Wedding Week: ‘Bride Wars’: When Weddings Drive a Bitch Crazy

This is a guest post by Alisande Fitzsimons.

In Gary Winick’s 2009 film Bride Wars, two best friends pit themselves against each other in order to both have their dream wedding day. If this thoroughly unfeminist – not to mention unlikely – premise doesn’t put you off then pull on your spanx, pin up your hair, and settle in to enjoy some fun so light and frothy it may as well be a specially designed valium-laced cupcake.

It pains me to state that a rare successful Hollywood film featuring a rare two female leads (Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway) orientates itself around the wedding industry, an industry that feeds on female insecurity, causing otherwise sane and sensible women to spend a fortune on a single day in a quest for a level of perfection that probably only exists on cinema screens.

Best friends turned worst enemies

It also pains me to admit that the film is a firm favourite of mine because the lunacy that is fused to its girliness means it fits very well into that hallowed space known as “comfort movie.” Feel free to judge. I know you have one too.

Written by the female comedy duo Casey Wilson and June Diane Raphael, Bride Wars can be read as a much lighter companion piece to Kristen Wiig’s infinitely dirtier Bridesmaids, were Wiig’s depiction of how women behave when their closest friendship is self-immolating not far more realistic (yes, I do include the part where she hallucinates on the plane) and – let’s be real – funnier.

Bride Wars depicts both its brides – friends since childhood – as beautiful, successful in their careers and in stable relationships. It also depicts their descent into venomous harpies when it emerges that their wedding planner (a dignified and ice-cool Candace Bushnell) has booked both of their weddings to take place at Manhattan’s Plaza Hotel on the same day.

The Plaza, we understand, has been both of the women’s dream venue since childhood visits with their mothers, who were also BFFs. This may be a side issue but, realistically, how many women’s best childhood friend remains their closest friend into adulthood, particularly when they became friends because of their mothers’ friendship?

Also, how realistic is it that both of these women would remain fixated on the goddamn Plaza from the age of six through twenty-six? Yes, the Palm Court is divine but I maintain that at some point at least one of them – probably Hathaway whose character Emma is a teacher – would have looked round and said, “You know? I don’t think it really is worth the money.”

Liv in Vera Wang

Bride Wars, then, is a film about madness. Emma and Liv (Hudson) are arguably experiencing a folie a deux bought on by that well-known contagious disease, wedding fever. Since before the Great Depression there have been studies showing that even in times of dire need, people in the West will still spend the equivalent of a down payment on a home on their weddings. Tell me that’s not crazy.

Bride Wars is a film that aims to capture its audience, which I think we can take for granted is made up entirely of women, by highlighting the worst side of what Hollywood likes to depict as the nature of women. Rather than solving their planner’s error in a dignified, or even organized way, the brides turn on each other, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities and weaknesses in ways that only a former ally ever can.

And though it’s amusing to watch the pair go at each other in increasingly underhanded ways – a dye job gone brutally wrong, a fake tan turned neon, deliveries of cakes and sweets causing one bride to gain so much weight that she can no longer fit into her bridal gown, a Bachelorette crashed and dance-off performed – there is also the fact that these acts have consequences so far-reaching that it’s hard to imagine the pair hugging out at the end of the film (which, of course, they do).

Liv’s dress, for example, was by Vera Wang, meaning it probably cost in the region of $25,000. That’s a lot of money to make a former friend waste. The bad dye job turned her locks blue, causing a disastrous day at work that very nearly costs her the job that’s paying for that fancy frock and, one suspects, her wedding as her fiancé is shown to earn less money than her.

But worse than all of this is the fact that, while the women go at each other like thirteen-year-olds with enough money to act out their most schadenfreude-filled fantasies, the men in it are doing nothing. Not strictly nothing. Both the grooms have jobs and seem like OK dudes, but neither of them is running around the city in a vengeful huff because his soon-to-be-wife’s former-bestie is trying to best their wedding day and destroy his woman’s life.

The madness at work

No, in Bride Wars that brand of madness is entirely female. This says nothing good or particularly realistic about the state of mind of the modern adult female. I mean, yes, we get hurt and pissed off when our friends do something that seems designed to cause pain to us, but how many of us who are not mentally ill follow them around, actively trying to ruin one of the most significant and expensive days of their lives?

For one thing, who would have time, especially if they were trying to plan the happiest day of their own lives at the same time?

So, once again, even though I doubt the writers were trying to make a serious point about how the pressure and expectations of the wedding industry can direly affect women’s mental states, I think the film is about mental illness. You decide.


Alisande Fitzsimons is a writer and stylist from Dublin. She can be found tweeting about weddings and clothes @AlisandeF.

