Shirley MacLaine – Bitch Flicks

The Great Actresses: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts for The Great Actresses Theme Week here.

Louise Brooks: A Feminist Ahead of Her Time by Victoria Negri

Brooks and her characters were powerful women, fighting for control of their lives. In Roger Ebert’s review of Pandora’s Box, he states, “Life cannot permit such freedom, and so Brooks, in her best films, is ground down—punished for her joy.” Her real life mirrored her characters, often being punished for her freedom and feminist power.

Ellen Page Is Like the Coolest Actress We Know, And She Doesn’t Even Have to Try by Angelina Rodriguez

Page explained that she has a sense of responsibility that compels her to be honest and ethical as a person and a public figure. This same integrity will help her to continue her dedication to playing strong, interesting, dimensional characters that speak to young women. She sets her standards high with her roles and looks for stories with uniqueness, depth, and a message.

The Unfinished Legacy of Pam Grier by Leigh Kolb

Grier’s legacy has lasted over four decades, but there’s something about her career that leaves me feeling unsettled, as if her filmography is indicative of larger (backward) social trends. She started out headlining action films–an amazing feat for a woman, much less a black woman in the early 1970s. A glance at a few of these films show incredibly feminist themes that are incredibly rare 40 years later. Her early films were groundbreaking, but nothing much was built after that ground was broken.

Carmen Maura: Pedro Almodóvar’s Essential Star by Ren Jender

Writer-director Pedro Almodóvar was able to ride the wave of art house popularity starting in the 80s when theaters were more likely to program subtitled films. He came to prominence in no small part because of his star, Carmen Maura who first gained the attention of U.S. audiences in ‘Law of Desire,’ Almodóvar’s 1987 film, as Tina, the transsexual actress who is the sister of the main character, the gay director Pablo (Eusebio Poncela).

Conveying a Soul: The Greatness of Meryl Streep by Cynhia Arrieu-King

From the feminist angle, Streep’s mold-breaking of the representation of women and her mark on scripts probably adds to her greatness in a way we can never completely measure because we can’t track it. One particular example worth mentioning is that the script for ‘Kramer vs. Kramer’ did not originally explain why Joanna Kramer wants to leave Ted (Dustin Hoffman) and she fought the director Robert Benton on the script until the character is allowed to say why herself.

Why Isn’t Naomie Harris in All the Movies? by Candice Frederick

To say that Harris is a revelation in this film may be an understatement. It not only prepared her to tackle the complex layers of Winnie Madikizela a few years later, but it also proved yet again that she is able to take on a variety of different roles–from heroic to villainous. She solidified a sci-fi fan base with her totally badass performance in 28 Days Later, showed that she can steal scenes from 007 himself, and continues to surprise audiences in roles across all genres.

Another Side of Marilyn Monroe by Gabriella Apicella

Her return to Hollywood in the film version of William Inge’s play Bus Stop was again a chance to shun the glamorous armour of her gold-digger characters, to explore the role of a downtrodden saloon singer with ambitions above her abilities. Not only did her performance stun the film’s director, Joshua Logan, who called her the greatest actress he ever worked with, but it also left critics in no doubt as to her ability.

Pre-Code Hollywood: When the Female Anti-Hero Reigned by Leigh Kolb

We agonize over the lack of female anti-heroes in film and television as if women have never been afforded the opportunity to be good and bad on screen. It clearly wasn’t always this way. And in a time when the regurgitated remake rules Hollywood, perhaps it’s time for producers to dust off some old scripts from the 1920s and 1930s so we can get some fresh, progressive stories about women on screen.

Forgotten Great Black Actresses: “Race Films” in Early Hollywood by Leigh Kolb

Read more about them. Watch their films. Remember who and what has been too easily forgotten.

Great Kate: A Woman for All Ages by Natalia Lauren Fiore

Most of the nine films Kate and Spence did together feature battle-of-the-sex plots which, at certain points, blurred or even reversed the roles women and men typically played in marital or committed relationships. These plots suited Kate’s life-long image of herself as inhabiting both female and male traits, particularly in the wake of her older brother’s tragic death.

