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 Golden Globe Analysis

Since yesterday was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, a federal holiday, I thought it was more important to post something specific about race in the United States than an analysis of the Golden Globes. However, it turns out there’s still a lot to say about race with regards to the awards. More about that–and my picks for highlights and lowlights of the cerermony–after a quick rundown of the night’s winners.

Motion Picture
Best Picture – Drama: The Descendents
Best Performance by an Actress – Drama: Meryl Streep for The Iron Lady
Best Performance by an Actor – Drama: George Clooney for The Descendents
Best Picture – Comedy or Musical: The Artist
Best Performance by an Actress – Comedy or Musical: Michelle Williams for My Week with Marilyn
Best Performance by an Actor – Comedy or Musical: Jean Dujardin for The Artist
Best Animated Feature Film: The Adventures of Tintin
Best Foreign Language Film: Asghar Farhadi for A Separation
Best Director: Martin Scorsese for Hugo
Best Screenplay: Woody Allen for Midnight in Paris
Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role: Octavia Spencer for The Help
Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role: Christopher Plummer for Beginners
Best Original Score: Ludovic Bource for The Artist
Best Original Song: “Masterpiece” by Madonna, Julie Frost & Jimmy Harry for W.E.

Television
Best Series – Drama: Homeland
Best Performance by an Actress – Drama Series: Claire Danes for Homeland
Best Performance by an Actor  – Drama Series : Kelsey Grammer for Boss
Best Series – Comedy or Musical: Modern Family
Best Performance by an Actress – Comedy or Musical Series: Laura Dern for Enlightened
Best Performance by an Actor – Comedy or Musical Series: Matt LeBlanc for Episodes
Best Mini-Series or Motion Picture: Downton Abbey
Best Performance by an Actress in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture: Kate Winslet for Mildred Pierce
Best Performance by an Actor in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture: Idris Elba for Luther
Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role: Jessica Lange for American Horror Story
Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role: Peter Dinklage for Game of Thrones

Cecil B. DeMille Award: Morgan Freeman

A few brief thoughts about the nominees and winners:

  • No women were nominated in the score, screenplay, best picture, or directing categories.
  • The only woman to win an award outside of acting was Madonna, for best original song.
  • Two people of color won acting awards–Octavia Spencer & Idris Elba–which seems better than previous years, though perhaps still not good enough. 
  • Modern Family won yet another award, this time in a category that did not include Parks and Recreation, which I would argue is the best comedy on television.
  • Matt LeBlanc & Kelsey Grammer?! I didn’t realize the 1990s were experiencing such a resurgence, and these were some of the biggest surprises of the night for me.
Highlights:

Meryl “I can’t believe I said shit on TV” Streep
Meryl Streep
Her acceptance speech was exuberant and funny. She forgot her glasses, was possibly drunk, swore, and was censored. She then proceeded to deliver the best speech of the night. She mentioned not only the other women nominated in her category, but gave a shout-out to Pariah star Adepero Oduye and Jane Eyre star Mia Wasikowska. She is lovely, classy, funny (with two references to host Gervais), intelligent, and willing to step out of her comfort zone to take on challenging roles (like this one). 
Here’s a clip of the speech from YouTube, which will probably be taken down soon:

Tina Fey & Jane Lynch
Tina Fey and Jane Lynch
Two very funny women presented an award and proceeded to joke about how little they resemble the characters they play on television. But the best moment came at the end, when they not only got in that penis joke,* but highlighted the “triumph” with an in-unison “penis joke!”
Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy sing
Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy
Another favorite moment involved the presentation of an award, rather than an acceptance speech or anything the host said. The duo sang their teleprompter speech, giving us all a pleasant surprise. In a show that can be–and often is–boring and too serious (which is why a host like Gervais is brought in at all), their moment was fun, light-hearted, and playful. If only there were more moments like this in the 3-hour ceremony…
Lowlights:
Ricky Gervais being…funny?
Ricky Gervais
Gervais tells sexist, homophobic jokes and thinks (?) it’s funny to say he “can’t fucking understand” native Spanish speakers (who also speak perfectly clear English) Salma Hayek and Antonio Banderas. However, he also skewers  celebrities during the very awards ceremonies that laud them and treat them like royalty. I like this dynamic very much, and think it captures the way many of us feel about movie stars: we simultaneously adore them and find them utterly ridiculous. The Golden Globes needs a host who is funny and irreverent if the show is to be of any interest to average viewers. I’m convinced this person exists, and I’m also convinced that Gervais is not this person.