Wedding Week: Another Indie Wedding…And Breakup in ‘Save the Date’

Written by Rachel Redfern
Lizzy Caplan and cat in Save the Date
Wanted: Emotionally unavailable girl struggling to realize her romantic potential. 

If that is what you’re looking for then Save the Date is here to realize such a fantasy. This is Michael Mohan’s sophomore film (One Too Many Mornings being the first), and it’s a solid second movie with great actors and a timely story.

Lizzy (Lizzy Caplan) just moved in with her boyfriend Kevin (Geoffrey Arend) of two years. One week later, he proposes; she freaks, then moves out, and it’s from there that the evolution of her relationships begin. During this time period, her sister Beth (Alison Brie) and her fiancé and band mate to Kevin, Andrew (Martin Starr), also travel the tricky waters that run to the great waterfall of marriage.

Thematically, the film focuses on the two men in Lizzy’s life, her ex Kevin, and her new boyfriend Jonathon (Mark Webber), and her obvious patterns of relationships; Save the Date is essentially a character study of one woman and her neuroses and the constant mistakes, fears, and decisions that she does manage to get right. She’s not always a completely sympathetic character, but she is still the one we’re rooting for at the end of the day.

This is the second time I’ve seen Lizzy Caplan in her easy portrayal of the emotionally damaged wild child, the first being in Bachelorette where similarly, the wedding brings up all of her feelings about past relationships and a surprise pregnancy. It’s a character I like, one that while not original, is also not the most common of characters (similar to Natalie Portman in Friends With Benefits, Charlize Theron in Sweet November). But I like the character; it’s one where, rather than neurotic, and desperately searching for love and marriage, she’s the opposite–skittish and non-committal, frustrating and sexy.

Caplan is obviously comfortable with the role and slips into emotionally distant behavior with an alacrity that is almost cringe-worthy. However, I think it’s valuable to see women and men in some role reversal; in Save the Date, Kevin is over-eager and anxious to please, while Lizzy barrels around, being incredibly sadly charming and then pulling away from relationships. 

Allison Brie and Martin Starr in Save the Date
Allison Brie is also lovely in her role as the more traditional, over-bearing sister. She’s impatient and snappy and obviously stressed about her wedding plans but also deeply invested in her sister. In fact, Save the Date removes many of the external friends for the two women and instead has the focus on the balance of their sibling relationship

It’s also productive that the film doesn’t attempt to explain away why Lizzy is so scared of relationships and why her sister is so excited to take hers to the next level. Rather, the two women are presented as flawed characters who just are who they are. Granted, the ending of the film seemed more focused on fixing Lizzy rather than on her own personal growth, but that’s perhaps a plot flaw more than anything.

And on that note, the plot is incredibly simple and slow. The conflict and resolution was easily anticipated and lacked any originality, even the present felt familiar. The film is very much in the ridiculously popular indie style, a style that I have to confess is starting to get a little old with its careful mullets, obscure acoustic tracks, and an ironic attempt to not take themselves too seriously but usually failing. 

Lizzy Caplan and Allison Brie in Save the Date
However, go to this film (or rent it at this point since it’s out on DVD) for the very familiar situations you’ll see, especially of note, Arend’s portryal of Kevin and his struggles with losing Lizzy. Often, romance films pit a “good guy” against a “complete and total lying, cheating bastard,” role that rarely allows for nuance and the complexities and context that accompany our mistakes. Instead, Kevin, Andrew and Jonathon are all different, but likable and sincere. They act like the adults I know, occasionally silly and naive when it comes to love but genuine in their attempts to do the right thing.

Lizzy and Beth as sisters get along perhaps a little too well for a normal sister relationship, but they’re also self-aware of their flaws and apologetic when they cross the line. Sometimes romantic comedies have a tendency to be over-the-top in their caricature of love, so much so that character interactions become excessively unrealistic. Save the Date re-captures some of its lost points for the slow plot with its commitment to showing more realistic interactions between couples and family.

But seriously, no more mullets in indie films. 

 



Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and its intersection; however, she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

