Vikings – Bitch Flicks

Violent Women: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts from our Violent Women Theme Week here.

The Violent Vagina: The Real Horror Behind the Teeth by Belle Artiquez

It’s a conundrum, one that Dawn faces head (or vagina) on. She is forced to confront these opposing views, and her body reacts the only way it knows how, it bites the penis of society, it castrates the men that want to turn her into something she doesn’t want to be: a sexual young woman.

Salt: A Refreshing Genderless Lens by Cameron Airen

Violent films with a female at their center tend to be viewed differently than violent films with a male lead. When a woman is in this role, it’s controversial. When a man is in the same type of role, it’s a part of who he is as a human being. We’ve become numb to the violence that men engage in onscreen. As a result, we don’t criticize it like we do when a woman is engaging in it.

Shieldmaidens: The Power and Pleasure of Women’s Violence on Vikings by Lisa Bolekaja

Emotional Violence, Kink, and The Duke of Burgundy by Rushaa Louise Hamid

In much of feminist literature from the past, kink is seen an act driven by patriarchy, with submissive women reproducing their oppressions in the bedroom and capitulating to gendered norms of women as silent and subservient. Even nowadays as the tide gradually changes, there is still a large amount of ire reserved for those who practice BDSM.

Violence and Morality in The 100 by Esther Nassaris

This act of mercy killing is the first of many moments when Clarke is forced to be violent for the good of others. It not only prompts an important change within herself – she loses her idealistic ways – but it prompts a change in the group dynamics. After this moment, Clarke begins to pull away from the co-leadership she and Bellamy had operated in and moves toward becoming the sole leader of the delinquents.

The Rising “Tough” Women in AMC’s The Walking Dead Season Five by Brooke Bennett

This season seems to present a large change in representational issues by including complex characters of color that we actually know something about and care for, presenting the couple of Aaron and Eric from the Alexandria community and self-pronounced lesbian Tara, and doing away with the innate equation of vagina equals do the laundry while the men go kill all the zombies.

Nine Pretty Great Lesbian Vampire Movies by Sara Century

Almost unfailingly exploitative in its portrayal of queer women, this specific sub-genre of film stands alone in a few ways, not the least of which being that the vampires, while murderous and ultimately doomed, are powerful, lonely women, often living their lives outside of society’s rules.

The Real Mother Russia: Modernising Murder and Betrayal in The Americans by Dan Jordan

The ideological battle between the FBI and KGB is thus a gendered one, as the national characters of Uncle Sam and Mother Russia are pitted against each other on a more even world stage.

Monster: A Telling of the Real Life Consequences for Violent Women by Danika Kimball

Throughout her life, Wuornos experienced horrific instances of gendered abuse, which eventually lead to a violent outlash at her unfair circumstances. Monster vividly documents the life of a woman whose experiences under a dominant patriarchal culture racked with abuse, poverty, and desperation led to a life of crime, imprisonment, and eventually death.

Stoker–Family Secrets, Frozen Bodies, and Female Orgasms by Julie Mills

Her uncle’s imposing presence has awakened in her at the same time a lust for bloodshed and an intense sexual desire, and she promptly begins to experiment and seek out means with which to satisfy both.

Sons of Anarchy: Female Violence, Feminist Care by Leigh Kolb

At the end of season 6, Gemma violently clashes the spheres of power. She’s in the kitchen. She’s using an iron, and a carving fork. Using tools of the feminine sphere, she brutally murders Tara, because she fears that Tara is about to take control and dismantle the club—the life, the style of mothering and living—that she brought home with her so many years ago.

What’s in a Name: Anxiety About Violent Women in Monster, Teeth, and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Colleen Clemens

The first college course I ever developed focuses on women and violence. Stemming from my interest in women who enact violence on and off the page, I wanted to ask students to think about our perceptions of women as “naturally” peaceful.

Hard Candy: The Razor Blade Hidden in an Apple-Cheeked Confection by Emma Kat Richardson

Hogtying and drugging Jeff is only the tip of Hayley’s sadistic iceberg: over the course of the next several hours, she subjects him to a series of tortures more at home in Guantanamo Bay than a sleepy suburban neighborhood, including spraying his screaming mouth with chemicals, temporarily suffocating him with cellophane, and attacking him with a taser in the shower.

