Tag: Sexism

Fall Television Preview: The Answer Is No

No.
People have made a big deal out of the new Fall television shows because many of these new shows star women, either as leads or in ensemble casts. Some shows have yet to premiere, while others, like Whitney, 2 Broke Girls, and New Girl already debuted in early September. But, get this: I don’t have cable. I used to have cable, but then I realized I often watched 47 hours of television in one sitting, rather than the 25 I watch now (via Netflix streaming—even though Netflix refuses to offer hardly anything current, which makes their price-hike all the more infuriating). So I get my news from Twitter, my feminism from Blogs, and my TV from 1995.

Aside from thinking about how Monk could’ve been a really good show if it weren’t so sexist and racist, and how Roseanne got seriously crappy in its last two seasons, and how Ally McBeal might be the most horrendous televised display of faux-feminism slash enlightened sexism I’ve ever seen, I’ve spent some time going over these new Fall television shows by checking out their Web sites, reading their plot summaries, and—my favorite part—looking at how The People In Charge chose to market them. I noticed an overall trend: in addition to the increase in shows starring women, we’re about to be treated to a whole litany of Man-Shows.

When I say “Man-Shows,” I don’t mean television programming that merely stars men. I’m talking about some serious “Lest Anyone Forget—What With All These New Shows Starring Women—WE ARE STILL VERY POWERFUL MASCULINE MEN ON TV WE OWN EVERYTHING NO SERIOUSLY ROAR” Neanderthal action. I find it simultaneously hilarious and unacceptable. As always, both men and women get to see themselves as caricatures and stereotypes—courtesy of society’s regressive gender constraints—portrayed in television, particularly on network TV. Some of the more offensive “Man-Shows” this season include, Man Up!, How to Be a Gentleman, and Last Man Standing. In fact, NPR just published an excellent piece by Linda Holmes titled, “Congratulations, Television! You Are Even Worse at Masculinity Than Femininity!” in which she asks the following:

… Where, on television, are the men who both like football and remember birthdays? Where are the men who can have a highly insightful drink-and-talk with friends? Where are the men who are great dads, great husbands, great boyfriends? Where are the men who are dedicated to important jobs? Where are the men who aren’t seeking reassurance about what it means to be men? Where are, in short, all the men I rely on in my day-to-day life?

All good questions indeed.

I’m sure the male characters in these shows are total clichés portrayed in absolutes—or, as Holmes notes, “Men who are emotionally reactive … are weak; men who are emotionally inert … are clueless.” I also believe that the major force driving these narratives about manhood and masculinity is a direct result of our society’s fear and hatred of the feminine. In the very narrow worlds of film and television, isn’t it more often other men who label emotionally reactive men “weak,” … while women label emotionally inert men “clueless”? Men can’t win in these worlds; that’s certainly true. It starts at the beginning, with our collective call for boys to “stop acting like whiny little girls”—because, as boys and girls both learn, being a girl is The Worst.

My point? This very limited view of gender and gender expectations isn’t a new trend. And, while I agree with Holmes’ take in general, I don’t see these portrayals as having worsened in TV, either. I see them as possibly more overt this season, and I see the Man-Shows as an obvious reaction (i.e. backlash) against the increase in shows about women and the displays of femininity that accompany them. And if what Holmes says is in fact true, that “In both cases, women don’t want to have sex with them [weak and clueless men], even if they’re married to them,” I actually find it much easier to swallow than I do the Apatowian version of that story, where emotionally stunted man-children all across the globe end up living happily ever after (and sexually fulfilled) with Katherine Heigl and Elizabeth Banks.

Holmes also expresses concern over the “silly women” in Fall television but ultimately argues, “At least they are not presented as women who are being women incorrectly,” (you know, the way men are presented as being men incorrectly). I find that statement interesting. I mean, if you take a close look at the roles women play on these brand spankin’ new TV shows, the “at least women aren’t presented as being women incorrectly” argument doesn’t hold up. It’s funny, actually. Because the definitions of what these women are even allowed to be on television certainly trumps any notion of whether they’re being it correctly. (Besides, I’m about 175% sure that women judging women or men judging women for dressing too slutty or being bad moms/teachers/wives/sisters or gaining weight or not gaining weight or smiling or not smiling happens about three thousand times per episode. On each show.)


Here’s a list of woman-centered shows premiering September through November, along with the roles and/or occupations of the women (when I could find the information on the Web site): a murder witness (Ringer), a wife, career woman, and mom (Up All Night), a witch (The Secret Circle), waitresses (2 Broke Girls), Playboy bunnies (The Playboy Club), a teacher (New Girl), a homicide detective (Unforgettable), a vengeful woman (Revenge), beautiful detectives (Charlie’s Angels), an unmarried woman (Whitney), a homicide detective (Prime Suspect), flight attendants (Pan Am), a doctor (Hart of Dixie), a CIA agent (Homeland), clueless moms (I Hate My Teenage Daughter), a “crazy” health and beauty executive (Enlightened).

I look at this list, and my first instinct is to go, “Yay! Women get to be detectives, too!” And that’s certainly progress—if we’re comparing this Fall TV season to, like, the days of Leave It to Beaver. The rest of the roles on the list, with the exception of “doctor,” embody careers/roles traditionally held and/or performed by women. That isn’t to suggest anything inherently negative about those roles; I’m merely stating a fact. I wouldn’t doubt that most of the women characters in the male-dominated fields (homicide detective, doctor, CIA agent) also get the wonderful bonus of being The Lone Woman, spending 90% of her time surrounded by men (Smurfette Principal, anyone?) …

… shit, maybe I’m defining “woman-centered” too loosely, out of desperation.

Here’s a list of man-centered shows premiering September through November, along with the roles and/or occupations of the men (when I could find the information on the Web site): a former CIA agent (Person of Interest), a mysterious billionaire (Person of Interest), a surgeon (A Gifted Man), a writer (How to Be a Gentleman), a personal trainer (How to Be a Gentleman), a marketing director (Last Man Standing), an insurance salesman (Man Up!), a homicide detective (Grimm), a mayor (Boss), a soldier (Hell on Wheels).

Can I be a mysterious billionaire? I want that role. Or Mayor. Can I be Mayor? Ha. I think I need to step back. First, it stinks that TV wants to get in on that whole man-child bankability thing that the movie industry has relied on since, what, Animal House? But the man-child isn’t really a new thing for TV, is it? (See Friends, Arrested Development, The Big Bang Theory, Parks and Recreation, My Name Is Earl, Monk, et al.) Instead, the novel thing for Fall TV appears to be the man-child’s sudden mission to Reclaim His Masculinity—a popular yet very regressive and harmful version of masculinity that, let’s face it, kept George W. Bush in the White House for eight years.