Wedding Week: The Top Hollywood Wedding Scenes

This is a guest post by Marcela de Vivo.
Weddings in the movies and in television always seem to be more elaborate than those we experience in reality. Fictional characters with traditionally low-paying jobs somehow find a way to have a wedding that would cost literally a million dollars in the real world. They’re often over-the-top with hundreds of guests, extravagant meals and elaborate ice sculptures–you know, fluff.
Wedding scenes on the big screen are a fantasy of what viewers would want if we had unlimited funds. But we don’t, so watching these top wedding scenes will have to do! 
Movie still from the wedding scene in The Princess Bride
The Princess Bride
Princess Buttercup may not have wanted to marry Prince Humperdink, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the fairy tale ambiance of her wedding. Flowers and candlelight decorated the large church, which was filled with the richest, most powerful wedding guests in the land. As Buttercup hoped the rebellion outside the doors was on her behalf, the most memorable priest in movie history spoke about the joy of “maawwaaage.”
The wedding itself didn’t end too well for many of the characters, but all-in-all, it was a memorable wedding.
Movie still from the wedding scene in The Godfather
The Godfather
The father of the bride traditionally feels obligated to grant favors on the day of his daughter’s wedding, at least according to Marlon Brando’s character, Vito Corleone. Apparently, that extends to the bride herself.
Corleone’s daughter is known to have one of the most extravagant weddings in movie history, with a large tent and vivacious celebration with singing, dancing and plenty of alcohol. The best part of all was having the entire family together to celebrate–after that enormous cake, of course. 
Movie still from the wedding scene in Bridesmaids
Bridesmaids
Lillian may not have been the main character, but when it came to her wedding, she was truly the star. Despite a case of terrible food poisoning, a disaster bachelorette party and temporarily losing her best friend and maid of honor, Lillian’s wedding was indeed spectacular, complete with a waterfront setting, designer wedding dress and colorful strobe lighting–something we could all admit to be somewhat jealous of.
The kicker was the entertainment: a surprise performance by Lillian’s favorite childhood band, Wilson Phillips. And best of all, she had all of her best friends by her side. 
Movie still from the wedding scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Sometimes family can complicate what should be the best day of a person’s life. For Toula, the days leading up to her wedding were difficult due to her incredibly traditional family. But when it came to the day of the wedding, it seemed like the universe was doing its best to ruin everything.
It was Toula’s family, as big and loud as they were, that made the day so special. Toula’s parents finally accepted her new husband and even gave her a house as a wedding gift (an entire house!). This is one movie wedding that goes to show that it doesn’t take perfection to have a perfect wedding.
Movie still from the wedding scene in The Graduate
The Graduate
One of the most iconic wedding scenes in movie history is also one of the least successful. Although the church wedding was nearly empty, the bride, Elaine, looked beautiful in her classic white wedding gown–at least Benjamin Braddock thought so. Unfortunately for Ben, he wasn’t the groom, but that didn’t stop him from whisking away the bride!
Ultimately, Elaine and Benjamin run off together, just minutes after she says, “I do.” Sure, there was a brawl, and the bride and groom didn’t stay together for longer than 5 minutes, but at least it was memorable.
We might not always get the perfect wedding of our dreams, with the fancy sculptures, favors, gift bags and decorations, but at least we can appreciate and treasure what marriage is actually about more than these films do.


Marcela De Vivo is a freelance writer from California whose writing covers everything on health, travel, gaming and technology. Watching these films really reminds her of what marriage truly involves and the value of family. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter today!

Wedding Week: Do or Do Not

This is a guest post by Emily Campbell.
Here’s some sobering news: if you’re not a U.S. citizen, same-sex marriage isn’t going to score you a green card. And, unless you can make sense of immigration legalese and have overwhelming amounts of luck on your side, seeking asylum as an LGBT individual probably isn’t either.
Sure, you can marry your spouse in some states and everything is perfectly legal, but good luck getting them a green card or permanent residency because surprise! The federal government says no. State-federal alignment, what state-federal alignment? And you can totally apply for asylum, but first you have to prove you’re queer enough, that you’re in danger of being persecuted for being queer in your country of origin, and you have to do this within a year of arriving in the U.S. or it’s straight to deportation.
I’d been reading about cheerful things like the obstacles faced by LGBT asylum seekers and all the creative ways U.S. immigration law manages to avoid actually granting asylum when I first heard of I Do. An indie film bearing the vaguely ominous tagline “Two words can change everything” and promises of a plot centered on a playing-it-straight green card marriage, it sounded right up my alley. According to director Glenn Gaylord:
The film touches upon some very profound issues of our time, the Defense of Marriage Act, and how even though gay people can get married in certain states in this country, immigration is a federal right. So even if a gay person legally marries someone, it doesn’t grant citizenship, because of DOMA. All told, despite its hot-button topicality, this is the very human story about a man who has to decide whose life he’s living. 