High Tension: Rethinking Female Sexuality and Subjectivity Through Violence by Laura Minor

Rather than pander to the male gaze, Aja decides to reject these scopophilic pleasures in favour of championing female subjectivity, but he also chooses to reject heteronormativity by having the lesbian desires of Marie drive the plot of the film. Interestingly, it is these desires and subjective experiences that both initiate the use of violence and intensify the representation of violence throughout.

“It is not fitting for her to be so manly and terrifying”: Catharsis and Female Chaos in Pasolini’s Medea by Brigit McCone

Pier Paolo Pasolini’s 1969 film Medea was created in the aftermath of Italian fascism, another masculine cult of personal self-sacrifice in the interests of the state. Utilizing the operatic charisma of the legendary Maria Callas in a non-singing role, he harnesses the pitiless woman as an agent of chaos, rebelling against the dictates of the masculine state that urges her husband to discard her, in favor of a politically advantageous match.

Domestic Terrorism: Feminized Violence in Misery by Tessa Racked

Annie is a human being, dangerous not because of an evil supernatural force, but rather a severe and untreated mental illness. Although Annie is not given an official diagnosis in the film or the novel, an interview with a forensic psychologist on the special edition DVD characterizes her as displaying symptoms of several different conditions, including borderline personality disorder (BPD).

Girlhood: Observed But Not Seen by Ren Jender

Girlhood starts on a peak note: a slow-motion scene of what looks like Black men playing American tackle football on a field at night, wearing helmets, shoulder pads and mouth guards, so we don’t realize–until we notice the players’ breasts under their uniforms–that they are all girls.

Patty Jenkins’ Monster: Shouldering the Double Burden of Masculinity and Femininity by Katherine Parker-Hay

In this narrative we see masculinity float free from any ties to the male body, femininity float free from any easy connection to frailness – we see them meet in the one body of this working class woman to excruciating effect.

Feminist Fangs: The Activist Symbolism of Violent Vampire Women by Melissa-Kelly Franklin

The acts of violence by the female protagonists are terrifying, swift, and socially subversive. They target misogynistic representatives of the patriarchal society that oppresses and silences women, taking them out one by one.

Slashing Gender Assumptions: The Female Killer, Unmasked by Kate Blair

To a certain extent, the reveal of woman as killer in both films comes across as a “gotcha” moment. After an hour or so of being scared out of your wits, it’s both surprising and puzzling to see a woman emerge as the killer. In the real world, most documented violent crimes are committed by men, but in a film, where anything can happen, there’s no reason to make this assumption.

“Did I Step on Your Moment?” The Seductive and Psychological Violence of Female Superheroes by Mary Iannone

This style of fighting codes our female superheroes as half menacing and half attractive – we are meant to be afraid of them, but also enticed by them. Their violence is inextricably linked to their sexuality.

Nobody Puts Susan Cooper in the Basement: Melissa McCarthy and Skillful, Competent Violence in Film by Laura Power

As McCarthy tousles with her own nemesis in the kitchen fight, Feig uses slow motion to let us savor the violence and bird’s eye shots to let us see the controlled swings of Cooper’s arms and legs as she fights. The violence is not slapstick. The violence is not played for laughs. The violence is just flat-out cinematically terrific.

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

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

Sugar, Spice, and Things Not Nice: Violent Girlhood in Violet & Daisy by Caroline Madden

The character of Daisy personifies the film’s juxtaposition of violence and girlhood. Daisy loves cute animals and doesn’t understand Violet’s dirty jokes. The twist is even that she has not really killed anyone, thus remaining innocent of all crimes. The opening scene displays the most daring oppositional iconography — the young girls dress as nuns, the ultimate image of pure goodness, while having a shoot ‘em up with a gang.

Children: The Great Qualifier of Female Violence by Katherine Fusciardi

True, the rape revenge trope has been put at bay, but there is still a gender issue behind the remaining motivation. It focuses around the assumption of maternity being the all-encompassing passion. Until female characters can be violent for reasons that have nothing to do with their womanhood, there still isn’t complete equality in media.

How Spring Breakers Ungenders the Erotic and Transformative Power of Violence by Emma Houxbois

The girls, driven by desperation to escape their mundane lives to take part in Spring Break, scheme a robbery of the local chicken shack to raise the necessary funds to get there. To psyche themselves up for the crime, they exhort each other to pretend it’s a video game, to detach themselves and dehumanize their victims in a hurried pep talk to the same end as the grueling boot camp scenes sequences in Full Metal Jacket.