Second, make no mistake, TV stinks big-time for women this season, too. I refuse to fall into the trap I used to always fall into. I’d say something like, “Look! More woman-centered shows! Progress for women!” But now I know better—it ain’t just about visibility. (See Palin, Bachmann, et al.) Women as Playboy bunnies? It’s 2011. You can take your nostalgia and shove it. A woman having a nervous breakdown to the laughter of audiences everywhere? I already do that every day in real life. (I just laughed out loud.) In conclusion, I’d like to get to a point in television where women can be more than crazy, vengeful, murder-witnessing waitresses babysitting a man-child.
 
Yes. This entire post was merely a lead-in to the phrase “murder-witnessing waitresses babysitting a man-child.” You’re welcome.


Quote of the Day: Barbara J. Berg

Visit Barbara J. Berg’s Web site for more information.
Yesterday, I wrote a piece analyzing two misogyny-filled reviews of I Don’t Know How She Does It. The process got me thinking quite a bit about the ways in which reputable movie critics choose to evaluate films, particularly woman-centered films. Most critics loved Bridesmaids, but that isn’t remotely shocking if you read Bridesmaids as another Apatow-branded gross-out fest that just happened to star women. Personally, I believe that reading shortchanges the film, but I also believe the undercurrent of all too familiar man-child humor helped Bridesmaids not only stake its claim at the top of the box office, but also transcend the dreaded “chick flick” label. Other movies showcasing women rarely get that kind of respect from critics, perhaps because they lack that Apatowian guy-cred, or perhaps because they’re generally just not taken seriously. 
Sexism in America: Alive, Well, and Ruining Our Future by Barbara J. Berg, Ph.D., was published in 2009, pre-Bridesmaids sensation. In chapter 19, “Missing at the Multiplex,” Berg discusses, well, what we discuss at Bitch Flicks: the objectification, silencing, and absence of women and girls in film and television. Her astute observations about the reaction by male critics (and men in general) to the release of Sex and the City: The Movie deserves a spotlight here–because it encapsulates a larger trend I see among male film critics to rake these woman-centered films over the fucking coals. Make no mistake, SATC was a shitty movie. Amber and I reviewed it, and we both agreed it was terribly shitty. But men have a strong tendency to approach many films about women–and I’m talking about movies that don’t qualify for that coveted injection of Apatow-sponsored Guy Approval (like the one Bridesmaids got)–with a disdain so palpable one can’t help but go, “What the fuck, man?”

Which brings me to our Quote of the Day.  

The one notable exception to the hailing males of Hollywood is the movie Sex and the City (SATC), a smash hit racking up fifty-seven million dollars on its opening weekend. Just about every reviewer mentioned the gal pals responsible for this spectacular success, just as they made much of male absence (except for gay men, who are presumably big fans).

Of course, there’s the old adage in Tinsel Town that women will see a “male” movie, but not vice versa. Still, the way men dissed SATC (most without having seen it) hints at something deeper going on. Perfectly wonderful men shuddered in horror at the very mention of the movie. They seemed absolutely phobic, as though watching a movie about four devoted friends who together wielded power and authority was an affront to their manhood.

“In an Internet Movie Database poll, 7,197 men voted to give SATC an average score of 3.8–that puts it among the worst movies of the year,” reported Ramin Setoodeh in Newsweek (June 16, 2008). Male reviewers were particularly nasty. Anthony Lane wrote in The New Yorker that the movie “was more like a TV show on steroids. . . . All the film lacks is a subtitle, ‘The Lying, the Bitch and the Wardrobe.’ David Poland at Hot Button said, “The only genuinely emotional moment I experienced in this film came to pass in a moment where the characters actually shut up for a moment.”

SATC is the first movie in a long time to reverse the formula and put women, not men, at center stage. Is it a big surprise that many males immediately called for them to be silenced? Maybe they’re just pissed that SATC scored more at the box office than their favorite “dick flick,” Indiana Jones.

Thoughts?

 

I Don’t Know How She Does It: Most Misogynistic Film Reviews Ever

 
I Don’t Know How She Does It, starring Sarah Jessica Parker
I have no doubt that the recently released romantic comedy I Don’t Know How She Does It, starring Sarah Jessica Parker, reeks of the same sexist and misogynistic tropes that exist in most romantic comedies. However, the film probably at least attempts to make a complicated argument regarding how women with high-powered careers and a family struggle to balance both of them, especially in a society that still doesn’t offer pay equity, doesn’t insist on equal sharing of responsibilities in the domestic sphere (as evidenced by every study ever), and doesn’t fully embrace nontraditional roles in child-rearing (e.g. stay-at-home dads). Some reviewers even argue that this particular kind of film doesn’t matter anymore; we’re so far past this; it’s such an 80s issue. Because we’re so postfeminist, right? Um, wrong. The fact is, women in the workforce still, in 2011, contend with these issues. We’re asked to sacrifice our family for our career … or our career for our family … in a way that men have never been asked to do or, more importantly perhaps, have never been labeled Worst Father Ever for doing so.

I haven’t seen the film, so I can’t comment on how successfully or unsuccessfully it tackles these issues, or whether it ultimately validates the dominant ideology that women shouldn’t sacrifice family for career, or whether it works to move past its showcasing of upper-class privilege in an economic climate that certainly makes the career/family balancing act an important issue for all women. Unfortunately, I can, however, comment on how successfully or unsuccessfully film reviewers have discussed the film. Just reading the brief snippets of reviews on Rotten Tomatoes pissed me off. (You’ve been warned.) But two reviews in particular—Stephen Holden’s in the New York Times and David Cox’s in the Guardian—sent me over the fucking edge.

Holden begins his review by talking about Sarah Jessica Parker’s plague of “post-Carrie Parkeritis” and describes it as a curse “in which a star finds herself condemned to eke out the last drops of freshness from the role … that made her world famous eons ago.” He then goes on to compare Sarah Jessica Parker’s Sex and the City problem with Julia Roberts’ Pretty Woman problem, which he dubs “The Roberts Syndrome.” This is seriously problematic. Julia Roberts, since her role in Pretty Woman twenty years ago, has won an Oscar, has been nominated for several Oscars, has won several Golden Globes, has been nominated for two Critics’ Choice Awards (and won the Best Actress category), has been nominated for an Emmy and an Independent Spirit Award, has won about a million People’s Choice Awards, and is generally considered one of the most popular and talented actresses on the planet.