Movie poster for I Do
Intense, right? Essentially, my first thought was “I need to see this yesterday.”
I Do kicks off with some narration from our humble protagonist, Jack (David W. Ross): “I do believe in fate. I do believe in family. I believe in telling the truth and that your actions have consequences.”
Please note the strategic repetition of “I do.”
Jack’s life is kind of tragic. He’s a transplant from England who’s been living in the U.S. since he was 17 and (spoiler) his brother bites it within the first five minutes of the movie. This happens right after said bro announces over dinner that his wife Mya (Alicia Witt) is pregnant, and isn’t that a wonder since he only married her for a green card. There’s always that one family member making really tasteless jokes at the table. Jack politely congratulates him anyway, then politely bears it when his bro talks about sometimes wishing he were gay because–get this–those intrepid bohemian homosexuals have no responsibilities or ordained path, and he feels like he’s conforming to societal norms by being married and having a kid. Right, then.
We fast-forward a few years, and Jack’s doing all right for himself. He works as a photographer’s assistant and fills his off hours by being the greatest gay uncle ever for Mya’s preposterously sweet daughter and the greatest BFF ever to his coworker Ali (Jamie-Lynn Sigler), who also happens to be a lesbian. Then things get sticky when Jack’s work visa is denied. The explanation? Everything’s harder since September 11, which means he can’t just renew his visa. Instead, he has to go back to England and begin the whole process again, and even then he might not be eligible for another since he has a denial on his record. Leaving his life in New York to wait things out in England is just plain out of the question, as is remaining in the U.S. illegally and risking deportation.
Jack (David W. Ross) and Aly (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) bonding and providing some equal-opportunity objectification

But, his lawyer conspiratorially tells him, he can still get his hands on a green card if he marries. A woman. And he has just two months to figure out what to do.
Fortunately for Jack, Ali’s girlfriend recently dumped her and made her move out, leaving her newly single and with nowhere to live.
Enter fake marriage. Don’t ask why Ali goes along with it so readily; I’m not sure either. But it means we get to see her being quietly conflicted about helping a friend and potentially going to federal prison for it, which entails lots of lingering shots of her doe-eyed, adorably accessorized visage. So there’s that.
Jamie-Lynn Sigler as Ali in I Do
And this is where the real problem comes in. We’re clearly supposed to feel bad for Jack’s plight and the DOMA-fueled injustice being heaped on him. But as things escalate and Jack suddenly falls for Spanish architect Mano (Maurice Compte), the casual viewer is more likely to feel bad for Ali, who has to deal with him gallivanting all over the place and not even trying to make their relationship seem remotely realistic. Her future is on the line right along with Jack’s, but Jack never seems to have an inkling of just how big of a risk they’re taking for his sake.
There’s also the fact that the chemistry between Jack and the newfound love of his life is anemic at best, but we’re supposed to believe it exists for the sake of a plot point. And while this could just be my own personal bias about what constitutes romance and what constitutes creepy, Mano showing up (unannounced and unsolicited) with coffee and changes of clothes for Jack and Mya while they’re staying the night in a hospital reads as more of the latter than the former. Especially considering Jack and Mano have met all of twice at this point.
Mano is also sketching their future dream home by the third date and promising to go to England with Jack if he gets deported. And he happens to conveniently be an American citizen. However, as Jack’s lawyer points out, Manu can marry Jack legally in New York and it still won’t make a difference since immigration is a federal issue. In case those of us following along at home missed anything, she spells it out for them and says point blank that they don’t have the same rights as a straight couple.
Ali, meanwhile, is petrified of going to prison for being Jack’s fake wife. Then immigration officers show up while Jack is out with Mano generally being the worst fake husband ever even though their relationship is weirdly unbelievable.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. There’s one scene where Mano tells Jack the scar on his chest is from when his father caught him in bed with a neighbor’s son, which has the potential to be very poignant. Or it would be if the theme of family being important hadn’t already been hammered home time and time again. And since the linchpin of Jack wanting to stay in the U.S. is his own adopted family of Mya and her daughter, this makes his eventual resolution incredibly jarring.
It all wraps up with another earnest monologue from Jack. “I believe in family. I believe in fate. I believe we should all have the freedom to love. I believe in love. I do.”
That said, there are bright spots amidst all the doom and despair. Alicia Witt is excellent as Mya, trying to make ends meet and move on with life, simultaneously loving Jack and hating him for being alive instead of her husband. And Mickey Cottrell is great as Jack’s mentor, Sam, who at one point confides in Jack that the only reason he ended up with his partner of 32 years was because he knew he was the one and went for it. But at the end of the day, I Do takes a hot-button issue and waters it down immensely. If you want an engrossing story about gay marriage beating the legal system, read about the awesome lesbian couple from Pakistan who took a vacation to the U.K., got married, and immediately filed for–and won–asylum there. Someone really needs to make a movie about that.

Emily Campbell is approximately three fifths finished with this cup of chai and five fifths finished with grad school. She has previously reviewed Cracks and War Witch for Bitch Flicks.

Wedding Week: ‘Coming to America’ and Coming to Terms with New Marriage Traditions

Coming to America movie poster.



