Robin Hitchcock – Page 2

‘Daredevil’ and His Damsels in Distress

The new Netflix original series ‘Daredevil,’ about Marvel’s blind defense-attorney-by-day-vigilante-by-night Matt Murdock, surprised me. It’s extremely different from the other Marvel Studios properties. First, it has the “dark, edgy” tone normally associated with Warner Bros. DC movies, particularly the Nolan Batman films. Second, it is really, REALLY violent (like, graphic decapitations violent) in a way that Marvel’s PG-13 movies cannot be. Finally, ‘Daredevil’ is almost a complete disaster when it comes to its female characters. Marvel’s track record with female characters isn’t perfect, but I’ve come to expect much better than what we get here.

Poster for Marvel's new Netflix series 'Daredevil' — Poster for Marvel’s new Netflix series *Daredevil*

Written by Robin Hitchcock.

This review contains spoilers for Daredevil and some graphic images of violence against women.

The new Netflix original series Daredevil, about Marvel’s blind defense-attorney-by-day-vigilante-by-night Matt Murdock, surprised me. It’s extremely different from the other Marvel Studios properties, the MCU films and the broadcast television series Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D and Agent Carter. First, it has the “dark, edgy” tone normally associated with Warner Bros. DC movies, particularly the Nolan Batman films. Second, it is really, REALLY violent (like, graphic decapitations violent) in a way that Marvel’s PG-13 movies cannot be. Finally, Daredevil is almost a complete disaster when it comes to its female characters. Marvel’s track record with female characters isn’t perfect, but I’ve come to expect much better than what we get here.

Deborah Ann Woll as Karen Page in 'Daredevil' — Deborah Ann Woll as Karen Page in *Daredevil*

The first woman we meet on Daredevil is Karen Page, the most prevalent if not necessarily the most important female character from the source comics. Karen Page is a notorious example of women being treated horribly in comics, with Frank Miller writing an arc where she’s addicted to drugs and “tragically” became a porn star, and Kevin Smith later fridging her and then having himself drawn into her funeral. She does better in this series, but that’s not saying much.

Panel from Daredevil comics where Karen is killed — Panel from *Daredevil* comic when Karen is killed

In the first episode of Daredevil, Karen is set up for murder in a complicated cover-up that’s tied into all the series’ other complicated criminal ongoings (which are hard to keep track of even when marathoning the episodes). Do-gooding lawyer noobs Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson take on her case, and protect her from all the bad guys who want to kill her, with legal jujitsu as well as the actual kind from Matt in his masked vigilante alter ego that will become Daredevil. They take her on as their assistant, so she can continue to be imperiled.

In the comics, she’s a love interest of Matt’s, but many of the early episodes give her nothing more to do than be made goo goo eyes at by Foggy. (Nearly every female recurring character on this show is a love interest for someone.) Later, Karen is given “something to do” as she conducts her own investigation of the Kingpin alongside journalist Ben Urich. Naturally, this makes her a damsel in distress once again, but at least she’s given the opportunity to save herself.

Rosario Dawson as Claire Temple in 'Daredevil' — Rosario Dawson as Claire Temple in *Daredevil*

Next up is Claire Temple (Rosario Dawson), a nurse who drags a half-dead Matt out of a dumpster and tends to his wounds. Their relationship grows because Matt loses and a lot of fights and falls out of a lot of buildings and regularly needs patching up. But it only takes a couple of episodes before she’s kidnapped, beaten up, and rescued by Matt. Who she’s falling in love with, which makes no sense (I mean, dude is fine, but he’s also seems to be pretty much wrecking her life). Claire peaces out for pretty much the rest of the season, probably because Rosario Dawson was too expensive to have in many episodes. The role is really a waste of her talents.

The third and final female character in the main cast is Ayelet Zurer’s Vanessa, the romantic interest of the Kingpin, Wilson Fisk (Vincent D’Onofrio). I can’t decide if I should call Vanessa “complicated” or just “confusing.” I really do not understand why she falls for Fisk, and grows closer to him the more she learns about his criminal lifestyle. Vanessa feels more like a construct designed to humanize Fisk than a character in her own right. And of course she also functions to give Fisk angst when she inevitably ends up in a hospital bed, because this show sure does love its damsels in distress.

The minor female characters continue the depressing trends: Elena, a friendly elderly client of Nelson & Murdock, is murdered to draw out Daredevil. Evil drug dealer Madam Gao is one of two villainous East Asian characters who just happen to be martial arts experts. And Ben Urich has a dying wife, because not only violence imperils the women our male heroes love, but also the cruel fates of sickness and natural death!

Nice old lady Elena, killed to "get to" Daredevil — Nice old lady Elena, killed to “get to” Daredevil

And to answer your burning question, no, there’s no Elektra. (Not even a teaser in a post-credits scene, which I was suspecting we’d get at the very least.) I guess they’re saving her for season two.

Ultimately, I still enjoyed Daredevil enough to watch the whole season in two days (it helped that I’m nursing a cold and didn’t feel up to much more than curling up in front of the TV). But I’m terribly let down by its treatment of women, and hope Netflix’s forthcoming Marvel series do much better.

Robin Hitchcock is a writer based in Pittsburgh who actually liked the Ben Affleck Daredevil movie, so you should possibly disregard all of her opinions about everything, ever.

‘Working Girl’ Is ‘White Feminism: The Movie’

‘Working Girl’ is a product of its time, when feminism meant a white lady achieving all the power and success normally reserved for white men. And what’s worse, the antifeminist backlash of the 1980s is paradoxically woven throughout. See, Tess isn’t like the other women who’ve made it in business, she’s a “real woman.”

Written by Robin Hitchcock.

Is there a German word for the discomfort of an adult re-watching something they loved as a child and harshly realizing its flaws?

I felt that watching Working Girl last night. This movie was MY JAM in my youth, paving the way for a lifetime of having “Let the River Run” stuck in my head every time I’m called upon to wear “work clothes” (for someone who writes for the Internet and does comedy, this is not often). My husband, who had never seen it, kept saying “I can see why Baby Robin loved this.” I mean, it’s a feminist twist on Pygmalion where the girl not only remolds HERSELF but chooses high-powered businesslady as her new form. A high-powered businesslady who wears pretty dresses. And gets to screw Harrison Ford. Growing up, Working Girl was my fairytale of choice.

But now, as a grown-up with years of feminist training, I see that Working Girl is essentially White Feminism: The Movie. Chantelle Monique’s previous Bitch Flicks piece on Working Girl hits the nail on the head: “Even though Working Girl seems like a harmless romantic drama, its female representation is firmly rooted in classism and sexism.”

Our hero, Tess McGill (Melanie Griffith, in one of those hypercharismatic undeniably star-making performances), pulls herself up from her working class Staten Island roots to make it in the “man’s world” of business (ambiguous movie-world business, where words like “mergers and acquisitions” and “arbitrage” are thrown around in front of stock tickers and computer monitors but the actual work being done is never clearly illustrated). Working Girl is a product of its time, when feminism meant a white lady achieving all the power and success normally reserved for white men.