You don’t get to compare Julia Roberts’ entire career to Sarah Jessica Parker’s entire career just because they’re both women who became famous for playing a character the audience connected with. If we’re being honest about identifying a problem “in which a star [is] condemned to eke out the last drops of freshness from the role … [made] famous eons ago,” a more apt comparison might involve, oh, say … any successful male action star who keeps making the same action movies over and over and over and will only, forever, in his entire career, continue to make the same incessant action movies. Comparing one famous film star who has a vagina with another famous film star who has a vagina doesn’t make the comparison fucking true.

But it gets worse. Holden employs the most sexist language I’ve ever read in a New York Times film review. I’ll just pull some quotes, for starters, with the offending passages in bold:

“Although the movie is chock-full of smart one-liners, and Ms. Parker’s maniacally giddy Kate wages a full-scale charm offensive, the movie inadvertently makes Kate’s supposedly golden life look like a living hell.”

***
“The jittery momentum of the movie, directed by Douglas McGrath (“Emma,” “Infamous”), mirrors Kate’s frazzled state all too well.”

***
“But more often than not, Ms. Parker’s straining to be funny comes across as desperation to please.”

***
“Mr. Kinnear’s Richard is a near-cipher who reacts to Kate’s hysteria with mild exasperation, only raising his voice once (and not very loud).”

***
“A calm, enlightened, impossibly courtly, unattached widower who tolerates Kate’s every quirk and begins to fall in love with her, he is the polar opposite of a driven financial kingpin like Richard Fuld, the final former chief executive of Lehman Brothers.”

***
“The movie’s one unalloyed delight is Olivia Munn’s portrayal of Kate’s poker-faced assistant, Momo, a spiritual first cousin of Anna Kendrick’s Natalie Keener in “Up in the Air,” but icier and more robotic. Beneath Momo’s composure lurks a terror that leaks out when she learns she is pregnant.”

***
“Carrie Bradshaw flirted her way into mass consciousness in the late ’90s, when Ms. Parker was in her early 30s, and well before Sept. 11, two wars and a major recession dampened American exuberance. If Kate’s hyperkinetic cheer and shrill self-absorption are Carrie trademarks, 13 years after “Sex and the City” first appeared on television, their appeal has all but evaporated.”

Maniacally giddy. Full-scale charm offensive. Frazzled state. Desperation to please. Kate’s hysteria. Kate’s every quirk. A terror that leaks out when she learns she is pregnant. Icier and more robotic. Flirted her way into mass consciousness. Hyperkinetic cheer and shrill self-absorption. Straining to be funny. (Nice channeling of the douchebag Hitchens here.) Holden’s review employs sexist language—words and phrases traditionally used to define and identify the behavior of women—and unapologetically does so. Hysteria? Quirky? Frazzled? Shrill? No. Some people will inevitably argue (or silently think) that this isn’t a big deal. Make no mistake—these supposed “little” issues provide a fucking breeding ground for the “bigger,” more important issues women face daily. That’s just how it works.

It’s no secret that I lost a significant amount of respect for the New York Times when its botched coverage of a sexual assault did nothing more than condone rape and rape culture. In this case, Holden’s review perpetuates sexism and sexist attitudes in a much more subtle but no less significant way. I expect more than this from a supposedly progressive media organization such as the New York Times. (Sort of.) I also expect more from the fucking Guardian. What the hell, David Cox? If Holden’s sexism was subtle … Cox’s sexism is a full-frontal attack on women in the workforce:

“The family and the job keep making annoying demands, all of which she pluckily tries to meet.”

***
“He’s [Kate’s husband] trying to pursue a career of his own, but when junior falls down the stairs it’s Dad who has to take him to hospital, since Mom’s away on business yet again.”

***
“Hubby comes to appreciate that he’s got to do more of the housework. This surely is the way things ought to be … 

It’s not only Kate who thinks so. Highly advantaged women often seem to assume they’re entitled to total fulfilment both at work and at home … If they don’t get it, they’ve been robbed.”

***
“Ambitious mums can try to turn their partners into house-husbands, but it would be only fair to tell them what they’re in for. Instead of expecting childless colleagues to cover for them, they could admit that mumps and nativity plays will come first, and accept the consequences, however unwelcome.” 

***
“It’s like this, Kate. If you want to have it all, it’s your job to work out how to do it. If you can’t, give something up. But don’t expect the rest of us to underwrite your bliss.”

Wow. Instead of analyzing this completely misogynistic, mean-spirited, and resentment-filled mess of a film “review,” I’ll do something that will blow your fucking mind. Pretend you’re browsing the internet. You’re interested in a new film that’s come out about how difficult it is for men to juggle both their families and their careers. (Don’t laugh.) You stumble upon a review in the Guardian. It looks something like this:

“The family and the job keep making annoying demands, all of which he pluckily tries to meet.”

***
“She’s [his wife] trying to pursue a career of her own, but when junior falls down the stairs it’s Mom who has to take him to hospital, since Dad’s away on business yet again.”

***
“Wifey comes to appreciate that she’s got to do more of the housework. This surely is the way things ought to be … 

It’s not only her husband who thinks so. Highly advantaged men often seem to assume they’re entitled to total fulfilment both at work and at home … If they don’t get it, they’ve been robbed.”

***
“Ambitious dads can try to turn their partners into house-wives, but it would be only fair to tell them what they’re in for. Instead of expecting childless colleagues to cover for them, they could admit that mumps and nativity plays will come first, and accept the consequences, however unwelcome.” 

***
“It’s like this, Man. If you want to have it all, it’s your job to work out how to do it. If you can’t, give something up. But don’t expect the rest of us to underwrite your bliss.”

This version of the “review” is funny, ridiculous, difficult to follow (not to mention imagine), and sad. It illustrates the fact that men don’t have to “assume they’re entitled to total fulfillment both at work and at home” because our society says they’re entitled to it. Ambitious dads don’t have to “try to turn their partners into house-[wives]” because our society still says in 2011 that it’s preferable for women—not men—to stay home with the children. Men in the workforce aren’t “expecting childless colleagues to cover for them” because our society doesn’t expect men to carry the brunt of childcare responsibilities—that’s still women’s work. If men “want to have it all” it’s not “[their] job to work out how to do it” because our society has already worked out how to do it, often at the expense of women’s happiness and individual autonomy. (Side note: I find it nothing less than cruel and unusual that these expectations of women still exist, yet access to birth control, reproductive healthcare, and abortion is becoming increasingly elusive.)

