What more damning comment on the relations between men and women in America than the very notion of something called the ‘woman’s film’? And what more telling sign of critical and sexual priorities than the low caste it has among the highbrows. Held at arm’s length, it is, indeed, the untouchable of film genres […]Among the Anglo-American critical brotherhood (and a few of their sisters as well), the term ‘woman’s film’ is used disparagingly to conjure up the image of the pinched-virgin or little-old-lady writer, spilling out her secret longings in wish fulfillment or glorious martyrdom, and transmitting these fantasies to the frustrated housewife. The final image is one of wet, wasted afternoons. And if strong men have also cried their share of tears over the weepies, that is all the more reason (goes the argument) we should be suspicious, be on our guard against the flood of ‘unearned’ feelings released by these assaults, unerringly accurate, on our emotional soft spots.
As a term of critical opprobrium, ‘woman’s film’ carries the implication that women, and therefore women’s emotional problems, are of minor significance. A film that focuses on male relationships is not pejoratively dubbed a ‘man’s film’ (indeed, this term, when it is used, confers–like ‘a man’s man’–an image of brute strength), but a ‘psychological drama.’