Mad Max: Fury Road: Violence Helps Our Heroines Have a Lovely Day by Sophie Hall

Furiosa, stabbed and wounded yet still persistent, takes down the main villain Immortan Joe. “Remember me?” Furiosa growls just before ripping his breathing apparatus–and half of his face–clean off. That quip may seem like your average cool one-liner, but for me it is so much more than that. It’s Furiosa, our female protagonist, who takes out the bad guy. Not Max. Not Nux, or any other male character. Her.

Puberty and the Creation of a Monster: Ginger Snaps by Kelly Piercy

Ginger, despite morphing into a werewolf, becomes our protagonist killer in a very human way, and the complexity of her journey is a cinematic rarity. A large part of its appeal is the addictive excitement-and-relief cocktail that comes with seeing your experiences reflected on screen–to see menstruation from a menstruating perspective. Who wouldn’t see want to see the violence of their PMS daydreams being played out?

When Violence Is Excusable: Regina Mills and the Twisted Morality of Once Upon a Time by Emma Thomas

In the past, Regina’s path to control is lined with dark magic. Dark magic is fueled by her anger, and the two intersect endlessly until it is hard to tell whether Regina is controlling the anger, or the anger is controlling her. What is definitive is that the more her power grows the more violent she becomes. With the only person who offered her a loving future dead, there is no one to rein her in.

Timorous Killers: The Breach of Shyness in Polanski’s Repulsion by Johanna Mackin

The eye we see in the film’s opening credits belongs to Carol and encapsulates her relationship to the internal and external worlds. To outside observers, Carol’s large, doe-like eyes are a signifier of her feminine allure, but, as is made palpable to the viewer, they also house her intense fear and constitute a deceptive barrier against the malignant traumas that disturb her internal world.

Death of the (Male) Author: Feminist Violence in Lynne Ramsay’s Morvern Callar by Sarah Smyth

How significant it is, then, that Ramsay changes the ending from the novel where Morvern discovers she’s pregnant to instead give her a narrative of hopeful escape and adventure. Through the economic, cultural and narrative capitals gained from the violence enacted on the male author both inside and outside of the text, the female protagonist is offered a radical feminist alternative. Rather than by trapped by her class position, socio-economic position, job possibilities or pregnancy, Morvern is, instead, offered freedom, autonomy, and authority.

TV and Classic Literature: Is The 100 like Lord of the Flies? by Rowan Ellis

On the contrary, Octavia moves away from the explicit sexuality of her role in the pilot, and although her initial training is linked to Lincoln, she gravitates toward a warrior’s life to gain the respect of Indra. Although some critics have seen this as a drastic change in her characterisation, looking back at her first scene in the pilot, where she is held back by Bellamy while trying to attack the others for repeating rumours about her, it feels more like a development.

The Killer in/and the Girl: Alexandre Aja’s High Tension by Rebecca Willoughby

In High Tension, we have le tueur—the Killer—in place of the Monster, who in Shelley’s novel can be read as Victor Frankenstein’s doppelganger, that most famous of psychological devices used to illustrate the violence with which the repressed returns, doing all of the things the typical, well-socialized individual could never dream of doing. But where Victor utilizes the Monster to reject society’s expectations of him (including a traditional, heterosexual union with his adopted sister, Elizabeth), High Tension’s Marie creates le tueur because her desires do not fit within the normative world of the film.

From Ginger Snaps to Jennifer’s Body: The Contamination of Violent Women by Julia Patt

Thematically, Jennifer’s Body mirrors Ginger Snaps in many respects: the disruption of suburban or small town life, the intersection between female sexuality and violence, the close relationship between two teen girls at the films’ centers, and—perhaps most strikingly—the contagious nature of violence in women.

Shieldmaidens: The Power and Pleasure of Women’s Violence on ‘Vikings’

In ‘Reel Knockouts: Violent Women in the Movies,’ Neal King and Martha McCaughey assert that “cultural standards still equate womanhood with kindness and nonviolence, manhood with strength and aggression.” Under the Victorian cult of true womanhood, womanly virtue was supposed to encompass piety, purity, submissiveness, and domesticity. Thank goodness writer/producer Michael Hirst ignored those virtues by creating two dynamic women warriors with his historical drama ‘Vikings.’

This post by Lisa Bolekaja appears as part of our theme week on Violent Women.