The language of these two film reviews says much more about the reviewers and their misogyny—regardless of whether they intended to come across as sexist—than it does about the actual film. I find it troubling that a movie attempting to explore an issue that women still struggle with (even if it ends up reinforcing rather than critiquing the problem) gets so much coverage, not of the success or failure of its subject matter, but of the pluckiness, giddiness, flirtatiousness, hysteria, and general over-reaching of its main woman character. As if that weren’t enough, and we needed a healthy dose of objectification thrown in for good measure, the free newspaper Metro made sure they had it covered.

Thanks Holden, Cox, and Metro! Truly great work here indeed.

Mad Men and the Role of Nostalgia

The cast of Mad Men — aren’t they lovely?
There are two significant moments in Mad Men when nostalgia is overtly discussed. The first comes in season one, episode thirteen (“The Wheel”). Don/Dick has just learned that his brother committed suicide, and he brings his feelings about his own past—particularly his strong desire to construct a past that erases the Whitmans—to sell a product. In a pitch to Kodak, for a campaign to sell a storage device that holds slides and allows you to click through them, he says, 

Technology is a glittering lure, but there’s the rare occasion when the public can be engaged on a level beyond flash, if they have a sentimental bond with the product. My first job, I was in house at a fur company with this old pro copywriter–a Greek, named Teddy. Teddy told me the most important idea in advertising is “new.” It creates an itch. You simply put your product in there   as a kind of calamine lotion. But he also talked about a deeper bond with the product: nostalgia.  It’s delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound.” It’s a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards… it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels – around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved. 

It’s a lovely pitch (which sends Harry, who was recently kicked out of his home for cheating, out of the room in tears) and an effective one: Don seals the deal. (Watch the clip here.)
In season four, episode six (“Waldorf Stories”), Don–drunk on booze and ego after his CLIO award win–recycles his “nostalgia pitch” for Life Cereal and the proposed “Eat Life by the bowlful” campaign. 

But I keep thinking about, you know, nostalgia. How you remember something in the past and it feels good, but it’s a little bit painful. Like when you were a kid. 

One can surmise, if at all familiar with Don’s state of mind and lifestyle at this point, that this pitch doesn’t go as well. The meeting is a mess, and Don inadvertently pitches someone else’s idea as his own. (I couldn’t find this clip available online.)
These are two brilliant, meta moments in a show that is, in some ways, all about nostalgia. If we think of the show itself as a product, it works on both levels described in Don’s eloquent pitch. For viewers who didn’t live through the sixties, the show provides a uniquely detailed window on an era we never experienced and may only vaguely know, and the culture has produced plenty of “calamine lotion” for this group. For those who lived through the sixties, the show itself can be the Kodak carousel–taking viewers to that place they may ache to go again: their own past. 
Surfaces are everything in Mad Men. In response to Mad Men’s critical and popular success, Brooks Brothers and Banana Republic have launched “Mad Men” clothing collections, so you can dress like Don or Betty. If you’re a woman with curves, you can buy the “Mad Men-inspired” bra to “banish those unsightly bulges” (not that the model pictured has bulges anywhere). You can style your hair like the characters of Mad Men and go retro. You can serve Mad Men-inspired cocktails or have an entire Mad Men-themed party (if you’re a guest, you can buy the host a Mad Men-inspired gift). If it’s the interiors that excite you, Woman’s Day magazine–which finds “the show’s visuals even more spectacular than its storylines”–will help you out with its “Mad Men-Inspired Home Decor,” and if you have money to burn, you can buy CB2’s Draper Sofa. If you’re the bookish type, here’s a Mad Men-Inspired Summer Reading List. If you really can’t get enough of the era, tune in this fall to The Playboy Club or Pan-Am.
The above barely scratches the surface of the cultural and commercial impact of Mad Men. You could virtually live your life as a Mad Men character. But why?
A major theme in Mad Men is gender, and it is one of the few shows on television that overtly critiques institutionalized sexism—and we can even, justly, call the show feminist. Here’s what I fear may also be happening: in a culture that claims to be post-feminist, post-ironic, and even post-racial, in which social justice movements lack unity, and even many educated people believe women have achieved “enough” equality (enough, at least, to no longer fight for our basic rights like access to health care and equal pay), aren’t people also maybe a little bit, even unconsciously, nostalgic for a time of clearer definitions? While I would never argue that anyone would want to return to gender and/or racial dynamics of the early 1960s, shouldn’t we attribute at least some of the show’s success to the conservative desire to ‘return to a simpler time?’ Is it not possible that we have an unconscious (or even subconscious) desire to return to a place where we can clearly point to a behavior and call it like it is: Sexist. Racist. Homophobic. Wrong.
In a culture where third-wave conflicts with second wave, where there is a conservative-led war on women’s access to health care and bodily autonomy that the liberal party largely ignores, in which the celebrity status of a couple of female politicians (who happen to hold extremely regressive positions on issues affecting women) passes as achievement of gender equality, in which women have suffered greatly in a recession dubbed the “Mancession” by media, wouldn’t it be nice if things were a bit clearer? Doesn’t our society wish we could call it in real life like we call it on that show? And don’t we also enjoy that feeling of superiority–that we’re oh-so enlightened compared to the barbarous behavior of those characters–when in reality things haven’t changed as much as we’d like to think? 
In a show that quietly argues that sexism and misogyny severely harm women and men, what do we make of all the damn cultural imitation? Where and how do we draw the line between admiring and desiring the surfaces (the clothes, the decor, the general air of coolness), and wanting what’s underneath?

Mad Men Week: Is Mad Men the Most Feminist Show on TV?

Written by Megan Kearns, cross-posted from The Opinioness of the World.

