Prom and Female Sexual Desire in ‘Pretty in Pink’ and ‘The Loved Ones’

In this piece we focus on prom as a densifying trope for teenage female sexual desire in many cultural representations (think of ‘Carrie,’ ‘She’s All That,’ ‘My-So-Called Life,’ or ‘Glee,’ to name just a few). We are doing so by complementing John Hughes’ rather classic romantic-comedy and “Brat Pack” movie ‘Pretty in Pink’ with the horror/torture movie with comedy elements ‘The Loved Ones’ directed by Sean Byrne – two examples of female desire as imagined by male writers.

This is a guest post by Ingrid Bettwieser and Steffen Loick for our Representations of Female Sexual Desire week.

Girls want relationships, boys want sex. The notion that adolescent girls don’t act on their own sexual desires (and just look sexy) still seems to be a prevailing cultural organizing principle perpetuated by many media illustrations. For us the concept of “Prom” brings together – in a pop-cultural genealogy – diffuse notions of (predominantly) heterosexual teenage desire, depictions of romantic love and binary coupling combined with teen-horrors of social exclusion, acknowledgement and coming-of-age. Prom epitomizes the time and place where sexual subjects/objects of desire are ordered normatively. Individual freedom (not to go to prom but fall out of the place of acknowledgement) and social force (go to prom but subject to normalizing scripts) are negotiated accordingly.

In this piece we focus on prom as a densifying trope for teenage female sexual desire in many cultural representations (think of Carrie, She’s All That, My-So-Called Life, or Glee to name just a few). We are doing so by complementing John Hughes’ rather classic romantic-comedy and “Brat Pack”-movie Pretty in Pink (1986) with the horror/torture movie with comedy elements The Loved Ones (2009) directed by Sean Byrne – two examples of female desire as imagined by male writers.

Pretty in Pink: Prom and female heterosexual desire economized

In Pretty in Pink we follow Andie Walsh, a white working class high school student, whose symbolic entrance into upper class is negotiated in a romantic Cinderella narrative. As the story unfolds it becomes evident that Andie is motivated by economic desire that she can only satisfy through a makeover. In this process she turns from quite independent but socially marginalized teenager to coupled with a “richie” but silenced.

Due to a scholarship Andie attends a private high school and falls for yuppie Blane. The two start dating despite Andie’s geekish best friend Duckie (also a so called “mutant” e.g. working class member), who follows her around quite intrusively and whose love for her is unrequited since she doesn’t show any romantic interest in him. Duckie even warns Andie of the potential sexual motives Blane might have: “He is gonna use your ass and gonna throw you away!” But regardless of any peer skepticism, Andie assumes that hating people because of their money would be some kind of reversed injustice.

Pretty in Pink: Duckie is no object of Andie’s desire
Duckie is no object of Andie’s desire

 

After a disastrous date, where Blane’s rich friends humiliated Andie at a party, Blane asks Andie to go to prom with him. This important question leaves Andie utterly speechless and she kisses Blane right away in front of his BMW. Only as soon as she enters her house she screams out loud and tells her father, “I can’t believe it happened!” As if Andie is not entitled to have sexual feelings on her own, she uses a passive voice without seeming to be involved in any action. Being asked to prom and the couple’s first kiss intermingle to a single event that alludes to the sexualization of prom.

But in due course Blane stops answering Andie’s calls and freezes her off because of peer pressure and out of his own doubt in the relationship. After dramatic events, Andie decides to go to prom nonetheless to prove that “they didn’t break” her. Moreover Andie bonds with her elder friend Iona, a strong and creative record store manager, who advises Andie to go to prom in the first place when she questions the necessity of it being a “stupid tradition.” Iona stresses it would be essential in later life: “It was the worst, but it’s supposed to be, you know, you have to go.”

Lamenting her wasted creative talents, Iona asks Andy in another situation, “I am good in bed, should I be a whore?” It becomes clear that sexual abilities are to remain outside the realm of economic usability. In the course of events Iona goes through a transformation from punkish and outstanding to “mom-ish” in order to progress in her own cross-class relationship. When she is dating a “yuppie” she aligns the criteria for her happiness: “He is so nice, he is employed, he is heterosexual.”

