The Help – Bitch Flicks

Six Types of Political Movies (Spoiler: This Genre Includes Literally All Movies)

All art is political. That’s what they teach you in art school, and it’s what they teach you in criticism school. It’s apparently not what they teach you in internet troll school.

Written by Katherine Murray.

All art is political. That’s what they teach you in art school, and it’s what they teach you in criticism school. It’s apparently not what they teach you in Internet troll school. In a turn of events that is both terrifying and depressing, a feminist game critic was recently driven from her home by threats of violence after some men didn’t like a video she made. If you’ve been following the story, one of the ideas that keeps coming up is the notion that this critic was somehow imposing a political viewpoint on a space that was neutral before she arrived. She was, as the troll legends tell it, “ruining” something that was “pure entertainment” by “trying to make it political.”

Film has been treated as an art form, and been subject to the same critical analysis as art, for long enough now that it doesn’t gall people to see a review that focuses on more than the technical mechanics of how the thing was made. Even so, if you’re a critic who’s interested in gender, race, or sexuality, you still get blasted from time to time for “making things political” when they otherwise wouldn’t be.

With that in mind, may I present:

6 Types of Political Movies

1. The Message Movie

The Message Movie explicitly takes a position on some political topic. Brave is about how women have the right to choose their own destinies. Born on the Fourth of July is an indictment of the Vietnam War. Quills at least thinks it’s about how freedom of expression is the most important good.

Message Movies don’t have to be blunt and simple – and I would argue that Brave and Born on the Fourth of July are fairly nuanced in their presentation – but the blunt, simple movies are the ones that are easiest to point to.

For example, Water, directed by Deepa Mehta, is a really nice-looking two hour lecture on how the Laws of Manu have led to women’s oppression in India. The two main story lines – about a young woman who’s forced into prostitution and then shamed into killing herself, and a child bride who becomes impoverished after the husband she’s only met once leaves her a widow – are shaped explicitly to drive this point home, and the movie ends with a third woman chasing after Gandhi’s train, begging him to help the untouchables.

Whether or not you agree with the film’s position on the issue – and I certainly don’t know enough about it to offer an opinion – Water is very straight-forward in its message and intent. It would be hard to walk away from it thinking that it wasn’t political, even if you didn’t know that Mehta’s films have sparked violent protest in India.

The Message Movie is the easiest kind of movie to discuss from a political point of view, because it frames the questions for you and draws attention to the issues it wants to debate.

Likelihood that you’ll get blasted for thinking the film is political: 1 percent – even if we don’t all agree with or about the film’s message, we all understand that it’s trying to tell us something. Most people think it’s fair play to discuss that.

2. The Implied Message Movie

The Implied Message Movie still offers a strong point of view on political issues, and still seems to be doing it deliberately – it’s just not as explicit as the Message Movie.

One of my favorite films ever, Children of Men, mashes together everything wrong in the world, from terrorism to racism to wrongful imprisonment to war, but never didactically spells out its message for viewers. At the same time, no one would leave the theater believing that director Alfonso Cuarón is agnostic about immigration policy or the human rights abuses at Abu Ghraib. The movie is full of disquieting, uncomfortable scenes and topical imagery that make the director’s position on real-life issues quite clear.

It’s the same way that no one would watch Brazil and walk away thinking, “I’m optimistic about the moral path our bureaucratic culture will be walking,” or feel like racial tension is not a pressing issue, based on watching Crash.

The Implied Message Movie has clearly dipped its oar in the river of politics, and has ideas it wants to share with us, even if they aren’t packaged and delivered quite as neatly as the message in the Message Movie.

Likelihood that you’ll get blasted for thinking the film is political: 30 percent – depending on how abstract the movie’s themes are, there’s a chance someone will tell you that you’re ruining it by making it about real life.

3. The “I’m Just Telling You What Happened” Movie

The “I’m Just Telling You What Happened” Movie also has its oar in the river of politics, but it resists pushing off in any particular direction. Biographical movies, or movies based on a true story, are especially likely to land in this category, since the filmmakers may feel that they shouldn’t “impose” a viewpoint on events.

Zero Dark Thirty, which is about the hunt for Osama Bin Laden, was controversial, in part, because it didn’t come right out and say that torture was wrong. The scenes depicting torture are filmed in a cold, emotionally detached way, often taking us outside the point of view of either the victims or the perpetrators. Rather than discussing whether what happened was right or wrong, Zero Dark Thirty seems more interested in exploring the motivations behind it, from a fairly non-judgmental standpoint.

Michael Moore has a pretty persuasive argument for why the film is actually an indictment of torture as an interrogation technique, but your opinion on the events of the film will mostly depend on your opinion of torture in real life.

12 Years a Slave, though it’s not likely to be mistaken for a pro-slavery movie, is also far more interested in exploring the social and psychological dynamics of slavery than in arguing for why it’s wrong. As compassionate human beings, of course we understand that what we’re seeing is wrong, but the movie is leaving us to do the ideological work on our own.

Whereas Zero Dark Thirty and 12 Years a Slave use politically charged issues as their primary content, straight-up biographical movies like Walk the Line and The Runaways – especially when the subjects or direct descendants of the subjects are alive – often try to take a non-judgmental attitude toward the characters, simply reporting what they did, without examining the larger context.

In either case, the “I’m Just Telling You What Happened” Movie leaves you on your own to decide how you feel about what happened and your feelings are probably based on information drawn from outside the film.

Likelihood that you’ll get blasted for thinking the film is political: 30 percent – depending on how central the issue you want to discuss is to the movie’s themes, you may be accused of reading something into it that isn’t there.

4. The “Let’s Find Something Pleasant to Agree About” Movie

The “Let’s Find Something Pleasant to Agree About” Movie tells a benign, feel-good story that reaffirms what its target audience already believes, while steadfastly ignoring anything else that might crop up.

The Help exists to congratulate me, as a white person, for being less racist than the movie’s most villainous character. It invites the audience to identify with white people who Aren’t Racist, and completely limits the scope of its discussion to the Jim Crow era, avoiding any opportunity to draw a parallel or connection between racism as it existed in the 1960s and racism as it exists today.