So I arrived very late to the Mad Men party. As a self-proclaimed TV connoisseur and a feminist, I’m picky about the shows I choose to let into my life. But due to the urgings of my boyfriend Jeff and my girlfriends Lauren and Sarah H., I finally succumbed to its siren song and watched, catching up on all 4 seasons. I want my TV shows to possess fully formed female characters, crackling dialogue and twisting plots…if they imbue social commentary, all the better. Much to my delight, (and if you’re already a fan, you know what I’m talking about) Mad Men bursts with all of these. The show about an ad agency in Manhattan in the 1960s is also incredibly meticulous and historically accurate with its cigarettes, mid-day cocktails and skirt-chasing. So what’s a feminist’s take on this show and its sexist themes?
In the Washington Post, Professor Stephanie Coontz passionately writes about feminism and the historical accuracy of Mad Men. She asserts,

Historians are notorious for savaging historical fiction. We’re quick to complain that writers project modern values onto their characters, get the surroundings wrong, cover up the seamy side of an era or exaggerate its evils — and usually, we’re right. But AMC’s hit show “Mad Men”…is a stunning exception. Every historian I know loves the show; it is, quite simply, one of the most historically accurate television series ever produced. And despite the rampant chauvinism of virtually all its male characters (and some of its female ones), it is also one of the most sympathetic to women…But in 1965, feminism wasn’t a cultural option for most women. It would be another year before the National Organization for Women, the group that gave so many women the legal tools to fight discrimination, would be founded. Newspapers still ran separate want ads with separate pay scales for female jobs, seeking “poised, attractive” secretaries and “peppy gal Fridays.”

Coontz calls Mad Men the most feminist show on TV…and I couldn’t agree more. Most shows either don’t have female characters or have them as love interests or sex symbols. Battlestar Galactica delighted me because it had a multitude of female characters. Mad Men does too. But I’ve rarely seen a show that tackled sexism in such an overt way. Murphy Brown and Roseanne did…but that was back in the 80s and 90s. Many shows today ignore that sexism still exists. Now of course Mad Men takes place in the 60s. Yet creator and writer Matthew Weiner told the NY Times that he pulls ideas from many situations that have happened to people in this decade.
Peggy Olson (Elizabeth Moss), the show’s most brazen feminist, diligently climbed her way up from working as Don’s secretary to the only female copywriter and then to head copywriter with the capacity to fire people. In season 1’s episode “Babylon,” sweet and ambitious Peggy comes up with the “Basket of Kisses” campaign for Belle Jolie lipsticks, as she rightly counters that “no one wants to be one of a hundred colors in a box,” the original campaign for the cosmetics. I love her, even as I sometimes want to shake her for bad decisions (like sleeping with Duck). In the beginning of season 2, we see that she gave up her baby. Peggy continually chooses to focus on her career rather than on getting married and settling down, bucking societal standards. In season 4’s episode “The Beautiful Girls,” Peggy discusses civil rights and feminism with Abe, a friend of a friend, at a bar. She poses,

“But I have to say, most of the things negroes can’t do, I can’t do either. And nobody seems to care…Half of the meetings take place over golf, tennis, and a bunch of clubs where I’m not allowed to be a member or even enter.”

Abe sarcastically responds that maybe we should have a “a civil rights march for women.” Peggy astutely voiced the frustrations many women faced; they simply were not (and still aren’t) treated equally.
Bombshell office manager Joan Harris (formerly Holloway), my fave character along with Pete Campbell (whom I simultaneously love/hate), is played by the phenomenal Christina Hendricks. When I first started watching, I was worried she would merely be eye candy. But I was pleasantly surprised as Joan is intelligent, assertive and articulate. She possesses an impressive lexicon and knowledge of history, as well as doling out fashion tips (not too much cleavage) and social mores (no crying in the break room!). But it was when Joan read TV scripts for Harry in season 2 in the episode “A Night to Remember,” when it was apparent that she excelled at a job beyond managing secretaries. Yet rather than offering her the position, they hire someone else, never giving her, a woman, a second thought. Her reaction to this news broke my heart. In season 4’s episode “The Summer Man,” when Joey and Joan clash, he dismisses Joan to Peggy, not recognizing her value in running the office. A raging chauvinist asshole, Joey issues an offensive insult to Joan, 
“What do you do around here besides walking around like you’re trying to get raped?”

Swell guy…not sure who’s worse, him or Joan’s husband McRapist. As Coontz writes, 

there wasn’t even a word for the sexual harassment the character Joan experiences.

Yet Joan is furious at Peggy when she fires him for his misogynistic remarks. Joan may not be a stereotypical feminist or self-righteous like Peggy. And yes she married a rapist. But she’s a feminist nonetheless; she just maneuvers the terrain differently. Rather than coming at the situation head-on (something I would want to do like Peggy), Joan realizes that will just reinforce the men in the office’s perceptions of women as difficult bitches. Sadly, she may just be right. 

Joan’s decision to not go through with her abortion this season stirred up controversy. In an article at RH Reality Check, Sarah Seltzer argues,

“Mad Men” is known for being excruciatingly period-specific. Joan was not at a modern-day abortion clinic and she was not privy to a modern-day abortion debate. She had followed a specific plan which involved breaking the law and risking arrest–which speaks to a strong determination to begin with. There were no protesters and no one to tell her what she did was immoral. Sure, by the standards of her time she was a “loose woman” but there was no pro-life movement calling women selfish babykillers…It’s realistic for her character, the time period, and the plot for Joan to have had the abortion. The show’s writers and the many viewers who think “she didn’t go through with it” are imagining a modern-day conception of abortion fueled by iffy anti-choice tropes found in movies like “Juno” or shows like “The Secret Life of the American Teenager.

I agree with Seltzer; too often abortion isn’t shown as an option that rational women decide. But there’s something to be said for storyline and character development, as Eleanor Barkhorn in The Atlantic counters, 

The real reason so many fictional characters choose to keep their babies may be much simpler than any of these theories: Babies advance plotlines, whereas abortions end them. As Ted Miller, a spokesperson for NARAL Pro-Choice America, said, “The history of abortion storylines has been mixed. The very personal circumstances are often lost in the pursuit of dramatic or sensationalized storylines.” An abortion can carry a single episode, or a few scenes in a film, while a baby provides fodder for seasons’ worth of material…Sure, Weiner could have found other ways to teach us more about the characters he’s created. But Joan’s decision on Mad Men—and Miranda’s on Sex and the City, and Juno’s in Juno, and so on—show that on screen, advancing the plot is more important than making a political statement.

Obviously Joan is not anti-abortion as she’s had two previous procedures. Barkhorn points out that some say screenwriters don’t want to show abortions as “they don’t want their heroines to appear unsympathetic.” While 1 in 3 women in the U.S. will have an abortion in her lifetime, it’s so rare for a film or TV show to depict that choice. Only a handful of shows have portrayed a character having an abortion including Maude, Private Practice and Friday Night Lights. Barkhorn also points to characters on Sex and the City (Samantha and Carrie) both of whom had abortions in their characters’ past. But when Miranda becomes pregnant and resigned to have an abortion, she backs out at the last moment. While some characters have gone through with abortions, it makes it seem that it’s a decision that young people choose, not successful adult women. 

