Tag: Strong Female Character

“She Called Them Anti-Seed”: How the Women of ‘Mad Max: Fury Road’ Divorce Violence from Strength

In ‘Mad Max: Fury Road’ the “strong female characters” are notable specifically for their aversion to violence. The film portrays its women as emotionally strong people who engage in violence only in self-defense, and only against the system that oppresses them.

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Mad Max: Fury Road‘s Imperator Furiosa and the five wives look down upon the Citadel

This guest post by Cate Young appears as part of our theme week on Violent Women.

“Strong female character.”

It’s a phrase we hear over and over in pop culture, usually in reference to a female character in an action movie who has lots of guns. “Strong female characters” know how to fight, know how to use weapons and they best all the boys in confrontation. “Strong Female Characters” are effectively measured by their capacity for violence and their competence in the theatre of war.

But what does it mean when we equate strength with violence on a cultural level, and especially in relation to women’s place in society?

In Mad Max: Fury Road the “strong female characters” are notable specifically for their aversion to violence. The film portrays its women as emotionally strong people who engage in violence only in self-defense, and only against the system that oppresses them.

The film is set in a post-apocalyptic future desert wasteland where women have been reduced to various forms of slavery and their value is determined by what their bodies can produce. Whether it be breastmilk or babies, women’s position in this world is determined by their physical utility to the oppressive system they occupy. Furiosa is the notable exception, an Imperator who has presumably worked her way up the ranks of Immortan Joe’s highly patriarchal and hyper-masculine cultish new social order.

From the very beginning of the film we see how the women of this world conspicuously and determinedly avoid violence. We are introduced to the Five Wives initially through their absence; they have run away with Imperator Furiosa leaving behind a message for their captor Immortan Joe.

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“Our Babies Will Not Be Warlords.” The Five Wives not only want to opt out of the violent system but also ensure that the system does not continue

These simple messages convey two main points: that the Wives are aware of their entitlement to freedom due to their inherent human dignity, and that they acknowledge that eliminating violence not only starts with them, but extends into preventing violence in the next generation. Their first act of resistance is a direct hit against the very violence that allows the oppressive system of this world to maintain itself; removing their future children from the violence of Immortan’s world.

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“We Are Not Things.” Miss Giddy defends the Wives’ right to freedom

Later in the film, we see the Wives sidestep violence once again when the War Boy Nux attacks Furiosa as she is driving the War Rig. Furiosa initially wants to kill Nux, but the Wives tell her that there will be “no unnecessary killing” as Nux is brainwashed and “kamakrazee.” Essentially, the Wives know that even though Nux seeks to do them harm, he is simply a product of a violently oppressive system that positions violence as the way to salvation in Valhalla. He is a natural result of this system and a reflection of the fate they are trying to avoid for their own children, and they elect to toss him out of the Rig instead.

This conscious avoidance of violence is replicated in what I think is one of the most powerful scenes in the film: Splendid the Angharad, heavily pregnant with Immortan’s child, uses her body as a shield to protect Furiosa from Immortan’s bullets.

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Splendid the Angharad as anti-patriarchal human shield

 As I wrote in my initial review of the film:

She literally uses her body, the site of which has undoubtedly been home to rape and assault at the hands of Immortan Joe, (and now a constant reminder of such) as a weapon against him. She uses her increased patriarchal “value” against the very man who rules the patriarchal system of their world. To me, that was a powerful scene because it showed that even as her body had been used against her will to perpetuate a system that enslaved her, The Splendid Angharad did not view herself as property, but as an equal human being, capable of more than breeding warlords. Furiosa’s escape with the Wives was not so much a rescue as a partnership. She and the Wives worked together to achieve shared liberation in The Green Place.

The scene was a clever subversion of the hyper-violence of the film. Angharad’s body, a site of much violence, is used to prevent more of the same, as the other Wives cling to her to keep her safe. It shows that the Wives understand their relative position in this society, the role that ritual violence plays, and their ability to use it to their advantage.

Soon after this scene, Angharad dies, having fallen from the Rig. Furiosa and the Wives are devastated but know they must press-on. After Furiosa asks Toast The Knowing to the match their remaining bullets with their corresponding guns and she informs her that they have very little ammunition left, Dag and Cheedo note that Angharad used to call the bullets “anti-seed”:

“Plant one and watch something die.”

This relates thematically to the violence done upon the very earth on which they live by the men of the world. With reliance on guns and ammunition, the men have “killed the world” and now nothing grows. The state of the earth mirrors the violence that is done to the women and their bodies. It is fitting then that the women who are seeking salvation in “The Green Place” (that they later discover is barren) and are kept by Immortan as “breeders” due to the world’s low fertility would have very little “anti-seed” available to them.

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The green place of Furiosa’s youth is now a barren swamp wasteland

When we are finally introduced to the Vuvalini, Furiosa’s previous clan of “Many Mothers” we discover that The Green Place has been decimated and that they are the last members of the clan to survive. These women however, many of them in their senior years are hardened to the world and perfectly acknowledge and understand that violence is sometimes necessary to achieve liberation.

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The Vuvalini understand that violence is sometimes needed to achieve liberation

In confrontation with the War Boys and Immortan Joe during their journey back to the Citadel, the Vuvalini defend themselves and the Five Wives from attack on all fronts as the men descend upon them. While many of them fall, their bravery and willingness to sacrifice themselves in some ways mirrors the blind devotion that the War Boys show to Immortan Joe. The difference here is that they die in service to a liberatory ideal and not a cult of personality. The Vuvalini’s advanced age also serves to upturn our cultural notions of what strength entails. Even in the problematic context of strong women as violent, this rarely if ever includes the old. By being portrayed as capable and willing even in their age, the film redefines strength to encompass women who do not usually fall under this umbrella. Even better, it affords the Vuvalini, (including the Keeper of Seeds, and therefore life, strength, youth and vitality) the courtesy of demonstrating that their strength runs deeper than physical violence.

Finally, in the very last act of violence that we see a woman commit in the film, Furiosa confronts Immortan Joe and rips his breathing apparatus away, killing him and removing large chunks of his face. As one of the only acts of violence that can conceivably be perceived as revenge, Furiosa not only kills Immortan, but physically removes his face and thereby his identity, much in the same way that his violence against the Five Wives removed theirs.

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Furiosa denies Immortan his identity through violence

It’s fitting that not only does Furiosa kill Immortan, but in light of the desolation of The Green Place she remembers from her youth, she takes up residence with the Wives in the Citadel at the end of the film. She essentially seeks to invert the history of the centre of this world’s violence by making it the centre of redemption instead. With access to clean water and greenery, she can reestablish the environmental richness of her youth, not just for her, but for all of the oppressed citizens of Immortan’s regime.

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The Milking Mothers once again provide sustenance to the citizens of Immortan’s oppressive regime

In the end, these “strong female characters” are allowed to avoid violence as much as possible, engaging only as a last resort, and still emerge victorious.

They are allowed to divorce strength from the violence that we assume is inherent to that characteristic, and in the process highlight many of the problems with this larger cultural assumption.

 

Cate Young is a Trinidadian freelance writer and photographer, and author of BattyMamzelle, a feminist pop culture blog focused on film, television, music, and critical commentary on media representation. Cate has a BA in Photojournalism from Boston University and is currently pursuing her MA in Mass Communications so that she can more effectively examine the symbolic annihilation of women of colour in the media and deliver the critical feminist smack down. Follow her on twitter at @BattyMamzelle.

Seed & Spark: “Not Even Once”

I don’t know yet if we made a good movie, but I’m pretty sure we made an honest movie—and you can’t do that while you, or your characters, are busy pretending to be “strong.” Being vulnerable, and weak, and pushing ahead anyway is what’s interesting about anyone, fictional or real.

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Bre Mueck and Matthew Luret at the park in a scene from All Earthly Constraints

This is a guest post by Ryan M. Moore.

My first memory of being exposed to a feminist film (and one of my first memories, period) is of my mom setting up a projector in our basement (8mm? 16mm? I am old), loading it with a reel she had borrowed from the library (yes, you could do that!) and showing my brother and me an animated film called Reverse-a-quake! It was set on an island which was hit by a big earthquake, which caused all of the men to have to switch to doing what had previously been women’s work, and vice-versa. That there was anything political about this storyline sailed right over my 6-year-old head, but knowing what I know now, it must have sunk in a little.

I call myself a feminist without reservation, but I didn’t set out to make a feminist statement, or any kind of political statement, when I wrote and directed my feature film debut All Earthly Constraints. The lead character, Emily (played by the amazing Bre Mueck) is a struggling screenwriter (“Write what you know!”) who works in a gelato shop. Emily’s screenplay is about a struggling screenwriter named Emma (“Write what you know!”) who works in a coffee shop, and is also secretly a superheroine named Emmageddon. Emma is Emily’s “Mary Sue” (a character that is a thinly veiled, idealized version of her author), and Emmageddon is Emma’s. It’s Mary Sues all the way down.

In one scene, Emily has just left her writer’s group in tears after having her script “Emmageddon” savaged (“Self-indulgent! Masturbatory!”) by the sadistic self-proclaimed group leader, John. Soft-spoken Dylan goes after Emily, and they end up talking and drinking at a local park. In the course of their first-ever real conversation, this happens:

DYLAN: I guess I just think about… sometimes, you know, a real job, a family, stability. No “someday when I make it.” Is that so wrong? I mean, haven’t you ever thought you might be worthwhile, or good enough, or whatever, just how you are—just being you?

EMILY: Not even once.

DYLAN: (after a long pause) Me neither.

Shooting this scene was incredibly strange. To hear and see the most honest thing I’ve ever written about the creative process brought to life by two amazing actors, seemed, at the time, like an affirmation of all the choices I’ve ever made. I fell largely on Emily’s side as I thought, “Yeah, I’m doing the right thing with my life.”

Three months later, mired in the post-production process, I can see Dylan’s side too. Maybe it should be enough to just work your job and live your life and be happy with you are. Maybe I would’ve been happier that way. Maybe it’s just my ego that tells me I can’t possibly ever settle for “normal.” It’s been an incredibly difficult process trying to finish this film—making a movie is hard. Trying to do anything well is hard. Life is hard.

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Bre Mueck as Emmageddon in a scene from All Earthly Constraints

But what I learned in the process of shooting that scene (and of tangling up my reality and emotional state with that of my character’s to a frankly disorienting extent that I hope would make Charlie Kaufman proud), was this: Emily is not a “strong female character.” Emily isn’t “strong,” at least not exclusively. She starts the scene in tears, and continues by admitting her deepest self-doubts to Dylan, not because she has any real connection with him (yet), but because he’s there and willing to listen and pay for the booze.