Similarly, Forrest Gump takes a long tour through twentieth-century American history, reassuring us at every turn, through the simple, home-spun wisdom of its hero, that life is miraculous, love is important, and we should always have faith and feel hope. As Amy Nicholson recently pointed out in LA Weekly, the movie avoids discussing any of the difficult, contentious issues Forrest encounters, from the Vietnam War, to the AIDS crisis, to women’s rights, to civil rights – struggles that defined the national history it’s asking us to feel good about.

The “Let’s Find Something Pleasant to Agree About” Movie doesn’t just leave us to make up our own minds – it actively steers us away from controversial topics by drawing our attention to the topics we’re most likely to agree about.

Likelihood that you’ll get blasted for thinking the film is political: 50 percent – this is the tipping point where we start to talk about and criticize what’s not in the movie, and people don’t like that as much.

5. The Helpless Shrug and Hand Wave Movie

The Helpless Shrug and Hand Wave Movie is aware that it should probably say something about the issues that it’s raised, but it would rather just do that quickly so it can move on.

Sex and the City 2, for example, makes the bizarre, kind-of-orientalist decision to send its characters to Abu Dhabi for most of the film. Once there, they are, of course, confronted with the very complicated and difficult issue of women’s rights within the UAE, which they address by:

Treating it like it’s none of their business, so they can have fun riding camels
Trying to make a culturally sensitive statement about how it’s probably OK to wear a veil
Deciding that the women of Abu Dhabi probably have things under control, since they meet to wear make-up in secret
Behaving in culturally inappropriate ways and then acting surprised when people get angry about it
Spilling a bunch of condoms all over the street and then screaming at people

Sex and the City 2 is in no way equipped to discuss a topic as complex and politically volatile as women’s rights in the UAE, and it doesn’t really want to do that, either. Instead, it awkwardly fluctuates through a series of attitudes wishing, like so many wayward travelers, that someone else’s political conflict didn’t have to ruin its vacation.

Similarly, 22 Jump Street, which I wrote about earlier, is aware that it should say something about gender and sexuality, given that so many of its jokes are essentially gay jokes, underneath. The best it can manage is an inconsistent pastiche of ideas, in which its characters sometimes deliver humorously-timed lectures on tolerance and equality.

The Helpless Shrug and Hand Wave Movie acknowledges that there’s something we might want to discuss about its content, but quietly begs us to just let it go.

Likelihood that you’ll get blasted for thinking the film is political: 50 percent – depending on how graciously the film has requested that you not do this, and how entertaining it otherwise is, you might get told you’re a buzz-kill.

6. The Invisible Perspective Movie

The Invisible Perspective Movie realistically presents ideas and attitudes that are so normalized within our culture that we’ve forgotten that they form one particular perspective, rather than an objective view of reality.

In The Way Way Back, the film’s teenage protagonist forms an emotional bond with a surrogate father figure who helps him come of age as a man. The film, which is otherwise very thoughtful and enjoyable to watch, takes for granted that part of becoming a man involves learning to objectify women, and battling with other men to win a woman’s loyalty.

Someone watching the movie might say, “Well, that’s what boys learn to do,” and I’m sure that, for some boys, it is. But the fact that the movie doesn’t label or examine this as a political issue – the fact that it treats this as a completely unremarkable feature of gender – doesn’t mean the issue’s not there.

Edge of Tomorrow casually presents a female soldier as being competent and skilled – something that many critics did comment on, since it’s not what we usually see – and it also casually presents the fact that the male soldiers she serves with don’t like her and call her “Full-Metal Bitch” behind her back. Both of those things – the idea that a woman can be a competent soldier and the idea that that means nobody will like her – have political meanings, though you might notice only the first one – or neither – on the first pass.

Every movie that exists is made from a certain perspective, whether the movie calls attention to that perspective or not. And, since we live in a world full of constant political struggle, the perspective a movie is made with can necessarily be read as offering a political viewpoint.

That doesn’t make the movie good or bad – The Way Way Back doesn’t “lose” at politics because it didn’t spend a lot of time interrogating its perspective on gender – it just means that we frame our discussions about it differently. A movie that isn’t specifically trying to impart a political message is still a mirror to the culture that produced it and, by examining what we see in the mirror, we can learn new things about ourselves.

Critics add the most value when they talk about things that aren’t obvious, and help us to consider our assumptions from an alternate perspective. They do, indeed, “go looking for things” to talk about rather than taking films at face value, because that’s how you engage with art as something that’s culturally relevant.

Likelihood that you’ll get blasted for thinking the film is political: 99 percent – people hate it when things are culturally relevant.

Katherine Murray is a Toronto-based writer who yells about movies and TV on her blog.

Whatshername as a Great Actress: A Celebration of Character Actresses

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

Written by Elizabeth Kiy as part of our theme week on The Great Actresses.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one.

A young woman–poised, talented, above all enthusiastic–performs a scene in acting class and is praised by the teacher. The teacher can’t say enough good things about the student, but the main thing she keeps going back to is, “I think you’d be a wonderful character actress!”

Now, the student can’t help but beam about this, seeing a brilliant career flashing before her, her name up in lights. She steps back into the group and the woman sitting beside her whispers in her ear, “That’s what they call an actress who isn’t pretty.”

Though overly simplistic, this is an unfortunate truth about mainstream movie-making. In Hollywood, an actress who doesn’t meet a certain unrealistic beauty standard or fall into an extremely small definition of beauty (generally white, thin, and tall with delicate features and mid-size breasts), she need an addendum to be referred to as an actress. Or, more accurately, she’s not allowed to be a proper actress, the type that plays the everywoman lead we’re all meant to identify with.

Like their male counterparts, a character actress plays eccentric, off-beat characters. Usually they’re defined by distinctive voices, unusual features and a certain look, that allows casting directors to easily picture them as a type. Other descriptions for character actresses include, “Hey, I know that woman,” “whatshername,” and “that girl who’s in everything.” You usually don’t know her name, but you know her face. She’s not going to be named above the title or on the poster, but she’s great, a legend at what she does though she’ll probably never fall in a tradition pantheon of acting greats.

Character actresses are also easily typecast and in some ways, their livelihoods rely on being typecast. Their careers can involve steady work in a variety of genres across TV and film, and the typical character actress has a long filmography full of small, memorable roles in amazing productions. Usually that means being a type, like the valley girl, the woman with an annoying voice, a woman with absurdly large breasts, with a weight problem, or a port wine stain birthmark.