Had Mad Men not shown the conversation with her doctor saying that she wanted to start a family, I would have had a much bigger problem with Joan’s decision to not go through with an abortion. Also, Irin Carmon at Jezebel raised the question as to whether or not Joan’s concern over not being able to conceive after multiple abortions was a reasonable worry in 1965. Turns out, it was. As it was illegal, it wasn’t regulated. Also, sharp implements were used, rather than the suction that is utilized now. There’s also the issue with her age as writer/creator Weiner points out. As a 34-year old woman, she knew her biological clock was ticking. Yet it would have been great for a bold show like Mad Men to show one of their main characters choosing an abortion.
Dr. Faye Miller (Cara Buono), a psychologist and marketing research analyst, is another strong independent woman on the show we’re introduced to in season 4. Peggy isn’t the only one who puts her work first. Dr. Faye has a conversation in which she tells Don that she chose to focus on her career rather than have children and she doesn’t feel her life is lacking. These are choices that were very real for women in the 60s but women still contend with today. It’s interesting to see just how far we haven’t come. When Dr. Faye says goodbye to Peggy when she leaves the firm in the episode “Blowing Smoke,” Peggy says to her, 

“You do your job so well. They respect you and you don’t have to play any games. I didn’t know that was possible.” 

To which Dr. Faye replies, “Is that what it looks like?” But obviously Faye did play games as she wore a faux wedding ring just so she wouldn’t have to contend with men’s sexual advances. 
But what about the women who do choose marriage and children over a career? Betty Draper (January Jones), now Betty Francis, is the archetypal housewife, and probably the most controversial of the show. In the beginning of the series, many viewers pitied her due to Don’s philandering ways. Besides possessing beauty, Betty is educated, earning a college degree in anthropology (although upper-class women were often expected to go to college with the intent of snaring a husband). Before she married Don, she had a modeling career, making her own money, and traveling around the world. In the episode “Shoot” in season 1, Betty gets a taste of her former independent life as she models again briefly. We also see how much she represses (or rather doesn’t when she starts shooting defenseless birds). Now she’s the character everyone loves to hate. She’s mired in misery, spewing bitterness at everyone around her, especially her children. And speaking of her children, her 10-year-old daughter Sally (Kiernan Shipka) has already exhibited her feisty, independent ways…perhaps a feminist in the making.
And of course no commentary on Mad Men would be complete without a mention of charismatic ladies’ man Don Draper (Jon Hamm), the flawed hero and reluctant conscience of the show. Despite the bed-hopping alcoholic’s missteps, he continually does the right thing, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing so: promoting Peggy to copywriter (even if it is to spite Pete), opposing Betty’s corporal punishment of their children, standing up to big tobacco (even if it is a publicity stunt to garner attention for the firm). He also surrounds himself with intelligent, driven and complex women: Peggy, Anna Draper, Rachel Menken, Midge Daniels, Bobbie Barrett, Dr. Faye Miller, Megan and yes, even frustrating yet tragic Betty. And while we often see them through his broken, tortuous eyes, they certainly hold their own.

Despite the male protagonist and sexist scenes, the show continually passes the Bechdel test, a measure that a film or TV show portrays two women talking to each other and not talking about men. One example is in the season 4 finale “Tomorrowland,” when Betty and housekeeper Carla (sadly, the only character of color on the show) argue about Sally and what it means to be a good mother. But my favorite scene in that episode, and one of the most kick-ass of the whole series, shows Peggy and Joan discussing men marrying their secretaries and how they’re treated at work.

Peggy: “You know I just saved this company. I signed the first new business since Lucky Strike left. But it’s not as important as getting married…again.”  

Joan: “Well I was just made Director of Agency Operations, a title, no money of course. And if they poured champagne it must have been while I was pushing a mail cart.”

Peggy: “A pretty face comes along and everything goes out the window.”

Joan: “Well I learned a long time ago to not get all my satisfaction from this job.” 

Peggy: “That’s bullshit.” 

Then they giggle knowingly.

With their commentary on unequal treatment and pay at work, this conversation could just as easily have taken place in 2005 rather than 1965. In season 4’s episode “The Beautiful Girls” which echoes the theme of the 2nd season (my fave!) which told the stories from the women’s perspectives, at the very end, Joan, Peggy and Dr. Faye all end up in the elevator together. Three different women, different paths but all with the same goals: to be valued for their minds and their work and to achieve success in their careers.
Some aspects of society have obviously changed since the world of Mad Men. Coontz describes how in the 1960s the term sexual harassment wasn’t even coined yet; how Joan being raped by her boyfriend (now husband) Greg was not so uncommon as marital rape wasn’t defined by the courts yet; how Peggy giving up her child for adoption was something many women did; how Faye choosing her career over having children is what many women chose as companies could fire women for getting pregnant; how Betty slapping Sally or using television as a babysitter for Sally and Bobby were routine parenting techniques. Coontz writes, 

We should be glad that the writers are resisting the temptation to transform their female characters into contemporary heroines. They’re not, and they cannot be. That is the brilliance of the show’s script. “Mad Men’s” writers are not sexist. The time period was. 

With the backlash writer Aaron Sorkin rightly received for the sexist portrayal of women as fuck trophies and sex objects in the film The Social Network, it’s an interesting question as to whether the time period and events portrayed are sexist or if the writers’ depictions are sexist. A writer does choose what to show (and not show). This has been one of the valid criticisms of Mad Men, that there are so few people of color on the show. But with regards to sexism, the writers (7 of the 9 writers are women) continually convey the feelings, attitudes and perspectives of how the female characters contend with their sexist surroundings, which invalidates the notion that the writers are sexist. If they were, they would never depict complex, fully developed characters; they would never let us see the thoughts, hopes and fears of the women on the show. 
Some may try to write Mad Men off as chauvinistic but the show begs you to look deeper, analyzing every word, every gesture, to shatter the façade, crack the layers and see what’s actually going on behind the veneer of perfection. The show forces us to examine our flawed history, but also our flawed selves. We are still haunted by the specter of sexism. Women still don’t earn equal pay, and sexist ads clutter up magazines and billboards. Rarely does a show tackle institutional sexism so overtly. Even rarer is the show that not only features a variety of strong, independent women, but actually champions them. Mad Men depicts feminism in many different ways through myriad characters. Beyond being a visually stunning, flawlessly acted show, it should be a reminder, a warning to us that the past is not so distant. We shouldn’t congratulate ourselves on how far we’ve come yet; we still have far to go. In the meantime, I’m going to let the intoxication of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce linger… 
Megan Kearns is a blogger, freelance writer and activist. A feminist vegan, Megan blogs at The Opinioness of the World, where she writes about gender in pop culture, sexism in the media, reproductive justice and living vegan. Her work has also appeared at Arts & Opinion, Italianieuropei, Open Letters Monthly, and A Safe World for Women. She earned her B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology and a Graduate Certificate in Women and Politics and Public Policy. Megan lives in Boston with her diva cat and more books than she will probably ever read in her lifetime. She contributed reviews of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, Something Borrowed, !Women Art Revolution, The Kids Are All Right (for our 2011 Best Picture Nominee Review Series) and The Reader (for our 2009 Best Picture Nominee Series). She was the first writer featured as a Monthly Guest Contributor.