Pretty in Pink: Andie cares for her part-time working father
Andie cares for her part-time working father

 

The desired combination of nice/employed/heterosexual is combined with a degrading of working class masculinities in homophobic modes as inefficient and therefore undesirable throughout the movie–Andie’s father, who hangs around the house during the day, is taken care of by Andie herself as he doesn’t get over the abandonment by her mother; Duckie, who doesn’t seem to be interested in finishing high school is mistaken for a male sex worker in one scene (the character’s sexual orientation/gender is still speculated on as supposedly “effeminate” or “gay”). Iona has an argument with her obviously incapable partner who demands not only house-work and sex but also transportation services and even Blane is “degraded” by his upper class friends as a “faggot” when seen with Andie.

Not so decent Benny and Steff
Not-so-decent Benny and Steff

 

Andie’s sexually decent behavior is contrasted by upper class Benny, who is obviously sexually active and in one scene tells her boyfriend Steff that she would be “one more step away from virginity” for which he labels her a “slut.” Andie’s character, however, doesn’t seem to be sexually motivated at any time and instead rather marked by protestant chastity. Female sexual desire is not absent here; it is told as economized and rationalized desire that can be satisfied through expressive self-entrepreneurship and working – even on a prom dress. Material wealth as represented here is therefore fetishized but corrected in its moral degeneration via Andie’s display of female sexual decency and DIY diligence. In order for her not to be labeled a “slut,” she cannot display sexual agency.

Andie's father gives her a pink prom dress
Andie’s father gives her a pink prom dress

 

In the end Andie creates herself an outfit out of two pink prom dresses–one of them given to her by her father, the other one being her friend Iona’s old dress. After days of working Andie goes to prom alone where she is met by Duckie and they walk in together as friends. As soon as Blane spots Andie he comes along and tells her he would’ve always believed in her whereas she didn’t believe in him. (Which is pretty implausible considering his behavior.) With Duckie’s approval, Andie finally follows Blane to the outside parking lot without many words. The movie ends with their final uniting kiss.

Final kiss
Final kiss

 

Prom and the monstrosity of female sexual desire: The Loved Ones

The Loved Ones (1999) could have been the ultimate feminist revenge-fantasy I have long craved. I imagined the film to be an utopist notion against the always similar plot-narrative of prom night as a heterosexist spectacle of the male desire. The heroine does not transform into a beautiful “swan,” the mandatory happy ending does not occur, and the anticipated couple does not find each other. Instead, a nerd-stereotyped boy experiences in a subplot that the reality of actually going to prom with the female object of desire is sad, awkward, and leaves a hollow feeling.

The film torpedoes the classical structure of the prom night narrative from the beginning: The female main character Lola, who is orchestrated to appear as unimposing and weird in her first scene, asks her crush, the melancholic school-bad boy Brent, to the ball herself. She is active and autonomous and waiting for a boy to ask her seems not to be an option. After Brent rejects her request, she secretly observes him having oral sex with his girlfriend in a car. Lola’s face is rigid and empty. In the next scene we find her sitting in her pink-colored room, gluing Brent’s yearbook-picture into her scrapbook. She even paints a heart around his face. While doing this Lola listens to a song of the singer/songwriter Kasey Chambers, which might become the hymn of the next generation of sad teenage girls: “Am I not pretty enough? Is my heart still broken? […] Why do you see right through me?”

One finally realizes that this self-dramatization as the sad outsider girl is just a performance when her father gives her a pink dress with matching shoes as a present. Unlike in Pretty in Pink, the dress scene takes places in a very early stage of the storyline, but it’s also one of the most important scenes of all. Thrilled Lola tries on the dress in front of her mirror, while her father – whom she tells to stay – watches her from the door. This two-sided lustful action, posing and watching, marks Lola via the insinuation of father-daughter incest, one of the most far-reaching narrative taboos, as sexually monstrous.

