutch rivals, scoring a victory against the Portuguese at the 1647 Battle of Kombi, and personally leading troops in battle until the age of 60. Building her base, Matamba, as a strategic trading port, the abolitionist Queen resisted the Atlantic slave trade and foreign rule throughout her lifetime, dying peacefully in 1663.

The pitch: Elizabeth: The Golden Age in Africa.

The star: Lupita Nyong’o is an internationally celebrated African star, noted for her regal style on the red carpet as well as her Oscar-winning acting. Playing an actual queen is the logical next step.

The director: Ava DuVernay’s Selma shows she can find interesting humanity in inspirational icons. In her hands, Nzinga could be a pragmatic political player, juggling conflicting alliances, more than a romantic ideal, and shed light on African colonial history from a fresh angle.


 Ang Lee’s Cixi

Yeoh

The plot: Chinese historian Jung Chang‘s biography of Empress Dowager Cixi highlights her role in industrializing the country, opposing foreign rule, banning torture and foot-binding, educating women, establishing a free press and initiating China’s transition to parliamentary democracy. This semi-literate concubine forged a stable alliance with the Emperor’s wife (another Royal Bechdel), loved and lost a palace eunuch, whose execution was ordered by her own brother-in-law, faced down continual threats to her power and was driven by European encroachments to back the devastating Boxer rebellion. Not forgetting a Japanese invasion, a rebellious Emperor’s gay love affairs and Cixi’s final decision to prevent her reactionary adopted son from undoing her reforms by poisoning him. Drama!

The pitch: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon meets The Last Emperor.

The star: Michelle Yeoh should be in everything. From her delicate portrait of repressed longing in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon to her commanding turn in The Lady, Yeoh is the natural choice.

The director: With a heroine forced by convention to rule from behind a silk screen, this demands a director like Taiwan’s Ang Lee, who can make gripping drama out of restraint.


 Deepa Mehta’s Lakshmibai

Lakshmibai

The plot: Though Rani (Queen) Lakshmibai was the heroine of India’s first technicolor epic, 1956’s Jhansi Ki Rani, she deserves Hollywood stardom and a grittier reboot. After her Maharajah husband died, Lakshmibai’s claim to rule, as regent for her adopted son, was denied by the British East India Company to justify their annexation of her state, Jhansi. Learning martial arts in childhood, Lakshmibai became a major leader of the 1857 Indian Rebellion, training women to fight in her ranks. Her role in a mutiny that massacred British forces at Jhansi’s fort remains unclear. Fighting off invasions by two neighboring rajas, her city finally fell to British heavy artillery. Lakshmibai fled in male disguise with her infant son, joined the rebel army of Tatya Tope and died fighting in the battle of Gwalior.

The pitch: Ashoka the Great meets Braveheart. For girls.

The star: Shriya Saran, who played Parvati in Mehta’s Midnight Children, showed the determination to prepare for her role by working for two months in Mumbai’s slums, and has an athletic body trained in Kathak and Rajasthani dance, with the striking beauty that even her British enemies admired in Lakshmibai.

The director: Deepa Mehta has tackled epic narratives of India’s Partition in Earth, taboo sexuality in Fire, the cruel treatment of widows in Water, and the diaspora experience in Heaven on Earth, but never explored British colonial rule. Like Sam Mendes directing Skyfall, putting Mehta in charge of an action epic could bring psychological depth to its high-octane clashes. Lakshmibai is so iconic in India that she is almost saintly, but Mehta has the guts to give her human flaws and delve into the brutal dilemmas of warfare.


 Shonda Rhimes’ Ranavalona

Bassett

The plot: “I will rule here, to the good fortune of my people and the glory of my name!” Ranavalona I has been labelled the “Mad Queen of Madagascar” for overseeing religious persecutions, inquisitions under torture and sweeping purges of political enemies, just like sinister-but-supposedly-sexily-sane Henry VIII. Rising from a commoner’s background, marrying the king and seizing absolute power on his death in a masterful coup, Ranavalona murdered the father of her child for his infidelity (*cough* Henry VIII), and harnessed French lover Jean Laborde to oversee Madagascar’s industrial revolution. Her later years were marked by excess, with numerous Malagasy dying to construct a road for her buffalo hunt, but Ranavalona foiled all plots to overthrow her (including ex-lover Laborde’s) and kept Madagascar free from colonial rule. There was method in her madness.

The pitch: The Tudors meets Shaka Zulu. For girls.

The star: Angela Bassett’s Emmy-nominated voodoo queen, Marie Laveau in American Horror Story: Coven, shows she can be commanding, scary and sympathetic in turn. Ranavalona is the role she was born for.

