Sarah Fonseca – Bitch Flicks

Notes on ‘Notes on a Scandal’

Moviegoers seeking a simple, erotic film laden with illicit trysts between a teacher and student may be left unsatisfied with Notes on a Scandal. While an affair between a teacher, Sheba (Cate Blanchett), and high school student, Steven (Andrew Simpson) serves as a definitive catalyst, Notes largely centers around the ambiguous relationship between Sheba and Barbara (Dame Judi Dench), a seasoned teacher at the same London comprehensive school.

Sheba is free-spirited and idealistic about her ability to make a difference in her pupils’ lives. Having been in the education system for decades, Barbara is slightly less optimistic. Despite their different schools of thought, when Barbara offers the fresh-faced Sheba disciplinary advice, a hopeful friendship develops between the two. Unknowingly, Sheba has consented to serve as a replacement for one of Jennifer, Barbara’s former friend who left under unclear circumstances.
Notes is a film that can be continuously (and pointlessly) picked apart in search of a clear protagonist and antagonist. Their relationship mirrors Newton’s third law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. When Sheba is guilty of infidelity and statutory rape, Barbara also becomes guilty of blackmail. When Sheba sees the best in others, Barbara does as well. When one woman keeps secrets, so does the other. Neither woman can be exclusively deemed saint or sinner.

In cinematography, perhaps this is the highest possible form of feminism. Despite featuring a promiscuous adult and older woman, Notes does not typecast female characters into unrealistic “slut”, “wife material”, and “old bag” categories. Sheba’s husband, children, and paramour are rarities on-screen. In fact, upon his discovery, Sheba reassures her husband that the affair has nothing to do with him. There is minimal focus on Steven and Sheba’s sexual acts. Viewers are forced to wade through action, subtext, and their own gut feelings in search of a clear answer that refuses to reveal itself.

In a memorable scene where Barbara smokes a cigarette while bathing, the following journal entry serves as a voiceover:

“People like Sheba think they know what it is to be lonely. Bot of the drip, drip of the long-haul, no-end-in-sight solitude, they know nothing. What it’s like to construct an entire weekend around a visit to the launderette. Or to be so chronically untouched that the accidental brush of a bus conductor’s hand send a jolt of longing straight to your groin. Of this, Sheba and her like have no clue.”

While Barbara stagnates in her lonely past, Sheba is shrouded in the pleasantry of hers. In a parallel scene, she listens to Siouxsie and the Banshees while applying thick black eyeliner as her youthful lover stands near.

However, when Steven dons a hat that she’s made for her son, Sheba snaps. The children, the son with Down Syndrome and the adolescent daughter, come into focus. The illusion of the past becomes shattered.

Just as an aside, Juno Temple—the young actor who plays Sheba’s daughter—aces her role as a petulant daughter. For those interested in intense, incidentally homoerotic dramas about academia, loneliness and sexual taboo, her role in Notes on a Scandalevokes her performance in Cracks.)

For those seasoned lesbian subtext detectives who—like me—have religiously watched Xena: Warrior Princess and Rizzoli and Isles, there is significant evidence in favor of Barb wanting more than passionate friendship from her colleague:

In her initial journal entries about Sheba, Barb expresses her belief that she is “the one”; that they could become “companions.”
During a moment where Sheba is stressed, Barb runs her fingers up and down Sheba’s hands and arms, reminiscing on a time in her schooling where she and her female peers “used to stroke each other.” It makes Sheba uncomfortable.
When Sheba discovers Barbara’s diaries during the height of her statutory rape scandal, she yells, “So what it it, Bar? You want to roll around the floor like lovers? You want to fuck me, Barbara?” (She also calls “Virginia-Friggin’ Woolf”, yet there are arguably more similarities between Barb and the protagonist of Radclyffe Hall’s “Well of Loneliness.”)
Barbara is pre-occupied with gold stars.

When picking apart subtext, last names are also relevant. Barbara Covett covets Sheba Hart, who has a lot of heart for her students, including Steven Connelly, who consher into believing that his feelings are much more than pubescent lust.

When Barb accusingly asks Sheba while she continues her relationship with Steven even after Barb blackmails her, Sheba responds, “Secrets can be seductive.” Ultimately, Sheba is hardly the only one guilty of infidelity. Barb’s journals—which inevitably certify her as insane in Sheba’s mind—are well-hidden from her previous and current “companion,” and document her every manipulative action and thought.

Barbara’s one true love is fittingly ambiguous in gender and sexuality: Paper. Even while pursuing Sheba, she still carries on an affair with the notebooks that inevitably speeds up the destruction of her connection with Sheba.

Amid all the ambiguity, only one this is definite: Despite wanting all of her friend, there are still parts of herself which Barbara is unwilling to unveil.

***

While she doesn’t quite have the accent, Sarah Fonseca’s been known to accidently type ‘ya’ll’ in her articles. Thank g-d for copyeditors.

Sarah runs frantically between writing and feminist club meetings on her university’s campus. Fortunately, those two spheres collide more than one would think. She is heavily involved with National Organization for Women, Creative Writing Club, and Random Acts of Poetry at Georgia Southern University.

Sarah is a staff writer for Georgia Southern’s George-Anne newspaper, and occasionally contributes to other publications within the community. Her fiction has been published in The Q Review and recognized by the Harbuck Scholarship committee.

Sarah is currently applying for fellowship with Lambda Literary, and plans to present her paper entitled On the Queering of Hair at next year’s National Women’s Studies Association Conference.