Reflections On A Feminist Icon by Rachael Johnson

Possessing mass and cult appeal, the bilingual, Yale-educated Jodie Foster has, moreover, been popular with both mainstream and indie audiences. Although the adult Foster fulfills conventional ideals of female beauty, she has never been a traditional Hollywood sex symbol. She has been both a figure of identification and desire. In many of her roles, she personifies female independence, heroism and resistance. As an actress, she brings a naturalism, intensity and integrity to her performances. She engages audiences both intellectually and emotionally.

Whatshername as a Great Actress: A Celebration of Character Actresses by Elizabeth Kiy

Stop me if you’ve heard this one. A young woman–poised, talented, above all enthusiastic–performs a scene in acting class and is praised by the teacher. The teacher can’t say enough good things about the student, but the main thing she keeps going back to is, “I think you’d be a wonderful character actress!” Now, the student can’t help but beam about this, seeing a brilliant career flashing before her, her name up in lights. She steps back into the group and the woman sitting beside her whispers in her ear, “That’s what they call an actress who isn’t pretty.”

Pre-Code Hollywood: When the Female Anti-Hero Reigned

Written by Leigh Kolb as part of our theme week on The Great Actresses.

An Upworthy post is making the rounds in which Shirley MacLaine, in 1975, is telling an interviewer that the disappearance of the Hays Code in the 1960s was when women stopped getting good, solid roles in Hollywood. While it’s an interesting observation–that if the bedroom was off-limits, filmmakers had to get creative–this viral meme is ignoring the crucial fact that before the Hays Code (or Hollywood Production Code) was enforced in 1934, women’s roles in Hollywood were complicated and women were allowed to be sexual, not just sexy, and have sexual agency.

A quick history:

Until 1930, states had their own regulatory/censorship policies that would deal with films.

In the 1920s, Will H. Hays (a Presbyterian elder who was Postmaster General, a former head of the Republican National Committee, and president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America for 25 years) started working on lists and regulations for the film industry to follow in the interest of “decency.”

In 1929, two male leaders in the Catholic church developed a “code of standards,” and studios were expected to adhere to it. The religious overtones in the “Code” (good must prevail over evil and strict rules about morality) were clear.

For five years, the Code had no “teeth,” and filmmakers still, for the most part, did what they wanted.

In 1934, however, the Production Code Administration (PCA) was formed, and all films released from July 1 onward were required to be approved by the PCA before release.

This was what Hollywood studios adhered to until 1968, when the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) moved to a rating system, which is still in place today.

The years that spanned 1927 (when The Jazz Singer, the first feature-length film with a synchronized soundtrack and dialogue, was released) and 1934 (when the Production Code was officially enforced) saw feature films that had themes and scenes that would seem shocking and progressive today.

In 1929, Norma Shearer starred in The Divorcee, and kicked off a five-year heyday for women in film. The excellent documentary, Complicated Women (based on the book by Mick LaSalle), delves into the actresses and films of this era. The actresses who brought these complex characters to life–including Norma Shearer, Greta Garbo (both of whom fought hard to play complex characters), Jean Harlow, Bette Davis, and Barbara Stanwyck–would go on to act after the Code, but in roles that were much less daring and progressive. Seeing complex women on screen is essential for audiences to get realistic depictions of women, and of course, playing complex women allows great actresses to work to their fullest potential.

When female anti-heroes (rarely) make it on the big- or small-screen now, we act as if it’s revolutionary. However, if we look to film history–before religious white men got control–there is a strong precedent for the female anti-hero.

Simply looking at the IMDb descriptions of some of films from that era show us a great deal about the powerful stories that made it on screen during this time:

The Divorcee (1930, starring Norma Shearer): “When a woman discovers that her husband has been unfaithful to her, she decides to respond to his infidelities in kind.” (Shearer won the Academy Award for Best Actress for this role.)