It must take a lot of self-confidence and backbone to be a character actress. Imagine being on the shortlist of names called in when a production needs “a fat girl” or a woman with a crooked nose or teeth the main characters can make fun of. Imagine being an actress whose career will (probably) never move beyond playing different iterations of the “sassy Black friend” who objectifies all the male character or the stiff older lady who disapproves of everything, the sexless soccer mom, or the unattractive high school girl the male leads would only date as favor (“C’mon you owe me, she said she’ll only go out with me if her fat friend has a date”) or a dare.

The basic idea behind character acting is pretty insulting. On the most simple terms, the term posits two types of actresses: “normal” actresses who can play ingenues, femme fatales, or warm mothers, and character actresses who play the exotic or unattractive other. While the female lead has her unattractive flaws ironed out, leaving only acceptable “likable” flaws like clumsiness, shyness, or a lack of awareness of her beauty, as the lead, the character viewers are supposed to identify with.

Though usually seen as simplistic roles easily explained in one or two words (e.g. nasal voice), because a character role generally has messy and inconvenient flaws, in some ways she is a more realistic idea of a woman. Is it a coincidence that these roles are referred to as “characters,” a common dismissal of a woman who attempts to speak her mind.

Whereas male character actors are beloved and recognized as adorable or, as a friend of mine was once fond of saying, handsome in an offbeat kind of way, female character actresses fade into the background as mothers, maids, and nosy neighbors. They’re generally considered unattractive both in appearance and personality, while the part played by male character actors are not generally telegraphed as unattractive or unappealing. Female character roles rarely get a love interest.

Female character roles are defined more by perceived deficits in appearance, while male character roles can be better described by certain jobs: a mob guy, a military guy, a fashion designer. Even characteristics that would forever limit an actress to character roles can be found in leading men. There’s no shortage of meaty roles for older men, who continue to be considered sexy and powerful as they age, there are many prominent overweight A-List men (although most of these actors star in TV shows or are comedians).

Melissa McCarthy is held up as the counterpoint to any such argument these days, but she’s just one person, and though a great comedic actress, most of the roles she’s played have used her weight for humor or cast her as unattractive, butch, or otherwise unkempt.

Character roles do provide opportunities for women of color and women over 40, although in extremely limited roles, which must be frustrating to a talented actress who wants to showcase her range. In an interview with USA Today, Oscar nominee Viola Davis said that before The Help, “ I had to channel my talents in narratives that were incomplete, and those two or three scenes in a movie, I’ve had to try to make them work, flesh them out as real human beings. I haven’t had the benefit of a full journey, a character who’s been in every frame of the movie.” The character roles offered to women of color, things like the subservient Asian woman, the selfless lady’s maid (usually a Black woman), or the otherworldly wise native woman, also display Hollywood’s racist attitudes of the types of roles that can be played by women of color.

However, it’s hard to give a precise definition of who counts as a character actress. Is a woman a character actress if the general public knows her name? If she plays a lead role? What about a woman who plays a lead role, but continues to pop-up in thankless character parts? Is there a point where she ascends out of the character acting ghetto and becomes a leading lady, or by virtue of the roles she pays, by her appearance and personality will she always be a character?

Is that necessarily a bad thing? Many actresses, like Holly Hunter , Jennifer Jason Leigh , Frances McDormand, and Kathy Bates have said how much they enjoy playing character roles and playing these imperfect characters who display a wider conception of what a woman can be.

And some character actresses are recognized for their roles with Oscar wins or nominations in Best Supporting Actress category, one which allows for more quirky characters and underrepresented populations of actresses. Some of these women include Melissa Leo, Marcia Gay Harden, and Octavia Spencer .

So it’s debatable.

A Partial List of Character Actresses:

Beth Grant
Audrey Wasilewski
Kathy Baker
Judy Greer
Sherri Shepard
Cleo King
Elsa Lanchester

Beulah Bondi
Thelma Ritter
Hope Emerson
Agnes Moorehead
Mary Wickes
Ellen Corby
Eve Arden
Conchata Ferrell

Mildred Natwick
Ruth McDevitt
Miranda Richardson
Margo Martindale
Missi Pyle
Carol Kane

Jennifer Coolidge
Catherine O’Hara
Illeana Douglas

Arguably Ascended Character Actresses:
Viola Davis
Marcia Gay Harden
Melissa Leo

Octavia Spencer
Kathy Bates
Frances McDormand
Jane Lynch
Catherine Keener

_________________________

Elizabeth Kiy is a Canadian writer and freelance journalist living in Toronto, Ontario. She recently graduated from Carleton University where she majored in journalism and minored in film.

Women of Color in Film and TV: The Terrible, Awful Sweetness of ‘The Help’

Mmm…empty calories. Like The Help?

Guest post written by Natalie Wilson, originally published at Ms. Magazine. Cross-posted with permission.

If Kathryn Stockett’s novel The Help was an angel food cake study of racism and segregation in the ’60s South, the new movie adaptation is even fluffier. Like a dollop of whip cream skimmed off a multi-layered cake, the film only grazes the surface of the intersecting oppressions of race, class, gender and geohistory.

Let me admit that I was, in contrast to Ms. blogger Jennifer Williams, looking forward to the film adaptation of The Help, especially as I initially enjoyed the book. However, in hindsight, I realize my initial reaction to the book was naïve (and possibly compromised by a Christmas-chocolate-induced haze).

I maintain the novel is a good read. But its shortcomings – its nostalgia, its failure to really grapple with structural inequality, its privileging of the white narrator’s voice and its reliance on stock characters – are heightened rather than diminished in the film.

While the civil rights movement was a mere “backdrop” in the book, in the film it is even less so: a photo here, a news clip there, as if protagonist Skeeter, with her intrepid reporting, discovers that wow, racism exists – and it’s ugly! And even with these occasional hints that the nation was sitting on top of a racist powder keg, overall, civil rights are miscast as an individual rather than a collective struggle. To judge by The Help, overcoming inequality requires pluck (Skeeter), sass (Minnie) or quiet determination (Aibileen), not social movements.