And what’s worse, the anti-feminist backlash of the 1980s is paradoxically woven throughout. See, Tess isn’t like the other women who’ve made it in business, she’s a “real woman.” When love interest Jack Trainer (Harrison Ford) first spots her at a corporate mixer where she’s decked out in a sparkly black cocktail dress, he tells her, “You’re the only woman I’ve seen at one of these things who dresses like a woman, not like a woman thinks a man would dress if he was a woman.” Uninhibited by valium and tequila, Tess responds, “I have a head for business and a bod for sin.” It isn’t Tess’s particular brand of lipstick feminism that bothers me so much as it is the putting down of other women who’ve eschewed standards of feminine beauty and sex appeal. It’s another aspect of Working Girl claiming progressivism while reinforcing the status quo.

Tess’s makeover into Business Barbie also involves a lot of unfortunate class issues. She chops off her gloriously teased 80s mullet (“If you want to be taken seriously, you need serious hair”), drops her gaudy costume jewelry, and stops wearing sneakers during her commute. Tess’s transformation comes about while she’s Single White Femaling her high class Wellesley grad boss Katherine (Sigourney Weaver), whose job she’s fraudulently taken on while Katherine recuperates from a skiing accident. Tess also borrows the absent Katherine’s clothes, deluxe apartment, and we eventually find out, boyfriend. She even practices imitating Katherine’s upper class accent while listening to her dictation. Madeover Tess is contrasted against her best friend, Cyn (Joan Cusack), and the rest of the secretarial pool, who keep their teased hair and peacock eyeshadow. Once again, we’re meant to admire Tess for not being like the other girls, advancing the sexist trope of the Exceptional Woman.

Tess is also portrayed as superior to her boss, Katherine, who becomes the villain of the piece by passing off one of Tess’s ideas as her own. This deception makes Katherine a cutthroat bitch who will do anything to get ahead. Meanwhile, the ethics of Tess passing off Katherine’s entire LIFE as her own are barely questioned. And Tess’s questionable moves to get ahead (notably, crashing a wedding to get face time with a business prospect) are just spunk and moxie.

So what makes Katherine the bad guy? Is it her privilege? Then why is Tess celebrated for shedding her working class trappings? Is it Katherine’s ego? How does a purportedly feminist movie justify punishing a woman for being proud of what she’s accomplished? Or is it simply that pitting women against each other is more palatable to Hollywood? Katherine first presents herself as a mentor, and wouldn’t that have been a better feminist message? (This compares unfavorably to another one of my favorite lady-frauds-her-way-to-the-top-of-the-corporate-ladder movies, Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead, where Joanna Cassidy’s Rose supports Christina Applegate’s secretly teenage assistant from start to finish.)

This piece has pained me to write. I can’t quite let go of my love for Working Girl, even though the problems with its purported feminism are now abundantly clear to me. I guess it will just have to be another one of my problematic faves.

Robin Hitchcock is a writer based in Pittsburgh who would totally wear sneakers on her commute to an office job if she had one (potential employers take note!).

‘John Wick’: A More Palatable Revenge Flick

The revenge genre is fraught territory for feminist film fans, because it virtually always begins with violence (often sexualized violence) against women. ‘John Wick’ sidesteps this problem by replacing the victimized woman with a dog: Keanu Reeves’s title character, a mild-mannered retired assassin, gets back into the criminal underworld and goes on a brutal rampage to avenge his killed dog. What follows is an extremely well-executed but completely non-innovative revenge flick, which is nevertheless probably my favorite since ‘Kill Bill Vol 1.,’ in no small part because the revenge isn’t inspired by the victimization of a woman.

Keanu Reeves as 'John Wick' — Keanu Reeves as John Wick

Written by Robin Hitchcock.

The revenge genre is fraught territory for feminist film fans, because it virtually always begins with violence (often sexualized violence) against women. John Wick sidesteps this problem by replacing the victimized woman with a dog. Keanu Reeves’s title character, a mild-mannered retired assassin, gets back into the life and goes on a brutal rampage to avenge his puppy the way countless action heroes have avenged murdered wives and girlfriends. What follows is an extremely well-executed but completely non-innovative revenge flick, which is nevertheless probably my favorite since Kill Bill Vol 1., in no small part because the revenge isn’t inspired by the victimization of a woman.

Now don’t get me wrong, violence against dogs isn’t something I like seeing in a movie, it is just a refreshing change of pace from the normal female sacrifice at the top of these films. Unfortunately, there is in fact a dead woman in John Wick’s backstory, because Hollywood screenwriters seem incapable of giving their male action leads depth without some dead family. But John Wick’s wife, in a shocking twist, died of natural causes! Wick’s manly grief would have been limited to recklessly stunt driving his classic Mustang around an airfield, but Dead Wife left him an absurdly cute puppy so he would “have something to love.” And only days later, this absurdly cute puppy is brutally killed by Russian mobsters stealing his car. Cue onslaught of ultraviolent revenge!

John Wick and an aggressively cute puppy.

It doesn’t take much of an armchair psychologist to realize that John is not just avenging his dog as his pet, but as a symbol of his wife’s enduring love. Or to speculate that he’s using this revenge mission as an outlet for his grief for his wife. So the usual issues of women in refrigerators persist if you think about it too hard. I think I’d like John Wick even more if Dead Wife had just been left out of it.

Does this mean I’m advocating for the erasure of female characters? Or the cinematic sacrifice of adorable puppies? I hope the obvious answer to those questions is no, but I’m writing this from the moral dead zone of “I sure enjoyed this movie about dozens of people being violently murdered!” so I can’t exactly seek a lane on the high road.

Adrianne Palicki as Ms. Perkins in 'John Wick' — Adrianne Palicki as Ms. Perkins in *John Wick*

John Wick‘s only real female character alive at the start of the film is Adrianne Palicki’s Ms. Perkins, a fellow assassin. Ms. Perkins is clearly an outsider in the complex subculture of John Wick‘s criminal underworld, perhaps inevitably as a function of her sex. She’s the only character who doesn’t buy into the legend of John Wick as the Scariest Sumbitch in all of Criminaldom, and she breaks “Hotel Rules” by going after Wick in Ian McShane’s sanctuary for wary criminals. Unsurprisingly, this doesn’t work out very well for her. Fortunately, the violence Ms. Perkins suffers isn’t fetishized. And she’s presented as a worthy opponent in her big brawl with Wick. I can’t take too much beef with her not surviving to the end credits, because almost no one else does.

Other than Ms. Perkins and brief mentions of Dead Wife, John Wick is wall-to-wall dudes. Even the faceless goons John Wick guns down in droves are universally male. Cutting out most of the violence against women let me indulge in the perhaps unsavory pleasures of a well-made violent action movie. I’m reminded of one of the reasons gay male porn is appealing to many women: the absence of women also means the absence of anti-woman tropes. (John Wick certainly doesn’t avoid the comparison to gay porn by setting one of its main action pieces in a bathhouse with a bunch of hyperbuff shirtless dudes.)