It is rare to find films or television shows where women characters are actively violent without some cause. Conventional storylines that portray women resorting to violence are typically ones in which women are attacked, raped, or protecting loved ones, most likely children. Women are pushed to extreme acts of violence because of patriarchal dominance, or some form of outside threat that usually targets them because they are female and perceived as weak. Female passivity is the expected norm. Men “do” things, women have things “done” to them. The 80’s and early 90’s ushered in a bumper crop of American films portraying kickass women (mostly White—Pam Grier held it down for Black women in the 70s); however, given closer inspection, most of these violent women were reacting to something and not necessarily acting out.

In Reel Knockouts: Violent Women in the Movies, Neal King and Martha McCaughey assert that “cultural standards still equate womanhood with kindness and nonviolence, manhood with strength and aggression.” Under the Victorian cult of true womanhood, womanly virtue was supposed to encompass piety, purity, submissiveness, and domesticity. Thank goodness writer/producer Michael Hirst ignored those virtues by creating two dynamic women warriors with his historical drama Vikings. Writer Giselle Defares does a great job giving an overview of the show here, however my focus is on two particular women, both warriors (known as shieldmaidens on the show), who represent a new type of bad-assery that some feminists may argue replicate male domination and aggression. The women, Lagertha (Katheryn Winnick) and Porunn (Gaia Weiss) are two women warriors who derive pleasure and wield power by going to battle alongside their men. Real talk: sometimes a woman wants to knock the stuffing out of people and wreck shop just like the guys.

Watching these two women maneuver the world of the violent dark ages is fascinating because they are not constructed as emasculating or overly masculine women who need to be put in their place by their men (although it does occur on occasion). They are presented as Viking women who are part of the fabric of the violent society they live in who also further the goals of their aggressive Northen European/Scandinavian culture. They are providers of home and hearth, defenders of home and hearth, and will go raid some other country’s home and hearth to take what they want too. This egalitarian treatment of women as warriors is the best part of watching Vikings. Unlike the English or Parisian women who stay posted up on the show waiting for their men to defend them, Viking women are straight up in the mix, leading charges, and beating their enemies.

Lagertha: Baddest Chick in the Game

Lagertha Lothbrok is depicted in the first episode of the show as a typical farm wife caring for her two young children inside their humble abode in a place called Kattegat while her husband Ragnar is away on some manly quest. Two men, strangers, enter their home under the pretext of seeking food and warmth. It soon becomes clear that they are there to sexually harass and rape her. In any other historical drama, the woman may put up a valiant fight, only to be brutalized once she is overpowered. A husband/lover/shining knight may arrive to save the day at the last minute, or be spurned into action by man pain after their woman has been violated or murdered. Not so Lagertha. She sends her children outside, pretends to be compliant to the two men, and proceeds to fuck them up with kitchen utensils. In this moment we learn that:

Lagertha does not need a male savior.
Men may have to be saved from her fighting prowess.
She likes to fight.

Lagertha physically fights with her husband Ragnar when he wants her to stay behind and care for their children when she would rather go on the raiding party into the new land of England. We’re talking real knock down, dragged out fisticuffs in the house. And she bruises Ragnar up pretty good as well, taking full hits from him like a boss. Even in the midst of their physical altercation, viewers can tell they really love each other. This aggression toward each other isn’t new, and they will most likely fight again about other raids Lagertha wants to participate in. She isn’t afraid to become violent to get what she wants. And Ragnar doesn’t expect her to back down ever.

Viewers want this couple to win in life and love (and oddly enough their domestic battles too), but when Ragnar becomes an Earl and later impregnates a woman from another clan, he tries to convince Lagertha to let him have two wives; Aslaug his new pregnant sidepiece, and herself in an egalitarian polyamorous household. Ragnar loves both women (but Aslaug mainly because she can have the sons that Lagertha’s body can no longer carry to term), however, Lagertha is too proud and full of self-respect. Once again, in any other movie or television show, Ragnar would most likely force Lagertha to obey him with threats of violence or death, or he would abandon her. Instead, Lagertha chooses to divorce him. Their young son, Bjorn, chooses to go with her. She literally leaves Ragnar standing in the dust crying over her and his beloved son as she rides off into a new land and life without him.