Also gone is the book’s suggestion that male privilege works to disempower and disenfranchise women in the same way white privilege works to disempower and disenfranchise people of color. While admittedly the novel problematically framed black males as more “brutish” than whites, at least it nodded towards the ways in which hierarchies of race, sex and class intersect and enable each other. The relatively powerful white wives are “lorded over” by their husbands (or, in Skeeter’s case, her potential husband), then turn around and tyrannize their black maids in much the same fashion. The movie, in contrast, puts an even happier face on men/women relations than on black/white ones.

Simultaneously, it frames Skeeter, Minnie and Aibileen as a trinity of feminist heroes, but rewards only Skeeter with the feminist prize at film’s end – an editing job in New York. In the meantime, Aibileen has lost her job but walks the road home determinedly, vowing she will become a writer, while Minnie sits down to a feast prepared by Celia Foote, her white boss.

The audience is thus given a triple happy ending. The first, Skeeter’s, suggests it only takes determination to succeed – white privilege has nothing to do with it! The second, Aibileen’s, implies that earning a living as a writer was feasible for a black maid in the Jim Crow South. The third, Minnie’s, insinuates not only that friendship eventually blossomed between white women bosses and their black maids, but also that such friendship was enough to ameliorate the horrors of racism.

Thus, if the book was “pop lit with some racial lessons thrown in for fiber” as Erin Aubry Kaplan’s described it, the film has even less bulk. Instead, it’s a high-fructose concoction as sweet as Minnie’s pies. And like Minnie’s “terrible awful” pie, with which she infamously tricks the villainous Hilly into eating shit, the film encourages audiences to swallow down a sweet story and ignore the shitty Hollywood cliches – as well as the shitty reality that racism can’t be “helped” by stories alone.

As Jennifer Williams predicted, the film indeed offers:

The perfect summer escape for viewers who embrace the fantasy of a postracial America, [where] filmgoers can tuck the history of race and class inequality safely in the past, even as the recession deepens already profound racial gaps in wealth and employment.

To put it another way, viewers can tuck into this terrible awful slice of the past, forgetting how the ingredients that shaped pre-Civil Rights America have a seemingly endless shelf life and, even more pertinent, still constitute a mainstay of our diet.

Further Reading: For an in-depth analysis of the film in its historical context, check out An Open Statement to the Fans of The Help by the Association of Black Women Historians.

———-

Natalie Wilson, PhD is a literature and women’s studies scholar, blogger, and author. She teaches at Cal State San Marcos and specializes in areas of gender studies, feminism, feminist theory, girl studies, militarism, body studies, boy culture and masculinity, contemporary literature, and popular culture. She is author of the blogs Professor, what if …? and Seduced by Twilight. She is a proud feminist mom of two feminist kids (one daughter, one son) and is an admitted pop-culture junkie. Her favorite food is chocolate.

Oscar Best Picture Nominee: ‘The Help’: Same Script, Different Cast

The Help is nominated for four Oscars (Best Picture, Best Actress (Viola Davis), and Best Supporting Actress (Jessica Chastain & Octavia Spencer), and has garnered numerous other nominations and awards.

This piece, by guest writer elle, first appeared at Bitch Flicks on October 5, 2011.

The Help (2011)

A caveat: I have not seen The Help. I do not plan to see The Help, yet I feel pretty confident that I have The Help all figured out. If you don’t know about this film, please see this post. I’m going to ground my thoughts about The Help in two other documents I will link: Valerie Boyd’s review entitled, “‘The Help,’ a feel-good movie for white people” and “An Open Statement to the Fans of ‘The Help’” from the Association of Black Women Historians (ABWH). A brief description from Boyd:

“The Help”—the film adaptation of the best-selling novel by Atlanta author Kathryn Stockett—is a feel-good movie for a cowardly [wrt to the ways we deal (or don’t deal) with issues of race] nation.

Despite its title, the film is not so much about the help—the black maids who kept many white Southern homes running before the civil rights movement gave them broader opportunities—as it is about the white women who employed and sometimes terrorized them.

And there you have it, the problem at the heart of works like The Help that blossoms into myriad other problems—the centering of white women in a story that is supposed to be about women of color, the positioning of white women as saviors who give WoC voice. As my colleagues in the ABWH note:

Despite efforts to market the book and the film as a progressive story of triumph over racial injustice, The Help distorts, ignores, and trivializes the experiences of black domestic workers.

I want to meld these critiques of The Help with my own critique of phenomena that make movies like this possible. My critique is rooted in who I am: My name is elle, and I am a granddaughter of The Help. And while I can never begin (and would never want) to imagine myself as the voice of black domestic workers, I can at least share some of their own words with you and tell you some places you can find more of their words and thoughts.

Click here to read the full piece.

2012 NAACP Image Awards Nominations

The 43rd NAACP Image Awards air Friday, February 17th

In the midst of awards season, it’s easy to become overwhelmed with which awards are happening and when, and it’s easy to start thinking that the same movies/shows/actors/directors are being nominated for all the awards (for example, there are striking similarities between this year’s Academy and Independent Spirit Award major category nominees).

However, the Image Awards offer a break from the monotony of many other mainstream awards shows–and, more importantly, they highlight the cultural contributions of people of color, who are so often pushed aside, ignored, or rendered practically invisible by Hollywood and mainstream entertainment complexes. The Image Awards celebrate:

the outstanding achievements and performances of people of color in the arts (television, recording, literature, motion picture and writing & directing), as well as those individuals or groups who promote social justice through their creative endeavors.

One could look at this year’s list of Academy Awards nominees and think that there are very few people of color acting in films, and even fewer writing or directing–and when you specify women of color, the list gets even shorter (the women of The Help are this year’s exception that proves the rule). While there is truth in that statement, the Image Awards show us people who are making movies (and making television, and writing books), and they also show us how these contributions still aren’t as culturally valued.

Here are some nominations from a few of the film categories (find a complete list on their website, including awards for Television, Recording, Literature, Motion Picture, and Writing & Directing).