And Emmageddon isn’t always “strong” either, even though she’s a self-proclaimed superhero. Who would be interested in seeing a story about someone who was nothing but “strong,” all the time, in every situation? It would be like watching a film about a slab of granite. I don’t know yet if we made a good movie, but I’m pretty sure we made an honest movie—and you can’t do that while you, or your characters, are busy pretending to be “strong.” Being vulnerable, and weak, and pushing ahead anyway is what’s interesting about anyone, fictional or real.

I have a lot of problems with the current crop of superhero movies. While the artistry and craft that goes into their creation is almost literally unimaginable, all too often they exist exclusively in the realm of black and white, “good guys” and “bad guys,” strong, wise-cracking male heroes and female sidekicks who exist mostly as window-dressing, or as sexual conquests for the men. One of my goals in creating All Earthly Constraints was to create a female superhero who was also human: Yes, she kicks, punches, and slaps people who deserve to be kicked, punched and slapped, and she’s good at it. But she has no special powers and she can be hurt, physically and emotionally. Under the costume, she’s still a person. I’m not quite delusional enough to believe that All Earthly Constraints will ever be playing in your local multiplex next to the latest Summer tentpole, but I hope it starts a few conversations, or adds a little bit to some that are already happening.

You can learn more about All Earthly Constraints, and follow or support our crowdfunding campaign at Seed & Spark.

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Ryan M. Moore is a writer and director living in Silver Lake, Los Angeles. All Earthly Constraints is his first feature film.

 

‘Terminator Genisys’: Not My Sarah Connor

Sarah meets Reese (Jai Courtney) knowing that she will need to have sex with this man, regardless of how she feels, to save the human race. It’s an awkward problem that’s dealt with in Schwarzenegger one-liners about mating and a weak attempt at a narrative theme of free will versus destiny.

Sarah Connor teams up with the Terminator
Sarah Connor teams up with the Terminator

 

This guest post by Liz LaBrocca appears as part of our theme week on Dystopias.

Terminator Genisys, the fifth installment in the Terminator franchise, reminds you how much you loved Terminator and Terminator 2: Judgement Day while simultaneously destroying everything that made the first two movies exciting, scary, and romantic. In particular, Sarah Connor, damsel in distress turned warrior, has been reduced to a quippy, bland plot device instead of the powerful ready-made warrior she could have been.

The greatness of Sarah Connor’s character (as played by Linda Hamilton) between T1 and T2 was her transition from a frightened young girl to a self-made soldier. Within the first movie alone, we see her transformation from a terrified waitress in need of Kyle Reese’s (Michael Biehn) protection to a woman who is learning that she’s more capable than she ever believed. As their brief love is budding, she bandages one of his wounds. He compliments her field dressing and she, knowing now what her future holds, sadly replies, “Thanks, it’s my first.” By the end of the movie she is trying her best to save his life, commanding him (“Move, Soldier!”) to get up and keep fighting with her. In the end, he sacrifices himself in his best effort to save her and she is left to carry his child, future resistance leader John Connor, and the heavy burden of preparing both of them for the coming nuclear apocalypse.

Linda Hamilton as Sarah Connor in The Terminator calls the police to come to her rescue.
Linda Hamilton as Sarah Connor in The Terminator calls the police to come to her rescue

 

In T2, we jump ten years into the future where John Connor is a wayward teenager, living in a foster home while Sarah is institutionalized for paranoid delusions. She has spent the past decade living with various men in order to learn as much as she can about arming and defending herself. We’re introduced to her in the institution as she does chin-ups on her overturned bed frame to keep herself physically primed for the coming war. While John and the reprogrammed Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger) are coming to rescue Sarah from the T-1000 in the psych ward, she has already mostly broken out on her own. Hamilton’s T2 Sarah Connor was muscular, sweaty, and terse. She looked like someone who had spent a decade physically and emotionally preparing for a nuclear war. At the same time, it was clear that she deeply cared about her son and was struggling with how to be a mother in a world that only she knows is destined to be destroyed. She reflects that the Terminator, ironically, ends up being the best father figure John has known in the absence of Reese.

Linda Hamilton transformed for Terminator 2: Judgement Day’s warrior Sarah Connor
Linda Hamilton transformed for Terminator 2: Judgement Day’s warrior Sarah Connor

 

We were given so little of Sarah in the preview of Genisys, I was holding onto a little hope that she wouldn’t be totally stripped of her mettle as a result of losing her original character arc. In Terminator Genisys, Sarah (played by Emilia Clarke of Game of Thrones) has been raised by the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger) since she was 9. He was sent back in time to protect her from a T-1000 that had been sent to kill her and her family. There are plenty of reviews that discuss the convoluted time problems and horrifyingly dull plot in Genisys, so I’ll spare you.

Sarah meets Reese (Jai Courtney) knowing that she will need to have sex with this man, regardless of how she feels, to save the human race. It’s an awkward problem that’s dealt with in Schwarzenegger one-liners about mating and a weak attempt at a narrative theme of free will versus destiny. Her dialogue is full of jokes and one-liners instead of the brusque, efficient speech patterns you’d associate with a woman who spent her formative years with a Terminator who has still, several decades later, not mastered the art of smiling despite his detailed files on human anatomy. What was once a heated, passionate romance in the midst of a life-altering conflict, is boiled down to a silly comedy subplot: how does Sarah tell Reese that he’s the father of his best friend and mentor? This problem is further compounded by the painful lack of chemistry between Clarke and Courtney. The one upside to this forced romance subplot is that Sarah’s need to be impregnated is nullified by the vilification of John Connor. The film ends with her ability to choose to be with Reese instead of needing to be with Reese. But perhaps a more interesting, and more feminist, ending would be her choosing to not be with Reese at all.

Emilia Clarke wearing the iconic leather jacket as Sarah Connor in Terminator Genisys
Emilia Clarke wearing the iconic leather jacket as Sarah Connor in Terminator Genisys

 

The problem of Sarah’s character also lies within the casting of Emilia Clarke. While Courtney is a big, hulking man, who looks like he’s been slamming protein shakes in his post-apocalyptic future wasteland home (in T1 children hunt rats for food), Sarah looks as though she’s barely run a mile in preparation for the impending war she’s about to fight. Sure, they arm her with a bunch of guns and she looks really cool. She even looks a bit like Linda Hamilton. But she doesn’t look strong the way Linda Hamilton looked strong in T2. She doesn’t look like she has spent her youth and early adulthood physically training to be a fighter.

What it boils down to is that Courtney was cast in the traditional image of protector, even though the intention of the storyline was to subvert that role and have Sarah be the savior. It didn’t matter that he looks absolutely nothing like Michael Biehn because his perfectly chiseled abs looked great during naked time travel. He can even be hit by a car on the freeway with barely any consequences. In contrast, Biehn’s Reese was cut but lean; he was dirty and on edge. He looked like someone who came from a nuclear wasteland where meals were scarce and the threat of death was constant. He could be injured and killed. Had both actors been cast more appropriately in Genisys, she and Reese could have at least stood side by side as a team of equals ready to fight Cyberdyne via Genisys.

Jai Courtney (left) and Michael Biehn as Kyle Reese respectively
Jai Courtney (left) and Michael Biehn as Kyle Reese respectively

 

There was potential for this character to be extremely interesting. She could have been a darker, off-beat female heroine. She could have been the result of a human who spent her life training to be a warrior by an emotionless robot. But because the studio chose to play it safe and go for mass appeal and a PG-13 rating, we’re left with a watered-down version of the original character. Sarah Connor’s character was exactly what I was afraid she would end up being: a shallow plot device who is only there to make sure we know what’s happening in the new present and to fret over her impending romance with Reese. She is a shadow of an action hero, saying her lines but never embodying the role.

 

Liz LaBrocca is a freelance writer and editor living in Northampton, Massachusetts. She’s Co-Editor in Chief of The Soapbox, an online platform for amplifying the voices of female-identifying creators. You can follow her writing, cooking, and very important opinions on Twitter and Instagram.

 

 

Why You MUST Go See ‘Mad Max: Fury Road’

I would extend this – the film actually details how EVERYONE is enslaved by patriarchy – yes, the women are the sex slaves whose bodies are raped as well as forced into producing breast milk to feed male troops, but the male minions are also enslaved to the dystopian war machine and turned into heartless warriors and slave-laborers.

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This guest post by Natalie Wilson previously appeared at Skirt Collective and is cross-posted with permission.

Much has been made of the call by Aaron Clarey in his piece “Why You Should Not Go See Mad Max: Feminist Road.” As many pieces have discussed Clarey’s ridiculous, hyper-macho douchery (as here, here, here, and here), I will instead offer a counter call – instead of “mancotting” the film as Clarey begs “real men and real women” to do, I urge you to GO SEE IT! Go now!

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Here is part of Clarey’s original call for a boycott of the film:

“[D]o yourself and all men across the world a favor. Not only REFUSE to see the movie, but spread the word to as many men as possible. Not all of them have the keen eye we do here at ROK. And most will be taken in by fire tornadoes and explosions. Because if they sheepishly attend and Fury Road is a blockbuster, then you, me, and all the other men (and real women) in the world will never be able to see a real action movie ever again that doesn’t contain some damn political lecture or moray about feminism, SJW-ing, and socialism.”

In response, here is my counter feminist call to action:

Do yourself and others a favor – See Mad Max: Fury Road and tell as many humans as you know to see the film, to discuss it on social media, to decry the Men’s Rights Activists aiming to make the world a hyper-patriarchal dystopia where heterosexual macho types horde all the power with their weapons of choice, namely violence, oppression, rape, enslavement, and hatred.

Not all people will recognize the importance of supporting this film, many may go for the special effects and the popcorn, but even if they don’t attend wearing “This is what a Feminist Looks Like” t-shirts, they will still be treated to a great action movie which enacts feminism in both content and form. Those who see the film will help to pave a future where real humans can enjoy movies that reflect the real world, which is made up of women AND men, boys AND girls, where gender is a continuum and, NO, romance and baby-making is not the be all and end all of life.

See Mad Max: Fury Road. See it as soon as possible.

See it because Charlize Theron is amazing, Tom Hardy is a new and improved Max, because the action is breathtaking and achieved with very little CGI, see it to piss-off the nay-saying Men’s Rights Activists and calling for a boycott of “feminist propaganda.”