Ultraviolence! — Lets hear it for ultraviolence!

And like porn, John Wick‘s abundant appeal to the lizard brain shouldn’t be examined too closely by the forebrain (lest we sound like we’re fans of puppy murder). John Wick isn’t great cinema and it is a far cry from a triumph for women, but it is an extremely enjoyable action movie that doesn’t require too much feminist compromise, and that is something of a rarity.

Robin Hitchcock is a writer based in Pittsburgh who watches John Wick like her two-year-old niece watches The Little Mermaid.

‘Out of Africa’ Shows Hollywood’s Fixation with White People in Africa

1985 Best Picture winner ‘Out of Africa’ typifies this fixation with white people in Africa. Based on her memoir, it follows Danish Baroness Karen Blixby (Meryl Streep) as she settles in Kenya with her husband of convenience, Bror. He wants her money, she wants his title, and they both want escape, so while they discuss going anywhere in the world (“Well maybe not Australia”) they choose British East Africa for reasons the film isn’t bothered to sort out. Cut to one of the many scenic vistas that make up roughly a third of ‘Out of Africa’s two hour 40 minute runtime (because long = “epic” = Oscar).

Meryl Streep and Robert Redford in 'Out of Africa' — Meryl Streep and Robert Redford in *Out of Africa*

Written by Robin Hitchcock.

My name is Robin and I am a white person living in Africa. Cape Town, South Africa, to be specific, although Hollywood wouldn’t be, because Hollywood’s Africa takes the continent’s 30.2 million square kilometers of land, 57 countries, and population of over 1 billion, and reduces it to a whole lot of this:

Hollywood’s Africa has three types of people: poor kids you can sponsor for the price of a cup of coffee a day, antiquated tribes living in huts, and most importantly: white people. And Hollywood thinks white people in Africa are definitely the most interesting.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I think my life is super dupes interesting. I mean, this morning I dropped a container of yogurt and it exploded! Real stuff. But if you wanted to make a movie set in Africa, why would you zero in on a white immigrant? I’m really not the person to tell the story of an entire continent (obviously NO ONE IS, but that wouldn’t stop Hollywood from trying).

Karen with her husband Bror and her future lover Denys

1985 Best Picture winner Out of Africa typifies this fixation with white people in Africa. Based on her memoir, it follows Danish Baroness Karen Blixby (Meryl Streep) as she settles in Kenya with her husband of convenience, Bror. He wants her money, she wants his title, and they both want escape, so while they discuss going anywhere in the world (“Well maybe not Australia”) they choose British East Africa for reasons the film isn’t bothered to sort out. Cut to one of the many scenic vistas that make up roughly a third of Out of Africa‘s two hour 40 minute runtime (because long = “epic” = Oscar).

Bror turns out to be a fool (planting coffee where it can’t grow) and a philanderer (with bonus syphilis!), so his marriage to Karen does not last. Fortunately Karen can move on to Robert Redford’s super hunky big game hunter Denys. Karen and Denys’s affair is the heart of the film, and the reason for most of its (now faded) acclaim: Streep and Redford have strong chemistry and I found myself smiling and sighing and getting weepy at all the key moments. But it’s not particularly different from any other Hollywood romance, aside from the close encounters with lions. Is Karen and Denys’s love somehow more romantic because of the “epic” “sweeping” backdrop of Africa? A Best Picture Oscar suggests this is the case.

Karen and Farah meeting Kikuyu chief Kinanjui

In Out of Africa, Black people are just part of that “backdrop.” The only non-white character with any sort of a role is Karen’s right-hand man Farah, but he seems to exist to facilitate her life and is not fleshed out as a person at all. The Kikuyu people who live on “Karen’s” land are essentially scenery, despite the famous scene where Karen drops to her knees to beg on their behalf to the Governor. Meryl’s motivation to win an Oscar completely eclipses Karen’s motivations, because the rest of the movie is her having interpersonal drama with other white colonialists (well, that and all those scenic vistas).

'Blended' is a more recent (and particularly horrifying) example of Hollywood making movies about white people in Africa — *Blended* is a more recent (and particularly horrifying) example of Hollywood making movies about white people in Africa

Out of Africa is 30 years old, but Hollywood hasn’t tired of making movies about white people in Africa. See last year’s Adam-Sandler-and-Drew-Barrymore-on-safari romcom Blended (wait, no matter what you do, DON’T see that). Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weisz in The Constant Gardener. Leonardo DiCpario and Jennifer Connelly in Blood Diamond. From my childhood, I remember little Reese Witherspoon and Ethan Embry escaping poachers in A Far Off Place; and The Power of One, which illustrates prejudice in Apartheid-era South Africa by telling the story of a white boy bullied because he is English and not Afrikaans. Really. When I was 8 years old I thought that movie was very powerful. Now I think making a movie about Apartheid starring white people is really gross. (Even when the story is just a metaphor for Apartheid, Mr. Blomkamp!).

Africa is beautiful, but it isn’t just pretty scenery to put behind white people. Its political and economic problems (which were all largely caused by white people!) aren’t there to create dramatic stakes for your white characters. There are so many African stories to tell that are about Africans. Hollywood, please show us some more of those.

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town and this is the last time she gets to use that byline because she is headed out of Africa (geddit, that’s why I reviewed this movie now *wink*).

Cookie and Co.: The Women of ‘Empire’

Fox’s midseason drama ‘Empire’ is a huge hit, and it is easy to see why. The gloriously soapy family melodrama is chockablock with “watercooler moments” (are those still a thing?), many provided by the series’s breakout character Cookie Lyon, played with obvious joy by Taraji P. Henson. But despite all the well-deserved attention Cookie is getting, she’s not the only great female character ‘Empire’ has to offer.

Written by Robin Hitchcock.

FOX’s midseason drama Empire is a huge hit, and it is easy to see why. The gloriously soapy family melodrama is chockablock with “watercooler moments” (are those still a thing?), many provided by the series’s breakout character Cookie Lyon, played with obvious joy by Taraji P. Henson.

Taraji P. Henson as Cookie Lyon in 'Empire' — Taraji P. Henson as Cookie Lyon in *Empire*

Cookie, the ex-wife of legendary hip hop mogul Lucious Lyon (and mother the three sons vying to inherit his empire), has just been released from a 17-year stint in prison. She co-founded the company (somewhat clunkily called Empire) with Lucious, and wants the riches, fame, and power she was denied when she took the fall for the drug dealing that financed the company in its early days. Surrounded by schemers, Cookie in contrast works to get what she wants by sheer force of will. And an abundance of charisma floating on her fearlessness, brazenness, and enviable style. Cookie is glorious.