Outstanding Motion Picture

Jumping the Broom

Pariah

The Help

The First Grader

Tower Heist

Outstanding Actress in a Motion Picture

Adepero Oduye for Pariah

Emma Stone for The Help

Paula Patton for Jumping the Broom

Viola Davis for The Help

Zoë Saldana for Columbiana

Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Motion Picture
Bryce Dallas Howard for The Help

Cicely Tyson for The Help

Kim Wayans for Pariah

Maya Rudolph for Bridesmaids

Octavia Spencer for The Help

Outstanding Independent Motion Picture

Pariah

I Will Follow

MOOZ-lum

Kinyarwanda

The First Grader

Outstanding Directing in a Motion Picture

Alrick Brown for Kinyarwanda

Angelina Jolie for In the Land of Blood and Honey

Dee Rees for Pariah

Salim Akil for Jumping the Broom

Tate Taylor for The Help

The 43rd NAACP Image Awards air live on NBC this Friday, February 17th, at 8 PM EST. Will you watch?

Viola Davis Rules the Night: Women, Race & Gender at the 2012 SAG Awards

Viola Davis and the cast of ‘The Help’ at the 2012 SAG Awards

Lately, it seems awards shows vacillate between moments of cringe-inducing sexism and feminist clarity. And the Screen Actors Guild (SAG) Awards were no different. Stripped of pomp and circumstance, with no host, the SAG Awards focus strictly on acting in TV and films. As with most media I consume, some parts pissed me off while others delighted me.

When Christopher Plummer won Outstanding Male in a Supporting Role for his performance as a gay man coming out to his son in Beginners, he began his acceptance speech by saying he’s “had such fun in the world’s 2nd oldest profession.” Ah, a sex work joke. Then Plummer called the film’s female producers “girls.” Oh Christopher Plummer. Yeah, calling female producers “girls,” even if they are way younger than you, not cool. But he almost redeemed himself when he again thanked his wife of 43 years who “came to his rescue and saved his life.” Swoon!

Dick Van Dyke presented icon Mary Tyler Moore with a Lifetime Achievement Award. I’ll start with what I liked. I LOOOVE that Van Dyke mentioned that Mary Tyler Moore is an animal rights advocate!!! The vegan in me cheered with delight. Ah, but the feminist in me shook my head at this:

“She’s one of the few performers, women, who can do a flat out comedy scene, slapstick and still be beautiful, feminine and adorable.”

Sigh. I so wanted to like his touching speech but it pissed me off. What does her appearance or femininity matter? Who cares what the hell a woman looks like, Dick Van Dyke? And who the fuck cares if she’s “feminine?!” Ugh.

Now, I realize he’s old and comes from another era. Don’t care. When discussing someone’s work or talent, male or female, their looks shouldn’t be mentioned. Society focuses too much on women’s appearances. People often assume women can only embody one quality: smart or sexy, funny or beautiful. As if a talented woman isn’t a success unless she’s pretty and feminine too.

Luckily, the rest of the evening contained inspirational and humorous moments through a feminist lens.

When Octavia Spencer won Outstanding Female in a Supporting Role for The Help, she honored civil rights activist Medgar Evers in her poignant acceptance speech. She also said,

“Thank you for putting me in a category with so many beautiful women…It was really a privilege to work on a film that gave a voice to so many women…By honoring me, you honor them…

“I want to thank all the people out there who went to support this movie and, after watching it, felt something. You felt compelled to make a change in your lives. So I’m going to dedicate this to the downtrodden, the underserved, the underprivileged, the overtaxed, whether emotionally, physically or financially.”

I absolutely adore Spencer mentioned women’s voices as well as class. And I love that she’s getting all this attention. Just wish it wasn’t for The Help. Ugh. Regardless of my opinions of The Help, I hope this catalyzes Spencer’s career and she gets lots and lots and lots of roles. She deserves them.

Other great moments included winner Alec Baldwin giving a shout-out to Tina Fey for her witty writing on 30 Rock (damn straight) and winner Betty White thanking her 3 female co-stars, Valerie Bertinelli, Jane Leeves and Wendie Malick, on Hot in Cleveland. Loving the female camaraderie!

And speaking of female camaraderie…love, love, LOVE Maya Rudolph, Kristen Wiig and Melissa McCarthy as presenters!!! The comical trio sauntered on stage to present the clip of Bridesmaids, one of my favorite 2011 films, nominated for Outstanding Ensemble. In describing the film, Maya Rudolph said,

“Our cast tells the story of strong female friendships.”

Yes, yes it does. Hilarious, raunchy, bittersweet and touching, Bridesmaids depicted a group of women as friends and one woman trying to find her way in the world. It’s rare for a movie to feature a female protagonist. It’s even rarer for a film to contain multiple female characters where women aren’t portrayed as catty and competitive but actually like and respect each other. In the funniest part of the evening, the women alerted the audience to a Scorsese Drinking Game where you drink each and every time you hear Martin Scorsese’s name uttered. Kristen Wiig said,

“Do you think Scorsese saw Bridesmaids??”

If he’s smart, he sure as hell has.

When presenters Tina Fey and John Krazinski discussed advice given to actors, Fey hilariously said,

“And I believe it was the TODAY show’s fourth hour co-host Kathie Lee Gifford who said, ‘If drag queens love you, you’ll have the longest career in the world. They know phony and they know real.’”

Ha! One of the best quotes of the night. But the SAG Awards belonged to Viola Davis who completely stole the night.

When Viola Davis won Outstanding Female Actor in a Lead Role, the audience gave her a standing ovation. Davis is a phenomenal actor who makes the most of any role she plays. Whether on-screen for hours (The Help) or mere moments (Doubt), her quiet strength mesmerizes and enthralls. Christ she almost made Nights in Rodanthe watchable (almost). Davis shared how she decided to become an actress at 8 years old. Cicely Tyson inspired her, and she was thrilled she could see her idol sitting in the audience as she won her award. Davis said,

“What is there but a dream? You can’t trade in your dream for another dream…Dream big and dream fierce.”

While I wish awards shows weren’t based on a binary gender divide, I often worry and lament that if they weren’t, women might never win. However this year, 2 of the 5 films nominated for Outstanding Performance by a Cast, Bridesmaids and The Help, both boasted predominantly female casts. It’s a huge step in the right direction.