See it because director George Miller happily proclaims: “I Can’t Help but Be a Feminist” and believes women are capable as actors and directors and are essential to telling imaginative, important stories – something that is all too rare a belief in Hollywood, where in the last several years, women directed fewer than 2 percent of top-grossing movies.

See it because it was edited by a woman, Margaret Sixel.

See it because Eve Ensler led workshops about violence against women with the cast and crew.

See it because, as MRA Clarey readily admits (perhaps his one correct point), Hollywood DOES condition us. As Carolyn Cox of The Mary Sue puts it,

“By admitting they’re threatened by Charlize Theron…Clarey and his commenters are also agreeing that the media we consume and the stories we tell are hugely important.”

See it because while Clarey worries women might be conditioned to want to be like Imperator Furiosa rather than Sophia Loren (I know, WTF???) we can use the conditioning that is part of entertainment to feminist purpose so that, as Melissa Silverstein puts it,

“a little girl can dream of being a hero just as much as a little boy can because she sees multiple examples of heroic women.”

See it because, as Peter Howell says, “Hollywood doesn’t often let females star in its big ‘tent-pole’ films” because “Male-dominated movie studios don’t believe female action movies make money.” See it because we need to remind Hollywood and MRAs this is false (as Hunger Games, Insurgent, Alien, Terminator and so many other films prove).

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See it to disprove Neanderthal thinking on the part of Marvel Comics CEO Ike Perlmutter and Sony Entertainment CEO Michael Lynton who in a leaked email correspondence “proved” female superhero films don’t make money by naming three such films while ignoring the many female-driven films that have made money and ignorning just how many male led superhero films have tanked.

See it because Clarey’s assertions are laughable, and contrary to his claim that “feminism has infiltrated and co-opted Hollywood,” we still have a Hollywood machine driven by a privileged male elite who don’t seem to want to give up their own little version of the world, their very own MRA movement – the “Men Rule Art” hold on the entertainment machine.

See it because there is a culture shift happening in media, a wave that includes GamerGate, calls to stop online harassment (#StoptheTrolls), an evergrowing feminist blogosphere, and a growing call to Hollywood to wake up and smell the feminism.

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See it because while some see MRAs as a non-threatening fringe, they DO warrant attention because they consistently and vehemently offer sexism as the answer and their websites and organizations garner thousands of followers. (For some truly horrifying evidence about MRAs beliefs, you need look no further than David Futrelle’s piece on We Hunted the Mammoth which documents some truly horrifying comments running the gamet from espousing beating one’s wife to denouncing one’s daughters if they dare to have college aspirations.)

See it because, as noted by Nicole Sperling in her piece on the film for Entertainment Weekly, it is “one glorious, relentless assault” that may make us “never look at action movies quite the same way again.” As Sperling notes, the film “challenges our perceptions about women and freedom, heroism and extremism.” However, while Sperling claims the film focuses on the “slavery endured by all women,” I would extend this – the film actually details how EVERYONE is enslaved by patriarchy – yes, the women are the sex slaves whose bodies are raped as well as forced into producing breast milk to feed male troops, but the male minions are also enslaved to the dystopian war machine and turned into heartless warriors and slave-laborers. And see it because it does not pit “the matriarchy against the patriarchy” as Ty Burr claimed in his Boston Globe review, but rather brims with relevant political undertones about oppressive political regimes, rape culture, access to clean water, the end of oil, and the ways we are bleeding our planet dry.

See it because Furiosa is not a “degendered…eunech warrior” (as claimed in the Sperling review) but rather a gender-queer, disabled, bad-ass feminist hero who proves that heroism has no one gender, no one body type, no one sexuality.

See it because it suggests it will take collective action rather than one lone (male) hero to save the future. In the film, it takes Furiosa, five female “breeders,” a group of badass gun-toting grannies, as well as Mad Max and other males turned to the feminist cause, to bring down the likes of Immorten Joe – the villain at the heart of this iteration whose names speaks to the fact patriarchy is not “immortal” nor is the concept of your average (macho) Joe a thing to espouse.

See it because we are all on this tiny spinning planet together and only together can we find the “Green Place” espoused in the movie where the water will be clean and people will not be oppressed.

See it because if you have ever doubted the acting chops of Charlize Theron, this movie will convince you of her incredible talent. She is absolutely fierce as Furiosa. In a movie with very little dialogue and limited characterization, Theron is able to exude an intensity of will and palpable strength of character that is on par (if not exceeding) other female heroines such as Ripley and Sarah Connor.

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See it for the grannies with their mad survival skills, for the fierce “Breeders” who refuse to be sex slaves; see it for its championing of the one-armed sharp shooter Furiousa. See it because how often do we see women portrayed as better survivors, snipers, and drivers than men?

See it because it is the best feminist road movie since Thelma and Louise. See it because Furiosa’s story is so much more powerful than Black Widow’s. See it because we need to prove Hollywood big wigs wrong and make Clarey and his MRA minions STFU..

Finally, see it to piss off MRAs and show them feminists will not be stopped by their testicle-clutching pleas of superiority. See it for their daughters, and sons, and partners, who can hopefully grow into a world free of their “Immorten Joe” mentality.

See it because, yes, movies matter, and if we want more feminist-friendly blockbusters, we have to prove there is an audience willing to support such movies.

 

Natalie Wilson teaches women’s studies and literature at California State University, San Marcos. She is the author of Seduced by Twilight and blogs for Ms., Girl with Pen and Bitch Flicks.

 

‘Mother India’: Woman, Pillar of the Nation

‘Mother India’ treats Radha’s abnegating nature as a positive. Look how nobly she suffers for her husband and sons, the movie seems to say. In real life, such glorification of women’s suffering enables an exploitative system of economic growth on the backs of underpaid, overworked women. They get nothing except lip service, sometimes not even that.

This guest post by AP appears as part of our theme week on Asian Womanhood in Pop Culture.

 

“All Hindi films come from Mother India” – Javed Akhtar (lyricist, poet and scriptwriter)

Many people consider Mother India (1957) the definitive Hindi film. This legendary film won countless accolades, earned higher revenues than any film before it, and ran for more than three decades. Wondering what all the fuss what about, I watched it recently for the first time. It’s highly entertaining and moving, with a great plot, dialogues and music. It’s three hours long, so I spread my viewing over a couple of days. Despite its length, it drags very little.

The iconic Mother India poster, where Radha (Nargis) bears a heavy wooden plough almost like a crucifix
The iconic Mother India poster, where Radha (Nargis) bears a heavy wooden plough almost like a crucifix.

 

The film tells the story of Radha (Nargis), a farmer, from her days as a young bride to her old age. When Radha gets married and moves to her husband’s house, she lives a happy life until she learns that her mother-in-law has taken a loan from the usurious village moneylender to pay for the wedding. Unable to repay the loan, and beset by tragic accidents and a disastrous flood, the family eventually becomes impoverished. Radha loses her husband and mother-in-law, and raises her children on her own. She suffers great hardship but raises them to adulthood, and even faces down the crude advances of the moneylender.

The happy bride
The happy bride.

 

Radha raises her sons on her own
Radha raises her sons on her own.

 

Years pass; the family survives, but continues to be exploited by the moneylender. One of Radha’s sons, Birju, grows to hate the moneylender, and finally snaps. Circumstances lead him to become a bandit. He kills the moneylender, and for further revenge, abducts his daughter.

One son dutifully gets married and settles down. The other, Birju (reclining), is much more rebellious and restless.
One son dutifully gets married and settles down. The other, Birju (reclining), is much more rebellious and restless.

 

Radha is distraught: she cannot stand to see a girl’s honour violated. She threatens to kill Birju, telling him that dishonouring any girl of the village, is tantamount to dishonouring the entire village, which includes his own mother. When Birju tries to ride away with the kidnapped girl, Radha shoots him dead.

“You can’t kill me. You’re my mother!”
“You can’t kill me. You’re my mother!”

 

“I am a woman. I can give up a son, but I can’t give up honour.”

Several years pass; Radha is an aged woman. There is a hopeful note in the air: modern technologies are being introduced by the government to increase agricultural productivity and lessen the peasant’s burden. The villagers revere Radha for all she’s done, and invite her to inaugurate the new irrigation canal. Water the colour of blood flows through the canal, a reminder of Radha’s sacrifices.

After watching the film, I understand why it was such a big deal. It’s because it captured the mood of the nation, its values, hopes and aspirations. At the time, about 80 percent of Indians were engaged in agriculture. The colonial yoke had been thrown off. The film reflects the period’s broad consensus that for the nation to progress, two things were required: food security through advancement in agriculture, and rapid industrialization through investment in heavy machinery. The film is a celebration of farming, and shows reverence of the land that nurtures us.

The movie also celebrates the idea of woman as the nation’s pillar of strength. I’ll focus on this theme, and on the character of Radha.

The Bad

In some ways, Mother India is quite conventional. Its intended messages about women are regressive from a feminist point of view. The movie conveys that the ideal woman is nurturing, self-sacrificing and hardworking. It ignores the reality that women did all of this for very little reward. For all their sacrifices, did woman have a say even in basic decisions like how many children to have? Not much. In the 1950s, when the movie was released, women’s legal rights were severely restricted; for example, the progressive legislations introduced by stalwarts like B. R. Ambedkar and Jawaharlal Nehru, for Hindu women’s inheritance and marriage rights, had been stonewalled and diluted in Parliament.

Mother India highlights the plight of the farmer, but glosses over or erases the specific difficulties faced by women farmers specifically: lack of access to resources, invisibilization of their labour, and their self-deprivation in times of scarcity. In times of food insecurity, adult women often deprive themselves and girl children of adequate food. It is not necessarily forced upon them; more often it’s a choice (made in the context of patriarchal society).

Mother India treats Radha’s abnegating nature as a positive. Look how nobly she suffers for her husband and sons, the movie seems to say. In real life, such glorification of women’s suffering enables an exploitative system of economic growth on the backs of underpaid, overworked women. They get nothing except lip service, sometimes not even that.

Lastly, a central theme of the movie is honour/modesty. Radha values honour – her own and other women’s – over and above everything else. Maintaining honour is the prime duty of a woman. Her honour is not just her own, but the family’s, the village’s, and by extension the nation’s. But the problem with honour is that to maintain it, women’s mobility, freedom and sexuality must be tightly controlled.