Despite all the well-deserved attention Cookie is getting, she’s not the only great female character Empire has to offer. This is a refreshing surprise, given co-creators Lee Daniels and Danny Strong (the same creative team behind The Butler, a movie I loved) pitch the series as “King Lear in the hip hop world,” but swapped daughters Regan, Goneril, and Cordelia for sons. These sons are all compelling characters: business-focused Andre, struggling with bipolar disorder; and promising artists Jamal, whose favor with Lucious is challenged by his homosexuality; and Hakeem, whose favor with Lucious is challenged by his tendency to be a little shit. And it does seem more true to the character of Lucious to want to leave his legacy in the hands of a male heir. But part of me will always be disappointed we couldn’t have female versions of Andre, Jamal, and Hakeem.

But, as I said, Empire still delivers a range of complex female characters to love and love to hate.

Anika (Grace Gealy) is "a bitch who can slice your throat without even disturbing her pearls" — Anika (Grace Gealy) is “a ho who can slice your throat without even disturbing her pearls”

Anika (Grace Gealy), is head of Empire A&R and Lucious’s new woman. Anika and Cookie immediately strike up a fierce rivalry, first for power in the company (Anika backing Hakeem’s rising star, Cookie pushing for Jamal), and inevitably for Lucious’s affections. The rivalry works because each woman is equally savvy, but with opposing styles: where Cookie is all unbridled assertiveness, Anika is cool-headed and graceful even at her most sinister. It’s pretty much impossible not to root for Cookie, but Anika commands respect as a worthy opponent.

Kaitlin Doubleday as Rhonda in 'Empire' — Kaitlin Doubleday as Rhonda in *Empire*

Another schemer is Andre’s wife Rhonda (Kaitlin Doubleday), who also lusts for power through the proxy of her husband. Rhonda at first seems completely unsympathetic, seeking to put Jamal and Hakeem “at war” with each other to benefit Andre. The Lyon family find Rhonda inherently suspect because she’s a highly educated upper class white woman. When Andre defends his wife as “brilliant,” Cookie responds “Pretty white girls always are, even when they ain’t.” Lucious straight-up tells Andre, “the moment you brought that white woman into my house, I knew I couldn’t trust you. I knew then that you didn’t want to be part of my family.” But Rhonda truly cares for Andre and is in many ways a good match for him (as he also has a mind for business). And her alternating support of and frustration with her mentally ill partner shows her at her most genuine.

Lucious (Terrence Howard) being typically dismissive of his assistant Becky (Gabourey Sidibe)

While not major characters, I would be remiss not to mention Lucious and Cookie’s all-star assistants. Gabourey Sidibe plays Becky, Lucious’s long-suffering but resilient PA. Becky expertly anticipates Lucious’s needs and exudes stunning patience with his routine dismissal of her. Cookie’s assistant Porsha (Ta’Rhonda Jones) is somewhat less competent (although nowhere near as inept as Cookie’s constant berating would have you believe). Porsha wins the audience’s respect by becoming something of a double agent after Anika asks her to betray Cookie. She can clearly hold her own in Empire‘s tangled web of manipulation.

Hakeem (Bryshere Y. Gray) with his older paramour Camilla (Naomi Campbell)

Even Empire‘s most minor female characters are interesting. Hakeem’s love interests Tiana (Serayah) and Camilla (Naomi Campbell) both have their gif-able moments. When Hakeem catches Tiana cheating on him with a woman, she points out he also has “a side piece” and asks him if her indiscretion bothers him more because it was with a woman. She then demands respect for her girlfriend, making space for her on the set of a music video shoot. Older woman Camilla calls Hakeem out on the Oedipal element to their trysts (Hakeem was a baby when Cookie went to jail, so he grew up without a mother figure), and manages to hold her own in a showdown with Lucious, refusing his offer to pay her off to leave Hakeem.

So despite swapping its King Lear‘s daughters for sons, Empire manages to present an array of strong female characters. Cookie Lyon is a force of nature and an undeniable gift to pop culture, but the other women of Empire aren’t entirely eclipsed by her awesomeness. Which is really saying something. Here’s one more gif to prove it:

Cookie says "The streets aren't made for everybody. That's why they invented sidewalks." — Cookie says “The streets aren’t made for everybody. That’s why they invented sidewalks.”

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who hopes to one day be 1% as fabulous as Cookie Lyon.

Does Hating ‘Foxcatcher’ Mean I Hate Men?

‘Foxcatcher’ is very serious meditation on men and masculinities, male relationships, and the white male experience of the class system in America. And I am so fucking bored with those subjects, even when they aren’t presented with a deliberately slow pace, sterile tone, and distracting amounts of face putty.

Channing Tatum and Steve Carell in 'Foxcatcher' — Channing Tatum and Steve Carell in *Foxcatcher*

This repost by Robin Hitchcock appears as part of our theme week on the Academy Awards.

Have you heard of “misandry”? If you read un-moderated comments on feminist websites you probably have. Misandry is the theoretical inverse of misogyny, so a systematic prejudice against and hatred of men. In a world chock full of systematic prejudices and hatreds, this is maybe the ONE form of oppression that doesn’t exist. Misandry is the unicorn of the kyriarchy: it isn’t real, but people still won’t shut up about it.

Because misandry is bogus, I know I can’t be a misandrist. But I really, really didn’t like Foxcatcher, a widely acclaimed film, and in my efforts to articulate why, the best I’ve really got is, “Ugh, men.”

Channing Tatum and Mark Ruffalo in 'Foxcatcher' — Channing Tatum and Mark Ruffalo having dudely emotions in *Foxcatcher*

Foxcatcher is very serious meditation on men and masculinities, male relationships, and the white male experience of the class system in America. And I am so fucking bored with those subjects, even when they aren’t presented with a deliberately slow pace, sterile tone, and distracting amounts of face putty.

And I KNOW that masculinity is a feminist issue, and that the narrative of male greatness that shapes the neuroses of Steve Carell’s John Du Pont and Channing Tatum’s Mark Schultz is a byproduct of the patriarchy. I also feel that as a feminist I should also have some interest in whatever this movie was trying to say about the psychosexual component to their relationship. (Have you ever noticed that a lot of wrestling holds look like sex positions? Because Foxcatcher would like to make sure you are aware of this. Really, absolutely, 100 percent clear. WRESTLING LOOKS LIKE BONING, YOU GUYS. DUDES BONING. IN A GAY WAY.)

Just to be clear: wrestling at times presents images that resemble those of two men having sexual intercourse.

But I’m just so boooooooored by it. I’m tired of movies that are all about dudes, and movies that act like their characters’ very dudehood is the most interesting possible thing about them. I wasn’t planning on commenting on the controversy regarding Foxcatcher‘s departures from the facts of its true crime story, but I do think it is worth noting that John Du Pont’s schizophrenia was not included in the film. Maybe they were just trying to avoid the hoary cliche of mental illness as a catalyst for murder? (So they went with the incredibly novel repressed homosexuality motive instead… hm.) Or was mental illness just not MANLY enough of a subject for Foxcatcher?

John Du Pont's paranoid schizophrenia gets edited out of the story but that NOSE is VITAL to who the man really and truly was. — John Du Pont’s paranoid schizophrenia gets edited out of the story, but that nose is VITAL to who the man really and truly was.