Bolstered by a female ensemble, The Help was the big winner of the evening. Not only did it win the two female acting awards. And I have to say that I’m ecstatic two unbelievably talented African-American women won. But it also won Outstanding Performance by a Cast. At first, I was pissed Bridesmaids didn’t win. Then I was even more pissed that The Help won; a film touted as showcasing black women’s experiences but actually revolving around a white woman “saving” black women. But then I let Davis’ eloquent and inspiring words wash over me.

After calling working on The Help “a labor of love,” Davis articulated:

“The stain of racism and sexism is not just for people of color or women. It’s all of our burden. It’s all of us. I don’t care how ordinary you may feel. We all of us can inspire change. Every single one of us.”

I sat in my living room and applauded. And cried. Davis’ speech contained THE best, most feminist declaration I’ve ever heard on any awards show. Period. Davis blew me away with her poise, grace and intelligence. I’m thrilled she addressed racism and sexism on a national platform. And she’s absolutely right.

Racism and sexism affect us all. More people must realize racism and sexism still exist, stripping people of equality. We need white allies and male allies working with people of color and women towards eradicating racial and gender discrimination. We must speak out whenever we see or hear prejudice or injustice if we ever hope to combat it. But all is not lost. We can all make a difference.

People often go to the movies for entertainment, to escape their mundane lives. But films can also inspire you to act boldly and dream big. And sometimes, awards shows can too.

2012 Oscar Nominations

I just watched the live announcement of the Oscar nominations. My only thoughts right now are 1) Where the hell is Tilda Swinton’s nomination for We Need to Talk About Kevin? 2) Did Woody Allen’s piece of shit film Midnight in Paris seriously get a best picture nomination? 3) Yay Melissa McCarthy! 4) The Help? Really? 5) Did Hollywood miraculously get more racist this year?

Best Picture

The Artist
The Descendants
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
The Help
Hugo
Midnight in Paris
Moneyball
The Tree of Life
War Horse

Best Actress

Glenn Close, Albert Nobbs
Viola Davis, The Help
Rooney Mara, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady
Michelle Williams, My Week With Marilyn

Best Supporting Actress

Berenice Bejo, The Artist
Jessica Chastain, The Help
Melissa McCarthy, Bridesmaids
Janet McTeer, Albert Nobbs
Octavia Spencer, The Help

Best Actor

Demian Bichir, A Better Life
George Clooney, The Descendants
Jean Dujardin, The Artist
Gary Oldman, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Brad Pitt, Moneyball

Best Supporting Actor

Kenneth Branagh, My Week With Marilyn
Jonah Hill, Moneyball
Nick Nolte, Warrior
Christopher Plummer, Beginners
Max von Sydow, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

Best Director

Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist
Alexander Payne, The Descendants
Martin Scorsese, Hugo
Woody Allen, Midnight in Paris
Terrence Malick, The Tree of Life

You can view the rest of the nominations as a PDF or on the Web site for the Academy Awards.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Stephanie’s Picks:

Keira Knightley, Charlize Theron, Others Play Women on the Edge from the LA Times

Iron Lady Falls to the Anna Quindlen Doctrine from Bloomberg

Reel Grrls Rural Transportation Fund from IndieGogo

Why Restyle Great Women of History as Cockamamie Feminist Role Models? from The Guardian

Amber’s Picks:

Letterman Comedian Booker Dropped After Comments About Women in Comedy from The Wrap

Why the Oscars should cast out The Help and Welcome in Pariah from The Guardian

Body-Shaming a Common Theme at the Golden Globes from About-Face

Feminist icons from classic musicals from The F Word

Genie Awards nominations announced from Her Film

Leave your links in the comments!

Guest Writer Wednesday: ‘The Help’: Same Script, Different Cast

This guest post by elle previously appeared at Shakesville.

A caveat: I have not seen The Help. I do not plan to see The Help, yet I feel pretty confident that I have The Help all figured out. If you don’t know about this film, please see this post. I’m going to ground my thoughts about The Help in two other documents I will link: Valerie Boyd’s review entitled, “‘The Help,’ a feel-good movie for white people” and “An Open Statement to the Fans of ‘The Help’” from the Association of Black Women Historians (ABWH). A brief description from Boyd:

“The Help”—the film adaptation of the best-selling novel by Atlanta author Kathryn Stockett—is a feel-good movie for a cowardly [wrt to the ways we deal (or don’t deal) with issues of race] nation.

Despite its title, the film is not so much about the help—the black maids who kept many white Southern homes running before the civil rights movement gave them broader opportunities—as it is about the white women who employed and sometimes terrorized them.

Despite efforts to market the book and the film as a progressive story of triumph over racial injustice, The Help distorts, ignores, and trivializes the experiences of black domestic workers.

I. The Help’s representation of [black domestic workers] is a disappointing resurrection of Mammy… [p]ortrayed as asexual, loyal, and contented caretakers of whites… —ABWH

Early on in “The Help,” we hear the maids complain that they’ve spent decades raising little white girls who grow up to become racists, just like their mothers. But this doesn’t stop Aibileen from unambiguously loving the little white girl she’s paid to care for. —Boyd

When you put white women at the center of a story allegedly about black women, then the relationships between those two groups of women is filtered through the lens and desires of white women, many of whom want to believe themselves “good” to black people. That goodness will result in the unconditional love, trust and loyalty of the black people closest to them. They can remember the relationships fondly and get teary-eyed when they think of “the black woman who raised me and taught me everything.” They fancy themselves as their black nanny’s “other children” and privilege makes them demand the attention and affection such children would be showed.

From a post I wrote some time ago:

I hated, hated, hated that my grandmother and her sister were domestics.

Not because I was ashamed, but because of the way white people treated them and us.

Like… coming to their funerals and sitting on the front row with the immediate family because they had notions of their own importance. “Nanny raised us!” one of my aunt’s “white children” exclaimed, then stood there regally as the family cooed and comforted her.

But, as the granddaughter of the help, I learned that the woman my grandmother’s employers and their children saw was not my “real” grandmother. Forced to follow the rules of racial etiquette, to grin and bear it, she had a whole other persona around white people. It could be dangerous, after all, to be one’s real self, so black women learned “what to say, how to say it, and sometimes, not to say anything, don’t show any emotion at all, because even just your expression could cause you a lot of trouble.”** They wore the mask that Paul Laurence Dunbar and so many other black authors have written about. It is at once protective and pleasant, reflective of the fact that black women knew “their white people” in ways white people could never be bothered to know them. These were not equal relationships in which love and respect were allowed to flourish.