Written by Leigh Kolb

When I was a kid, Coming to America was one of my favorite movies. I’m not quite sure exactly what it was–maybe I just thought Eddie Murphy was really cute–but I’d like to think that I was drawn to its message of valuing female intelligence and independence over subservience. 
Coming to America was released in 1988, and helped round out Eddie Murphy’s rise to stardom in the 1980s, from Saturday Night Live to Beverly Hills Cop. While Murphy played side-kicks in many of his early films, Coming to America was unique because it featured Murphy as a romantic lead, and a cast dominated by African Americans. 
The premise of the film–a wealthy African prince travels to America to live modestly and find true love, not an arranged marriage–isn’t particularly groundbreaking, but the film worked because it was (and is, sadly) rare to find a black man as a romantic lead, especially in a blockbuster-friendly romantic comedy.
The film begins by taking the audience over the sweeping landscape of the fictional African country of Zamunda, while a South African choir sings. As the camera focuses in on a palace, it’s important to note the stark contrast of this depiction of an African country against the frequent portrayals of Africa in American media, which showcase Africa as a continent in need of our saving (after all, they don’t even have snow at Christmas time). 
The royal family of Zamunda: Prince Akeem Joffer, King Jaffe Joffer and Queen Aeoleon.  
Prince Akeem (Murphy) wakes up on the morning of his birthday, and he’s attended to by male and female servants (from royal bathers–beautiful women who clean the “royal penis”–to royal wipers in the bathroom). Akeem doesn’t seem comfortable with any of this, and even requests to use the bathroom alone. At breakfast, his father, King Jaffe Joffer (James Earl Jones), assumes his son must be excited to meet the wife they’ve arranged for him to marry. 
Akeem acts unsure, and finally speaks out against being doted upon and the idea that a woman would be chosen for him for his rank, not because she loves him. The tradition of arranged marriage doesn’t sit well with him, and his youthful rebellion takes the form of wanting to fall in love with a woman on his own terms and to be able to be more independent.
Semmi (Arsenio Hall), Akeem’s friend and attendant, serves as a foil to Akeem’s noble goodness. He is baffled that Akeem wants a woman with an opinion instead of having a woman who would follow his every command. Semmi assures Akeem that his wife need only have a “pretty face.”
Akeem asks him, “So you’d share your bed with a beautiful fool?” Semmi says that that’s the tradition for men in power. Akeem says that it’s also tradition for times to change. 
While the film isn’t a bastion of female empowerment, feminist nuggets like that pop up throughout the film, which is always refreshing within the confines of the well-worn tropes in romantic comedies. 
Akeem asks Imani, his chosen wife-to-be, to speak privately, breaking tradition.
When Akeem is presented with the beautiful woman who is to be his wife, Imani (Vanessa Bell), he asks to talk to her privately. She proudly tells him, “Ever since I was born, I’ve been trained to serve you.” He pushes to find out more about her, her favorite music, food, anything. But all she says is that she likes what he likes and will obey him. He says, “Anything I say, you’ll do?” after she refuses to not obey him, which is what he wants. He tells her to bark like a dog, and she complies, making a fool of herself as he is convinced this is not the woman he will marry. 
The fact that she was “born to serve” this man isn’t an anomaly–in patriarchal cultures steeped in tradition, the idea that women should be indoctrinated to be subservient to men is endemic. (Just last week, a U.S. congressman suggested that young boys and girls have segregated classes to be taught gender norms.)
When Akeem pushes back to his father and tries to get out of the marriage, saying he’s not ready, the king assumes he means sex. “I always assumed you had sex with your bathers,” the father says. “I know I do.” Again, the king is presented as misogynistic and patriarchal, without considering that his son may be trying to break free. He allows Akeem to go and travel for 40 days, assuming he wants to “sow his wild oats,” and that he’ll come back and marry the bride they chose for him.
As they prepare to leave, Akeem tells Semmi that he plans to find a wife during his travels. “I want a woman who will arouse my intellect as well as my loins,” Akeem says. They decide to go to New York City, specifically Queens, because he assumes there’s no better place to find a queen.
Akeem is excited to be in Queens; Semmi is less than impressed.
It’s a priority to Akeem that no one knows he’s royalty. He wants them to stay in the most “common” part of Queens, and asks the landlord to choose the “poorest” apartment for them to rent. When a woman throws garbage out of her window, Akeem exclaims, “America is great indeed–imagine a country so free, one can throw glass on the street!” Observations on wealth and ethnocentrism are also peppered throughout the film.
The two drape themselves in New York sports teams jackets and hats, and are mesmerized by a commercial for Soul Glo. Akeem goes to the barber shop (a gathering place near their apartment, where Murphy and Hall both play other parts). He gets his long princely ponytail cut off. The barber is impressed with his natural hair, and Akeem says he’s never put chemicals in it, just “juices and berries.” Later, the barber would rant and rant when Akeem asks for a Jheri curl, touting the importance of keeping hair natural. Between that and the brief rant by a white Jewish man in the barber shop (played by Murphy) that a person should be able to choose his own name, important facets of African American history and identity are touched upon in the barber shop (which were often official gathering places during the civil rights movement). 