 

The moment of transformation: Lola and her dress
The moment of transformation: Lola and her dress

 

The pink dress simultaneously initiates her transformation: Lola shifts to a bloody prom queen and anti-heroine who acts out sadistic desires in a series of violent acts against Brent’s body. They are all bizarre persiflages of prom rituals. She carves her initials into Brent’s chest, after the obligatory posing and picture-taking and pretends to dance with the enamored boy, whose feet are nailed to the floor while her father showers them in glitter.

Lola experiences lust through torture
Lola experiences lust through torture

 

These tableau viands of violence begin with the annexation of Brent: The drugged and kidnapped boy wakes up wearing a smoking jacket in a kitchen tied to a chair. The room is decorated with balloons, there’s even a disco ball at the ceiling. Lola moves close and injects him something that suppresses his ability to talk. Brent, by the way the actual hero of the story, becomes a victim; he has to remain silent and subject to Lola’s haphazard power. This increases Lola’s lust and her desire to put him at the center of her enactments of torture, pain, and degradation.

A grotesque version of prom night pictures
A grotesque version of prom night pictures

 

Unfortunately this is not about taking revenge for all the rejected high school girls. The film points out clearly that father and daughter have done this before and that especially Lola is a sheer monster. Not because her violence seems to have no boundaries–Lola is finally portrayed as completely monstrous when she becomes less sexually devoted to Brent, who starts to resist her. In the course of them dancing together, she admits to her overwhelmed father: “Your are the prince, that’s why I can’t find what I want. It’s you, it has always been you, Daddy.” The indicated kiss between them is stopped by Brent, who escapes and kills Lola’s father, what finally marks the restoration of sexual normativity and social order respectively.

Monstrous desire: Lola and her father
Monstrous desire: Lola and her father

 

In the end Lola represents abnormity, because she has violently abandoned her family. She not only cut the ties to her mother, like Andie does in Pretty in Pink, she also lobotomized and killed her. Lola’s sexual desire toward her father led to his death by Brent’s hand. When she is eventually killed by Brent and his girlfriend, it seems like the only plausible solution: disappointment. Not only is The Loved Ones not a feminist film, it’s also not a revenge-fantasy or even a film about a cool, crazed, pink female killer. It’s about a path of ordeals of a young man, who finds – after rightfully killing his sexually deviant female torturer – his long lost place in society with a more or less silent girlfriend.

 


Steffen Loick is doing his PhD on the relationship between gender identity and body optimation at Ludwig-Maximilian University in Munich, German. Ingrid Bettwieser just finished school and works as an extracurricular educator at a memorial in Berlin, Germany.

Travel Films Week: Dialogic Explorations on ‘The Darjeeling Limited’ and ‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’

This is a guest review by Steffen Loick and Ingrid Bettwieser.
At a hasty glance, movies often tell stories about traveling to talk about the processes of longing. Longing for far about places, for something new, for something unachieved. As it seems, what is inscribed in the narrative of traveling in the end is the need for change. The individual voyages the phantasms of the far, far away, to negotiate her- or himself’s identity. Traveling can be regarded ultimately as a coming of age journey, which holds many gendered and racialized subtexts of becoming.

In this essay, we ask how the genre of comedic travel-movies encodes gender-topics and how these are linked to the metaphor of a journey. Thereto we loosely compare the eponymic female protagonists of Woody Allen’s comedy Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008) and the dandy-male protagonists of the comedy The Darjeeling Limited (2007) directed by Wes Anderson. Both movies follow socially close connected White, heterosexual US-Americans, who go on a trip to another continent, where they are afflicted by emotional disputes. We also ask how the particular female or male main ensemble is constructed in dialogue to the projected otherness of the countries they are visiting. 

Vicky in the cab
“A passing thing, now it’s over”: Gender, Identity, and Travel in Vicky Christina Barcelona

“Vicky and Cristina decided to spend their summer in Barcelona,” the male voice of the narrator in the opening sequence of Vicky Christina Barcelona declares. His introduction locates the following events in the “exotic” scenery of Spain and marks the seen protagonists by name, as they leave an airport with their luggage and get a cab. More importantly, the opening sentence determines the whole plot immensely: both protagonists are traveling.