One of the first movies I reviewed for Bitch Flicks was Moneyball, also from Foxcatcher director Bennett Miller. It is another movie that is almost entirely about dudes. And at that time, I said:

Which is fine! There are stories, stories worth telling, that are just about men. (Likewise, there are stories worth telling that only involve women, but it’s hard to get Hollywood to bankroll those.) Telling a story about men in a men’s world isn’t inherently sexist.

Hmm, 2012 Robin sounds a lot mellower than 2015 Robin.

But I ALSO said in my Moneyball review that “I think it is fair to subject whatever scraps of portrayal of women we get in these male-dominated films to a slightly higher scrutiny.”

John Du Pont's mommy didn't hug him enough. — John Du Pont’s mommy didn’t hug him enough.

Well, this will be impossible with Foxcatcher, because it has exactly three female characters: 1) Vanessa Redgrave as Du Pont’s Ice Queen Mom (another example of the cutting-edge psychology Foxcatcher prefers to exploring the actual diagnosed condition Du Pont had), 2) Sienna Miller as Mom Jeans, and 3) The Maid.

Wait, I misspoke when I said there were three female characters (and not because one of Dave Schultz’s kids was a girl). There are three women (and one girl) in Foxcatcher. There are no female characters.

Which, like 2012 Robin said, is maybe OK. And maybe 2015 Robin IS a misandrist for finding Foxcatcher’s fascination with masculinity boring at best and annoying at worst. (No, I’m not. Misandry isn’t real.) But I need a movie by and about women STAT as a palette cleanser. Please offer suggestions in the comments!

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who does not actually hate men. In fact, she lives with a man, works with men, and even allows men to ride in the same elevator car as her.

‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ and Wes Anderson Fatigue

And the worst of it is that awards recognition will probably just send Wes Anderson further up his own ass, if such a thing is even possible. I don’t think I’ll be rushing to see his subsequent films until I hear that he’s finally tried something different.

Ralph Fiennes in 'The Grand Budapest Hotel' — Ralph Fiennes in *The Grand Budapest Hotel*

Written by Robin Hitchcock as part of our theme week on the Academy Awards.

I used to love Wes Anderson’s style and now I hate it. Did I change? Did his movies change? Or have they not changed enough?

The Grand Budapest Hotel, Anderson’s eighth feature film, is his first to receive wide awards season attention. Although his screenplays have been nominated twice before (The Royal Tenenbaums and Moonrise Kingdom) and Fantastic Mr. Fox got a Best Animated Feature nod, The Grand Budapest Hotel is the first Wes Anderson film to amass a broad range of Academy Award nominations, including his first Best Picture and Best Director Oscar nods. And it won Best Comedy or Musical Film at the Golden Globes, beating out Oscar Best Picture front-runner Birdman.

So unless you are properly cynical about Hollywood awards, you’d probably guess there is something exceptional about The Grand Budapest Hotel compared to Wes Anderson’s other movies. But there isn’t. There’s pretty much nothing in The Grand Budapest Hotel you haven’t seen before if you’ve seen a Wes Anderson movie. It’s possible the Academy is so out of touch they’re just now noticing this young whippersnapper with a quirky vision and a fondness for Futura title cards.

How many perfectly symmetrical shots of a beautiful frown-faced women in an incredibly detailed set does this world really need?" — How many perfectly symmetrical shots of a beautiful frown-faced women in an incredibly detailed set does this world really need?

But if you’ve been watching Anderson’s movies all along, I don’t know how you could not be sick of his schtick at this point. How many perfectly symmetrical shots of a beautiful frown-faced women in an incredibly detailed set does this world really need? And Anderson has become ever more indulgent in his stylistic quirks over the years, with diminishing returns.

I remember how excited I was by the offbeat humor and buzzing energy of Bottle Rocket and Rushmore. I remember being delighted by the bizarre world-building in The Royal Tenenbaums. Was it because I watched those movies as a teenager? Or has Anderson’s vision just gone off like expired milk? (I wanted to re-watch The Royal Tenenbaums before writing this piece, but I couldn’t find my copy. I was relieved. I don’t want to lose my happy memories of that movie.)

The quirky details in Wes Anderson's movie, like this shot from 'The Royal Tenenbaums', used to delight me. Now I roll my eyes. — The oddball details in Wes Anderson’s movies, like this shot from *The Royal Tenenbaums*, used to delight me. Now I roll my eyes.

Maybe something that used to be there is now missing. Discussing Moonrise Kingdom, Molly McCaffery posited that Anderson’s first three films benefited much more than we realized from his collaboration with co-writer Owen Wilson: that the films “were as much about character development as they were about oddball behavior, unusual costumes, retro props, quirky sets, and elusive ingénues.” Whether or not Wilson was the source of it, those early movies certainly had a heart that has been lacking from Anderson’s later films.

Another issue is that Anderson’s slavish devotion to his form is without regard to its function. His quirky style is perfectly suited to the story of an oddball family like the Tenenbaums, but what does it bring to the narrative of The Grand Budapest Hotel? Moonrise Kingdom actually worked better for me than the other latter-day (sans-Wilson as co-writer) Wes Anderson films, because the twee tone and retro details suited the inherent nostalgia of small town childhood adventure story. For an ambitiously sprawling story like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Anderson’s attention to detail felt almost confining to what could have been an epic and sweeping tale. Is this the only way Anderson knows how to make movies?

Anderson's style was better suited to 'Moonrise Kingdom' than 'The Grand Budapest Hotel' — Anderson’s style was better suited to *Moonrise Kingdom* than *The Grand Budapest Hotel*

It is strange that the Academy seems to be only noticing Wes Anderson now, 20 years into his shockingly repetitive career, when his style feels so played out and empty. Maybe the Russian Doll framing device structure of The Grand Budapest Hotel (perhaps its only innovation) really knocked everyone else’s socks off (I found it showy and pointless, like the rest of the movie). Maybe it is just a really, really, really weak year for movies.

Anderson's 2006 American Express ad poking fun at himself now feels like it could be a legit documentary. — Anderson’s 2006 American Express ad poking fun at himself now feels like it could be a legit documentary

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who can’t decide if she should stay up all night to watch the Oscars this year.

‘Boyhood’ (Feat. Girlhood)

Let’s face it, ‘Boyhood’ is a gimmick movie. Richard Linklater sporadically filmed it over a 12-year period so we could see the child actors in it actually grow up. If you loved Michael Apted’s ‘Up’ series but wanted more fiction and less wait, ‘Boyhood’ is for you. But if you just love coming-of-age dramas, I’m not sure I can recommend this one.

Ellar Coltrane as Mason at the beginning of 'Boyhood' — Ellar Coltrane as Mason at the beginning of *Boyhood*

This repost by Robin Hitchcock appears as part of our theme week on the Academy Awards.