Anna Christie (1930, starring Greta Garbo): “A young woman reunites with her estranged father and falls in love with a sailor, but struggles to tell them about her dark past.” (Anna Christie was a prostitute, but she is never “punished” for her past; her story ends happily.)

Red-Headed Woman (1932, starring Jean Harlow): “Lil works for the Legendre Company and causes Bill to divorce Irene and marry her. She has an affair with businessman Gaerste and uses him to force society to pay attention to her. She has another affair with the chauffeur Albert.” (Both the book and screenplay were written by women.)

Ex-Lady (1933, starring Bette Davis): “Although free spirit Helen Bauer does not believe in marriage, she consents to marry Don, but his infidelities cause her to also take on a lover.”

Female (1933, starring Ruth Chatterton): “Alison Drake, the tough-minded executive of an automobile factory, succeeds in the man’s world of business until she meets an independent design engineer.”

Baby Face (1933, starring Barbara Stanwyck): “A young woman uses her body and her sexuality to help her climb the social ladder, but soon begins to wonder if her new status will ever bring her happiness.”

Midnight Mary (1933, starring Virginia Davis): “A young woman is on trial for murder. In flashback, we learn of her struggles to overcome poverty as a teenager — a mistaken arrest and prison term for shoplifting and lack of employment lead to involvement with gangsters…”

Queen Christina (1933, starring Greta Garbo): “Queen Christina of Sweden is a popular monarch who is loyal to her country. However, when she falls in love with a Spanish envoy, she must choose between the throne and the man she loves.” (The biopic–about Queen Christina of Sweden–features an on-screen portrayal of Queen Christina’s bisexuality, including a kiss between Queen Christina and her lady-in-waiting.)

Torch Singer (1933, starring Claudette Colbert): “When she can’t support her illegitimate child, an abandoned young woman puts her up for adoption and pursues a career as a torch singer.”

Design for Living (1933, starring Miriam Hopkins): “A woman can’t decide between two men who love her, and the trio agree to try living together in a platonic friendly relationship.” (Note: things don’t stay platonic.)

These synopses are fascinating enough, and the fact that these films were released to popular and critical acclaim 80 years ago is amazing. These films are about complicated, complex women who are not punished for their sexuality or their pasts. These women have careers, these women are leaders, these women have agency. Furthermore, the actresses who portrayed these women truly starred in the films–they weren’t simply supporting male leads. Eighty years later, it’s rare to see a Hollywood film with a female character at the center of the action, much less a female anti-hero.

What the MacLaine sound bite is missing is that, while the Code kept women out of the bedroom, its religious and puritanical strictures equated goodness with subservience and purity. Depictions of homosexuality and interracial relationships were also scrubbed from Hollywood when the Code was enforced. From a feminist point of view, we moved backward when the Code, and even the MPAA ratings system, were enacted. There are still remarkable double standards regarding female sexuality on screen, and mass audiences typically have a hard time with female characters who don’t fit nicely into the virgin/whore dichotomy (since for years, that’s all we’ve really been exposed to). Male characters have always been allowed to be “good and bad,” but the Code (and in a sense, the MPAA), just like the religious dogma it reflected, needed women to be out of the bedroom or in the bedroom–never both without being punished.

We agonize over the lack of female anti-heroes in film and television as if women have never been afforded the opportunity to be good and bad on screen. It clearly wasn’t always this way. And in a time when the regurgitated remake rules Hollywood, perhaps it’s time for producers to dust off some old scripts from the 1920s and 1930s so we can get some fresh, progressive stories about women on screen again.

Recommended Viewing: Complicated Women, This Film is Not Yet Rated (available on Netflix)

Recommended Reading: “Remembering Hollywood’s Hays Code, 40 Years On,” by Bob Mondello at NPR; The Motion Picture Production Code (interactive website); The Motion Picture Production Code – 1930 (PDF); Complicated Women: Sex and Power in Pre-Code Hollywood, by Mick LaSalle; “Pre-Code films: the way we really were,” by Mick LaSalle

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Leigh Kolb is a composition, literature and journalism instructor at a community college in rural Missouri.