The Good

Having said all that, there are some ways in which the character of Radha is a triumph for women’s representation in Indian cinema. She is a formidable, determined woman. She is uneducated (she can’t read the moneylender’s accounts), but she is tough and practical. She has the skills, knowledge, and the will to protect and raise her children. She never dithers or acts silly. She commands respect from her sons, from the villagers, and from the audience. She has to make tough choices in bleak circumstances. She breaks two negative stereotypes: that women are not intelligent, capable decision-makers, and that women don’t do arduous labour. In Mother India, it is the woman who builds the nation with her sweat and toil.

Through images, music, and lyrics, the movie establishes Radha’s sheer physical strength. The foregrounding of physical power is rare in today’s female characters, but appropriate for a portrayal of a rural woman.

Standing in waist deep water, Radha holds her children up on a wooden platform during the flood.
Standing in waist deep water, Radha holds her children up on a wooden platform during the flood.

 

Radha ploughs the fields
Radha ploughs the fields.

 

On one hand, the audience is inspired (maybe even awestruck), by Radha’s resilience, and by her steadfast adherence to her moral code. But at the same time her humanity takes centre stage, and she is allowed to express a range of emotions. She suffers devastating losses, is disrespected, and is sometimes terrified for herself and her family. She also enjoys periods of relative prosperity, good harvests, the joys and frustrations of family life.

After the flood, a helpless Radha begs food from the moneylender, who makes improper advances
After the flood, a helpless Radha begs food from the moneylender, who makes improper advances.

 

Radha turns furiously and beseechingly to the image of the goddess in the moneylender’s house. “You may lift the burden of the entire world, goddess. But try lifting the burden of motherhood – your feet will falter.”
Radha turns furiously and beseechingly to the image of the goddess in the moneylender’s house: “You may lift the burden of the entire world, goddess. But try lifting the burden of motherhood – your feet will falter.”

 

Radha beats the moneylender
Radha beats the moneylender.

 

Radha celebrates the birth of a grandchild
Radha celebrates the birth of a grandchild.

 

A light moment in the fields
A light moment in the fields.

 

Radha hears of her son Birju harassing village girls, especially the moneylender’s daughter. She refuses to speak to him, or eat. A contrite Birju adopts the murga position to convince her to eat.
Radha hears of her son Birju harassing village girls, especially the moneylender’s daughter. She refuses to speak to him, or eat. A contrite Birju adopts the murga position to convince her to eat.

 

She warns Birju that she can forgive all his mischief, except for maligning the reputation of a girl of the village. She ties up her sons to teach them a lesson.
She warns Birju that she can forgive all his mischief, except for maligning the reputation of a girl of the village. She ties up her sons to teach them a lesson.

 

In the climactic scene, Radha shoots dead her son Birju. Framed starkly against the sky, Radha is an awe-inspiring figure, a wrathful goddess. She is rendered human the next minute, when she runs to her dying son and holds him, weeping.

Radha holds Birju in her arms
Radha holds Birju in her arms.

 

The last point about Radha is her love for the land. She does backbreaking work with dignity and forbearance, not just because she has to feed her children, but because she considers the land her mother.

When the villagers want to abandon the village after a devastating flood, Radha persuades them to stay, and together they begin the laborious task of clearing the flooded land
When the villagers want to abandon the village after a devastating flood, Radha persuades them to stay, and together they begin the laborious task of clearing the flooded land.

 

On one hand, Mother India suffers from fatal flaws – the glorification of traditional gender roles and modesty/honour. On the other hand, the film’s recognition of women’s contribution to building then nation, its characterization of Radha, and its reverence for farmers, are its triumphs. Paradoxically, the character of Radha is mired in stereotypes, but also represents women’s labour, and can serve as a source of strength and inspiration for Indian women.

The agricultural focus is also key. I’ll end with this evocative scene: the villagers have weathered calamities, and there is a song celebrating a good harvest. With the last line of the song, there is an image of haystacks shaped like the map of India, inside which farmers are singing and dancing. Today, with agriculture in dire straits in India and several other parts of the world, Mother India’s image of agricultural prosperity becomes even more important to work toward.

A picture of agricultural prosperity
A picture of agricultural prosperity.

 

AP is a student. She likes traveling, good food, and movies.

 

 

Ruthless, Pragmatic Feminism in ‘House of Cards’

Claire is a horrible human being for many, many reasons–but her abortions aren’t included in those reasons. The show makes that clear.

house-of-cards-season-2

This repost by Leigh Kolb appears as part of our theme week on Unlikable Women.

Season 2 spoilers ahead! Season 3 will be released on Netflix on Feb. 27, 2015.

Novelist Elmore Leonard said, “If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.” I think about that often when looking for or critiquing the dearth of feminist film and television. We often wring our hands over the Bechdel Test and the lack of “Strong Female Characters.”

Ideal feminist media would be like Leonard’s ideal writing–films and shows that don’t feel like they’re trying to be feminist. They just are. Complex women and women’s stories that aren’t just pieces of the whole, but are woven in seamlessly throughout the narrative–that’s what I want.

House of Cards delivers.

After Season 1 debuted on Netflix to critical and popular acclaim, Amanda Rodriguez and I both wrote about House of Cards and the wonderfully complex female characters (see: “The Complex, Unlikable Women of House of Cards” and “Claire Underwood: The Queen Bee in House of Cards“). The simultaneously awful and wonderful female characters whose stories were essential to the action in every single episode. Nothing ever felt forced, and the fact that these women were both sympathetic and loathsome was an absolute delight for those of us feminist viewers who are tired of “strong female characters” who pay lip service to some kind of surface-level inequality.

giphy

House of Cards’s feminism is remarkable, because it feels wholly unremarkable.

Season 2 debuted on Feb. 14, 2014, and although Netflix doesn’t reveal exact numbers, Variety reports that the viewership in the first few hours “soared,” with many subscribers watching multiple episodes at once.

And since the only Olympic-style sport we are interested in in our home is the long-form binge watch, we were finished with season 2 by Saturday night. Within the first two episodes, I was fairly certain this was the most feminist TV drama I’ve seen–because what we want (complexity, equality, and representation) is woven in seamlessly. House of Cards is not primarily about a man. It’s not primarily about a woman. It’s about people.

In the promo materials for season 1, we saw Frank Underwood sitting alone in Lincoln’s monument. Ostensibly, he’s the show’s protagonist. And in season 1, I suppose it did often feel that way.

However, the season 2 poster features Frank again sitting in Lincoln’s seat, but Claire is sitting on top of it also. From the first shot of season 2–Frank and Claire running together–we know that Frank isn’t really our sole protagonist at all anymore.

tumblr_mz2gs6XEOk1qli8ufo1_r3_500

The first two episodes tie up many loose ends from season 1, and introduce new ones for season 2. In the first episode, Claire picks up her appointment with the fertility doctor not, as we learn, to become pregnant herself, but to find out more about the drug that Gillian is on so she can threaten to withhold her insurance from her, thus getting what she wants from Gillian. “I’m willing to let your child wither and die within you,” Claire says to Gillian. Frank pushes Zoe Barnes into the path of an ongoing train, and she is killed. Frank, who has taken his place as vice president, courts Jackie Sharp to be the House Majority Whip. Why? Her military record of having to order strikes and kill people (including women and children) shows Frank that she is a bastion of ruthless pragmatism, which is how he and Claire move forward; and with this, season 2 begins.

In the following episodes, Claire faces her rapist (who assaulted her in college, and now Frank must give him an award for his military service), and honestly tells Frank how she wants to “smash things” and how much she wants to talk about it. These scenes were excellent because she didn’t let Frank be the vengeful husband. She stopped him, and then kept her power by talking about the assault. It wasn’t presented as if her sexuality was Frank’s to protect; the experience was hers. She wants to let her husband in, but she doesn’t want him to avenge her honor. That’s her job.

When she goes on national television and admits to having an abortion, she says that it was to end the pregnancy that resulted from the sexual assault. She named her attacker, and a young woman called in to the show, saying that he had assaulted her as well. This kicks off a season-long story line about a military sexual assault bill that pits women against women and shows the politics of justice as being just that: politics.

Claire bares all–in her own way–on national television.
Claire bares all–in her own way–on national television.

 

But here’s the rub: Claire had three abortions, not one, and none were from the rape. She is matter-of-fact with her doctor and press secretary that she had three abortions, and we learn that one was during the campaign with Frank, and two were when she was a teenager. One could see these story lines as using infertility, rape, and abortion as plot points.

And you know what? It’s fantastic. I love that these typically silent or exploited topics get so much air time in House of Cards, and that Claire is more human for having gone through so much, yet she uses it all for political and personal gain. (A recent study showed that when female characters consider or have an abortion in film or TV, they are disproportionally killed or at least punished.)

When done properly, I applaud these female-specific plot points. These events are plot points in women’s lives, and they should be used well on screen. House of Cards does just that.

Historically, men have wars and external, political struggles to define and provide fodder for their journeys (both fictional and non). We see this represented with Frank’s visit to the Confederate re-enactors and his war miniatures. Women’s struggles and choices–infertility, sexual assault, and abortion–are widespread and underrepresented. To have Claire live through and use these experiences is refreshing and brilliant (and appropriately villainous).

The season goes on to show the fallout that Claire receives from admitting to having an abortion (even though she publicly says she had one after a rape), including an attempted bomb attack by a man whose wife had had an abortion, and the angry, vitriolic protesters outside her home. (She tells Megan, the young sexual assault victim at one point, “They’re loud, but I think we need to be louder.”) What a great message.

Claire is a horrible human being for many, many reasons–but her abortions aren’t included in those reasons. The show makes that clear.

Jackie–Frank’s replacement and sometimes-ally sometimes-adversary–is a force. She, in her relationship with Remy, is the one who initially isn’t interested at all in a relationship. She gets tattooed to help deal with the pain of the deaths she was responsible for in the military. She’s powerful and political, and we see her as both the enemy and ally throughout the season.

Jackie, adding on to her poppy tattoo (symbolic in its remembrance of bloodshed in war, and therapeutic in its pain).
Jackie, adding on to her poppy tattoo (symbolic in its remembrance of bloodshed in war, and therapeutic in its pain).

 

In addition to the complex shaping of women’s stories and the characters themselves, the way the show handles masculinity and sexuality seems revolutionary.