Let’s face it, Boyhood is a gimmick movie. Richard Linklater sporadically filmed it over a 12-year period so we could see the child actors in it actually grow up. If you loved Michael Apted’s Up series but wanted more fiction and less wait, Boyhood is for you. But if you just love coming-of-age dramas, I’m not sure I can recommend this one.

The child actors (Ellar Coltrane as central character Mason and the director’s daughter, Lorelai Linklater, as Mason’s sister, Samantha) are extremely natural and sufficiently likable. Patricia Arquette is fantastic as their mother, who faces a roller coaster of personal, professional, and economic ups and downs. And Ethan Hawke plays their intermittently available father as Ethan-Hawke-in-a-Richard-Linklater-movie, that is, opinionated and rambling and just-barely functioning as an adult human being, but I happen to like that character a lot.

Mason and Samantha's mother (Patricia Arquette) reads them a Harry Potter book — Mason and Samantha’s mother (Patricia Arquette) reads them a Harry Potter book

As strong as their performances are, the problem is that Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke are recognizable movie stars, in stark contrast with the kids at the center of the film and the unknown Texan character actors in the supporting cast. This evaporates the faux-documentary feeling of Boyhood, and leaves in its place an overlong, meandering, plain-old movie.

What’s left is essentially the non-dinosaur, non-Sean Penn-on-limbo-beach parts of The Tree of Life, with fewer shots of light shining through trees, and nostalgia from the last decade instead of the 1950s. Six-year-old Mason rides his bike in endless loops around his block. Eight-year-old Mason plays Wii boxing. Twelve-year-old Mason finds out about internet porn. Fifteen-year-old Mason smokes weed and gets an earring. Seventeen-year-old Mason has sex with his girlfriend in his sister’s dorm room. Eighteen-year-old Mason wins a photography scholarship and does shrooms in the mountains and we can finally, FINALLY leave the theater. (Boyhood is two hours and 45 minutes long, with exactly zero explosions or giant robot fights. I do not have the patience for such things.)

Mason and his sister Samantha (Lorelai Linklater)

It is possible I lost interest because I never had a boyhood of my own. I kept wanted to see more of Samantha, because I could relate to her girlhood (my favorite scene in the movie was Samantha cringing through The Sex Talk with her dad at a bowling alley) and get my nostalgia kick. I was also more interested in Patricia Arquette’s mother character and her struggles because I could relate to them as an adult and as someone who plans to have children.

Sullen teenage Mason and his father (Ethan Hawke)

I may be placing too much importance on gender here, because there are loads of non-gendered experiences of childhood present in this movie. I played with dirt and found out my parents aren’t perfect and rejected authority figures and aggressively sulked, just like Mason. Maybe if Samantha and the mother hadn’t been there, just out of focus, I would have related more to his journey instead of yearning for more from the sidelined female characters.

And as I got bored with Boyhood, I got distracted by the logistics of its gimmick. The passage of time is largely expressed through changed hairstyles on the kids, and I wondered if that was mandated by the director (would Richard Linklater really make his daughter get a regrettable purple-red dye job? (ETA: he did not.) I morbidly wondered what kind of insurance they took out on the lives of the central actors and how they would have reacted to an untimely death. I tried to remember what year the songs on the soundtrack came out so I could figure out how much longer I had to wait to get out of there (I have never been so excited to hear that Gotye song. I turned to my viewing partner and whispered “only two years left!!”).

Eighteen-year-old Mason at the end of the film

Boyhood is a gimmick movie, but admittedly, the gimmick is pretty cool. If you don’t mind long runtimes and have a strong way to relate to this disjointed series of vignettes (having had a boyhood of your own, having a son around the age of the kids in the movie, growing up in Texas), you may well love Boyhood. I didn’t hate it. I just wanted to see more of the women in it and have it be over an hour earlier. My own childhood felt shorter.

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who still plays with sticks in the dirt.

‘Birdman’ Is ‘Black Swan’ for Boys

‘Birdman’ bears striking similarities to ‘Black Swan,’ both in the broad strokes—each follow their protagonist’s slipping grip on sanity in the days before a high pressure stage debut—and in a strange number of superficial details—hallucinations of menacing black winged creatures, “surprise” lesbian scenes, and ambiguous suicides at least partially showcased on stage.

Michael Keaton in 'Birdman' — Michael Keaton in *Birdman*

This repost by Robin Hitchcock appears as part of our theme week on the Academy Awards.

This review contains spoilers for both Birdman and Black Swan.

Alejandro González Iñárritu’s new film Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) bears striking similarities to Darren Aronofsky’s 2010 film Black Swan, both in the broad strokes—each follow their protagonist’s slipping grip on sanity in the days before a high pressure stage debut—and in a strange number of superficial details—hallucinations of menacing black winged creatures, “surprise” lesbian scenes, and ambiguous suicides at least partially showcased on stage. Of course, these two films differ in many ways, most significantly in tone (Birdman is a black comedy, Black Swan is a chilling psychodrama if not an outright horror movie). It is in these departures that we see the significance of gender in stories about identity, art, and mental illness.

1. Phase of life

Riggan in front of his dressing room mirror in 'Birdman' — Riggan in front of his dressing room mirror in *Birdman*

Birdman‘s Riggan Thomson is a fading movie star, years after playing the title character in a series of superhero blockbusters (casting Michael Keaton in the role deepens the character tenfold). The play at the center of the film is his own adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, which he is also directing and starring in. This vanity project is Riggan’s hope to change his legacy, to transform from the kind of has-been actor who gets attention from tourists to the kind of eternally relevant artist who gets respect from theatre critics.

Nina in front of a mirror in 'Black Swan' — Nina in front of a mirror in *Black Swan*

Where Riggan is in the twilight of his career, Black Swan shows Nina Sayers is at the dawn of hers, as she ascends from the corps to play the Swan Queen in Swan Lake. Nina’s transformation over the course of the film is partially a metaphor for her belated sexual awakening and maturation from girl to woman. This becoming is the crucial moment in Nina’s life; she will never face Riggan’s struggle to stay relevant. As we see from the prima ballerina Nina replaces, Winona Ryder’s Beth Turner, there is no option to age gracefully. This is why, even as Nina apparently dies at the end of the film, it is “perfect.”

2. Perfection vs. Superpowers

Riggan's first appears in Birdman impossibly levitating — Riggan’s first appears in *Birdman,* impossibly levitating

It is the pressure to be perfect that pulls Nina apart in Black Swan. Not only the physical rigors and intense competition of professional ballet, but the paradoxical obligations of womanhood as represented through her dual role as the Swan Queen and Black Swan. But Riggan doesn’t want to be perfect, he wants to be exceptional. His delusions of his superhuman abilities are his way of reassuring himself that his existence is noteworthy, that he matters, that he deserves to be remembered.

Nina hallucinates body horrors and birdlike transformations reminding her of the separation between her human self and the perfection required for her role. Riggan has easily incorporated superhuman abilities into his sense of self. As a man, he is entitled to do so. Nina’s are horrific transformations as she loses her sense of self.