After a night of meeting women of various disaster levels, Akeem and Semmi end up at a Black Awareness Week rally (specifically, the Miss Black Awareness Pageant), where Akeem immediately becomes enamored with Lisa McDowell (Shari Headley), the organizer of the rally and daughter of Cleo McDowell, who owns McDowell’s (a small fast food restaurant that borrows a lot from McDonald’s). She takes the microphone to stress the importance of individual expression (somewhat belittling the pageant, even if tongue in cheek) and asks the crowd to donate to a park for children to be able to express themselves. Akeem puts a giant wad of cash in the collection basket, and the next morning, Akeem and Semmi show up at McDowell’s to get jobs.
Akeem learns how to mop, and tries to flirt with Lisa, who is hard at work on a computer in her office. Akeem clearly, and immediately, values a woman with a sense of identity and purpose beyond serving a man.
Soul Glo heir Darryl (Eriq La Salle) is Lisa’s boyfriend, and the audience immediately knows he’s an ass–he puts no money in the collection basket (and lets Lisa think he was responsible for the large donation), he buddies up to Cleo and is condescending toward Lisa. If Akeem was more like Darryl, or even Semmi, his life would have been easier–he could have simply married his chosen wife and followed in the footsteps of what’s expected of powerful, wealthy men because “tradition.” The film presents these men to be critical of how patriarchy works–or doesn’t–within a culture (or cultures). 
The film continues to present these entrenched ideas: “Is this an American girl? Go through her poppa… Get in good with the father, you’re home free,” the barber tells Akeem. “I don’t know how it is in Africa, but here rich guys get all the chicks,” says a McDowell’s clerk (played by Louie Anderson).
Akeem goes along to a basketball game with Lisa, Darryl and Lisa’s sister, Patrice, who is presented comically as shallow and very interested in sexual conquests and wealthy men, unlike the noble Lisa. Can’t have a romantic comedy without a little virgin/whore dichotomy action!
Darryl makes disparaging remarks to Akeem about being from Africa, commenting about how it must be weird to be wearing clothes, and asking if they play games like catch the monkey. Earlier, the landlord says to Akeem and Semmi that the apartments have an insect problem, “but you boys are from Africa so you’re probably used to that.” When characters reinforce the African savage stereotype, it’s clear that these characters are not good.
Akeem is a good friend to Lisa when Darryl is forceful and misogynistic.
And when characters act like women are to be subservient sexual objects without their own identities, it’s also clear that they are in the wrong. From the king’s bawdy suggestions and adherence to the tradition of submissive, chosen wives, to Darryl pressuring Lisa to quit her job (“My lady doesn’t have to work”) or announcing their engagement without asking her if she wants to marry him (he went through her father, after all), men who don’t respect women are not the good guys–they are the ones who need to change.
When Akeem stands up to a robber at McDowell’s (Samuel L. Jackson doing one of the things he does best–wielding a gun and saying “fucker” as many times as possible), Darryl makes light of the fact that he hid, and suggested that Akeem knew those moves from fighting “lions and tigers and shit.” He then says, “They might not admit it, but they [women] all want a man to take charge–to tell them what to do.” Akeem smiles at him, but knows that’s not true. 
Lisa’s affection for Akeem grows when he quotes Nietzsche and when he is a thoughtful, sensitive listener when she’s angry that Darryl steamrolls their engagement, which she refuses. 
“I’m fine,” she assures Akeem. “I’m just not going to be pressured into marriage by Darryl, my father, anybody.” Akeem says he understands, and that he doesn’t think anyone should get married out of obligation. 
When they go out to dinner, Lisa says how nice it is to be with a man who knows how to express himself and she insists on taking the paycheck. Lisa’s attraction to these stereotypically not-masculine traits serves as a reminder that there is value to these qualities in both men and women. 
Lisa is smart and independent, qualities Akeem isn’t supposed to want.
Cleo pressures Lisa to marry Darryl as he sees her drifting toward Akeem. “You only like him because he’s rich,” Lisa says. Cleo–who has positioned himself as the ultimate bootstraps-pulling American dream–tells her that he just doesn’t want her to struggle like he and her mother did. 
Akeem’s charade begins to unravel as his family arrives in Queens via motorcade. Cleo is elated that Akeem is actually a prince; Lisa is devastated that he’d lied to her (and the fact that the king told her Akeem was only sowing his “royal oats” in America before he got married). 
Akeem chases after Lisa, and begs her to marry him. He offers to renounce his throne, and explains that he only wanted someone to fall in love with him for who he is, not for his money or royalty. She hesitates, but refuses, and runs off.
Queen Aeoleon (Akeem’s mother, played by Madge Sinclair) begins pushing back against her husband, challenging him about how he knows Akeem doesn’t love Lisa, and that the arranged marriage is a “stupid tradition.” “Who am I to change it?” asks the king. “I thought you were the king,” she says. 
Back in Zamunda, a royal wedding has begun, and Akeem is waiting for his bride, looking resigned and sad. A bride in an enormous pink dress and veil walks down the aisle. When he lifts the veil from her face, Lisa’s face is smiling at him. He looks elated, and his parents are smiling (the queen’s logic reigned), and Cleo steps up to join the king and queen. 
Akeem is surprised that Lisa is under the veil.
As they ride off in a carriage among a crowd of cheering partygoers, Lisa asks if she would have really given all of this up for her. “Of course,” Akeem responds. “If you like, we can give it all up now.” She says, “Nah,” and they laugh, and live, I’m sure, happily ever after.