Meltem Cumbul on the red carpet

Meltem Cumbul

Ordinarily I’d be pleased to see an international film star who isn’t from the United States appear at the Golden Globes. However, I was puzzled by the appearance of Meltem Cumbul, who made a brief statement and then left the stage. She didn’t present an award, and she didn’t introduce a presenter. While it was wonderful for the Globes to acknowledge that films are made outside of Hollywood, it struck me as a cynical move–to have us believe that the organization is more progressive and inclusive than it actually is. Perhaps I’d be more convinced if she’d have served a purpose on stage, or if the HFPA had more than one category recognizing filmmaking around the world.
Queen Latifah introduces Best Picture nominee The Help
Queen Latifah introduces The Help
Queen Latifah is a talented, confident, and beautiful Black woman, and it was good to see her on stage. That the Globes brought her on stage to introduce the only Best Picture nominee that remotely deals with the experience of Black people…well, that looks like the same kind of cynical move I saw with Cumbul’s appearance. I also can’t help but think that this was the HFPA’s way to avoid or sidestep the real backlash against this movie. Octavia Spencer won for her performance in The Help–and, as I tweeted during the ceremony, I’m glad she won–but it would be nice to see a Black woman win an award for playing something other than a maid, and it would also be nice to see a Black woman introduce a Best Picture nominee that isn’t an extremely problematic story mainly about a White Savior.
Dishonorable Mentions
Penis Jokes*
As seems more and more the norm on television today, we can’t seem to get through a program without implicit or explicit penis jokes. I actually liked Fey and Lynch’s ironic joke, as I mentioned above, but because it was done in the spirit of acknowledging and ironically commenting on the comic trend. Whether you’re watching The Daily Show or the Golden Globes, you’re going to hear about penises. Sunday night, Seth Rogen sexually harassed his co-presenter Kate Beckinsale with a “joke” about having a “massive erection.” Later, George Clooney “joked” (though this seems timid compared to Rogen’s offense) that Michael Fassbender could play golf with his hands tied behind his back. All I can say about this is ENOUGH ALREADY.
Miss Golden Globe
Why oh why oh why oh why do we STILL have to have a lovely young woman stand on stage to occasionally usher off a confused star? Why? WHY?
That’s it from me. What are some of your favorite and least favorite moments from the 2012 Golden Globes?

Top 10 of 2011: Leslie Knope

Guest writer Diane Shipley penned the #4 post in 2011 for our series on Emmy nominees. The piece really struck a nerve for those of us who adore the show–and the character. All we can say is “Knope 2012!” 
_______
Amy Poehler as Leslie Knope
“It’s a great time to be a woman in politics… Get on board and buckle up, ‘cos my ride’s gonna be a big one.”
In the Parks and Recreation pilot, Leslie Knope made clear the extent of her political ambitions. But it was also clear that she was deluded. The Deputy Director of a tiny government department in the fictional small town of Pawnee, Indiana, she earnestly compared herself to Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin. She forged ahead with a plan to build a park in a lot abandoned by a developer, against the advice of her senior colleagues, and when investigating a dangerous pit in the middle of that lot, she fell in. “She’s a little doofy,” Rashida Jones’ Ann spelled out, just in case we hadn’t got the message.
There were few clues back then that Leslie would become one of the most endearing sitcom characters of all time, let alone a feminist icon. In fact, the character TV critics drew the most comparisons with was Michael Scott from The Office. This was understandable, given that, like The Office, Parks and Rec was created by Greg Daniels and Michael Schur, is filmed in a “mockumentary” style, and in season one, had a dry humor that encouraged us to laugh at, not with, its characters. It got a lukewarm reception, perhaps because no one wanted yet another cynical sitcom.
Thank goodness then, that in season two the Leslie we know and love emerged. Still an idealist, but with a strong practical streak and the ability to get things done. No longer mooning over a long-ago office-mate tryst, but having an actual love life. She’s not optimistic because she doesn’t know better, but because she chooses to be, as a survival mechanism. Instead of considering her an affable fool, her now-best friend Ann tells her she’s, “Cool, sexy, funny, and smart.”


See also: #10 in 2011, #9 in 2011, #8 in 2011, #7 in 2011, #6 in 2011, and #5 in 2011.

Quote of the Day: Andi Zeisler

Andi Zeisler, Co-Founder of Bitch Magazine
In The B-Word? You Betcha., published in the Washington Post in 2007, Andi Zeisler, co-founder of Bitch Magazine, discussed the choice of title for the magazine and the cultural significance of the word “bitch.” The piece was published during the 2008 Democratic primary, when the term was routinely applied to candidate Hillary Clinton, as a term of derision and as a compliment (Tina Fey’s Saturday Night Live Weekend Update segment comes to mind, in which she declared “bitch is the new black” and “bitches get things done”). Still, the word remains controversial, and one that many people choose not to embrace. With respect to those people, we do embrace the term.

Here’s Zeisler on the word “bitch:”

People want to know whether it is still a bad word. They want to know whether I support its use in public discourse. Or they already think it’s a bad word and want to discuss whether its use has implications for free speech or sexual harassment or political campaigns.

[…]

So here goes: Bitch is a word we use culturally to describe any woman who is strong, angry, uncompromising and, often, uninterested in pleasing men. We use the term for a woman on the street who doesn’t respond to men’s catcalls or smile when they say, “Cheer up, baby, it can’t be that bad.” We use it for the woman who has a better job than a man and doesn’t apologize for it. We use it for the woman who doesn’t back down from a confrontation.

So let’s not be disingenuous. Is it a bad word? Of course it is. As a culture, we’ve done everything possible to make sure of that, starting with a constantly perpetuated mindset that deems powerful women to be scary, angry and, of course, unfeminine — and sees uncompromising speech by women as anathema to a tidy, well-run world.

Emmy Week 2011: Liz Lemon: The "Every Woman" of Prime Time

Tina Fey as “Liz Lemon” in 30 Rock
Liz Lemon, the protagonist created and portrayed by Tina Fey on NBC’s 30 Rock, is one of television’s most recognizable and loved characters for her outlandish antics and so-real-it-hurts single-line commentaries on women and society.