3. Rivals

Mila Kunis as Lily in 'Black Swan' — Mila Kunis as Lily in *Black Swan*

Although early marketing for Black Swan played up the “rivalry” between Nina and Mila Kunis’s Lily, Lily is not so important to the plot as she is a character foil for Nina. Lily represents the raw sexuality and effortless grace that Nina’s drive for perfection precludes her from acheiving. Lily is the Natural Beauty, the girl who can eat hamburgers and stay ballerina slim, party all night and still be perky and gorgeous in the morning, who you’ll never see touching up her lipstick but she’ll always have a perfect glossy pout. No matter how hard Nina works, she’ll never best Lily, because she’s less than her just by having to work for it at all.

Ed Norton as the difficult Method actor Mike Shiner in 'Birdman' — Edward Norton as the difficult Method actor Mike Shiner in *Birdman*

In Birdman, Riggan’s “rival” is a hotshot actor named Mike Shiner (Edward Norton), even though he is known to be difficult to work with. Mike, a rigorous method actor, is the opposite of Lily: his talent comes from his dedication to his craft. And it is Mike’s well-honed skills that make him threatening to Riggan, who landed his career through charisma, good looks, and luck. That’s not the fame Riggan wants. It is the fame of a woman, and he knows he cannot carry it into old age and beyond (see Beth Turner). As a man, Riggan is not only allowed to “work for” his success, he even more respectable for doing so.

Just before opening night, Riggan faces off with theatre critic Tabitha Dickinson (Lindsay Duncan), who resents a movie star for taking up Broadway stage space that could go to a real artist. Riggan throws back the usual barbs against critics labeling art without making it: “None of it costs you anything. You risk nothing.” Putting on the airs of the hardworking artist he knows he is not, Riggan sounds just like someone denying their male privilege played any role in their success. Because achieved greatness is the highest virtue for a man.

4. Conclusions (the films’, and mine)

Both Birdman and Black Swan end ambiguously, with their protagonists appearing to die by suicide. In Black Swan, we see Nina’s apparent murder of Lily was not real, and that Nina rather stabbed herself. At that point in the film we’re neck deep in duality symbolism and pretty much all accept Nina attacking herself with a shard of mirror glass is a metaphor for killing the innocent side of herself, especially because girlfriend is one heck of a dancer for a stab victim. But in the final moments first Lily, then director Thomas and the other dancers also see the wound and the audience is left thinking Nina’s suicide must have been real. Because, as I mentioned before, dying after a brilliant debut performance is actually perfect for Nina, because she has nowhere higher to go from there.

Nina's apparent suicide in 'Black Swan' — Nina’s apparent suicide in *Black Swan*

In Birdman, Riggan first attempts suicide by replacing a prop gun with a loaded pistol on stage. Apparently, he only shoots off his nose (earning him a superhero’s face mask of bandages). Then, after hearing Tabitha gave him a glowing review and finding personal resolution with his estranged ex-wife, his best friend, and his troubled daughter, he leaps from his hospital room window. When his daughter Sam (Emma Stone) returns to his empty hospital room with an open window, we see her horrified realization that her father probably jumped. But when she looks down to the street level, she appears confused. Then she looks up, to the sky, and her face fills with wonderment. There’s ambiguous hope where Black Swan offers only ambiguous despair. Even in the darkest interpretation, that Riggan actually killed himself on stage and these final scenes aren’t real, we see that Riggan has successfully circumvented his fade to mediocrity. He “wins” in a way that Nina never could.

The more hopefully ambiguous final moment of 'Birdman' — The more hopefully ambiguous final moment of *Birdman*

Looking at Birdman and Black Swan as two versions of the same story highlight the immense differences men and women face in life and in art, in expectation and in reality. It is in large part the significance of gender that makes these two movies that seem to have so much in common ultimately turn out to be quite different.

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who cannot fly nor grow feathers.

Am I The Only Person Incredibly Bored With This Awards Season?

Only one of the Best Actress nominations is from one of the Best Picture nominees, whereas four of the five Best Actor nominations are for Best Picture-nominated films. As I wrote in 2013, this trend suggests that movies with significant roles for women aren’t considered as great or important by the Academy. This year, it is even worse: four of the five Best Actresses were in movies not nominated outside of the acting categories.

This repost by Robin Hitchcock appears as part of our theme week on the Academy Awards.

When nominations for the 87th Academy Awards came out, I should have been on the edge of my seat. I normally completely buy into all the Oscars hype. But this awards season just hasn’t been doing it for me, and now that the Oscar noms are out the stage is set for the Boringest Academy Awards In History (or at least since that year Lord of the Rings won everything).

Honestly, the most exciting nomination to me is “Everything is Awesome” getting a nod for Best Original Song. But everything is not awesome on this nominees list:

Eight out of the nine Best Picture nominees are primarily about white dudes. Two of them are historical dramas about real life white dude geniuses.
Selma, the only Best Picture nominee about people of color, was shut out in all the other major categories (its director Ava DuVernay would have been the first Black woman nominated in the category).

Snubbed 'Selma' director Ava DuVernay — Snubbed *Selma* director Ava DuVernay

All of the acting nominees are white.

Nominees include Whitest Man Alive Benedict Cumberbatch

There are no women nominated for best director or in either screenplay category.
Only one of the Best Actress nominations is from one of the Best Picture nominees, whereas four of the five Best Actor nominations are for Best Picture-nominated films. As I wrote in 2013, this trend suggests that movies with significant roles for women aren’t considered as great or important by the Academy. This year, it is even worse: four of the five Best Actresses were in movies not nominated outside of the acting categories.

'Still Alice' shut out aside from Julianne Moore's nomination for Best Actress — *Still Alice* shut out aside from Julianne Moore’s nomination for Best Actress

Note that the one Best Actress nominee from a Best Picture nominee is Felicity Jones in The Theory of Everything, as the love interest to White Dude Genius #2.

And aside from my disappointment at the total lack of representation in the slate of nominees, I’m also just BORED by these movies. The Grand Budapest Hotel tied with Birdman for total number of nominations. The Grand Budapest Hotel was released all the way back in February, before last year’s Oscars even aired, and I had no idea it was even in contention. And I still have no idea why. I fell asleep trying to watch that movie no less than three times. I thought Boyhood was mediocre (although I’m glad Patricia Arquette was nominated). Birdman was great, but I’d rather be rooting for it as an offbeat dark horse instead of a front runner in an incredibly weak field.

The past few years I’ve mounted my own attempts at what Sarah D. Bunting calls the “Oscars Death Race” by trying to see every nominated film. I’ve never even come close to succeeding (it is hard to do in any circumstance, but basically impossible in South Africa), but through the effort I’ve seen a lot of great movies I would have otherwise missed. (I also subjected myself to The Wolf of Wall Street, but it has still been a net positive.)