The plot is pretty predictable. Female subservience is challenged, but standards of female beauty aren’t. The characters aren’t remarkably complex, but their motives are clear and almost always understandable. That said, this is a romantic comedy. I don’t mean to demean the genre as a whole, but I think it’s safe to say most blockbuster romantic comedies are pretty damn problematic, so to have a romantic comedy that subverts the notion of valuing wives who are simply beautiful and submissive while featuring a predominantly black cast and depicting Africa positively, I’d say that’s a win. 
Lisa is OK with her royal title.

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

Wedding Week: ‘Father of the Bride’ Values Relationships With Women

Steve Martin and Kimberly Williams-Paisley in Father of the Bride

This is a guest review by Mab Ryan.

Father of the Bride (1991) is aptly named, as its focus is not on the wedding itself or the couple involved but on the titular character’s neuroses and journey to maturity. The wedding is the backdrop and the incident that provokes growth in the main character; it follows the wedding script in toto, so if you’re unfamiliar with any of the conventions of a traditional US wedding, this movie is a great primer. It’s an outrageously expensive, white wedding for thin, wealthy, white folks. People of color and gay men exist as support staff and magical queers. But the movie’s take on gender roles is constructive. Despite its focus on a male character, the movie is really about the affection a father feels for his daughter. He’s always recognized her as an individual person; now he must recognize her as an individual adult person.

The opening credits roll over champagne bubbles, flower petals, and the flotsam of a finished wedding strewn about the house, before honing in on George Banks (Steve Martin), the narrator and protagonist. He speaks directly to the camera, rubbing his weary feet, sitting in a floral armchair, surrounded by pale pink and ecru, a color scheme prevalent throughout the movie. Weddings are womanish, the décor screams. But that’s okay, because femininity is never portrayed negatively.

George narrates amidst girly wedding décor

George reminisces about his daughter Annie (Kimberly Williams), now 22, as a little girl, then refers darkly to her first signs of adolescence. He engages in a little gender essentialism, stating that boys are only after one thing because it’s the same thing he was after at their age; and the only thing worse than a daughter meeting the wrong guy is her meeting the right guy. That sentiment could come off as creepy if it wasn’t followed quickly with: “Because then you lose her.”

George hates change, he tells us, expounding lustfully on his comfortable, familiar life. Banks is not a misnomer; from my vantage point it’s difficult to tell the difference between middle class and rich, but this family falls somewhere in between. Annie has been studying architecture in Rome, George owns his own athletic shoe factory, and the family resides in a large home in Los Angeles. The factory is full of smiling (mostly) white people, so I guess we should think of George as a good guy, keeping jobs in America rather than opening sweat shops in Malaysia, though I don’t know that the filmmakers thought any more deeply about it than indulging in our shared fantasy that the materials we consume are the product of happy white labor, rather than deleterious off-shoring.

The Banks’ million-dollar house

Annie has come home with news she can’t quite figure out how to say. It is just so awkward to come out to your parents as … engaged … in a heterosexual relationship. Sorry non-heteros! If you want a movie that hits closer to home, feel free to imagine that fiancé Brian is a lady. Honestly, it feels like the movie was written about a gay couple, but they couldn’t sell it unless they changed one of the characters to a different gender. (I’m thinking it’s time for an update on this movie, but considering that Behind the Candelabra couldn’t land a theater release, I’m not holding out much hope.)

Despite cleaving to traditional wedding customs with sexist origins, the characters show signs of social awareness. “I thought you didn’t believe in marriage,” George says to Annie, “I thought it meant that a woman lost her identity.” He’s obviously repeating a line of thought she originated. Annie’s feelings have evolved to accept an egalitarian marriage, which is fine. It’s great that she’s thinking about this stuff and that she’s developed in an environment supportive of her aspirations and self-worth.