On the surface, Liz charms the audience with her awkward girl-next-door looks, geeky-smart plastic-framed glasses that she apparently doesn’t need to improve her vision, inappropriate behavior in the workplace and her penchant for drawing the unlucky hand in love. Yet getting to know Liz on a deeper level inspires a sense that this is a woman who, while filled with self-loathing and assorted neuroses, has a heart for people and justice and a knack for making the ridiculous hilarious.

Not surprisingly, Fey has once again been nominated for an Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Comedy Series for her work this year on 30 Rock. Fey has received the nomination each of the five seasons 30 Rock has aired, winning the Outstanding Lead Actress Emmy once in 2008.

What is most endearing about Liz is that she is less “Murphy Brown” and more “Lucille Ball.” Liz is perfectly imperfect and knows this. She continually apologizes for her shortcomings as a human being. She doesn’t have anything figured out and struggles to get through the day knowing that she doesn’t “have it all” and that she probably never will. Had the character of Liz been a strong, successful career woman in the male-dominated business of television, she would have been less able to connect with the audience. Surely Liz has risen through the ranks to be head writer at a successful sketch comedy show, yet her incompetence at work along with her vocal dissatisfaction with her loveless personal life, and even her lack of financial savvy by leaving $12,000 in her checking account rather than investing, make her easier to like and relate to. Even as we see her stretching toward the top, there’s no mistaking the fact that Liz will never break through the shatterproof Plexiglas ceiling.

Online media is filled with Web sites and articles on both Tina Fey and Liz Lemon attempting to analyze where one leaves off and the other begins to determine how much of Liz is really Fey. Frankly, if the character of Liz was too closely based on Fey, we may have stopped tuning in the first season.

What Fey was able to do was take the physical and mental quirks of her own and then add to that an excessive dose of dysfunctional human qualities that make Liz such a train wreck and, thus, a joy to watch. The weekly deconstruction of her psyche takes viewers on yet another downward spiral that ultimately makes viewers feel good about themselves. Sure, we may not subscribe to an organized religion, but are we as bad as Liz who claims she believes whatever Oprah tells her to believe? Maybe we won’t admit to feeling the same way, but most of us do know women who place Oprah on an altar and do-read-buy whatever Oprah says is a must. Additionally, we may not yell at incompetent people we encounter each day as Liz would, but our connection with her is strengthened because we want to berate them and call them jerks, but social boundaries keep us in check. With Liz, we can enjoy the fantasy of venting out loud without the societal consequences.

In any discussion of Liz Lemon, the question of feminism arises. In the pilot episode, Jack Donaghy quickly and accurately characterizes Liz as a third-wave feminist. One thing Jack is, and that is a master at marketing and knowing markets. He can size up people instantly. Jack’s insights into Liz are better than her own. Through Jack, the parts of Liz that she couldn’t put into words are brought to life. Remember “porn for women”? Jack realized from his encounters with Liz that women want someone to listen to them, and he quickly developed an entire cable selection of hunky men who, for a price, would listen and talk to women on their TV screens for as long as they desired. Liz purchased immediately.

Frankly, any woman today qualifies as a third-wave feminist because that is the underlying tenet of the concept: there are as many definitions of feminism as there are women. No longer is feminism defined as one cohesive line of thinking. During the so-called first wave, women were united in the fight for voting rights. The second-wave feminists were determined to see civil rights and social rights uniformly recognized for all people regardless of gender. Without a uniform cause and agenda today, this third wave of feminism lacks any agreed upon definition or boundaries of thought which is exactly the point: there is no one “woman’s point-of-view.”

Yet how does Liz live out this idea of third-wave feminism? How was this so obvious to Jack?

Feminism defined by Liz is contradictory in that she is a strong career woman and that she is a complete person outside of having a man to validate her existence. Yet Liz has a strong desire to be in a relationship, and she is irrationally angry with women who have husbands or children. Her job as head of TGS with Tracy Jordan (formerly called The Girlie Show) is certainly testament to her abilities in a male-dominated industry, yet her staff of men and her boss, Jack, causes her to continually apologize for being tough or demanding.

Liz’s self-image is played out in her wardrobe, which is androgynous at best. In one episode, Jack comments that she is dressing as if she shops at Kmart. Clothing choices tell a great deal about how a woman feels about herself. For Liz, she has been stripped of all femininity and sees herself as trying to fit in with the masculine world in which she works and socializes, in spite of being mistaken for a Lesbian.

Liz Lemon is entertaining because in most regards, she’s worse off than we are. She may have a better job than most of us, but her staff ridicules her, and her boss is continually undermining her efforts to be a strong leader. Liz barely gets respect from her closest female friend Jenna, but even she is too wrapped up in her own neuroses to give much time to Liz’s problems. Compared to Liz, all of us are better off than she is. In every respect of her life, Liz comes up short: her wardrobe is wrong for her career, she’s single and hates it, and her friendships are sub par with the exception of Jack, who knows her best. While he most likely wouldn’t donate a kidney to Liz even if she desperately needed it, we get the impression he would make arrangements for her to have the best dialysis money could buy, and he would probably keep her company during treatments. Many of us would consider ourselves fortunate to have a friend like Jack.