In season 1, it’s evident when Frank goes back to his alma mater that he had had a sexual relationship with a close male friend. There wasn’t much hoopla about this, it just was what it was. In season 2, Claire, Frank, and their bodyguard, Edward Meechum, have a threesome. The next day, Frank says to Meechum as he gets in the car, “It’s a beautiful day.” And that’s all there is to it. Meanwhile, Rachel has developed a relationship with Lisa, and it’s portrayed as a loving partnership (although the camera does linger on their sex scene while it artfully pans away from the aforementioned threesome).

There’s no moral focus or panic about people’s sexuality. It just–is what it is. No fanfare. And the fact that we get to see women having orgasms (in season 2, an especially steamy scene between Jackie and Remy) is a pleasant detour from the norm as well.

In what continues to be one of my favorite articles regarding feminist media, “I hate Strong Female Characters,” Sophia McDougall says,

“Nowadays the princesses all know kung fu, and yet they’re still the same princesses. They’re still love interests, still the one girl in a team of five boys, and they’re all kind of the same. They march on screen, punch someone to show how they don’t take no shit, throw around a couple of one-liners or forcibly kiss someone because getting consent is for wimps, and then with ladylike discretion they back out of the narrative’s way.”

The women of House of Cards are not “Strong Female Characters.” They are well-written characters with a great deal of power, which they wield alongside the men. They are integral parts of the narrative. When female complexity and power is written into the narrative, everything else–including passing the Bechdel Test–effortlessly falls into place.

This is ruthless pragmatism: feminist style, and it is excellent. In a sea of male anti-heroes on TV, it’s time that women share the stage. House of Cards shows its hand, and it’s a royal flush, with the queen right next to the king.

 

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

 

 

You Never Want to Do Something Interesting: How ‘You’re Next’ Became One of the Most Empowering Horror Films for Women

It has been dissected time and time again on the way the horror genre has misrepresented women both on the screen and off, but whenever a film comes along and represents a female character as something different, we immediately bring praise to the filmmakers. While this practice is admittedly problematic, the only reason we stress the importance of these “strong female characters” is in large part due to the lack of positive female representation.

This woman comes from a land where they eat Vegemite by choice. Of course she's tough.
This woman comes from a land where they eat Vegemite by choice. Of course she’s tough.

 

This guest post by BJ Colangelo previously appeared at her blog Day of the Woman and is cross-posted with permission.

It has been dissected time and time again on the way the horror genre has misrepresented women both on the screen and off, but whenever a film comes along and represents a female character as something different, we immediately bring praise to the filmmakers.  While this practice is admittedly problematic, the only reason we stress the importance of these “strong female characters” is in large part due to the lack of positive female representation.  The “weak” female character has proven to be a safe staple within the horror genre, and somewhat of a requirement in the slasher genre.  Simply put, no one ever wants to do anything interesting.  Witness Simon Barrett, Adam Wingard, Sharni Vinson, and the creation of You’re Next.

I wonder what George Orwell would say about this...
I wonder what George Orwell would say about this…

 

We’ve all seen the advertisements, a majority of us own those damn animal masks, and some of us horror geeks have giant boners for AJ Bowen and Barbara Crampton.  You’re Next was the talk of the horror world, and the overall consensus is that the film kicks all sorts of ass. (It does, trust me.) People keep bringing up how You’re Next has taken the home-invasion sub-genre and spun it on its head.  Most importantly, however, is the fact You’re Next may very well be one of the most empowering horror films for women, ever.

(NOTE: If you haven’t seen You’re Next, you need to 1. stop what you’re doing and see the film and 2. understand that this piece is an analysis and events of the film WILL be spoiled.)

Oh my god, adopt me.
Oh my god, adopt me.

 

Starting with the matriarch of the family, we have horror demi-goddess, Barbara Crampton as “Aubrey.”  While this character on the surface seems to be following the trend of every other not-exactly-sober mother in a slasher film, Aubrey brings something that few other maternal horror figure has: heart.  Aubrey is one of the most well-constructed mother characters because of her undeniable love for her family. Mothers in horror films are often seen as skeptical, heartless, drunk, or cruel.  Aubrey is very protective of her family and showcases this throughout the entire film.  She questions things when no one else will and despite the obvious dysfunction of her children, she dedicates herself to them just the same.  What struck me as the most empowering, is the fact Aubrey actually mourns.  Most horror movie mothers are seen as women flying off the handle with absolutely no control of their lives. They panic and make stupid decisions.  Aubrey on the other hand realizes the situation at hand and mourns for her family. Her true dedication and love for her family is admirable, and unlike most of the mothers we see in horror films.

But bringing home a starving artist was my extent of rebellion!
But bringing home a starving artist was my extent of rebellion!

 

Aimee, the golden daughter of the family (played by Amy Seimetz) is one of the more minor characters and is killed off early because of it.  The daddy’s girl and “princess” of the children appears to do no wrong.  She is immediately shown as the least liked of the siblings, but the most adored by the parents. Her death brings out the strongest reaction from the parental units, but the weakest reaction from the rest of the family.  Her good-girl persona seems to be something she uses to her advantage (overly excited introductions to other people, extreme affection towards her father) but is also something she desperately wants to rid out of her life (meet my starving artist/filmmaker boyfriend wearing the douchiest scarf this side of a Bright Eyes concert played by Ti West, TAKE THAT DAD!). However, she represents an ideal that a lot of women strive to possess. How do we treat ideals, ladies and germs? WE KILL THEM OFF AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE.  Ideals are boring, one-dimensional, and unrealistic.

I may look like Olivia Wilde in TRON, but I will bone you in ways Freud could never interpret.
I may look like Olivia Wilde in TRON, but I will bone you in ways Freud could never interpret.

 

Wendy Glenn as “Zee” makes for an incredibly interesting female villain.  Most female villains are seen as nothing more than pure evil, while Zee represents the true complexity of the female mind.  Although she is originally viewed as an unenthusiastic familial girlfriend being dragged against her will to a gathering with her dysfunctional potential in-laws, we quickly discover her character is actually quite unique.  It’s important to note that throughout the entire first 3/4 of the film, Zee is acting.  She is playing into the roles assigned to her and does them effortlessly. Once the big twist is revealed, Zee is no longer the doting girlfriend. She is 100 percent handling her instincts and her motives. At this point, her boyfriend, Felix, is no longer her motivator. She has done her best to comfort him in his time of need, but her demands are her demands.  She tries to seduce Felix while laying next to the corpse of his dead mother, and when he declines she responds, “You never want to do anything interesting.”  While it may be a bit exaggerated, Zee stomps on the idea that women are not sexually aggressive and the idea that women aren’t as sexually creative as our male counterparts.  Hate to out my lady friends, but women are just as big of perverts as men. Showing this sexually progressive woman was refreshing to see (even if her kink was a little TOO far for my comfort zone). This progressive attitude is thanked by being the only female character not murdered by an animal, but instead by her fellow woman.

OH MY GOD! I WILLINGLY WORE A RUFFLED COLLAR TO A DINNER PARTY!
OH MY GOD! I WILLINGLY WORE A RUFFLED COLLAR TO A DINNER PARTY!

 

The snobbish WASPy lover of Joe Swanberg, Kelly, is played beautifully by Margaret Laney.  Kelly is the woman everyone knows and plays nice with even though they can’t stand her.  Entitled, selfish, judgmental, and a total prude, Kelly represents that rich girl who lives off of Mommy and Daddy’s money and therefore feels like she’s better than everyone else.  She completely hits the panic button when disaster strikes and runs purely off of emotion, a very stereotypically “girly” reaction to chaos.  She also serves as the two-sided opposite to Zee and Erin.  Zee and Erin both want what Kelly and Aimee have (money and an established life of stability).  This is represented physically by the fact that both Kelly and Aimee wear their hair up (a symbol of a dignified and “put together” lady) while Zee and Erin don their hair down.  Although, Kelly is not perfect as she DOES show the most skin of any of the characters in the film, and does pop pills.  How is this woman thanked for her attitude? The judgmental bitch is thrown like a stone in a glass house — through a glass window.

Don't let Step Up 3D fool you, she's a bonafide badass.
Don’t let Step Up 3D fool you, she’s a bonafide badass.

 

Most obviously, we were given the most bad-ass final girl this side of Nancy Thompson. Sharni Vinson’s “Erin” ushered in an entirely new form of female final girls.  Unlike the virginal final girls that only survived because they fell into the trope of being pure and exactly what society wants women to be (sexually attainable without having sex), Erin was a strong-willed female character capable of defending herself using a combination of beauty, brains, and brawn.  She remains cool and collected when necessary but not without the guts to completely bludgeon to death anyone that crosses her.  With the booby trap preparation skills that would make Kevin McAllister proud, Erin understands that in this life, you’ve got to take care of yourself.

Erin is never once dressed scantily (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and she’s never over-sexualized. She’s merely your everyday woman living the way she chooses.  She’s progressive in that she left a TA position (meaning, this is where her mentioned student loans are coming from as this would forfeit any scholarship) to be with the professor she had fallen in love with.  Whether or not Barrett made this intentional, there’s also a remarkable feminist analysis of Erin’s strength.

*I’m about to put on a psychoanalytical/psychosexual hat, you’ve been warned.* Erin is a female fighting a bunch of male animals with incredibly phallic weapons.  In the Animal Kingdom, the alpha male is always seen as a dominant and physically aggressive creature while the alpha female is important for breeding purposes. Erin completely changes the game. Her male animal attackers are shooting arrows at her (reminiscent of the way animals “mark their territory” and determine things to be off-limits to other animals) or trying to insert overly long phallic machetes (hurray for wiener imagery) into her body.  99.99 percent of the time, female horror victims express pains in sounds that resemble an orgasm.  Erin expresses pain with barbaric wails or subdued sounds of pain; never once does she sound post-coital. This simple action shows that Erin is a woman that is not defined by the male sexuality, but secure in her own identity. *Takes off psychoanalytical/psychosexual hat.*

The “strong female lead” we were promised with the Evil Dead remake and didn’t get was hand delivered on a silver platter in the form of Sharni Vinson.  Kudos, Barrett/Wingard. You hit one out of the park for women in horror.

YOU’RE NEXT PASSES THE BECHDEL TEST. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.

 

BJ Colangelo is the woman behind the keyboard for Day of the Woman: A blog for the feminine side of fear and a contributing writer for Icons of Fright. She’s been published in books, magazines, numerous online publications, all while frantically applying for day jobs. She’s a recovering former child beauty queen and a die-hard horror fanatic. You can follow her on Twitter at @BJColangelo.