Supportiveness has its limits, apparently. After a fight in which George declares that Annie is not getting married and that’s final, the two make peace over a game of basketball. As a girl who grew up shooting hoops, it is this scene, more than any other, that I find redemptive of George. Rather than treat sports as a “boy thing,” George has obviously spent years playing with his daughter. Each performs a goofy dance when they score a goal, and slow-mo high fives are de rigueur. It feels real and comfortable.

Annie and George come together by facing off in basketball

Brian scores a good first impression with Annie’s mother Nina (Diane Keaton) when he declares his desire to marry and produce children and grandchildren. Nina is predictably thrilled with his promise to follow a normative script. Annie points out that he’s willing to move wherever her career takes her. Score one, Brian.

If you think the Banks are well off, wait ‘til you meet the new in-laws in Bel-Air. “We could have parked our whole house in the foyer,” George narrates. Yet, he refuses to accept contributions from this family in paying for the wedding because it is traditionally the duty of the bride’s father to pay for everything, including flying some of the groom’s family in from Denmark, one of whom is large enough to require two seats. “She can lop into the aisle for all I care,” says George. This cousin later lifts him off his feet in an unexpected hug. Fat people: always disrespecting peoples’ boundaries, amirite?

George meets the groom’s family in a dark sport coat, while the décor and everyone else’s clothes are pale, muted pastels, making it obvious how out of place George and his feelings about the wedding are. Brian’s father conveniently lays out the lesson that George must learn by the end of the movie: “Sooner or later you have to just let your kids go and hope you brought them up right.” Hijinks ensue as George does some snooping and winds up chased off a balcony by the resident Dobermans. The dogs are deep black, the only other dark color like George’s coat, drawing a parallel between their snarling reaction to an intruder and George’s reaction to this wedding.

Franck is flamboyant

No wedding movie would be complete without an over-the-top, flamboyantly gay character. This movie features two as wedding consultants. Howard Weinstein is actually played by gay Chinese-American actor BD Wong and is the only person of color with a speaking role (and he’s just the assistant to the help). Franck (Martin Short) has an indeterminate European accent that the women have no difficulty penetrating but that George finds unintelligible. Foreign people are so funny! Gay people are also so funny! Of course, neither character’s sexuality is explicitly stated. In 1991 it was perfectly acceptable to laugh at quirky gay people and let them help accessorize us so long as we don’t have to consider them as real people with feelings or desires or (shudder) romantic lives.

The cost and the hassle of preparing for the wedding drives George to freak out and wind up in jail. Nina bails him out but not before reasoning with him to act his age. She has a huge smile on her face and speaks to him patiently, when most women would be rightfully furious. But this isn’t her movie. She exists to coax George along his journey to maturity.

Good news, George! Annie calls off the wedding because that sexist asshole Brian bought her a … blender? Maybe it’s because I never really used a blender until after age 21 that I don’t understand this as an allusion to a 1950’s housewife mentality. All it says to me is daiquiris, and I’d be thrilled to receive a functioning model (Do all of your blenders also break after two uses? Just me?), but Annie has to be reassured that Brian didn’t mean this in a regressive get-thee-to-the-kitchen-wench kind of way before we’re back on again. The highlight is that this is not a bitches-be-crazy message. Instead it’s explicitly portrayed as a character flaw she inherited directly from her father, while Brian provides emotional stability like Nina does. That’s actually a fantastic message, separating personality traits from gender.

The night before the wedding, George shares a moment with his son, apologizing for ignoring him the whole movie. It’s definitely a reversal to see the relationship between father and daughter receive the emphasis over father and son. I think this placing of the (non-sexual) relationship with a woman as central—rather than the wedding theme—is what makes a movie a “chick-flick” and therefore unsuitable for Manly Men™

Wedding in Father of the Bride

George once again daydreams about Annie as a small child, but this time it launches into a montage of her growing into a teen, and then a woman. She’s grown up, and he’s finally recognizing that. But that doesn’t mean their special parent/child relationship is over, which is delightfully represented by Annie walking down the aisle in the pair of wedding sneakers her father designed for her.

Has George grown up as well? It’s hard to say. At the actual wedding, he cares only about being there for his daughter (though events conspire to keep him away). We never do see him return to the chair from which he began narrating the movie as a flashback. But every snide and petulant remark was made after the events of the movie occurred. Perhaps George was just being honest about his feelings at the time. I’m not convinced he’s really changed but merely suffered through one life-altering event. The existence of a sequel seems to confirm this. But if the sequel continues this trend of showcasing the value of relationships with women, I might have to dig up a copy.


Mab Ryan is a fat, geeky, queerish, rainbow-haired feminist currently studying Art and Creative Writing at Roanoke College.