Head wtch in charge: Revisiting The Witches

Since the premiere of NBC’s new musical comedy, Smash (think: Glee for adults that are embarrassed to admit that they watch Glee), interest has been renewed in the legendary actor Anjelica Huston. While Huston boasts a laundry list of screen credits, including a handful of Emmys and an Academy Award win for Prizzi’s Honor, the least attention of all has been given to her worthwhile portrayal of the High Witch in the 1990 film adaptation of Roald Dahl’s The Witches.

The film centers around the parallel lives of Helga Eveshim (Mai Zetterling) and her recently-orphaned grandson, Luke Eveshim (Jasen Fischer). Each night before bed, Luke begs to hear a story about witches. “Real witches dress in ordinary clothes and look very much like ordinary women. They live in ordinary houses and they work in ordinary jobs[…]for all you know, a witch might be living right next door to you,” Helga tells him in foreshadowing. For a moment, she sounds a bit like Fred Phelps, warning his minions about the dangers of lesbians.

Grandmother’s distaste is very much warranted, however. As a child, she witnessed the witches turn her close friend into a character in a painting, where she spent the rest of her days, aging along with the canvas.

Bad news strikes the Eveshim family thrice within the first fifteen minutes of The Witches. Shortly after the car crash which kills Luke’s parents, Helga is diagnosed with diabetes and urged to go on a holiday. The two relatives travel to a majestic hotel in Cornwall, England. Their relaxing vacation soon turns anything but as Helga and Luke realize that witches from every corner of the globe are having their annual convention in the very same hotel!

These are hardly JK Rowling’s witches. They have beady purple eyes, scabbing scalps, square toes, not to mention a gross distaste for children–so much, that kiddies give off the scent of “dog’s droppings” whenever they are near. These supernatural women have one mission, and one mission only: To eradicate the world of these sticky-fingered, no good nuisances.

Huston’s character spends the majority of her time on-screen berating the common witches for not doing more to reduce the world’s K-12 population. When a commoner protests, “We can’t possibly wipe out all of them!,” the High Witch effortlessly turns her to ash. She then unveils a tiny bottle containing 500 doses of a potion called Formula 86, which is designed to assist in the complete annihilation of children in a very thorough and gruesome manner.
“Vitches vork ONLY vith magic!” the High Witch asserts. Funny, so do btches.

While Huston’s High Witch may be no Professor McGonagall, she serves as an excellent prequel to Bellatrix LeStrange:

Fortunately, Grandmother Helga has schooled young Luke on witches’ wiles. Between her vast knowledge and Luke’s big-eared eagerness two learn, the two have no choice: They must take on the High Witch and–without giving away too much–offer her a taste of her own medicine.

While The Witches did not fare well in box offices 22 years ago, the film holds two unplanned titles: In addition to being the Swedish bombshell Mai Zetterling’s last film, it was also Jim Henson’s final production before his untimely death in May 1990. As someone who grew up squished between episodes of Sesame Street and the pages of Roald Dahl’s novels, I would’ve loved to see this collaboration continue. The puppetry and cosmetic effects used in The Witches are so uniquely Henson that it’s impossible to not reminisce on Labyrinth while watching the film.

Mai Zetterling ultimately pushes the plot forward, and in true feminist fashion. She’s everything I would want to be as a grandmother, from the bone-chilling bedtime stories to adventurous holidays in England. She educates and guides Luke, passing the witch-burning torch onto him when she’s no longer able to carry it.

Despite The Witches having a large group of women serving as a collective antagonist, the film passes the Bechdel Test with flying colors: There is more than one female character who has a conversation about something other than men (in this case, the extermination of children); and while the High Witch uses her powers for evil, she earns Bonus Bechdel Points (BBPs) in my book for holding her own for as long as possible with a large and often critical group of colleagues.

While she doesn’t quite have the accent, Sarah Fonseca’s been known to accidently type ‘ya’ll’ in her articles. Thank g-d for copyeditors.

Sarah is currently applying for fellowship with Lambda Literary, and plans to present her paper entitled On the Queering of Hair at next year’s National Women’s Studies Association Conference.

Hello from Sarah Fonseca: Bitch Flicks’ spring intern

Hi, all! I’m Sarah Fonseca, Bitch Flicks’ humble intern for spring 2012. Navigating the good, bad, and ugly of cinema with you is definitely going to be a riot, not to mention a privilege.

I’m a would-be journalist-turned-nonfictionist attending Georgia Southern University in Statesboro, Georgia, a relatively podunk college town 50 miles north of Savannah.

Given that Statesboro really is as captivating as it seems, I have plenty of time to binge on (and occasionally boo at) cinema.

My 90s kid sensibilities dominate my tastes in film as much as my queer and feminist ones do. Boyz N the Hood, Silence of the Lambs, Dead Poets Society, The Birdcage, Aimee and Jaguar, Ken Park, Kids, Gia, and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil all hold special places in my heart.

More recently, Bridesmaids, Mona Lisa Smile, Sunshine Cleaning, and Black Swan have also carved out special places of their own.

There is a full chamber reserved for Pariah, provided that I can find a screening of it within 200 miles of here within the next century.

I’m also a lover of well-thought documentaries such as Prodigal Sons, Edie and Thea, Southern Comfort, and Paris is Burning.

My TV pretty much doubles as a footstool these days, but I am always down for a Daria or Golden Girls re-run.

Talking about film has a way of making me just as ravenous as talking about food. Let’s pass the popcorn and get ready for this feature presentation.

While she doesn’t quite have the accent, Sarah Fonseca’s been known to accidently type ‘ya’ll’ in her articles. Thank g-d for copyeditors.

Sarah is currently applying for fellowship with Lambda Literary, and plans to present her paper entitled On the Queering of Hair at next year’s National Women’s Studies Association Conference.