The Masculine Adventure in ‘The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’

My question is: why? Why can’t women be part of his quest instead of the cookie at the end of the road? The message is that women can’t have quests or journeys or adventures for themselves. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty depicts women as love objects (romantic or familial) with their place at home, not on the road.

I went to see The Secret Life of Walter Mitty on Christmas Day, which turned out to be appropriate because Ben Stiller‘s film is an ode to embracing life, living kindly, and seeking meaningful adventure (all useful messages for a theatre full of Americans sitting on our asses). The movie is sweet, humorous, and light-hearted. It deals in fantasy and a fantastical reality. It begs us to value each other for whatever our contributions may be no matter how small those achievements may initially seem. It asks us to see art and beauty in everything. I enjoyed the film, but I was saddened by the lack of female involvement in Mitty’s quest.

There are several women who play prominent roles within Walter’s life. His mother and his love interest are portrayed with the most integrity (his sister mainly seems like a selfish woman who takes advantage of her brother). Walter’s mother Edna Mitty, played by the illustrious Shirley MacLaine, proves to be an integral part of setting him on the right path in his journey.

Edna’s clementine cake (Walter’s favorite) is an important clue as well as currency that gains him access into territory guarded by an Afghan warloard. Her piano, a memento of her late husband, is another clue Walter follows on his search for the elusive photographer Sean O’Connell (Sean Penn). Edna encourages her son to do whatever he feels like he must do, and she remains at home, holding many of Walter’s forgotten treasures, waiting for a time when he may need them. Though Walter clearly loves and respects his mother, she isn’t much more than a symbol of motherhood and the home to which he will return after his journey is done.

Walter’s love interest, Cheryl Melhoff, performed by the talented and versatile Kristen Wiig, is a single mother who is kind, intelligent, and encouraging.

Cheryl is the first person who tells Walter that he must follow Sean O’Connell’s trail and that he must go on this journey himself. Many of Walter’s fantasies center around Cheryl, and in one, she even coaxes him to take a risky helicopter ride with a drunken pilot because that is the path on which his quest lies. Much of his quest is about proving himself and making himself worthy for the woman he has put on a pedestal. When she falls off that pedestal, he turns to his mother who gently pushes him to finish what he started.

Both Cheryl and Edna exist to spur Walter into action. Neither of them take action themselves. Instead, they are gentle forces that compel Walter into creating a true life for himself while they wait for him to come home. Walter’s quest becomes independent of the women in his life as he strives for confidence, self-worth, worldly experience, and a sense of purpose.

Walter skateboards to an Icelandic volcano.

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test. No women are featured on his journey. In fact, the only woman we see during Walter’s travels is a bartender in Greenland. No women are pillars in his quest who either help or obstruct his progress. He doesn’t create amazing memories with them as he does with the men who rescue him from a shark or a volcano or even the men who play soccer with him. The women are all at home. The women themselves represent home. They are settled and stand for things like comfort, security, and love. There is no place for them on Walter’s harrowing, invigorating journey to self-actualization.

Walter climbs a mountain with his guides to find Sean. — Walter climbs a mountain with his male guides to find Sean.

My question is: why? Why can’t women be part of his quest instead of the cookie at the end of the road? The message is that women can’t have quests or journeys or adventures for themselves. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty depicts women as love objects (romantic or familial) with their place at home, not on the road. Men take action on behalf of the “home” ideals for which women are receptacles. While I enjoyed the movie and thought it had important things to say about the value of the “little man”, missing from it are women of action and agency, women who have their own agenda and adventures. Seeing the paths of women on their own quests intersect with that of Walter, however briefly, would have gone a long way to establishing women as autonomous actors in their own tales of becoming.

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Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.