 

‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ – A Missed Opportunity for a Strong Female Lead

By far the most disappointing aspect of film is the verbal sexual objectification of April O’Neil. She may not be scantily clad, but the male characters (mostly Mikey and Vern) in the film frequently make sexual comments to her, to which her response is complete and total silence. For an actress who has expressed plenty of feminist quips and spoken so adamantly about “refusing to flirt on set,” even going into detail on how she handles it, saying “you never have to feel like someone has power over you,” I’m surprised to not see that influence on this character. There was no script when she signed on to star in the film, and from interviews I’ve watched it seems like the storyline was a collaboration between her, the director, and the producers.

April O'Neil
April O’Neil & Vernon Fenwick

 

This is a guest post by Melanie Taylor.

There has been no escaping the onslaught of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles promotion that’s been inundating every media outlet over the past few weeks. The hype has been huge and the hate has been heavy, even from the beginning back when there was first talk of Michael Bay making the turtles into aliens. Everyone protested Michael Bay “ruining their childhood.” Many fans also lamented the presence of sexpot actress Megan Fox filling the shoes of journalist April O’Neil, the protagonist of the film and the human connection to the outside world. Hate and hype aside, the film carried on, and the cast was filled out by Will Arnett playing Vernon Fenwick, her goofy cameraman sidekick, and William Fichtner as Eric Sacks, the obligatory evil genius.

I, for one, was excited to see Megan Fox in a film that does not revolve around her sexuality. In promotion for the film, Fox says that her character is “courageous” and “ambitious…fighting for the truth,” a Joan of Arc type of character. The director, Michael Liebesman, echoes her sentiment, stating that he didn’t want April to just be eye candy, that she is meant to be an integral part of the Turtles’ survival and mission. While the film starts strong and leads with April aggressively interrogating a source, determined to find an opportunity to report something beyond a fluff piece, the “ambition” teeters off and is never fully realized.

Megan Fox as April O'Neil
Megan Fox as April O’Neil

 

The first half of the film we follow her character in her quest to uncover the truth, get a story, and stop the destructive Foot Clan that has been causing havoc in the city, but in the second half of the film April completely abandons her career ambitions and is basically just along for the ride in what seems like an endless 45 minute long action scene. I say “first half” and “second half” because there is no third act in this film. There is no wrap up of the main character’s goals or problems, only a stop-the-bad-guy-and-say-goodbye-to-the-Turtles sort of ending. However, you can see from released B-roll footage that at one point there was a third act of some kind at some point.

On top of the lack of a third act, the film almost seemed like a rip off of the 2002 Spiderman storyline — bad guy scientist has a plan to take over the city and kill people with some kind of chemical and the good guys must stop him. The film was practically a parody of the action superhero genre, which actually made the generic dialog more tolerable to think of it that way.

By far the most disappointing aspect of film is the verbal sexual objectification of April O’Neil. She may not be scantily clad, but the male characters (mostly Mikey and Vern) in the film frequently make sexual comments to her, to which her response is complete and total silence. For an actress who has expressed plenty of feminist quips and spoken so adamantly about “refusing to flirt on set,” even going into detail on how she handles it, saying “you never have to feel like someone has power over you,” I’m surprised to not see that influence on this character. There was no script when she signed on to star in the film, and from interviews I’ve watched it seems like the storyline was a collaboration between her, the director, and the producers.

Vern jokes about the nice view of her rear end when she’s leaning out a window, and Mikey makes comments throughout the entire film about being attracted to her, including implying that she’s giving him a boner. Her response is to stare blankly at him like a personality-devoid sex object. Not once does she tell him to cool it, chill out, stop, or respond with some witty come back at least. Aside from the fact that he’s a teenager and she’s a grown woman, she’s there to get a story and help the turtles, not give them boners.

April leans out of a window to snap a pic
April leans out of a window to snap a pic

 

Although she does have moments of strength where she saves them, the Turtles don’t seem to care about her beyond thinking she’s hot. Fox has repeatedly stated that she doesn’t mind being the sexy aspect of a film and while a little sex appeal in an action film makes sense, it’s a bit of a contradiction to talk about April being this great role model for girls because she confronts danger and has career goals, both great traits, when that character is also painfully silent in the face of unwanted sexual attention. You can have a sexy character who is not a silent sex object.

This was a missed opportunity for Megan Fox to showcase a truly strong female action hero. When Mikey makes comments about how she can always find him “here” as he points to her “heart” aka chest, she could have shut him down with something like, “Cool it, kid. I’m here to get a story!” or something more clever like what she does in real life. Instead we got deer in the headlights silence as the audience laughs at how much he is drooling over her.

For what it’s worth, this film technically passes the Bechdel Test – April has conversations with her female boss, played by Whoopi Goldberg, and her female roommate in two cute scenes that get a laugh, but the film and entire franchise still suffers from the “Smurfette Principle.”

Shredder, the whitewashed bad guy with boomerang-like knife hands, and Splinter, the rat father of the turtles, could not have been less developed and less interesting as characters. There was little to no backstory for them. Splinter was hideous to look at and Shredder had no personality. Megan’s performance was enjoyable, but kind of weak compared to her performances in This is 40 and Friends With Kids. I’ll give her a pass though, because she was pregnant throughout the entire film, nauseous almost every day on set. Pretty badass to make an action film while pregnant.

The saving grace for TMNT was the humor of jokester Michelangelo. He got the most laughs and was the only thing to make the nonstop, over-the-top action that dominates the second half of the film bearable. He provides the much needed levity to the excessive machismo of the film. Another positive aspect of the film was Will Arnett as Vern, who was charming and likable, even if he was that sort of annoying guy-friend-who-can’t-take-a-hint type. Sexual objectification and lack of a character arc aside, Megan Fox comes off as very likable as well in this film. She’s determined and brave and her backstory and connection to the Turtles gives her character heart substance.

The film ended on a note that very much implied a sequel, and considering the big box office numbers of opening night, a TMNT 2 is inevitable. Let’s just hope that in the second installment, at the very least, that April learns to shut down sexual harassment and gets to reach her career goals and have some kind of character arc along with the Turtles and the bad guys.

Melanie Taylor graduated from CSUN with a degree in screenwriting. She writes for her blog The Feminist Guide to Hollywood and is also a musician who shares her music on soundcloud.com/phantomcreatures. Follow her on twitter: twitter.com/tigersnapp.

‘Spamalot’: A Feminist Review

Though ‘Spamalot’ doesn’t greatly improve on the number of significant roles for women, it does add a host of female background performers who appear frequently as well as the show-stealing Lady of the Lake (often dubbed the Diva of the Lake). Though she is primarily a love interest, the Lady of the Lake is also essential as she’s the equivalent of a dues ex machina who solves dilemmas the cast faces, puts them on the right path for their quest and generally inspires enthusiasm in the pursuit of the grail.

Spamalot poster
Spamalot poster

Written by Amanda Rodriguez.
Spoiler Alert

I recently went to see a local production of the infamous musical comedy Monty Python’s Spamalot (a Broadway adaptation from the 1975 hilarious Arthurian quest film Monty Python and the Holy Grail) at Asheville Community Theatre. Though running a little long at two and a half hours, I loved it. As a fan, it was wonderful to get to see a theatre company bring to life all the gags, costume changes, ridiculous accents, jokes and songs that make Monty Python so special. As a feminist, I’d like to examine how the theatre production measures up to scrutiny through a feminist lens.

First off, despite my love of it, there’s no denying that the original source material, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, is a sausage-fest. Most of the women are played by men, and the most noteworthy scene featuring women is a bunch of cloistered nun-types at Castle Anthrax who all desperately want to have sex with Sir Galahad (they thankfully omitted this scene in the play). Though Spamalot doesn’t greatly improve on the number of significant roles for women, it does add a host of female background performers who appear frequently as well as the show-stealing Lady of the Lake (often dubbed the Diva of the Lake). Though she is primarily a love interest, the Lady of the Lake is also essential as she’s the equivalent of a dues ex machina who solves dilemmas the cast faces, puts them on the right path for their quest and generally inspires enthusiasm in the pursuit of the grail.

The Lady of the Lake has a lot of tongue-in-cheek meta-songs, and the best one, “Whatever Happened to My Part (The Diva’s Lament),” actually acknowledges how little stage time she’s gotten in comparison to her male compatriots. Though this number concedes that her representation is at best uneven, it doesn’t do much to truly integrate the lone female character into the plot itself.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJqAYUAJbTk”]

In the above clip, we have Sara Ramirez of Grey’s Anatomy fame performing the role of the Lady of the Lake in the original Broadway production. She even won the Tony for Best Performance by a Featured Actress in 2005. I love that a full-figured woman of color was cast in this role, and the world recognized how brightly she shined.

Asheville Community Theatre's Nana Hosmer as the Lady of the Lake
ACT’s Nana Hosmer as the Lady of the Lake

 

In the Asheville Community Theatre Spamalot production, I was so pleased to see the astoundingly talented Nana Hosmer fill Ramirez’s shoes as the Lady of the Lake. The full-figured diva has a dynamite voice that playfully emulated different musical genres but also shook the rafters with its vibrato. I feel fortunate that I (and all the other theatre-goers) got to see this woman’s powerhouse performance.

The talented Nana Hosmer in Spamalot
The talented Nana Hosmer in Spamalot

 

All in all, though I lamented the lack of female characters and found the number “You Need a Jew” mildly offensive, I was delighted that, though the play felt the need to end with a wedding, it was a gay wedding between Lancelot and the song-loving, fabulous Prince Herbert. I was worried they wouldn’t have the guts for it, but then I remembered, hey, this is Monty Python we’re talking about here. I was, however, the most moved by Nana Hosmer’s Broadway caliber performance. She, along with Sara Ramirez, reminded me how challenging it is for women of color and women with bodies that don’t match Hollywood’s (very thin) standards to find quality roles in films and on TV. I hope this means that theatre is a more welcoming arena that is appreciative of talent and beauty that comes in different shapes, sizes and colors.

Bitch Flicks writer and editor 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.

“I Choose Gru!”: on ‘Despicable Me 2’ and Lucy Wilde

I only recently discovered the ‘Despicable Me’ movies, and I’m overjoyed that I have an excuse to review the second one and to explicate its feminist elements, especially since so many women have primary roles in the ever-changing life of villain-turned-hero Gru (Steve Carell). In fact, I love these films so much, I enjoyed a Despicable-themed birthday cake earlier this week. It’s no mistake that the second movie concludes while Cinco de Mayo festivities ensue–my birthday!