The narrator’s voice will escort the complete storyline from the distance, commenting on it slightly mockingly and directing my impressions of the movie’s protagonists. This starts already on the cab ride to Barcelona, which serves as exposition: the White US-Americans Vicky and Cristina have known each other since college and are best friends. Using their affection for culture, the narrative structure of the movie defines and criticizes them as stereotypical. They are educated women, who want to travel beyond the touristic mainstream and are only divided by their different perspectives on love. Vicky represents the type of severe and inhibited female intellectual, who seems to be feminist but actually isn’t. She lives in a committed relationship with her White, autarchic fiancé. She “had no tolerance for pain and no lust for combat; she was grounded and realistic,” illustrates the narrator. Vicky goes on the journey because she’s doing a “Masters in Catalan identity.” Her research interests generate from her early worship of Gaudi’s architecture. She looks at Barcelona correspondingly with an ethnological, nearly colonial gaze; after all, she does research on a cultural group she is not herself a part of, whose language she barely speaks and who she reduces to touristy significant cultural markers. In contrast, Cristina “had yet broken up with another boyfriend and longed for a change in scenery,” the narrator explains. Cristina represents the sensual but deeply insecure artist, who hates her own art. Suffering is accepted by her as “an inedible component of deep passion.” Apart from this, she knows only what she doesn’t want: she strictly refuses Vicky’s life and love design.

Opening scene: Cristina in the cab
Both are utterly successful as stereotypical tourists of culture: she dives into the “artistic treasuries” of Barcelona and meets in person the highly-educated painter, Juan Antonio, the Spanish seducer per se. Through his local knowledge, they can experience art and culture as distinguished insiders, and even Vicky is almost enchanted by him. A short, romantic and for her unusually passionate night is the reason for Vicky to fundamentally doubt her life concept. Even the spontaneous marriage with her suddenly appearing fiancé doesn’t seem to be able to stop the crumpling of her self-perception.

Her hostess, the older US-American Judy, accelerates this further. Judy feels trapped in her long-term marriage with a boring and rich man. An escape appears none but surrogated in the person of Vicky, who she sees as a younger emblem of herself. Meanwhile the exact opposite happens to Cristina, who is now in an ongoing sexual relationship with Juan Antonio. She begins to live with him and realizes that he is on highly explosive terms with his ex-wife, the Spaniard María Elena. In joining a polyamorous relationship with both, Cristina seems to live her own ideal: she lives the Avant-garde in Europe; she is the lover of physically desirable artists; she lives beyond the heteronormative, dichotomizing standard, which Vicky symbolizes. This is mainly established through the emotionally unstable but nevertheless strong character of María Elena. She is not only intimidating and choleric, but rather represents the type of the highly hypnotic muse. Thanks to her, Cristina gets self-confident about art; she begins to photograph while Juan Antonio and María Elena paint.

Final scene from Vicky Cristina Barcelona
In the end everything stays as it was before. The journey, the summer in Barcelona, is for both women only an intermezzo. Vicky and Cristina are standing on moving stairs in the last sequence, which literally bring them back down. Vicky goes back to her husband, to her frame made of “seriousness and stability” and Cristina–who couldn’t dare commit to Juan and María–is still searching. None of them found a new self. None of them seems happy. The essence of the plot is brilliantly stated by Vicky’s character, “It was a passing thing; now it’s over.”

In conclusion, one must point out that Vicky Cristina Barcelona generates its immense comedic potential from mocking its stereotypical unemancipated female main characters. The end of the film especially shows the intellegence of the story: nothing changes for Vicky and Cristina. They do not find a spiritual solution; everything stays the same.