‘Mad Men’ Week: Hey, Brian McGreevy: Vampire Pam Beats Don Draper Any Day

This cross-post by Tami Winfrey Harris previously appeared at Fangs For The Fantasy and What Tami Said.
  
Vampire Pam saying, “He can do it; I’m wearing my favorite pumps.”
How much gender fail and homophobia can one pack into a brief online essay? Screenwriter Brian McGreevy takes a break from doing keg stands at the frat house to show us. In a guest blog for Vulture, McGreevy, who is currently adapting Bram Stoker’s Dracula for Warner Bros., complains that modern vampire books, film and TV shows have “taken the Romantic vampire and cut off his balls, leaving a pallid emo pansy with the gaseous pretentiousness of a perfume commercial.”
*side eye*
The problem, according to McGreevy, is “the female gaze.” It has given us vampire stories that are mere “pornography for tweens.”

Just as the Frito-Lay Company has created virtually nutrient-free vehicles of corn syrup and salt that make our youth fat, slow, and indiscriminate, the Castrati vampire is a confection that has the same impact on the psycho-dramatic imagination of today’s youth. Think of the message here: What is the consequence of falling in with a Romantic vampire? Death, either yours or his. What is the consequence of falling in with the Castrati vampire? Long and torturous (at least to everyone around you) conversations about feelings. This is not what really happens when you fall in with attractive monsters.McGreevy isn’t feeling Stephanie Meyer’s sparkling undead abstaining teens. But he has equal disdain for the sexed up vamps on True Blood, which, in his words, is “like Tennessee Williams fucked The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” See, blood suckers should be real men “ideal men” like Mad Men’s Don Draper.

McGreevy isn’t feeling Stephanie Meyer’s sparkling undead abstaining teens. But he has equal disdain for the sexed up vamps on True Blood, which, in his words, is “like Tennessee Williams fucked The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” See, blood suckers should be real men “ideal men” like Mad Men’s Don Draper.
What?
Yes, McGreevy reckons Don Draper is a far better vampire than any of Twilight’s or True Blood’s.

Of course I refer to Don Draper on the AMC series Mad Men, the purist’s vampire of choice for our time. This one has teeth. And adding an extra layer to the mystique is his position as an advertising executive. A more elegant embodiment of the metaphor could hardly be asked for: He is an engine of want, creating the illusion of fulfillment while sucking you dry. No is not in his vocabulary. Neither is yes—yes is implicit. He knows this, he is past needing to hear you say it. He knows the private and unmentionable place that cries “yes” when the bottom drops out of an amusement park ride and suddenly you are in free fall, and, like the ideal man, he is listening.

When Mad Men first premiered, much of its appeal was attributed to novelty factor: What a different time it was, when the American male was an unrecognizable breed of scandalous, id-driven malefactor; heedless, rapacious, just waiting to slide off his doe-eyed secretary’s pencil skirt and show off his executive account.

…

Men are predators at heart. Any refutation of this is also a refutation of evolution, or the common sense conclusion of observing a typical 3-year-old boy at unstructured play, his wake of destruction the envy of a Visigoth. It is a killer’s heart that is the motive force of masculinity and predation its spirit. This is not to suggest nature is immutable, or that one ought to act in blind obeisance to it, but that “ought” is not in the vocabulary of want, and choosing is meant to have consequences.

Vampires should be real ideal men. Ideal men are amoral. Ideal men kill and destroy things. Ideal men don’t think; they do. Ideal men don’t take “no” for an answer, especially from women. Ideal men are always rampaging heterosexuals, by the way. We can’t argue with this. McGreevy says it’s evolution.
Of course, if Mad Men is any indication, sometimes, under the weight of all those expectations to be sufficiently rapacious and manly, ideal men become sad, functional alcoholics, living in dim and depressing walk-up apartments, alienated from their children, following the dissolution of their soul-destroying marriages to beautiful “house cats.” Or maybe, like Roger Sterling, who McGreevy quotes to close his piece, ideal men become aging party boys, useless but for a last name that once held some power, and trapped in wedlock with the doe-eyed secretary, who, it turns out, wasn’t such a good idea after all.
There is so much wrong with McGreevy’s diatribe that it is hard to know where to start. Let me identify a few problems:
A person who is working on an adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula really ought to have a better understanding of vampirology. McGreevy’s pet version of the vampire is but one of many incarnations. The idea of the vampire can be found all over the world and there is little agreement on what these mythical creatures are like. For instance, Nosferatu, the mother of all vampire films, released in the 1920s, reveals a ratlike creature more monster than man. The idea that Bram Stoker’s is the definitive vampire and that Twilight and True Blood are some affront to the canon is silly—even sillier for someone who is adapting the Stoker story for Leonardo DiCaprio. I’m not sure about the casting for this project, but DiCaprio better not be playing the Count. He’s not fit to carry Gary Oldman’s bat makeup:
McGreevy also conveniently forgets Anne Rice’s vampires. Lestat was in love with Louis, could wear the hell out of some breeches and was also dangerous as fuck. If, as McGreevy states, vampires are stand ins for the ideal man, it’s good to remember that some real men don’t wear tailored suits or chase skirt.
It’s a ridiculous notion, anyway—this “ideal man” business. It’s a good thing that we as a society, save McGreevy, Scott Adams and possibly some members of the men’s rights movement, are letting go of it. Women have undoubtedly been oppressed by the culture of manly manness, but the thing is, so have men—a lot of good men who don’t fit McGreevy’s paradigm. And I would venture to say that most men don’t. And thank goodness for that.
And since when are all vampires MEN? One doesn’t need a penis to be a deadly creature of the night. Catherine Deneuve in The Hunger? Deadly little Claudia in the Rice series? Stoker’s Brides of Dracula and Lucy Westenra? And True Blood’s Pam? Pam would eat Don Draper for lunch. Literally.
To use Lafayette’s vernacular, here’s what I’m putting down: McGreevy’s thoughts on vampires, manliness and gender roles? Hot buttered horsepucky. All of it. If the writer is bringing this sort of regressive ridiculousness to his screenplay, then his version of Stoker’s Dracula is one I can surely miss.
Tami Winfrey Harris writes about race, feminism, politics and pop culture at the blog What Tami Said. Her work has also appeared online at The Guardian’s Comment is Free, Ms. Magazine blog, Newsweek, Change.org, Huffington Post and Racialicious. She is a graduate of the Iowa State University Greenlee School of Journalism. She spends her spare time researching her family history and cultivating a righteous ‘fro. She cross-posted her review of Sucker Punch at Bitch Flicks.