Indeed, with regard to the white children for whom they cared, black women often felt levels of “ambiguity and complexity” with which our “cowardly nation” is uncomfortable. Yes, my grandmother had a type of love for the children for whom she cared, but I knew it was not the same love she had for us. I think August Boatwright in the film adaptation of The Secret Life of Bees (another film about relationships between black and white women during the Civil Rights Era that centers a white girl) voiced this ambiguity and complexity much better. When her newest white charge, Lily, asks August if she loved Lily’s mother, for whom August had also cared, August is unable to give an immediate, glowing response. Instead, she explains how the situation was complicated and the fragility of a love that grows in such problematic circumstances.

Bernestine Singley, whose mother worked for a white family, was a bit more blunt when the daughter of that family claimed that Singley’s mother loved her:

I’m thinking the maid might’ve been several steps removed from thoughts of love so busy was she slinging suds, pushing a mop, vacuuming the drapes, ironing and starching load after load of laundry. Plus, I know what Mama told us when she, my sister, and I reported on our day over dinner each night and not once did Mama’s love for the [white child for whom she cared] find its way into that conversation: She cleaned up behind, but she did not love those white children.

II. The caricature of Mammy allowed mainstream America to ignore the systemic racism that bound black women to back-breaking, low paying jobs where employers routinely exploited them. Furthermore, African American domestic workers often suffered sexual harassment as well as physical and verbal abuse in the homes of white employers. —ABWH

From films like The Help, we can’t know what life for black domestic workers is/was really like because, despite claims to the contrary, it’s not black domestic workers talking! The ABWH letter gives some good sources at the end, and I routinely assign readings about situations like the “Bronx Slave Market” in which black women had to sell their labor for pennies during the Depression. The nature of domestic labor is grueling, yet somehow that is always danced over in films like this.

As is the reality of dealing with poorly-paid work. In her autobiographical account, “I Am a Domestic,” Naomi Ward describes white employers’ efforts to pay the least money and extract the most work as “a matter of inconsiderateness, downright selfishness.” “We usually work twelve to fourteen hours a day, seven days a week,” she continues, “Our wages are pitifully small.” Sometimes, there were no wages, as another former domestic worker explains: “I cleaned house and cooked. That’s all I ever did around white folks, clean house and cook. They didn’t pay any money. No money, period. No money, period.”**

Additionally, the job came with few to no recognizable benefits. The federal government purposely left work like domestic labor out of the (pathetic) safety net of social security, a gift to southerners who wanted to keep domestic and agricultural workers under their thumbs. After a lifetime of share-cropping and nanny-ing, my grandmother, upon becoming unable to work, found that she was not eligible for any work-based benefit/pension program. Instead, she received benefits from the “old age” “welfare” program, disappearing her work and feeding the stereotype of black women as non-working and in search of a handout. (I want to make clear that I am a supporter of social services programs, believe women do valuable work that is un- or poorly-remunerated and ignored/devalued. So, my issue is not that she benefited from a “welfare” program but how participation in such programs has been used as a weapon against black women in a country that tends to value, above all else, men’s paid work.)

The control of black people’s income also paid a psychological wage to white southerners:

[Their white employers gave] my grandmother and aunt money, long after they’d retired, not because they didn’t pay taxes for domestic help or because they objected to the fact that our government excluded domestic work from social insurance or because they appreciated the sacrifices my grandmother and her sister made. No, that money was proof that, just as their slaveholding ancestors argued, they took care of their negroes even after retirement!

The various forms of verbal and emotional abuse suffered are also glossed over to emphasize how black and white women formed unshakeable bonds. By contrast, Naomi Ward described the conflicted nature of her relationships with white women and being treated as if she were “completely lacking in human dignity and respect.” In Coming of Age in Mississippi, Anne Moody says of her contentious relationship with her employer, Mrs. Burke, “Mrs. Burke had made me feel like rotten garbage. Many times she had tried to instill fear within me and subdue me…” Here, I wrote a bit about the participation, by white women, in the subjugation of women of color domestic workers.

And what of abuse by white men? “‘The Help’s’ focus on women leaves white men blameless for any of Mississippi’s ills,” writes Boyd:

White male bigots have been terrorizing black people in the South for generations. But the movie relegates Jackson’s white men to the background, never linking any of its affable husbands to such menacing and well-documented behavior. We never see a white male character donning a Klansman’s robe, for example, or making unwanted sexual advances (or worse) toward a black maid.

This is a serious exclusion according to the ABWH, “Portraying the most dangerous racists in 1960s Mississippi as a group of attractive, well dressed, society women, while ignoring the reign of terror perpetuated by the Ku Klux Klan and the White Citizens Council, limits racial injustice to individual acts of meanness.”

Why the silence? Well, aside from the fact that this is supposed to be a “feel good movie,” when you idolize black women as asexual mammies in a culture where rape and sexual harassment are often portrayed as compliments/acknowledgements of physical beauty (who would want to rape a fat, brown-skinned woman?!), then the constant threat of sexual abuse under which many of them labored and still labor vanishes. But black women themselves have long written about and protested this form of abuse. My own grandmother told me to be careful of white boys who would try to make me “sneak around” with them and an older southern man who was a fellow grad student told me that he and other southern men believed it was “good luck” to sleep with a black woman. Here, in the words of black women, are acknowledgements of how pervasive the problem was (is):

“I remember very well the first and last work place from which I was dismissed. I lost my place because I refused to let the madam’s husband kiss me… I believe nearly all white men take, and expect to take, undue liberties with their colored female servants.”*

“The color of her face alone is sufficient invitation to the southern white man… [f]ew colored girls reach the age of sixteen without receiving advances from them.”*

“I learned very early about abuse from white men. It was terrible at one time and there wasn’t anybody to tell.”**

These stories abound in works like Stephanie Shaw’s What a Woman Ought to Be and Do, Paula Giddings’s When and Where I Enter, Deborah Gray-White’s Too Heavy a Load, and other books where black women are truly at the center of the story. Black women’s concern over sexual abuse is serious and readily evident, but The Help, according to the ABWH, “makes light of black women’s fears and vulnerabilities turning them into moments of comic relief.”