Prelude scene from The Darjeeling Limited
“I want us to make this trip a spiritual journey where each of us seek the unknown”: Clash of masculinities and postcolonial forgiving in The Darjeeling Limited

Our next movie starts off with an emblematic taxi ride again. This time, in a prelude to the main plot, an American business man is turbulented through hectic traffic and ongoing day-to-day routines of an unknown Indian mountain town. Bollywood-style music is hammering as a ruthless and emotionally unaffected taxi driver speeds to the local train station and leaves the American to clutch the front seat. Through the steering wheel we can see the driver’s small picture relics, signs of religious appreciation. Having arrived at the station, the American hastens straight to the ticket counter without a word to the obviously insulted driver and past a waiting line of locals. In this scene, central subjects of the movie are encoded: The hegemonic White western masculinity which is contrasted by the suspicious subaltern male, who for most of the time is captured in local customs and therefore cannot speak (be understood) as well as the mystified female postcolonial cultural landscape.
Villagers demonstrating their gratefulness
In the course of the movie, we follow the family dynamics of three US-American upper-class brothers who take a train ride, a “spiritual journey,” through the Darjeeling district in eastern India. We learn that there is a deceased father, whose luggage they symbolically carry with them, and more importantly, as things unfold, a mother who has left “her boys” in order to work as a nun in an Indian convent. Every time the subject of the mother turns up, the three collectively consume pain killers to “get high.” In short, resulting from being brought up with this incompletion, the brothers are incapable of living up to the proper standards of functional adult masculinity: The eldest holds scars from a recent suicide attempt; the second fled his pregnant wife and the responsibilities of fatherhood; and the youngest is unable to get over his ex-girlfriend. On this so-called “spiritual journey,” the “spiritual” can be paralelled with the missing mother-figure and, more generally, with the “mystic” and “unknown” femininity that is being ascibed to the postcolonial country. Only through the journey can the brothers attain their proper heterosexual masculinities.
Peter Whitman entering the train through the lower class compartments, passing the “silent” but watching subaltern
As the train sets off and as we are getting more involved with the brotherly conflicts, the only other female character with a name (and at the same time the only local with a personality) is introdced. Rita, the train stewardess, soon catches the attention of Jack Whitman who then brashly has sex with her in the bathroom. Symbolically speaking, the Indian postcolonial cultural space is being re-appropriated by this act.

Througout the journey, the three brothers are contrasted by the “other” Indian male who is not complicit or unruly and does not understand the realms of western hegemonic masculinity. Therefore, he appears suspicious and has neither personality nor name. There is the overly business-like, stiff chief stewart (whose sanctions are ignored), the shoeshine boy (who steals the expensive shoe), “laughing” boys (“assholes”), crooked salesmen (who don’t really know what they are selling), and finally cricket players (who play cricket with a tennis ball).

Scene from The Darjeeling Limited
With these competing (but depicted as inferiour) modes of masculinity, the “spiritual journey” for the attainment of functional manliness can only be completed by a heroic act. The brothers accidentally observe how three local boys tip over into a river as they’re fishing, and they are instantly carried away by the stream. Each brother bravely jumps in after a boy to find that they could only save two. Peter couldn’t bring back “his” boy alive.

After scenes of relatives mourning in the nearby village, the brothers are invited to attend the boy’s funeral by the grieving father. With this symbolic act of acknowledgement by a local subaltern male, the Westeners can reconcile with their male identities.

Rita marks Jack “spiritually”
Despite the rescue of two local boys, Peter blames himself for the loss of the third. Only the news of the birth of a baby boy can make amends for this and unite the brothers in male bonding so that they are finally ready to encounter their mother.

At the peak of a Himalayan mountain (and the movie) the three brothers meet their surprised mother in a convent and confront her with several questions concerning her disappearance and the abandonment of her sons: “Why didn’t you come to dad’s funeral?” … “What are you doing here?” … and “What about us?”

Rita looking for Jack
Factually she explains: “I didn’t want to. I live here.” And, pointing at a statue of Mother Mary, she withdraws herself from the patriarchal demands of motherhood: “You are talking to her. You are talking to someone else. You are not talking to me. I don’t know the answers to these questions. I don’t see myself this way.”

Regardless of this final demonstration of female agency, one of the overall implications of the movie is the damage done by the cancellation of motherly liability–which is also a predominant subject in Western educational discourses. Being set in the postcolonial imaginary, the “lost” here is re-appropriated by masculinist bonding and the subordination of the subaltern “other.”


Steffen Loick is doing research about the relationship between gender identity and body optimation at Ludwig-Maximilian University, Munich Germany, and Ingrid Bettwieser studies history and literature at Freie Universität, Berlin Germany.