The showrunner: Ranavalona’s journey to the dark side deserves a Tudors-style series to fully develop. In Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder, Shonda Rhimes has proved that she relishes antiheroines and moral ambiguity. Ranavalona would take Rhimes into the lush historical epic, too long monopolized by white royalty.


 Steve McQueen’s Nanye-hi

Thrush

The plot: After snatching the rifle of her dead husband and rallying Cherokee warriors against their Creek rivals to win the 1755 Battle of Taliwa, Nanye-hi was elected Ghighau (Beloved Woman), heading the Women’s Council and sitting on the Council of Chiefs (OK, the Cherokee were too advanced to technically have royalty, cut me a break). Nanye-hi, also called “Nancy Ward” after marrying settler Bryant Ward, was a political moderate juggling extreme pressures, alerting settlers to Cherokee plans for a massacre, saving a white woman from burning at the stake and personally negotiating the peace treaty of 1781, but strongly opposing the sale of Cherokee lands and petitioning against plans for removal, which would culminate in the Trail of Tears after her death. Nanye-hi would showcase Indigenous traditions of “petticoat government” that inspired the first suffragettes, within a tense drama of compromise and resistance.

The pitch: Princess Kaiulani meets Borgen.

The star: If you’ve seen her powerful performance in Blackstone (lucky American readers can catch up on hulu), you know Michelle Thrush should be in everything that does not already star Michelle Yeoh (actually, I just had a great idea for a buddy cop movie). She’s a natural choice to capture the strain of Nanye-hi’s political conflicts.

The director: I haven’t yet seen Georgina Lightning’s Older Than America, so I can’t suggest any Native American women to direct. However, Steve McQueen’s treatment of the Irish Troubles in Hunger, and American slavery in 12 Years A Slave, prove the British director is unafraid to tackle controversial history with an outsider’s fresh eye. Lupita Nyong’o’s Oscar, for her first major film role, also shows his talent at coaxing raw performances from his actresses. Disney’s Pocahontas this would not be.


 Timur Bekmambetov’s Khutulun

Khutulun

The plot: Mongols were pretty imperial, what with the largest land empire in history. But Central Asia’s absorption into the Russian/Soviet sphere has made it invisible, with Sacha Baron Cohen selecting Kazakhstan for Borat because “it was a country that no one had heard anything about” despite being the ninth largest in the world and launching the first man into space. Played by the physically slight Korean actress Claudia Kim, as a supporting character in Netflix’s Marco Polo, champion wrestler Khutulun deserves solo stardom. Excelling in battles against the armies of her cousin Kublai Khan, this Mongolian princess demanded that suitors beat her in wrestling, or forfeit 100 horses. She acquired 10,000 horses before making a politically strategic match of her own choosing. Nominated for khanship after her father’s death, Khutulun reportedly backed her brother Orus’ bid in exchange for being appointed Commander-in-Chief of his army.

The pitch: Mongol for girls.

The star: Mongol actress Khulan Chuluun was mostly stuck in the love interest role, but showed flashes of stubborn spirit. With a director like Bekmambetov, known for making action heroes of character actors like James McAvoy, could she train up and become an icon?

The director: Kazak director Bekmambetov’s talent for tongue-in-cheek, inventive action would be perfect for the unbelievable legends that have grown up around Khutulun. Witness his wild portrait of his namesake, Central Asian conqueror Tamerlane (Timur) in the opening of Day Watch. He’s also a great director of women, from Galina Tyunina’s scene-stealing Olga to Angelina Jolie’s tough-but-fair Fox in Wanted. Movie, please.


So, who would be your historical (anti)heroines? For the Soska Sisters to realize their dream to film Bathory? Michelle Rodriguez in Robert Rodriguez’s Malinche, as a punk survivor of sex trafficking who wants to watch the world burn? Gong Li as Zhang Yimou’s Wu Zetian? Kerry Washington in Fanta Régina Nacro’s Mama Yaa Asentewaa? Saoirse Ronan as a young Countess Markievicz for Juanita Wilson? Iman as Hatshepsut? Join the conversation – #filmherstory.

 


Brigit McCone writes and directs short films and radio dramas. Her hobbies include doodling and memorizing lists of forgotten female leaders (Brigit McCone is an extremely dull conversationalist).

 

 

Foreign Film Week: Female Empowerment, a Critique of Patriarchy…Is ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’ the Most Feminist Action Film Ever?