YouTube Break: Peggy Olson on Women in the Workplace

Ah, Mad Men. I have such mixed feelings about the show, which is part of the reason I haven’t written about it here. Yet.* With seasons 1-4 now streaming on Netflix, and with the fifth season premiering sometime in 2012 (delayed while star Jon Hamm inked a 3-year, 8-figure deal), now is a good time to really look at the show. (Hint.)
Here is a cheeky little ad the FX network created for the show, highlighting feminist fave Peggy Olson.

If you haven’t seen Mad Men, how do you feel about this advertisement? If you’re familiar–or a fan–devoid of its context, doesn’t the ad appear to be promoting the very sexist ideology the show attempts to critique? (Oh, right, but it’s ironic, which excuses it from everything, am I right?)

*Stay tuned for our announcement and Call for Writers for Mad Men Week here at Bitch Flicks!

Movie Posters: Are You Ready for Death/Love/Prison?

The Throat

Ladies, if you want to marry, date, fuck, and/or kill a man, getting dangerously close to the jugular is totally the way to go. That way, you can scare him into loving/dying (it’s apparently the same thing). Also, hold him down or push him against the wall; that’s the best way to ensure he’s freaked out enough to effectively fall into your loving and/or borderline stalker-murderous-psychotic arms.

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The Back

Awww, girls, look how quirky-cute you are, with your legs wrapped around your man (you can’t get away now, boys!) or your breasts on the verge of popping out of your mini-tank slash sports bra into the face of the guy you’re using as a tabletop. And these posters tell me so much about the films, too! Really:

1) your man is going to carry you away from your god-awful once man-less life
2) you’re going to ride the shit out of your man while … possibly selling your body?
3) boobs

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The Rope

First of all, the women of Blind Dating clearly represent all women that a man might potentially have the pleasure of one day blind dating. There are no female stereotypes in this poster at all whatsoever. And my god isn’t he so completely gorgeous and worthy of all this hot-girl worship? This poster doesn’t remind me at all whatsoever of films with average-joe male leads who somehow end up in a clusterfuck of girl-stalk. That would, in fact, be a ridiculous concept in general, one that would definitely never hold up as an actual movie plot. And Four Christmases, thanks for the Christmas present illustration. I’m not quite sure which obvious rom-com bullshit I’m supposed to take from that—their relationship is a gift? they’re in it together? ohmigod don’t leave me?—but thanks. Seriously, thanks.

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The Gag

See what women do, boys? Emasculate. Dominate. Take away your ability to, you know, speak. And don’t they look like they’re having a blast doing it?

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The Tie
Pretty Woman and Ghosts of Girlfriends Past are separated by, what, twenty years? Yet it’s the same. fucking. poster. Well, the newer version contains the bachelor’s previous girlfriends, looking all suspicious and conniving, like women do. But both posters still give off that grab-your-man-by-the-leash vibe. He needs to be tamed. By you. Before he can settle down and give you that nuclear family and ultimate feeling of completeness that all women desire. And Jennifer Aniston, every guy’s girl-next-door-girl, will totally either strangle Ben Stiller or help him loosen up and have fun! You go girl! If he needs changing and/or saving, you’re certainly the woman to do it.

Movie Posters: A Bitch Flicks Verbal Beatdown

Dear Filmmakers, Movie Promoters, Marketing Teams, Poster Designers, et al:

Recently, I spent some time gathering movie posters for several of last year’s top-grossing films. I noticed that in movies with male leads, the posters usually featured them prominently, with either up-close shots of their faces (smiling in a mocking “I’m hilarious!” way, or looking pretty bad-ass, like they’re about to do some shit). Or, the posters showed full-body shots of them already engaged in some kind of action.

That led me to wonder about the movie posters with female leads and whether they would contain the same elements. I did some research, looking for movie posters that featured lead actresses, and making it a point to leave out the most offensive posters (extreme close-ups of body parts, etc) of which there were many. I specifically looked for posters where the female lead took up most, if not all of it, and I tried to favor facial close-ups.

In case you weren’t aware, many of the less offensive promotional movie posters featured below still led me to believe at least one of the following about the lead actress’s potential role in the film:

A. she will spend most of her time in the movie trying to fuck someone

B. she will spend most of her time in the movie trying to get fucked by someone

C. she will spend most of her time in the movie trying to kill someone

D. she will spend most of her time in the movie trying to avoid getting killed

E. she will spend most of her time in the movie trying to avoid killing herself

F. she will spend most of her time in the movie being adorable

I’m curious as to whether this was intentional, or if you’ve internalized so much of our cultural hatred toward women that you subconsciously cast them as passive objects rather than active subjects, even in cases where the actresses play very active roles in the films. (Case in point: The Pelican Brief. In this film, Julia Roberts spends some of the time trying to avoid getting killed and the rest of the time completely blowing open a government fucking conspiracy. Yet the poster merely suggests ohmygod fear.)

I will concede that there are certainly cases where the lead actress actually plays a passive object, but for the most part, that’s not the case. And for the record, using these posters to portray the leading ladies as seductresses and/or sexy yet crazed-looking potential serial killers does not constitute an active subject. Please advise.

Love,

Bitch Flicks

P.S. It’s fine with us if you want to put more women of color on movie posters. But that would require giving them their own movies, wouldn’t it?