Lagertha’s warrior ways don’t leave her as she re-marries and eventually defies her new husband, the Earl of Hedeby, by bringing a phalanx of warriors to help her ex-husband Ragnar defeat a mutual enemy four years later. Once Lagertha gets word that Kattegat has been overrun and Ragnar (with his new wife and children) has fled to the hills, she comes to his rescue with their now grown son Bjorn doing what she does best: kicking ass and taking names. When her new husband tries to humiliate and sexually harass her in front of their court, Lagertha stabs him in the eye and snatches up his title and power, becoming the new Earl of Hedeby.

In her new position of authority over an entire people, Lagertha stands with the newly crowned King Ragnar by fighting with him overseas and sitting next to him at the seat of power with other Earls and Kings making strategic decisions on their planned raids. She helps Ragnar force an English King to negotiate monetary rewards and a new alliance. She leads a small contingent of fierce shieldmaidens on a secret night attack against the city of Paris that galvanizes the male Viking warriors after devastating setbacks in their battles against the French.

Lagertha claims her right to be a woman, mother, warrior, pagan, and political leader without gender constraints. Granted, her people do participate in patriarchal terrorism towards other countries and the women go along with it, but in the context of that culture, it is the norm, and shieldmaidens will kill women from other countries without hesitation. Nationhood supplants sisterhood on the battlefield. And as anti-feminist as that sounds, there is something to be said about bold women with agency, even if they are anti-heroes in someone else’s narrative. Many fans of the show (myself included) believe Ragnar was stupid for letting Lagertha go, a woman who was truly his equal, unlike his new Queen Aslaug whose only power as a woman comes from being alluring, birthing sons, and supporting Ragnar as his trophy wife. Aslaug’s gift of “second sight” seems banal and useless at best, and in the third season Ragnar is no longer enamored by her. He looks bored. And if it sounds like shade is being thrown, it’s because I’m #TeamLagertha.

PORUNN: On the Come Up

Porunn is introduced in a later season of Vikings as a young slave woman who works for King Ragnar and Queen Aslaug. Bjorn, Lagertha and Ragnar’s son, becomes smitten with her, and has eyes to make her his woman. Although a lowly slave in the household, Porunn does not allow herself to become a common bed wench without letting Bjorn know the uneven power dynamics of their relationship. She knows that he is the firstborn of the King and that he can have anything he wants, even women. But Bjorn has really fallen hard for her and they soon become lovers even though Porunn still has to work for the Queen and King. Queen Aslaug notices this budding relationship and how happy Porunn makes Bjorn, so she grants Porunn her freedom and gives her new clothing suitable for a young free woman of Kattegat.

Does Porunn run after Bjorn to access the status and resources she now has as a newly freed woman who is partnered with the King’s son? Nope. Porunn, immediately goes to train as a shieldmaiden, to become a warrior like her hero Lagertha, not a future Princess sitting on a throne and birthing babies for her man.

Porunn does become “with child” in a matter of time, and yet she still insists on sailing with Ragnar, Lagertha, and the other warriors into England to pillage and kill while pregnant. This fact enrages Ragnar and upsets Lagertha when they find out Porunn is fighting while carrying their grandchild. They blame Bjorn for being stupid and weak for not stopping his lover, instead of recognizing the fierce warrior status Porunn wants to uphold.

Porunn becomes severely injured and disfigured with a vicious sword cut to her face during a savage battle against the English. Back in Kattegat she falls into a depression thinking Bjorn doesn’t want to marry her now because she is ugly and not worthy of his love or that of their unborn child. She is wrong of course, but her looming pregnancy depresses her even more and she tells the other women that she doesn’t want to have the baby now.

Months after the birth of her daughter, (and while Bjorn, Lagertha and Ragnar are away), Porunn abandons her child by leaving her with Aslaug. She takes off into the hills in search of her destiny as a shieldmaiden, perhaps regaining the confidence she lost after her disfigurement. The audience is left to wonder if she will return to her child and Bjorn. Sometimes women aren’t maternal and don’t want children. A squalling baby hanging off her breasts is not for Porunn the moment she leaves. Maybe the spilling of more enemy blood and high adventure is. She, along with Lagertha, subverts the trappings of conventional femininity and the cult of true womanhood by engaging in so-called masculine pursuits such as war and territorial expansion.