Written by Megan Kearns. | Warning: Spoilers ahead

Can an action film portray exquisitely choreographed fighting scenes, badass fully dimensional ladies, tragic romantic love and make a searing social statement? Yes, yes, yes. One of my favorite films, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is an undoubtedly feminist action film with a potent gender commentary woven throughout.

In Ang Lee’s lyrical, Oscar-winning wuxia masterpiece, the lives of 3 women warriors are embroiled in the quest for a prized missing sword. Easily labeled a feminist film with its “slant on feminist empowerment,” Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragonadvances a revolutionary agenda of female equality.

Shu Lien (the amazing Michelle Yeoh), a famous warrior, exudes a quiet strength and dignity. She knows her abilities and what she wants. Yet she feels bound by duty, loyalty and patriarchal norms, unable to follow her heart. A governess by day, a thief and murderer by night, the bitter and vengeful Jade Fox (Cheng Pei-pei) frantically wants control. She’s filled with fury and vengeance over her denial to learn the ways of the revered Wudang skills due to her gender. Zhang Ziyi as Jen, a governor’s daughter and secret protégé of Jade Fox, steals the show. Fiery, impetuous, strong-willed, she’s a fierce warrior, desperate to break the chains of gendered aristocratic expectations placed on her by her family and society. Whether her lover, a friend or a warrior she admires, Jen stubbornly refuses to yield, obey or acquiesce to anyone. More than anything, she wants to make her own decisions, to live her own life.

While Li Mu Bei (Chow Yun Fat), a dude, is considered the most respected warrior, women are unquestioned in their capacity to be skilled warriors. A man who just had a baby girl says he hopes his daughter will be half as strong as Shu Lien. But while women are respected and admired, society simultaneously expects them to obey certain norms.

Jen strives to live the life of a warrior. She doesn’t want to be shackled by an arranged marriage. Jade Fox wants power and to rule, to not let her gender hold her back. Jen and Shu Lien both yearn for freedom, to freely love who they choose. But sexist patriarchy holds each woman back from attaining what each desires.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon continually questions stereotypical gender roles for women.

Jen laments her monotonous future as an aristocratic wife with both Shu Lien and Jade Fox. She must marry into a noble family in order to boost her father’s business. Jen says she hasn’t yet lived the life she wants. Jen reveals to Shu Lien how she envies her life, even though Shu Lien explains it’s not as romantic as it seems:

Jen: “It must be exciting to be a fighter: to be totally free.”
Shu Lien: “Fighters have rules too: friendship, trust, integrity. Without rules, we wouldn’t survive long.”

Jen craves a sisterhood between her and Shu Lien. The two discuss gender and marriage and how society views it as “the most important step in a woman’s life.” Jen questions if Shu Lien is married and then realizes that if she “probably couldn’t roam around freely” if she was a wife. Jen says to Shu Lien:

“I wish I were like the heroes in the books I read, like you and Li Mu Bai. I guess I’m happy to be marrying. But to be free to live my own life, to choose whom I love, that is true happiness.”

Jen thinks the key to her freedom is in remaining unwed and following the warrior’s path. But Shu Lien shares her own pain of thwarted love. Due to her warrior duties, she did not want to dishonor the memory of her murdered fiancé and pursue her love for Li Mu Bai:

“So the freedom you talk about, I too desire it. But I have never tasted it.”

Jade Fox’s gender, that she’s a female criminal, surprises people. Like Jen and Shu Lien, Jade Fox also bemoans the sexist constraints placed on her not being allowed to pursue her career. So she took matters into her own hands and stole  the precious Wudang secrets. When Li Mu Bei confronts Jade Fox for her thievery and for murdering his master, she says:

“Your master underestimated us women. Sure, he’d sleep with me but he would never teach me.  He deserved to die by a woman’s hand!”

In her eyes, she was good enough to fuck but not good enough to be an equal.

Women are expected to enter marriage, to strive to be wives and mothers. Societal norms dictate women should be nurturing and gentle, women should support the men in their life and they shouldn’t be too outspoken or too unruly. If they transgress these societal norms, they’re often punished. But here, we see the women speak out and push back against the hypocrisy and strains of sexism. We witness a delicate balance exists of respecting tradition while pursuing personal happiness and fulfillment, along with continued resistance to patriarchal norms.