III. The popularity of this most recent iteration [of the mammy] is troubling because it reveals a contemporary nostalgia for the days when a black woman could only hope to clean the White House rather than reside in it. —ABWH

This mention of the White House is not casual (Boyd opens her review with an Obama-era reference, as well). I’m currently working on a manuscript that examines portrayals of black women and issues of our “desirability,” success, and femininity in media. To sum it up, we, apparently, are not desirable or feminine and our success is a threat to the world at large. Many black women are trying to figure out why so much is vested in this re-birthed image of us (because it’s not new). One conclusion is that it is a counter to the image of Michelle Obama. By all appearances successful, self-confident, happily married and a devoted mother, she’s too much for our mammy/sapphire/jezebel-loving society to take. And so, the nostalgia the ABWH mentions comes into play. It’s a way to keep us “in our place.”

It happens every day on a smaller scale to black women. I remember someone congratulating me in high school on achieving a 4.0 and saying that maybe my parents would take it easy on me for one-six weeks chore-wise. The white girl standing with us, who always had a snide comment on my academic success, quickly turned the conversation into one about how she hated her chores and how she so hoped the black lady who worked for them, whom she absolutely adored, would clean her room.

Even now, one of my black female colleagues and I talk about how some of our students “miss mammy” and it shows in how they approach us, both plus-sized, brown-skinned black women with faces described as “kind.” I do not need to know about the black woman who was just like your grandmother, nor will I over-sympathize with this way-too-detailed life story you feel compelled to come to my office and (over)share.

IV. [T]he film is woefully silent on the rich and vibrant history of black Civil Rights activists in Mississippi. Granted, the assassination of Medgar Evers, the first Mississippi based field secretary of the NAACP, gets some attention. However, Evers’ assassination sends Jackson’s black community frantically scurrying into the streets in utter chaos and disorganized confusion—a far cry from the courage demonstrated by the black men and women who continued his fight. —ABWH

Embedded in this is perhaps the clearest evidence of the cowardliness of our nation. First, we cannot dwell too long on racism, in this case as exemplified in the Jim Crow Era and by its very clear effects. “Scenes like that would have been too heavy for the film’s persistently sunny message,” suggests Boyd. I’d go further to suggest that scenes like that are too heavy for our country’s persistently sunny message of equal opportunity and dreams undeferred.

Second, when we do have discussions on the Jim Crow Era, we have to centralize white people who want to be on what most now see as the “right” side of history. They weren’t just allies, they did stuff and saved us! And so, you get stories like The Help premised on the notion that “the black maids would trust Skeeter with their stories, and that she would have the ability, despite her privileged upbringing, to give them voice.” Or like The Long Walk Home, (another film about relationships between black and white women during the Civil Rights Era that centers… well, you get it) in which you walk away with the feeling that, yeah black people took risks during the Montgomery Bus Boycott, but the person who had the most to lose, who was bravest, was the white woman employer who initially intervened only because she wanted to keep her “help.”

These stories perpetuate racism because they imply that it is right and rightful that white people take the lead and speak for us. (On another note, how old is this storyline? Skeeter’s appropriation of black women’s stories and voices, coupled with the fact that “Skeeter, who is simply taking dictation, gets the credit, the byline and the paycheck” reminded me so much of Imitation of Life, when Bea helps herself to Delilah’s pancake recipe, makes millions from it, keeps most for herself and Delilah is… grateful?!) The moral of these stories is, where would we have been without the guidance and fearlessness of white people?

I know this moral. That’s why I have no plans to see The Help.

_______________________

*From Gerda Lerner, Black Women in White America.

**From Anne Valk and Leslie Brown, Living with Jim Crow.

elle is an assistant professor who does a little of this an a little of that—primarily social history courses, some Women’s Studies and African American Studies classes, and seminars on the historical construction of race, gender, and class with a focus on how those constructions influence and are reinforced by popular media. She writes about the South and about black women’s paid and unpaid labor. She’s also a single mama to a teenaged boy that would test the patience of Mother Teresa, has an unhealthy love for TV shows with “forensic” and/or “crime” in the title, and is an amateur caterer.

Quote of the Day: Molly Haskell on "The Woman’s Film"

This past weekend, The Help (in its second week in wide release) moved to the top of the U.S. box office. While much of the discussion about the film has focused on its race problems, I’ve been bothered by it’s characterization in many reviews as a “woman’s film.” (Note: I haven’t seen The Help.) Because its main characters are women, and it seems to be about empowering women (though I suspect it’s more about empowering white women than black women), it must be a film about and, thus, for women.

Isn’t that the problem? I don’t want to get too far into using The Help as an example (I repeat, I haven’t seen it), but branding a film about women and civil rights in the South (however problematic its depiction) as a “woman’s film” just seems absurd. Have we gone at all beyond Molly Haskell’s 1974 discussion of “The Woman’s Film?”

What more damning comment on the relations between men and women in America than the very notion of something called the ‘woman’s film’? And what more telling sign of critical and sexual priorities than the low caste it has among the highbrows. Held at arm’s length, it is, indeed, the untouchable of film genres […]

Among the Anglo-American critical brotherhood (and a few of their sisters as well), the term ‘woman’s film’ is used disparagingly to conjure up the image of the pinched-virgin or little-old-lady writer, spilling out her secret longings in wish fulfillment or glorious martyrdom, and transmitting these fantasies to the frustrated housewife. The final image is one of wet, wasted afternoons. And if strong men have also cried their share of tears over the weepies, that is all the more reason (goes the argument) we should be suspicious, be on our guard against the flood of ‘unearned’ feelings released by these assaults, unerringly accurate, on our emotional soft spots.

As a term of critical opprobrium, ‘woman’s film’ carries the implication that women, and therefore women’s emotional problems, are of minor significance. A film that focuses on male relationships is not pejoratively dubbed a ‘man’s film’ (indeed, this term, when it is used, confers–like ‘a man’s man’–an image of brute strength), but a ‘psychological drama.’

Here’s a thought experiment. If The Help were about a plucky young white man who wanted to interview black male workers, how would we be talking about the film?

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Kathryn Stockett Needs Help from Race-Talk

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