Lagertha and Porunn drink, fuck, celebrate their Norse Gods and wish a muthafucka would start some shit because they will finish it. They undermine assumptions about gender, female violence, and the pleasures they obtain from bloodshed. About to enter its fourth season, Michael Hirst has set the bar high for his women warriors on Vikings. Time will tell if Lagertha and Porunn can survive the violent world they help create and shape.

Staff Writer Lisa Bolekaja is the co-host of the increasingly popular Hilliard Guess’ Screenwriters Rant Room podcast. She’s a member of the Horror Writers Association, a former Film Independent Fellow, and a writer of speculative fiction. Her latest short story “Ninja Fishing” can be found in the new Awkward Robots Orange Volume available now. She divides her time between Twitter, Italy, Southern Cali and various Sci Fi conventions. You can find her @LisaBolekaja

The Unsung Female Warriors in ‘Vikings’

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

Heroic ethos has infused entertainment through the ages. From the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, to the half-gods of Greek mythology, to Robin Hood in English folklore, to the pulp stories of the nineteenth century, we are enthralled by heroes who are equipped with power to accomplish impossible tasks. In our age, it makes for slightly pulpy yet super addictive entertainment TV–see Rome, Spartacus: Blood and Sand, and Game of Thrones. There’s a tendency in fantasy or historical dramas to sideline or fit the female characters into a “traditional” mold. The underrated Vikings offers nuanced female characters to cleanse your palate.

The Canadian-Irish TV series had its debut on the History Channel in 2013. Vikings is the brainchild of Michael Hirst, who has a repertoire of remolding history in digestible, viewable snacks. He worked as a screenwriter for Elizabeth, Elizabeth: The Golden Age, and was the executive producer for the Showtime dramas The Tudors and The Borgias. While the History Channel has a track record of traditional programming focused on the link between ancient buildings and aliens (see Ancient Aliens or UFO Files). Vikings is their first foray into scripted TV drama and definitely their showpiece.

Ragnar Lothbrok is a semi-legendary character in Scandinavian history –a rather Arthurian spirit. He was either a Danish or Swedish king, and he raided widely in Britain and France. Ragnar had three wives–Lagertha, Thora and Aslaug, a Swedish princess whom he rescued from two giants serpents. He fathered a number of sons, all whom appear to be “genuine” historical figures, and came to his untimely end when he was killed by King Aelle of Northumbria by being thrown into a pit full of snakes, right. In pop culture, his last depiction was in the movie The Vikings (1958) with Kirk Douglas, Tony Curtis, and narrated by Orson Welles.

Vikings centers around Ragnar Lothbrok (Travis Fimmel), a Viking farmer living in the fictional rural Kattegat, Scandinavia in the 790s CE. Ragnar is married to the “famous shieldmaiden” Lagertha (Katheryn Winnick). Together they run a small farm and live happily with their two children Gyda and Bjorn (who later becomes Bjorn Ironside). The village is ruled by the stock-villainous character Earl Haraldson (Gabriel Byrne), a totalitarian ruler, and his Lady Macbeth wife Siggy (Jessalyn Gilsig). Haraldson owns the ships that goes into the Eastern Baltic every year to raid Russia. Ragnar suggests that there’s nothing to gain from their trips to the east and that they should go west. The Earl is skeptical to Ragnar’s claims. His friend Floki (Gustaf Skarsgård), a crafty boatmaker, has secretly built a longship for Ragnar, so he can assemble a crew and go wherever he wants. The Earl is against their mission so Ragnar has to act out in secret. Ragnar gets support from his ambitious brother Rollo (Clive Standen). There’s underlying tension between the brothers because Rollo has desire for Lagertha and is hungry for power. On one of their first Viking raids on the British Isles, Ragnar kidnaps the Christian monk Athelstan (George Blagden), who later serves as the audience’s eyes and ears within the Viking culture.

The first season is focused on the rise of Ragnar as Earl of Kattegat and his adventures on the British Isles. We see his growing relationship with Athelstan and his curiosity for Christianity. His relationship with Lagertha crumbles when she doesn’t produce a new heir. During their annual trip to the Temple in Uppsala, where clans gather to worship the Gods, Ragnar meets Princess Aslaug, who holds his interest and can provide him with sons. In the second season, we fast forward four years and find out that Lagertha has remarried to a powerful yet abusive Earl and there’s friction between her new husband and Bjorn. Aslaug reigns with Ragnar and raises his sons. Siggy struggles with her new position in the clan and is in a (political) relationship with Rollo. The third season shows that Athelstan is integrated in the Viking clan but can’t fully submerse himself into the culture. During one of the raids he’s captured and ends up living with King Ecbert, ruler of Wessex. The Viking clan explores the new world and the show is focused on the power struggles between Ragnar, Lagertha, and King Ecbert.