Liz is the modern-day “every woman” who realizes her flaws, hates herself for them, yet owns her misery and wears it daily like a pair of comfortable Kmart sweatpants. No one loves Liz Lemon for being perfect. What makes Liz draw in an audience is her dysfunction in every aspect of her life. How she reacts to her life is always unexpected yet entirely appreciated.

Lisa Mathews is a relocated Los Angeles native and former newspaper reporter currently pursuing a graduate degree in political science. 

Emmy Week 2011: Leslie Knope

Amy Poehler as Leslie Knope

“It’s a great time to be a woman in politics… Get on board and buckle up, ‘cos my ride’s gonna be a big one.”
In the Parks and Recreation pilot, Leslie Knope made clear the extent of her political ambitions. But it was also clear that she was deluded. The Deputy Director of a tiny government department in the fictional small town of Pawnee, Indiana, she earnestly compared herself to Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin. She forged ahead with a plan to build a park in a lot abandoned by a developer, against the advice of her senior colleagues, and when investigating a dangerous pit in the middle of that lot, she fell in. “She’s a little doofy,” Rashida Jones’ Ann spelled out, just in case we hadn’t got the message.
There were few clues back then that Leslie would become one of the most endearing sitcom characters of all time, let alone a feminist icon. In fact, the character TV critics drew the most comparisons with was Michael Scott from The Office. This was understandable, given that, like The Office, Parks and Rec was created by Greg Daniels and Michael Schur, is filmed in a “mockumentary” style, and in season one, had a dry humor that encouraged us to laugh at, not with, its characters. It got a lukewarm reception, perhaps because no one wanted yet another cynical sitcom.
Thank goodness then, that in season two the Leslie we know and love emerged. Still an idealist, but with a strong practical streak and the ability to get things done. No longer mooning over a long-ago office-mate tryst, but having an actual love life. She’s not optimistic because she doesn’t know better, but because she chooses to be, as a survival mechanism. Instead of considering her an affable fool, her now-best friend Ann tells her she’s, “Cool, sexy, funny, and smart.”
She’s also competent: she not only gets that park built, she re-instates Pawnee’s harvest festival, bringing in thousands of dollars in tourism and new business, and saving her department in the process. We start to see that maybe her earlier pronouncements were prescient: why *shouldn’t* Leslie Knope be the first female president?
Yet (for what the term is worth) she’s no Mary Sue: Leslie has flaws, including an obscenely messy house, a horrific dating history (“A guy invited me to a beautiful picnic with wine and flowers and when I tried to sit down, he said ‘Don’t eat anything, Rebecca’s coming.’ And then he broke up with me.”) and a dorky past, which only make her more appealing. It’s a credit to both the writers and Amy Poehler’s acting skill that Leslie is a believable character, not just a caricature. Which is why the comparison of Leslie to Liz Lemon is so ridiculous.
On one level, it’s understandable, of course. In real life, Amy Poehler and Tina Fey are friends, former SNL cast mates and movie co-stars, and both identify as feminists. They’re also in the same age and race demographic and both play female leads on NBC sitcoms. When Parks and Rec started, some articles even implied that Amy Poehler’s success was a threat to Tina Fey’s, as if there could only be one funny woman on a network at a time.
Tina Fey as Liz Lemon
But where Leslie Knope leads her department with skill and good humour despite the petty bureaucracy she often has to negotiate, Liz Lemon is a stress-eating, approval-seeking, baby-stealing mess who dates men who hate her, wears plastic bags as underwear, and is waiting for her real life (the one where she’s married and therefore happy) to start. Tina Fey is charming enough to be entertaining while she portrays this nightmare of modern womanhood, and no doubt she makes a lot of Slanket-wearing insomniacs feel better about themselves. But Fey isn’t just the star of this show, she’s also its showrunner, and it’s not clear what message she’s trying to convey by turning one of the few overtly feminist characters on TV into a self-interested workaholic who always looks to her male boss for guidance. Like Community’s insufferable do-gooder Brita Perry, Lemon’s altruistic and sisterly impulses are often shown to be misguided, undermining not just the character, but feminism as a whole. Perhaps Fey is only trying to puncture the self-righteousness of the movement, but it seems like a weak target when there’s so much misogyny she could be mocking.
Unlike Liz Lemon, Leslie doesn’t just pay lip service to feminist ideals, or spout them in support of her own work goals, she sees political activism on behalf of the women of Pawnee as part of her mandate, and has set up a camp for underprivileged teen girls. And who else, when reluctantly roped in to judge a beauty pageant, would bring her own laminated scorecard with categories including “Knowledge of herstory” and “The Naomi Wolf factor”? (One of the most stealthy and brilliant moments in feminist TV history.) While both Liz and Leslie look to their male bosses for validation, Liz is unable to function without Jack’s help, whereas Leslie is capable of managing the department without Ron’s input, and usually does.