I’m not sure I’m going to even bother this year. I mean, maybe one or both of the White Dude Genius Period Piece movies will actually turn out to be lovely. Maybe American Sniper will be this year’s Captain Phillips, a “dad movie” that is actually an incredibly well-crafted piece of cinema. Maybe Whiplash, which I honestly had not even heard of before today, will be my favorite movie of the year.

For all I know, 'Whiplash' could be the greatest film of all time. — For all I know, *Whiplash* could be the greatest film of all time.

But I’m not optimistic. My love of Awards Season pomp and circumstance is waning in the face of my growing cynicism about Hollywood. Do I really want to throw more money at movies about white dudes just because the white dudes in the Academy voted for them? Maybe I should save my Oscars Death Race bib for next year.

How do you feel about the Oscar nominations? What would you have rather seen get recognition this year?

On ‘Annie,’ Lady ‘Ghostbusters,’ and “Ruined” Childhoods

And the matter of representation here is so important. Little Black girls deserve to see themselves on screen, to try to be like Annie the way I tried to be like Punky Brewster when I was a kid. They deserve to see this kind of Cinderella story, where the benefactor is a successful Black businessman (Jamie Foxx as cell phone-mogul and mayoral candidate Will Stacks, the less-creepily named equivalent to Daddy Warbucks). Black parents deserve to take their kids to movies that will show families like theirs. And people of all ages and all races need to see Black actors star in movies like this so the gross privileged reaction of “but the star isn’t white OH NOES!” goes away.

'Annie' (2014) movie poster — *Annie* (2014) movie poster

Written by Robin Hitchcock.

Some conversations I have had about the 2014 remake of Annie, starring Quvenzhané Wallis:

“Got any exciting plans this weekend?”

“Yes! I’m finally going to get to see the new Annie!”

“Why are you excited about that?”

“Well I probably watched the old movie upwards of 100 times when I was a kid.”

“I would think then you’d want to avoid this one? It’s probably just going to ruin your childhood memories.”

“Is it weird that I feel weird about the new Annie being Black?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s just that my image of the character is a little redheaded girl with freckles.”

“Well the original image of the character didn’t have pupils in her eyes, so, things change.”

Comic Annie's creepy blank eyes. — Comic Annie’s creepy blank eyes.

When an Annie remake was announced in 2011, produced by Will and Jada Pinkett-Smith with their daughter Willow attached to play the title character, the “Annie can’t be Black!” nonsense started up, and ebbed and flowed with every new development on the film. Oscar nominee Quvenzhané Wallis cast. “Annie can’t be Black!” Trailer released. “Annie can’t be Black!” Film opens and enjoys modest box office success. “ANNIE CAN’T BE BLACK!”

The remake brilliantly takes on this “controversy” by opening on a white curly-haired redheaded girl with freckles named Annie, who tapdances when she finishes giving her school report. The teacher then calls up “Annie B.” and out comes Quvenzhané Wallis with her charm cranked up to 11. She gets the classroom to participate in her report on FDR and the New Deal, and I can’t imagine anyone in the audience not being won over by the new Annie in this one scene, unless your racism is the Klan kind and not the internalized “but Annie NEEDS to be white” kind. (Which is still bad, and you should work on that.)

In fact, the new Annie being Black is a huge benefit to this film. First, it gives it a reason to exist. Family-friendly movies with Black protagonists are desperately lacking. Plus, an all-white crew of plucky foster kids (in this movie, Annie is very adamant she is a foster kid and not an orphan, because she believes her parents to be alive) in modern-day New York would be unbelievable. And it lets Quvenzhané Wallis star, and I defy you to name a more charming child actor working today.

Family-friendly movies starring black actors are important. — Family-friendly movies starring Black actors are important.

The movie itself? I liked it a lot! It has some issues: 1) Cameron Diaz can’t sing 2) everything sounds a little excessively auto-tuned (Jamie Foxx and Quvenzhané Wallis CAN sing, so that’s no excuse) 3) The new songs don’t blend in as well as they could have 4) The Obamas do not cameo in place of Annie meeting FDR 5) Rooster Hannigan doesn’t exist, and Traci Thoms as Lily St. Regis stand-in doesn’t get to sing “Easy Street,” so the best scene from the 1982 movie turns into one of the worst in the remake (Cameron Diaz really, really, REALLY can’t sing).

And here’s the thing: it could have been TERRIBLE and my childhood would be intact! It wouldn’t make the old movie cease to exist, wouldn’t change my memories of loving it as a child. Also my childhood was a lot more than one weird musical with a racist caricature named Punjab serving as the inexplicably mystical valet to a guy named, for realskies, Daddy Warbucks.

And embittered dudes out there, your childhoods were more than Ghostbusters as dudes. Lady Ghostbusters will NOT ruin your childhood unless the movie is actually about them time travelling to steal your lunch money and eat your homework (I would actually totally watch that movie).

Look. Every now and then they threaten to remake Casablanca. At one point there were rumors of a Bennifer (that’s the former power couple Ben Affleck and J.Lo for those with a short celeb culture memory) version. And yes, this gives me the “WHY!? NO! HANDS OFF!” reaction that I suppose people are having to new Annie and new Ghostbusters. So I’m trying to be sympathetic and give people the benefit of the doubt here, that they aren’t just being racist or sexist.

Did the Looney Tunes take on Casablanca ruin my childhood or my adulthood? — Did the Looney Tunes take on *Casablanca* ruin my childhood or my adulthood?

But keep this in mind, childhood-defenders who are particularly upset when their childhood faves stop being white or male: changing the demographic profile of the stars gives these remakes a reason to exist. Like, if they HAD remade Casablanca with Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez, but made it about modern-day immigration issues (people forget that Casablanca was NOT a period piece) it might have been really interesting! Making the Ghostbusters women gives them the ability to create relatively original characters instead of awkwardly attempting to replicate the old ones. And the world needs more women-led comedy films, like it needs more Black family films.

The world absolutely does not need more movies starring white people, especially white dudes. I say this as a white person. I’ve had my fill. Hollywood relies on remakes and reboots an incredible amount, and thank goodness they’ve taken to changing the race or gender of some of these characters or we’d be in a never-ending cycle of universal white dudeliness.

It's going to be ok. — It’s going to be OK.

So fellow white people, please keep in mind: you will still exist if you are not absurdly over-represented on screen. White dudes: Remember how upset you were when they made Starbuck a girl? Remember how that was awesome? It’s going to be OK.

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town. She is an actual orphan so you should trust her take on Annie.

Does Hating ‘Foxcatcher’ Mean I Hate Men?

Which is fine! There are stories, stories worth telling, that are just about men. (Likewise, there are stories worth telling that only involve women, but it’s hard to get Hollywood to bankroll those.) Telling a story about men in a men’s world isn’t inherently sexist.

Hmm, 2012 Robin sounds a lot mellower than 2015 Robin.

But I ALSO said in my Moneyball review that “I think it is fair to subject whatever scraps of portrayal of women we get in these male-dominated films to a slightly higher scrutiny.”

Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town who does not actually hate men. In fact, she lives with a man, works with men, and even allows men to ride in the same elevator car as her.