Feminema’s Didion discusses the film’s “overwhelming” and “explicit” feminism:

“So that’s the first thing: the contrast of the yearning, reserved restraint of Yeoh/Chow, and the woo-hoo! of Zheng/Chang. The second thing is the feminism, which is so overwhelming and explicit I can’t believe no one made much of it at the time. And it’s not just that the fight sequences always feature women — who win — nor that the best sequence faces off Michelle Yeoh and Zhang Ziyi in the very best, funniest, most exciting matchup ever. The heart of the story relies on the fact that its three main female characters (Jen, Shu Lien, and Jen’s governess, Jade Fox) have each been foiled in their attempts to live as they desire because they are women. Each takes a different approach in response, and they inevitably find themselves in opposition with one another as well as with men.”

As Didion points out, the women all end up opposing one another. It’s interesting in the beginning of the film, Jen starts off as friends with both of the other women. Jade Fox mentors her and she yearns to forge a friendship with Shu Lien and emulate her life. Eventually all women are at odds with each other. Jen feels betrayed by Shu Lien that she wants her to return to her parents. Shu Lien is disappointed with Jen as she’s unappreciative of her support, Shu Lien and Jade Fox are at odds. Jade Fox feels jealousy and betrayal after she discovers Jen hid her talents in combat, particularly because she was the older mentor, the supposed wiser one bestowing knowledge, not the other way around.

Despite the fighting and rivalries, it never felt catty in the typical way the media depicts women as tearing each other down. Rather it feels like an indictment of sexist patriarchy that wants to pit women against each other. It’s up to us women to remember to nurture and support one another.

Based on a novel, Lee said it’s “one of the rare cases where we take the emotional tour with the women. We take their point of view, and they get to carry the story.” But while he calls martial arts a “very male-dominant” and “macho genre,” actor Michelle Yeoh offers a different perspective. When asked about Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon called a “feminist martial arts film” and “the role of women,” Yeoh said:

“If you read a lot of Chinese literature, there has always been very strong women figures — warriors, swordswomen — who defended honor and loyalty with the men. So it’s not new to our culture, it’s always been very much a part of it. It’s good that now the Western audience would have a different image of the Chinese women. Where for a while, it was very stereotypical — the demure, very quiet, strong in a very silent way.”

The film runs shows 3 strong, assertive, outspoken women – which counters Western media’s pervasive stereotypes of Asian women as docile and subservient.

In theory, women action heroes break that mold. But in reality, most female film characters don’t shatter gender stereotypes, ultimately succumbing to stereotypical gender roles. As researcher Katy Gilpatric discovered, women in action movies rarely lead as heroes, usually serving as props to the male protagonists, and serving as love interests. She also found women often meet their death, frequently by self-sacrifice, by the end of an action film.

But in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, the women are the stars. And not just one woman. 3 women. Of different ages and different socio-economic statuses. Sure, there are men, romance and star-crossed lovers. But the female characters aren’t objectified for the male gaze or reduced to their sexuality. The women don’t sacrifice their identities in order to love or be in romantic relationships.

I don’t automatically find female action characters empowering. I find assertive, intelligent, self-reliant, female survivors empowering, whether they strap on a gun or wield a sword or not. But what makes these female characters and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon so feminist? We see their stories, their perspectives. We also get an indictment of patriarchy and a staunch argument in favor of gender equality.

Li Mu Bai calls Jen a dragon, and Jen refers to herself this way as well. On the symbolic color of green, director Ang Lee said that “anything green is hidden dragon, desires and repression…” The film is about repressing your desires — the pain it causes when you do (Shu Lien and Li Mu Bai) and the price you pay if you don’t (Jen). Jen runs away and steals the Green Destiny sword, calling herself the “Invincible Sword Goddess,” defeating a slew of dudes in the process. She taps into her hidden desires and literally wields and shapes her own destiny.

Li Mu Bai realizes the capacity of Jen’s skills and wants to train her in the Wudang way. When Shu Lien reminds him that they don’t accept women, he says they will have to make an exception. Li Mu Bai, who has also felt trapped by his duty and honor, impeding him from following his heart and confessing his love for Shu Lien, finally realizes the ridiculousness of stereotypical gender roles.

You can interpret the ambiguous ending — Jen leaping off the balcony over a cliff — as Jen committing suicide, unable to bear the thought of the damage her yearning for freedom has wreaked. Lo, Jen’s lover, tells her a story about a boy who made a wish and it came true after he leapt off the side of a cliff because his heart was true.

But I never saw the ending as her suicide. I saw it as Jen’s liberation. Jen’s choice conveyed her refusal to be tied down, her transcendental awakening rejecting society’s gender norms and patriarchy and embracing her individualism. She refused to live a life of obedience. She wanted to follow her heart and live life on her own terms. But Jen also realized that if she was the wife of a nobleman or perhaps even the wife of a rebel, she would still be immersed in patriarchy. Even if Jen and Lo reunite — his wish — she won’t be a docile, servile wife. She will be her own person.