30 Rock frequently employs farce to make us laugh, but Parks and Rec is more lovable because it avoids the obvious and the outsized, creating funny moments by building on what we know about these characters and their relationships. From the second season onward, its lack of cynicism has been refreshing. Tina Fey is great at what she does, but doesn’t have much scope, and doesn’t do vulnerable well. Leslie Knope is unquestionably Amy Poehler’s best role, and it’s because she’s restrained her silly side and concentrated on creating a character we can relate to.
Leslie (Poehler) and Ann (Jones)
One of the most overt ways Leslie’s feminism is displayed is in her friendship with Ann, one of her most significant relationships.  The two women clearly care about and admire each other and are there for each other’s freak-outs. I realized about halfway through season two that I was often clenched when I watched them together, willing them not to fall out. I was sad and shocked to recognize that there’s an undercurrent of bitchiness in so many on-screen female friendships that I’ve started to expect it as standard. Portraying two women who like each other might be the most radical thing a sitcom can do.
I don’t think there’s been such a feminist TV character since the ‘80s, when, at different ends of the class and race spectrum, women like Clair Huxtable and Roseanne Conner challenged sexist expectations through the use of confrontation and sarcasm. The ‘90s saw some backpedalling among feminist characters: Seinfeld’s Elaine Benes struck blows for equality by openly discussing periods and birth control and dumping a man who was anti-abortion, but she mostly showed contempt for her female friends and still bought into outdated gender expectations, like that a man should make the first move on a date. Murphy Brown was a strong, intelligent woman, and in her decision to be a single mother, became the inadvertent enemy of conservative America. But she ended up laughing off her early feminist activism as mere youthful over-exuberance.
Meanwhile, the Friends women valued their independence — Monica was the strongest proponent of the idea that Rachel should cut up her father-funded credit cards — but embodied a very Cosmo, “it’s all up to the individual” post-feminist vision which presents issues of female empowerment (like standing up to sexist bosses and self-defence when your bestie’s boyfriend gets handsy) as individual struggles, rather than the symptoms of the kyriarchy they really are. But these women were paragons of feminist ideals compared to most sitcom women of the ‘90s and ‘00s, who re-created retrograde gender roles with husbands they disdained, nagging all the way, as on King of Queens, Still Standing, Everybody Loves Raymond, and many others.
Sexist tropes these downtrodden wives may have been, but at least they had voices. They’ve since given way to anemic characters like the women of How I Met Your Mother, where Alyson Hannigan’s baby-voiced Lily sighs about the importance of everyone getting married and supports her husband in his dream of becoming an environmental lawyer, while her own ambition to be an artist is played for laughs. Worse, her friend Robin, a news presenter who loves hockey and beer, has her “unfeminine” interests explained by the back-story that her father wanted her to be a boy. HIMYM further plays on gender (and sometimes racial) stereotyping and employs sexist, sexually charged humor as Barney discusses his frequent conquests, saying debasing things which the audience is expected to forgive because Neil Patrick Harris is gay in real life and to complain would mean we didn’t understand post-feminist irony. The same claims can be made by Two and a Half Men, where the (un)importance of autonomous female characters is telegraphed by the title, and The Big Bang Theory, where pretty blonde Penny is just a stereotypically sexy comic foil for a group of clever boys.
It’s notable then, that not only is Leslie Knope an intelligent and capable character, but that these are qualities  admired by her colleagues, friends, and boyfriends. “Flu Season,” the episode for which Poehler is Emmy-nominated, is one of Amy’s, and Leslie’s, finest moments. Charged with making a presentation to local businesses to sell them on the idea of the harvest festival, Leslie refuses to pass the responsibility to her colleague (and soon-to-be love interest) Ben, even though she’s been badly hit by a flu virus. “It’s not that I don’t trust Ben,” she explains. “It’s that I don’t have faith in Ben. And also I’m starting to forget who Ben is.” She escapes from hospital, stealing flu meds from other patients on the way, makes a convincing presentation despite being dizzy and barely able to see her notes, and then collapses into a chair. “That was amazing…” says Ben, his face conveying his admiration. “That was Leslie Knope.”
He’s right: Leslie Knope *is* amazing. Over the course of three seasons, she’s gone from a small-time, small-town government employee with delusions of grandeur to someone it’s easy to believe could make a big splash on the larger political stage one day. I hope she does, and I hope we get to see it.
What’s more, the popularity of her character signals an important change, a backlash against the backlash: the mainstream acceptance of a heroine who lives by feminist values and encourages others to do the same. But she’s just one woman, and a white, able-bodied, cisgender, middle class woman at that. We’re still in need of more diversity: in politics, and more importantly, on TV.