Vikings is a confident show. It’s certainly not without its flaws. Especially the first half of season 1 was very cheesy, predictable, and slow. Even in the later episodes there are still several moments where the dialogue feels stilted. The show is filmed in Ireland and while the production value is not on the same level of shows such as Game of Thrones (Vikings has often been named in the press as “Game of Thrones lite”), it’s a great first-time effort by a basic cable network. There’s a lot of time invested in authentic detail. Whilst a good portion of the show is fictional, many storylines and subsequently the characters are based on recorded events and Norse legends. The show doesn’t hide from religion and portrays hallucinatory interactions between God and men, uninhibited sexuality, and of course the clash between innovation and conservatism.

The show initially flew under the radar – though it got higher ratings with each season. The first impression for many is that the show is male-dominated. That may be, but the women are well-written and not put on an unattainable pedestal. It’s refreshing to see female characters who are allowed to be as nuanced and complex as their male counterparts. Quite often – in this particular genre – they’re either the quiet submissive girlfriend or “Xena: Warrior Princess” types. In Vikings, the women can do anything, be who they want to be, and each one of them has their own particular motivation for their actions.

It can be argued that because of the unique social structure and the pagan religion within the Scandinavian society the women are portrayed differently. There’s no Christian morality and obvious “sense of gender.” Yet, that argument doesn’t hold when you look at other shows such as Game of Thrones. There are no obvious elements of Christianity in Game of Thrones, but the misogyny runs high in the various storylines. Game of Thrones is/was an enjoyable layered show but its sprinkled with “random female nudity.” Vikings has the occasional sex scene but the nudity isn’t arbitrary and supports the storyline.

Ragnar’s (ex) wife Lagertha is a fan favorite and of the more interesting developed characters throughout the three seasons. She’s introduced as a shield maiden, which means that she’s a trained female warrior. Under the purists, there has been some dispute whether there’s clear historical evidence that there were women warriors in Norse society. There’s often an element of male fantasy interjected in shows where the women can be portrayed as tough female characters who ultimately (sexually) succumb to the male hero. That’s not the case in Vikings. Lagertha rejects the proper, subordinate Christian role that’s expected of women. Instead she does it all: mother, farmer, and warrior. It’s a modern (and smart) decision to portray her as a “real” woman and a warrior in her own right.

Lagertha and Ragnar had a healthy relationship in the first season. They were equals in every sense of the word. In the second season, the audience saw Lagertha stab her husband Sigvard in the eye after his failed attempt to sexually harass her in front of the guests. So within three seasons, Lagertha divorced Ragnar, killed her second husband, and flirted with King Ecbert. How’s that for self-confidence and self-worth? There’s an hilarious moment in the second season, that illustrates the changed dynamic between Ragnar and Lagertha. Lagertha became the Earl of Hedeby and hopes to be an alley to Kattegat. Lagertha quips, “Yes, we are equal. I’m sure this is difficult for you.”

It must be said that there’s an excellent progression of all the female characters on the show. One of the primary antagonists (at least in the first season) is the noblewoman Siggy. It’s a nice juxtaposition with Lagertha. Most of the time Siggy was seen sulking around in beautiful outfits. Yet, she’s never portrayed as less compared to the tougher Lagertha. Siggy does what needs to be done in order to survive and she has an insatiable hunger to gain back some of her power.

In season 2 and 3, Siggy develops a bond with Aslaug. Aslaug is in the beginning portrayed as a stiff princess, her relationship with Ragnar differs from the one he had with Lagertha. Ragnar does love Aslaug but merely for her mystic powers and the fact that she provided him with sons. Initially there’s some tension when Lagertha and Aslaug first meet but that is fast and smoothly resolved. Both women recognize each other’s strength and show respect. How the women may differ or disagree, in the end they all support each other. That’s certainly refreshing in the realm of historical dramas.

Vikings is an historical drama with multifaceted characters across the board. It’s an entertaining, compelling show. The only reason your heartbeat will go faster is not because of misogyny or glaring stereotypes, but because of the female warriors who’re the heart of the show.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IARD01_FEq0″]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.