Written by Jenny Lapekas.

I only recently discovered the Despicable Me movies, and I’m overjoyed that I have an excuse to review the second one and to explicate its feminist elements, especially since so many women have primary roles in the ever-changing life of villain-turned-hero Gru (Steve Carell).  In fact, I love these films so much, I enjoyed a Despicable-themed birthday cake earlier this week.  It’s no mistake that the second movie concludes while Cinco de Mayo festivities ensue–my birthday!

Gru returns to us in Despicable Me 2 (Pierre Coffin and Chris Renaid, 2013) as a nurturing father to three wonderful little girls–Agnes, Edith, and Margo–and we find that he’s able to merge his fatherhood duties with his exciting lifestyle.  In the first film, Gru’s main priority is to become the most evil villain in the world, and he competes with the nerdy yet skilled Vector (Jason Segel) for the title.  While Gru’s evil deeds range from cutting in line for coffee to encouraging his ugly dog to poop on his neighbor’s flowers, he literally gives up the moon for his girls, which now includes his new wife Lucy (Kristen Wiig), sent from the Anti-Villain League to request his help in pursuing a new villain.  Because Lucy completes the image the girls maintain of the exemplary family before they were adopted, and she finds a way into Gru’s heart as well, I would like to focus primarily on her in this post.

Gru is slow to recognize that Lucy's antics complement his nicely.
Gru is slow to recognize that Lucy’s antics complement his nicely.

 

The various roles Lucy plays in this movie are pivotal to the plot and character development we see throughout as we come to understand her as a professional, a cunning and intelligent woman, and an undeniably feminist hero.  That isn’t to say that Gru is not a feminist character as well–indeed, he is very much so.  Lucy becomes Gru’s work partner as the two get themselves into trouble, only to come to each other’s rescue.  She then becomes the temporarily unattainable love interest, then the damsel in distress, and finally Gru’s bride and a mother to the precocious girls, who find their new mom pretty amazing.  As Gru is busy uncovering clues for the Anti-Villain League and combating Margo’s (Miranda Cosgrove) newfound interest in boys, he can’t help but fall for the poise and quirky charm that Lucy emanates.

At Agnes’s birthday party, an unnamed woman is persistent in setting Gru up on a blind date.  Why the push to find someone to love and marry?  This buzzing in Gru’s ear is symptomatic of the heteronormative agenda Gru is struggling to resist.  Gru rejects the woman’s invitations both intellectually and socially by not-so-politely declining, and bodily by spraying her with a garden hose.  His comical proclamation “I did not see you there…or there,” as he knocks her off her feet, signifies the ex-villain’s outright refusal to acknowledge his own “aloneness” (not to be confused with “loneliness”) that others may see when they look at a single (and new) father.  Quite simply, Gru feels perfectly fulfilled by his daughters and his rather eccentric life fighting villains and manufacturing delicious jams and jellies.

However, I think it’s important for us to notice this dynamic as a downtrodden Gru admits to “liking” Lucy to his youngest daughter Agnes (Elsie Fisher), trusting her with this intimate and sensitive knowledge.  Although Gru inevitably gives in to the social contract that we should all marry, especially when we have children, he does so on his own terms and in the name of true love.

Gru is excitedly told, “I know someone whose husband just died!”
Dressed as a fairy princess for the birthday party, Gru is excitedly told, “I know someone whose husband just died!”

 

Lucy arrives quite unannounced and throws Gru in the trunk of her car after assaulting him with her “lipstick taser,” a handy tool that helps her to take advantage of her femininity while fighting crime.  After Gru proves his strength and cunning in the first movie, it’s a bit of a surprise to watch an unknown character take him down so quickly.  However, it’s only fitting that the pair then fall in love and marry; Gru has met his match in more ways than one.  Lucy is kind yet assertive, and possibly most important, she knows how to balance these qualities to embody the type of woman that Gru’s daughters can hope to become someday.  We love her even as Gru’s minions are chasing her car to save their boss, and we continue to adore her even as she embarks on her journey to Australia to take a new job far away from Gru and the girls, only to jump out of the plane and claim Gru as hers.

As we'll see, the violence in the film is naturalized as a source of comedy.
As we’ll see, the violence in the film is naturalized as a source of comedy.

 

When Gru is forced to go on a date with the insufferable caricature Shannon (Kristen Schaal), Lucy takes the initiative to end the date prematurely because she sees that Gru is being demeaned by the shallow woman, specifically for wearing a hair piece in order to hide the fact that he’s bald.  In perhaps one of the darker scenes in the film (along with Gru indirectly threatening to kill his neighbor’s dog in the first movie), Lucy shoots Shannon with a tranquilizer dart, and the two load Shannon’s inanimate body on the roof of Lucy’s car, reasoning to bystanders that she has drunk a bit too much wine with her meal, and they proceed to dump her body at her doorstep as if she’s dead.  If we look carefully later on, we see that Shannon is actually a guest at the couple’s wedding.

Gru is thankful to Lucy for rescuing him.
Gru is thankful to Lucy for rescuing him.

 

In the final action scene, I think it’s important to refrain from classifying Lucy as purely a “damsel in distress,” although this is how I reference her above–because this is, after all, what she is when she’s strapped to a rocket–along with a comically large shark–that’s set to launch into a volcano.  However, from the moment we meet Lucy, we know she’s self-sufficient and more than anything, smart; after all, her decision to love Gru is smart as he’s likely the only person capable of defeating El Macho.  In fact, every decision Lucy makes throughout Despicable Me 2 is for the betterment of Gru and his growing family.  He doesn’t rescue Lucy–just as he rescued Edith, Agnes, and Margo in the first movie–because these characters are helpless females; rather, this conclusion confirms his placement as a hero rather than a villain.  On the contrary, the women found in the Despicable movies are quite capable of protecting themselves and those they care about.

As Gru attempts to deactivate the rocket, Lucy offers her expertise: “Is there a red one? It’s usually the red one.”
As Gru attempts to deactivate the rocket, Lucy offers her expertise: “Is there a red one? It’s usually the red one.”

 

In the wedding scene, which of course involves some skillful dancing, Agnes recites a monologue that she struggles with earlier in the film:  an homage to her mother.  The meaning of this recitation has now shifted since she’s gained a mother.  Earlier, we also enjoy a private moment when Agnes first meets Lucy at the mall and she’s simply dazzled by her presence, a nice precursor to the girls coming to know her as their own mother and celebrating their status as a complete and unique family.

Agnes recites, “She kisses my boo-boos, she braids my hair, we love you mothers, everywhere, and my new mom Lucy, is beyond compare.”
Agnes recites, “She kisses my boo-boos, she braids my hair, we love you mothers, everywhere, and my new mom Lucy, is beyond compare.”

 

Because of Lucy and the girls, Gru comes to understand that he’s not merely a villain in a perpetually bad mood; he’s a caring father, a loving husband, and a boss who’s willing to give goodnight kisses to each and every one of his funny, yellow workers, who are, after all, part of his family as well.  Both Despicable films can be read as feminist pieces as Gru is transformed by the feminine energy he finds pervading his life, influencing his decisions, and causing him to reevaluate his ideals as a villain and a single man.  A concurrently responsible yet offbeat character, Gru represents the new family man in this second film.  With the introduction of the delightful Lucy, Gru finds yet another reason to strive to be his best possible self by taking on the role of husband and learning that if he overcomes his fear of the unknown (and women!), he can attain true happiness.

A lovely wedding photo, complete with Gru's cranky mother and adorable minions.
A lovely wedding photo, complete with Gru’s cranky mother and adorable minions.

 

With the upcoming release of Despicable Me 3 (2017), we can expect more zaniness from the extraordinary family!

Recommended reading:  ‘Despicable Me 2’: One of These Things Is Not Like the Other

_______________________________

Jenny has a Master of Arts degree in English, and she is a part-time instructor at Alvernia University.  Her areas of scholarship include women’s literature, menstrual literacy, and rape-revenge cinema.  You can find her on WordPress and Pinterest.

‘In the Blood’: We Need More Female Action Stars

Despite how blasé the plot and character development are, despite the racism and sanctioning of torture of ‘In the Blood,’ I love the opportunity to see a woman on screen who is physically capable, strong, and is ultimately tougher than every man she faces. We don’t have enough female action movie stars. But guess what? Women like action movies, too, and we want to see other women in them as the leads, kicking ass and chewing bubblegum.

In the Blood Poster

Written by Amanda Rodriguez
Trigger Warning: discussion of torture and violence

As someone with a not-so-secret penchant for action movies and strong female character leads, I was pumped to see In the Blood, starring Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) fighting legend Gina Carano. I was particularly interested in this film because, in truth, it’s your basic action film where the lead must save a kidnapped loved one from the clutches of ne-er-do-wells, using the skills of body and brain that the lead has cultivated from a former, more violent life, but in this case the lead is a woman. Carano plays Ava, a newlywed on her honeymoon who must save her injured and disappeared husband from a web of corruption.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DamjF9XmtlY”]

 

That kind of gender role reversal hardly ever happens in action movies. In fact, the best example in recent memory is Carano herself again flipping the script in 2011’s Haywire as a secret agent on a mission for justice after she’s been betrayed by those who trained her. Sound like the Bourne series much? But starring a woman. Confession: I was also pumped to see Haywire. Neither Haywire nor In the Blood are fantastic films. The plots of both are by-the-book with little that is exciting or memorable save the serious ass kicking and stuntwork of the awesomely physical Carano.

Ava goes MMA with a takedown in a nightclub
Ava goes MMA with a takedown in a nightclub

 

In the Blood showcases Carano’s martial arts skill with little that’s compelling in the way of backstory. Carano’s Ava had a semi-sadistic father on the wrong side of the law who doled out lessons in toughness, survival, and inflicting brutality. Why Ava’s technique is still so strong and clean after all these years is unclear. What does she do for a living now? Unknown. After a barroom brawl, her new husband questions, “What was that?” To which, Ava buries her head in his shoulder. This is a missed opportunity for the emotional development of our characters as well as for filling in plot holes.