Diane Shipley is a freelance journalist and inveterate blogger with a special interest in social justice as it pertains to TV, books, and actual real life. Her website is www.dianeshipley.com, she tweets as @dianeshipley and she wants Amy Poehler for a BFF.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Film Corner from Shakesville

Female buddy flick died after ‘Thelma & Louise,’ co-star’s say on film’s anniversary from The Globe and Mail

oh, WTF: “sexy” ‘Girl with the Dragon Tattoo’ poster misses the fucking point entirely from The Flick Filosopher

Few Summer Movies Aimed at Women from The New York Times

Tina Fey and Ellen: Making the F Word and the L Word OK for the Masses from Ms. blog

The Bitch High-Five: What’s Your Least Favorite Summer Blockbuster Trope? from Bitch

Call for Submissions for 2012 Athena Film Festival from Athena Film Festival

What if weddings were not framed as “The Event the Will Change Everything”? (Thoughts on the Breaking Dawn trailer and continuing wedding fervor ala Twilight) from Professor, What If?

What’s Wrong with this Picture? from Women and Hollywood

Book pick: Feminism at the Movies: Understanding Gender in Contemporary Popular Cinema by Hilary Radner and Rebecca Stringer

Leave your links!

Quote of the Day: Tina Fey

Bossypants by Tina Fey
Bossypants is a good book. Parts of it are laugh-out-loud-in-public funny, and parts of it make me think Fey is an overprivileged asshat, but still a funny asshat. And, as my friend Abby recently said, “Parts of it just made me love Amy Poehler more.”
In the spirit of loving Amy Poehler, and Tina Fey, here is an excerpt.
Amy Poehler was new to SNL and we were all crowded into the seventeenth-floor writers’ room, waiting for the Wednesday read-through to start. There were always a lot of noisy “comedy bits” going on in that room. Amy was in the middle of some such nonsense with Seth Meyers across the table, and she did something vulgar as a joke. I can’t remember what it was exactly, except it was dirty and loud and “unladylike.”
Jimmy Fallon, who was arguably the star of the show at the time, turned to her and in a faux-squeamish voice said, “Stop that! It’s not cute! I don’t like it.”
Amy dropped what she was doing, went black in the eyes for a second, and wheeled around on him. “I don’t fucking care if you like it.” Jimmy was visibly startled. Amy went right back to enjoying her ridiculous bit. (I should make clear that Jimmy and Amy are very good friends and there was never any real beef between them. Insert penis joke here.)
With that exchange, a cosmic shift took place. Amy made it clear that she wasn’t there to be cute. She wasn’t there to play wives and girlfriends in the boys’ scenes. She was there to do what she wanted to do and she did not fucking care if you like it.
I was so happy. Weirdly, I remember thinking, “My friend is here! My friend is here!” Even though things had been going great for me at the show, with Amy there, I felt less alone.
I think of this whenever someone says to me, “Jerry Lewis says women aren’t funny, ” or “Christopher Hitchens says women aren’t funny,” or “Rick Fenderman says women aren’t funny…Do you have anything to say to that?”
Yes. We don’t fucking care if you like it.

Quote of the Day: Rebecca Traister

Big Girls Don’t Cry: The Election that Changed Everything for American Women by Rebecca Traister
Rebecca Traister’s Big Girls Don’t Cry looks at the 2008 election through a feminist lens and, (no surprise), focuses most on primary candidate Hillary Clinton, and later Sarah Palin. The book is, however, much more than just an analysis of the sexism these two women endured. Big Girls Don’t Cry looks at the ways in which the media itself was forced to adapt, particularly to Clinton’s historic run at the presidency. This book is an excellent, smartly written look back at gender politics in 2008. For me, it reopened wounds and ignited anger I felt during the election cycle, when I heard, time and again, painful misogynist commentary coming from our so-called liberal media. However, the book provides a kind of catharsis: if we can look back through Traister’s clear eye, maybe we–individuals and the collective–will change.

The book is especially incisive when discussing how the media–the news media and entertainment realm–itself had to change in reaction to the election, and provided several “Ah ha!” moments for me. 
Here’s an excerpt from her chapter “Pop Culture Warriors.”
If Katie Couric was the nail in Sarah Palin’s vice-presidential coffin, the hammer was Tina Fey. Fey’s deadly impression of Palin was played out over half a dozen sketches for which Fey returned to Saturday Night Live, where she had been the first female head writer and where, in February, she made news with her comedic defense of Hillary Clinton, “Bitch is the new black.” 
[…]
Fey’s take on Palin was serendipitous, prompted by the strong resemblance between the two women. But that likeness was part of what made it groundbreaking: a vice-presidential candidate looked like a famous comedian. A female comedian. And on it went. Hillary Clinton had been played by Poehler for several years. The interview that brought Palin low had been administered by Couric, a woman also played by Poehler. The vice-presidential debate had been moderated by Gwen Ifill, prompting a guest appearance by the inimitable Queen Latifah. Inasmuch as each of the impersonations relied on the amplification of feminine traits–Poehler/Couric’s heavily mascara’d and incessant blinking, Poehler/Hillary’s hyenic laugh, Fey/Palin’s sexy librarianism–in ways that might indeed be sexist or reductive, those characteristics were ripe for amplification only because the objects of political and media parody had high-pitched laughs and wore mascara and pencil skirts. The heightened femininity of Palin’s political persona also came in for examination; during the Couric-Palin sketch, Couric pointed out to a stumped Palin, “It seems to me that when cornered you become increasingly adorable.” That little one-liner, accompanied by Fey’s inspired shooting of fake finger guns, distilled a gender dynamic–wherein women infantilize themselves as a defensive strategy–it might otherwise take thousands of words to unspool.

[…]

But in comedy, as in real life, the arrival of Palin on the scene threw Clinton into a new focus. Next to Palin, Clinton’s good qualities–her brains, competence, work ethic, her belief in secular government and reproductive freedoms, her ability to complete sentences–became far more evident than they had been before there was another potential “first woman” to compare her to. Nothing conveyed these haze-clearing realignments of perspective as quickly and as firmly as Fey and Poehler did in five and a half minutes. The parodic depiction of the two women side by side exposed the complex dynamics of Palin’s parasitism, their unwilling symbiosis, and their stark differences.