But Jen also learned that she didn’t want to turn her back on female camaraderie, refusing Shu Lien’s help, the way her mentor Jade Fox turned on her through betrayal. Jen’s initial shunning of sisterhood ultimately led to Li Mu Bai’s death.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon focuses on the lives of different women on different paths with parallel obstacles. Ultimately, each woman forges her own path. When Shu Lien and Jen reconcile at the end, she doesn’t advise Jen to be loyal or obedient. She tells her that no matter what, Jen should remain true to herself. And that’s precisely what Jen does.

Ultimately, the film argues that sexist gender roles trap us all. Sexism remains a toxic barrier to happiness and enlightenment. And that’s what makes this film so empowering. Women must be true to themselves in order to achieve freedom and happiness.

Guest Writer Wednesday: ‘The Lady’ Makes the Personal Political

Movie poster for The Lady

This piece by Jarrah Hodge is cross-posted with permission from her blog Gender Focus.

French Director Luc Besson’s new biopic The Lady is a moving portrait of the life of Burmese activist and political leader Aung San Suu Kyi. However, for a movie that clearly has a political goal (to raise awareness of the situation in Burma*), it focuses mainly on Suu Kyi’s family and personal life. As a result, while I enjoyed the movie overall it still left me feeling unsatisfied.

The movie opens in 1947 with the assassination of General Aung San, Suu Kyi’s father, who had just negotiated Burma’s independence from Britain. While it’s a poignant scene and crucial historical event it’s really all we see of Suu Kyi’s early life.

From there we go forward to meet the main characters in the movie’s romance, Suu Kyi (played by Michelle Yeoh) and her professor husband Dr. Michael Aris (David Thewlis). They and their two sons are living in Oxford when she receives the news that her mother has had a stroke. When she returns to Burma she witnesses the military-run government massacring protesting students in the streets. When she is then approached to lead a pro-democracy movement she decides to stay.

From this point the film becomes a bit plodding, seeming a bit like a visual representation of an encyclopedia article. It moves through every interaction Syu Kii has with the military junta and their attempts to intimidate and imprison her and her followers, leading to her 15-year house arrest and years of separation from Aris and their children. While we also see Syu Kii touring the country and speaking to locals about democracy, for the most part her Burmese allies and followers in the film remain nameless and voiceless.

Ultimately while the film brings the audience to tears more than once, it’s not over the plight of Burma or ordinary Burmese citizens, but over Suu Kyi and her husband’s drawn-out separation.

That’s where I thought the focus did the subject an injustice. Interestingly, The Lady could be said to suffer from some of the same issues as The Iron Lady, which was also a movie about a woman politician that was criticized for being more concerned with sentimentality than political substance.

In some ways, though, The Lady has less excuse for this. Thatcher is elderly and ailing now but Suu Kyi is still fighting a crucial fight. It’s clear from the rallying cry at the end of the movie that one of the film’s goals is to get Westerners more involved in aiding the continuing fight for true democracy in Burma (Aung San Suu Kyi will finally take the oath of office to sit in the parliament this year, though the current structure still ensures the military maintains majority control and human rights violations continue). However, this could have been further advanced by giving voices to the Burmese non-military characters other than Suu Kyi: the students being massacred in the streets, the villagers in rural areas, and the monks who joined the protest.

As Yeoh’s Suu Kyi says in the film, she dislikes the cult of personality around her, and yet that’s what the movie reinforces by failing to broaden the depiction of the struggle. At the same time, it also in some ways diminishes her strength by tieing her identity so strongly to her family. At a couple points in the film people mention a lack of experience before coming to Burma, saying she was just an “Oxford housewife and mother of two”, not mentioning she also had a PhD, extensive academic honours, and had worked at the UN.

Would I recommend the movie for someone who had only a cursory knowledge of the situation in Burma? Yes. But Do I think it featured a strong woman role model and did justice to Aung San Suu Kyi’s cause? Not as well as it could have.

*Note: In case you’re wondering why I’m using Burma instead of Myanmar, that’s because many pro-democracy groups and activists refuse to recognize the legitimacy of the name Myanmar, which was introduced by the military government. It’s also the name they used in the film.

———-

Jarrah Hodge is the founder of Gender Focus, a Canadian feminist blog. Jarrah also writes for Vancouver Observer and Huffington Post Canada and has been a guest blogger on “feminerd” culture for Bitch Magazine Blogs. Hailing from New Westminster, BC, she’s a fan of politics, crafts, boardgames, musical theatre, and brunch.