Ava is a stone-cold killer
Ava is a stone-cold killer

 

Though I love a good fist, knife, or even gun fight in a film, I’m not a fan of torture, which seems to have become a staple in the hardened (wo)man rescues loved one trope, and In the Blood is no exception. Many 80’s action movies managed to have the hero get information without torturing his enemies, and torture was, instead, an interrogation technique that these enemies used, thus showcasing their inhumanity. Ava tortures and murders a series of the unnamed island residents, all people of color, which is painfully problematic. They are, however, all men who’ve transgressed against her (many of them prepared to kill her), but a white woman torturing people of color crosses a line. In the Blood attempts to save itself from its racism by having impoverished island residents rally around Ava in the end to protect her from the evil overlord who hunts her.

The unnamed impoverished island exchanges one evil overlord for another
The unnamed impoverished island exchanges one evil, unstable overlord for another

 

Despite how blasé the plot and character development are, despite the racism and sanctioning of torture of In the Blood, I love the opportunity to see a woman on screen who is physically capable, strong, and is ultimately tougher than every man she faces. We don’t have enough female action movie stars. But guess what? Women like action movies, too, and we want to see other women in them as the leads, kicking ass and chewing bubblegum. I also strongly suspect that from time to time men, too, want to see badass ladies running the show in the action genre.

Though I want to see other women fronting their own action movies (like my beloved Michelle Rodriguez), Gina Carano continues to be a stellar choice. Carano has repeatedly paved the way for other women even back in her MMA days when she became “the first female fighter to earn $100,000 for a fight.” I  also love that Carano always struggled to make weigh-ins before her MMA matches because she’s so damn muscly. Though Carano told Women and Hollywood that she’s more interested in emotionally rich, character-driven parts, whispers of Carano taking on the Wonder Woman role abound. As a lover of Wonder Woman with a vociferous opinion on who should or shouldn’t play my favorite heroine, I say Carano’s got what it takes: the bulky muscular physique, the screen presence, and the martial arts skills that give the role a necessary realism. Somebody sign her up, and let’s start cranking out female-led action and superhero movies already!

Gina Carano: pure powerhouse muscle
Gina Carano: pure powerhouse muscle

 

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.

‘Pacific Rim’s Raleigh Becket Is a Strong Female Character, and That’s Great

So, yes. Raleigh Becket is a Strong Female Character. Sure, he’s not female, but as far as our understanding of SFCs goes–which here means well-written female and feminine characters–he’s aces. Raleigh Becket is supportive, sweet, intuitive, and loving, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Not a damn thing.

Charlie Hunnam as Raleigh Becket
Charlie Hunnam as Raleigh Becket

 

This guest post by Deborah Pless appears as part of our theme week on Male Feminists and Allies.

No, that is not a typo. No, you are (probably) not suffering from a stroke. Neither am I. Yes, I am really referring to Charlie Hunnam’s character from Pacific Rim, the alarmingly dude-shaped Raleigh Becket. He’s a strong female character. And it’s great.
So what do I mean when I say this? Well, obviously, Raleigh isn’t technically female. Not in the physical sense, at least. He does not identify as a woman that we know of, nor does he exhibit any strong feminine traits. At least, not externally. Dude goes from being a street brawler to a cocky Jaeger pilot to a welder–all traditionally very masculine jobs and roles. To top it off, he’s a dude’s dude, always talking about the mechanics of his Jaeger, Gipsy Danger, and slightly prone to getting into unauthorized fights. All of which doesn’t sound all that stereotypically female. I know.
But Raleigh does exhibit other traits, ones much less on the surface, and those traits, while not exclusively female, are more traditionally feminine in nature. What I mean is, out of everyone in the movie, Raleigh, not Mako, is closest to our understanding of the “strong female character” trope. And that’s awesome.
Still from Pacific Rim
Still from Pacific Rim
For those of you who haven’t yet seen Pacific Rim, here’s a quick rundown. In 2013, Earth was first attacked by giant monsters that climbed out of an interdimensional rift in the Pacific Ocean. At first, these mega-godzillas devastated our shores, but the world quickly banded together to fight the threat. The solution? Giant robots, called Jaegers, which can fight the monsters, now dubbed Kaiju. The Jaegers are so massive that they need too pilots to “share the neural load” and for plot related reasons, the pilots have to be linked mentally to each other and the machine, so that they can work perfectly in sync.
Yeah, it’s a bit to get through just so we can start the story, but don’t worry. It’s worth it. Also, beware. This is gonna be SPOILERIFIC.
The film picks up seven years into the Kaiju War. Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam) and his brother Yancy (Diego Klattenhoff) are Jaeger pilots, and two of the best. Cocky, charming, and completely assured in their abilities, the boys charge out into the night-time Bering Strait to face another Kaiju–the biggest one ever spotted.
The Becket Brothers
The Becket Brothers
They lose. Hard. Or rather, they win, but at a terrible cost. The Kaiju is both larger and stronger than they’ve ever faced, and as a result, they underestimate it. During the fight, it manages to tear off an arm of their Jaeger (which means that Raleigh experiences the sensation of having his own arm torn off), and then bites into the Jaeger’s head and straight up eats Yancy. Raleigh manages to kill it, but only barely. He pilots the Jaeger back to shore and then collapses.
Cut to five years later. The once thriving Jaeger program is on the brink of collapse. Raleigh has faded into obscurity as a drifting welder working on an anti-Kaiju wall, and the world is about to end. So naturally it’s right then that Marshall Pentecost (Idris Elba), head of the Jaeger program, finds Raleigh in order to recruit him for an end of the world mission to save the planet. The clincher? “Haven’t you heard, Mr. Becket? The world’s coming to an end. So where would you rather die? Here? Or in a Jaeger.”
It’s an easy choice.
Still from Pacific Rim
Still from Pacific Rim
There’s just one problem. Raleigh was still in “the Drift” with his brother when Yancy was eaten, and that kind of mental scarring doesn’t just go away. He’s leery of having someone in his head again. It seems like the central emotional story of the film is clear. Raleigh will struggle to trust someone enough to pilot again, pulling it together, after a few hours of brooding, just in time to save the world and get the girl. Right?
Well, no, actually. Raleigh comes to the Hong Kong Shatterdome with the expectation that he can’t let anyone back in, a belief that lasts about five minutes. Because immediately upon arrival at the Shatterdome, Raleigh meets Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi), Pentecost’s adopted daughter and a potential Jaeger pilot. Immediately, Raleigh changes his tune from “I’m not sure I can let anyone in my head again,” to “That’s her, she’s perfect, everyone in the Jaeger, let’s go fight some Kaiju!” It’s shocking, and fast, and completely not the characterization you expect.
Still from Pacific Rim
Still from Pacific Rim
In fact, the central emotional story of the film turns out not to belong to Raleigh, but rather Mako. An orphan of the Kaiju War, Mako wishes desperately to become a pilot in order to avenge her family, but is deemed too angry and emotionally volatile to make a good pilot. As it turns out, it’s Mako, not Raleigh, whose grief and rage endanger their connection, and it’s Raleigh’s job to emotionally balance her out and soothe the tempers around him.
This is what I mean when I say that Raleigh is a “strong female character.” Raleigh’s role in the film is that of friend, counselor, and emotional support–commonly the role given to a girlfriend or wife in a movie like this. He’s the Peggy to Mako’s Captain America, the Jane to her Thor, the Katara to her Aang. Raleigh is the supportive, emotionally intuitive counterpart to his impulsive, rash, and angry best friend. His journey is over in the first 20 minutes of the movie. Hers has just begun.
Part of what makes this film so remarkable is Raleigh’s complete lack of macho behavior. When verbally baited, both by a socially inept scientist (Charlie Day) and by an antagonistic pilot (Robert Kazinsky), Raleigh responds with honesty and tact. He’s calm, even when angry, and more in tune with the emotions of those around him than anyone else in the movie. The only time we see him react in anger is when the jerk-face pilot, Chuck, attacks Mako, and this particular scene actually feels rather out of character.
Still from Pacific Rim
Still from Pacific Rim
Not only this, but Raleigh is supportive to a degree rarely seen in action films at all. Upon finding out that Mako wishes to be a Jaeger pilot, his reaction is not to offer advice or criticism or anything about himself. Instead, he just tells her that he’s sure she will be. Even after she insults him and his actions, his response is still not to denigrate her dream. Rather, he says, “Well, thank you for your honesty. You might be right. But one day when you’re a pilot you’re gonna see that in combat you’ll make decisions, you have to live the consequences. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
Yeah. That’s what he says when he’s insulted. I am 95 percent sure that I have never been that nice in my entire life. Ever. It’s crazy.
And when Raleigh realizes that Mako could be his co-pilot, he is fierce and relentless in his efforts to get her in the role she dreams of. He argues with Marshall Pentecost. He faces down Chuck. He even argues with Mako, insisting that she follow her dream. Throughout all of this, the message is clear: I support you. You matter. Your hopes and dreams and feelings matter.
When she shuts him down, Raleigh leaves her alone. When he and Mako fight, he doesn’t go easy on her, but he’s thrilled when she beats him. When Mako screws up their trial run, Raleigh is the first one demanding that they get another try. Basically, Raleigh, far from being a macho manly man dealing with his inner angst, is actually a cheerleader campaigning for presidency of the Mako Mori Fan Club.
Like I said above: none of these are actually gendered traits. Raleigh is supportive, but that’s not a women-only kind of thing. Lots of men are supportive. And he’s emotionally engaged as well, but that’s not an exclusively female trait either. Not in reality.
Still from Pacific Rim
Still from Pacific Rim
But in movies? Yeah, kind of. Most movies, especially big-budget action flicks like Pacific Rim, the women are supportive and the men are emotional time-bombs. It’s so incredibly rare to see a man like Raleigh, who is both fully male and also incredibly feminine. Because that’s what these are. These are traditionally feminine traits, portrayed by a dude who likes to walk around with his shirt off.
And isn’t that what feminism is about, really? The right for women to pursue avenues traditionally held for men, and the right for men to pursue lives traditionally reserved for women. It goes both ways. Raleigh’s femininity in no way diminishes him as a character. In fact, it serves to enhance, and when combined with Mako’s masculinity, it makes them an unstoppable pair. Their partnership is built on their compatibility, and the fact that neither of them is cookie cutter masculine or feminine is just another part of that.
So, yes. Raleigh Becket is a Strong Female Character. Sure, he’s not female, but as far as our understanding of SFCs goes–which here means well-written female and feminine characters–he’s aces. Raleigh Becket is supportive, sweet, intuitive, and loving, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Not a damn thing.

Deborah Pless runs Kiss My Wonder Woman and works as a youth advocate in Western Washington. You can follow her on twitter, just as long as you like feminist rants and an obsession with superheroes.