You can read reviews of the book at Gender Focus and Feministing.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Black Swan & Drag Me to Hell. Feminist Horror Fans Rejoice! from MovieChopShop

So in a horror film, you can approach issues that are complicated, frightening, and beyond the black-and-white world of the “stand up and cheer” drama. Portman’s character is so complex not in spite of the genre but directly because of it. We can peer into the deep dark depths of her mind and confront the murky reality of how her life choices have stunted her growth as a person…and how her intense need to break free from her self-created prison leads to a horrendous expression of human weakness and base instinct.

“Crazy Chicks Are Hot?” 8 Messed-Up Portrayals of Women Going Insane in Film from AlterNet

Everyone loves to watch a hot babe going batshit crazy. At least that’s what the astronomical success of Black Swan would have you believe, the film in which Darren Aronofsky casts his misogynist gaze upon Natalie Portman, gorgeous and coming completely undone, for what is essentially a two-hour snuff film.

Classic Feminist Writings (H/T to Fourth Wave)

Full-text articles available to read online for free, including pieces by Marlene Dixon, the Women’s Collective, Barbara Ehrenreich, and more.

Is Hollywood Pushing Black Actors to TV? from Racialicious

Oscar nominees have been headed to TV: Taraji P. Henson just did a Lifetime movie; Terrence Howard has been doing a Law & Order spinoff; Angela Bassett signed on to a cop drama on ABC; Don Cheadle is creating his own series for Showtime; and Michael Clarke Duncan is doing a Bones spinoff. Rising stars like Columbus Short is joining Washington’s series. Common is headed to AMC. Of course, stars like Blair Underwood are already headlining series.

It seems that there are so many crazy women in Hollywood that it’s hard to find a sane one.  Maybe it’s not the women who are crazy, but it’s the situations they are put in on a constant basis that make them act crazy on occasion. Maybe they are sick and tired of being treated like shit each and every day that they are fighting back and get marked as crazy.  Crazy is a euphemism for a woman who has an opinion in Hollywood. 

Cut! Hollywood’s lady troubles go way back from The Smart Set

Things in Hollywood have been stagnant for so long that a book such as 1974’s From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in Movies by film critic Molly Haskell’s has not faded become a historical document. The book was written during the Golden Age of American cinema, the age of Coppola and Nichols and Bonnie and Clyde and Easy Rider — and yet women were left out of the renaissance. As Haskell writes, “Here we are today, with an unparalleled freedom of expression, and a record number of women performing, achieving, choosing to fulfill themselves, and we are insulted with the worst — the most abused, neglected, and dehumanized — screen heroines in film history.”

A New Low: Bad Teacher Trailer from Women and Hollywood

Personally, I find it way more offensive that this stars a woman.  Is this the parity we wanted?  A woman who is just as much of an ass as the guys?  What the hell happened to Cameron Diaz’ career?

Neko Case Can’t Get Laid!  (for its discussion of 30 Rock) from Ann Friedman

I just can’t take any more of the “Liz Lemon is absurdly, comically unattractive and unlucky in love” plot lines. It’s simply too incongruous with Tina Fey’s beauty, Liz’s smarts, and her position as a successful, prominent head writer and producer of a major network television show.

Leave links to what you’ve been reading or writing about this week in the comments!

2009 Golden Globe Winners


The Golden Globes aired January 11, 2009. For those that missed it, or who want a reminder, here are the winners from some of my favorite categories. For a complete list of nominees and winners, go to the official Hollywood Foreign Press Association’s Golden Globes page.

Best Motion Picture – Drama: Slumdog Millionaire

Best Actress – Drama: Kate Winslet in Revolutionary Road

Best Actor – Drama: Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler

Best Picture – Musical or Comedy: Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Best Actress – Comedy: Sally Hawkins in Happy-Go-Lucky

Best Actor – Comedy: Colin Farrell in In Bruges

Best Supporting Actress: Kate Winslet in The Reader

Best Supporting Actor: Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight

Best Animated Film: Wall-E

Best Foreign Language Film: Waltz With Bashir

Best Director: Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire

Best Screenplay: Simon Beaufoy for Slumdog Millionaire

Some other highlights include three awards for 30 Rock (Best Television Series Musical or Comedy, Best Actress for Tina Fey, and Best Actor for Alec Baldwin), four awards for HBO’s fantastic John Adams miniseries (Best Miniseries or Motion Picture Made for Television, Best Actress for Laura Linney, Best Actor for Paul Giamatti, and Best Supporting Actor for Tom Wilkinson). Laura Dern won for her role as Florida Secretary of State Kathleen Harris in HBO’s superb Recount–a surprisingly suspenseful and engaging movie.

Movie Review: Baby Mama

Just to put it out there, I love Tina Fey. Who doesn’t right now, with her Emmy-winning TV series 30 Rock returning soon, and her riotously funny return to Saturday Night Live as Sarah Palin? If you haven’t yet seen Baby Mama, starring (but not written by) Fey and Amy Poehler, rent it. It’s funny, it’s smart, and–as a bonus–it’s one of the few movies that passes the Bechdel Test.

Baby Mama opens with a monologue from Kate (Tina Fey) that states a central problem for women who value both work and family, and it’s worth quoting here at length:

I did everything that I was supposed to do. I didn’t cry in meetings, I didn’t wear short skirts, I put up with the weird upper-management guys that kiss you on the mouth at Christmas. Is it fair that to be the youngest VP in my company I will be the oldest mom at preschool? Not really, but that’s part of the deal. I made a choice. Some women got pregnant; I got promotions. And I still aspire to meet someone, and fall in love, and get married, but that is a very high risk scenario. And I want a baby now. I’m 37.

Everything that Kate was supposed to do is a negation—she actually did nothing she wasn’t supposed to do: she didn’t get emotional, she didn’t inappropriately use her sexuality, she didn’t reprimand her superiors for inappropriate behavior. In other words, she put up with sexism and accepted the lies about women in the workplace, like “choice,” and “fairness.” She didn’t argue and she didn’t speak up for herself. She was a Yes Woman.

The beginning of the movie sets a high standard—and high hopes—for what follows. The initial joke here is that her monologue doesn’t address us—the audience—but a date. A first date. At the same time as give us our first laugh, she establishes her character as smart and ambitious, and still a woman who wants a child.

The plot of the movie is rather traditional, with a few twists, but it isn’t the plot that makes the movie so good. It’s the inherent critiques of male-dominated institutions that are subtle enough to avoid sounding topical or preachy, but strong and effective enough to reach the film’s smart viewers.

Real Life and Business

First is a critique—that runs throughout the movie—of the corporate business model. Kate’s sister, Caroline (Maura Tierney) first introduces the divide between “business” and “real life” when she chides Kate that “having a baby isn’t like opening one of your stores.” Caroline, who represents the perfect “mommy” in the movie, thinks that Kate’s approach to having a baby is too business-like.

Further, Chaffee Bicknell (Sigourney Weaver), who runs the surrogacy institute, refers to surrogacy as “outsourcing” and a “growth market,” and takes serious note of Kate’s joke about women in third-world countries carrying babies for wealthy women. Bicknell equates a nanny with a surrogate; a nanny takes care of your baby after it’s born, a surrogate takes care of your baby before it’s born. The ironic twist is that Bicknell is fertile to the point of absurdity, and didn’t start the business out of empathy, but simply for capitalist reasons.

This divide between “real life” and “business” is affirmed further by a conversation between Angie (Poehler) and her common law husband, Carl (Dax Shepard). In a scene where Carl refers to Kate as “Katie,” Angie defends her relationship with Kate (a plot twist, which I won’t reveal here, initiates the conversation). Carl tells Angie “You think you guys would be friends in real life? She’s a business lady. It’s just business.”

So what does this all add up to? Kate is, in fact, an unapologetic business lady. When love interest Rob (Greg Kinnear) warns her against “the man,” Kate thinks he means the cops when, in fact, he’s talking about rival smoothie makers Jamba Juice. “Jamba Juice is the man?” she asks. Kate, VP of operations for a corporate organic grocery, is also “the man.” It’s not clear, however, whether she’s aware of this fact, or how important the fact really is—to Kate and to the movie. The movie certainly critiques (and parodies) her corporate culture, but it still celebrates her success within it.

Hip Hop Culture

Critique of the hip hop industry comes from two subtle moments in the movie. In the first, we meet Kate’s doorman, Oscar (Romany Malco), singing along with his iPod to a song objectifying women. Oscar, for me, is probably the most troubling issue with the movie. Not only is he perpetually popping up in scenes, but his characterization reeks of stereotype and is a little cringe-worthy at times. He delivers some smart, funny lines, but doesn’t become a fully-realized character. Yet, viewers recognize a silly divide between the man he is and the music he consumes.

Not long after, Carl rummages through Kate’s media drawer and, dissatisfied, asks “Don’t you get down with rap?” Kate replies “Boy, somewhere in there I have an old Salt-N-Pepa CD.” While Kate name-checks some 90s hip hop that’s certainly more female-friendly than most of today’s fare, the implication is that she wouldn’t listen to music that she could, in no way, relate to. Or, it may simply show how out-of-touch she is with popular culture. The latter could certainly be the case, as an evening out with Angie shows how rarely Kate lets loose for a good time.

Men and Women, Talking

The movie’s men are all boyfriends, bosses, sidekicks—the standard roles for women in mainstream movies. While Kate’s boss, new-ager Barry, Carl, and Oscar are stereotypes, her love interest is a bit more round, even addressing gender during their first date. After Kate places a very specific Philly steak order, she says “I’m sorry. I’m a little overly thorough. Some people would say that I am bossy and controlling.” Rob replies “No, that’s just prejudice. They call you bossy and controlling ‘cause you’re a woman. But if you were a man doing the same stuff, you’d just be a dick.” The joke here is that he doesn’t say she’d be called “assertive” or the like; he actually insults her. While some enjoy this method of flirtation more than others, the recognition of a gender power dynamic is a cue for sympathetic viewers that he’s a smart match for Kate.

The real story of the movie isn’t the baby, of course, but the women. I love that about the movie. Kate and Angie fight, and are allowed real conflicts—in their own lives and with each other. There’s a nasty exchange of words between the two, where Kate reveals her classism, which had previously just shown up in comedic moments. A real friendship develops between them, and the movie is no less funny for it.