Wolf – Bitch Flicks

Shishihokodan: Ice Prince/Wolf Rivalry As Female Madonna/Whore

I would argue that genres dominated by female scopophilia and sexual tension, such as the YA Supernatural Action Romantic Comedy (SARCom) genre, challenge Mulvey’s paradigm and allow us better understanding of the role of desire in shaping visual media.

This is a guest post by Brigit McCone.

With so much feminist discussion of the Objectifying Male Gaze(TM) and its effects, we often fail to consider the hetero-female objectifying gaze, or scopophilia, in visual media. Indeed, feminist film critic Laura Mulvey effectively denied its existence in her influential 1975 essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” which states that women “cannot view the decline of the traditional film form with anything more than sentimental regret” as female onscreen presence must monolithically serve as passive erotic fetish for the Male Gaze, unless scopophilic pleasure is disrupted by radical techniques. I would argue that genres dominated by female scopophilia and sexual tension, such as the YA Supernatural Action Romantic Comedy (SARCom) genre, challenge Mulvey’s paradigm and allow us better understanding of the role of desire in shaping visual media.

SARCom was created in 1987 by the manga artist Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma 1/2. Her mixture of kung-fu demon-of-the-week fights, romance and comedy, with a supernaturally strong heroine, dual shapeshifting supernaturally strong love interests and sarcastically quipping sidekicks, was then a completely unique story and rapidly became popular in the West and Japan. Takahashi’s creative control as visual and story artist (particularly after the success of the slapstick Urusei Yatsura) meant that the aesthetics of SARCom were shaped by the female gaze from the outset. Among its innovations, Ranma 1/2 introduces an Ice Prince/Wolf love rivalry between the hero Ranma and his rival Ryoga, a trope Takahashi would develop in her next SARCom Inuyasha. Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer popularized the SARCom in mainstream Western culture, developing its own Ice Prince/Wolf rivalry with the characters Angel and Spike. The Ice Prince/Wolf dynamic now dominates teen girl cinema, after Catherine Hardwicke’s Twilight made her the most commercially successful female director of all time.

Twilight‘s inversion of Mulvey’s gendered model of cinema, with Hardwicke’s camera continually privileging Kristen Stewart’s gaze as Bella Swan, and offering Robert Pattinson’s Edward Cullen as erotic spectacle, would be interesting to analyze. Twilight also almost fails a reverse-Bechdel through the intense Bellacentrism of all its characters. In this essay, however, I would like to focus on the Ice Prince/Wolf rivalry itself, as a generic trope of SARCom, and its illuminating parallels with the male Madonna/Whore complex.

Celebrating Celibacy: The “Ice Prince” Archetype

The defining characteristic of the “Ice Prince” is his combination of emotional fidelity and sexual unavailability, generally accompanied by emphasized superiority and by physical threat. Ranma, the hero of Ranma 1/2, not only rivals the heroine Akane in martial arts, but periodically transforms into a girl more sexually attractive than she is. This tantalizing superiority in femininity enhances the character’s sexual unavailability; the world of Ranma 1/2 plays with gender but is strictly heteronormative with biological sex. His loyalty and rescuing of Akane go alongside Ranma’s constant sexual frigidity. Ranma 1/2 occupies an intermediate position between the shounen (boys’ manga) harem plot of Takahashi’s previous Urusei Yatsura and the love rivalries of her later Inuyasha: as a shounen hero, Ranma is the center of a harem of sex-crazed women, but as a shoujo (girls’ manga) “ice prince” he must be sexually attracted to none of them.

Inuyasha tames its threateningly feral hero, while maintaining his sexual unavailability, by making him frustratingly in love with a previous incarnation of the heroine Kagome – thus, he loves Kagome as a reincarnation, but cannot consummate this love due to his fidelity to the original.

The most extreme “Ice Prince” archetype in Takahashi’s work is Sesshomaru, the haughty, aristocratic pureblood demon introduced as a villain, accompanied by a sycophantic toady, and attempting to cheat his socially inferior, half-brother Inuyasha out of his inheritance; that is, almost exactly the set-up of Fitzwilliam Darcy in Pride & Prejudice. The character is also redeemed by Austen’s strategy: meeting an open-hearted, mischievous and unintimidated girl whom he struggles to scorn as inferior; having his flaws contextualized by introducing his controlling, snobbish mother; finally, risking everything to rescue the redeemer-girl. Introducing a poison-clawed Demon Dog Darcy, with the power to raise the dead and blast his enemies to hell, unbalances Inuyasha: Sesshomaru’s well-written redemption arc commences just as Inuyasha’s own arc grinds to a halt, spending a hundred chapters randomly upgrading his sword while the fandom sways toward the narratively marginalized Sesshomaru. Demon Dog Darcy is then forced to hand his emotionally-earned powers over to Inuyasha in an exasperatingly contrived plot twist. But Sesshomaru’s very marginalization in Inuyasha‘s narrative, and total detachment from the main heroine, function to intensify fangirl emotional and sexual frustration: the ultimate aim of any Ice Prince. Although Demon Dog Darcy progressively thaws emotionally, the character’s sexual unavailability is emphasized by spiked armor encircling his chest and maintained by filling the “Elizabeth Bennet” role with a pre-pubescent girl (one fervently hopes).

In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel loves and saves Buffy but is made sexually unavailable by a curse that he will lose his soul if he has sex with her. This loss of soul also allows the intensification of Angel’s physical threat and sadism, while permitting the ‘real’ Angel to remain a dutiful lover. Twilight likewise presents Edward Cullen as a deeply loving and loyal ‘Ice Prince’ who threatens Bella repeatedly by mentioning his urge to devour her and, of course, is sexually unavailable through his fear of ‘losing control’.

Demon-in-Distress: The “Wolf” Archetype

The defining characteristic of the ‘Wolf’ is his combination of desperate emotional and sexual availability with repeatedly emphasized vulnerability and animalism. The most exaggeratedly vulnerable is Ranma 1/2‘s Ryoga, a little boy lost in the literal sense that he farcically lacks any sense of direction. The fanged, impulsive Ryoga’s regular transformations into a small, cute piglet add to his vulnerability. His inability to tell the heroine Akane of his true nature and feelings, out of fear of losing his privileged access as her pet pig, forms a near-perfect satire of the “Friendzone” phenomenon.

Inuyasha‘s impulsive, hotheaded Koga, a Ryoga lookalike, is a wolf-demon. In contrast to the elusive, emotionally conflicted hero Inuyasha, Koga falls for the heroine Kagome almost immediately and pursues her consistently. The manga is notable for constantly placing Koga in helpless ‘demon-in-distress’ situations requiring rescue, and for counterbalancing Sesshomaru’s spiked, hug-repellent armor and Inuyasha’s loose robes with Koga’s skimpy armor and furred micro-miniskirt, concealing his crotch only by careful choice of viewing angle.

Although Buffy‘s Spike is a vampire, theoretically an “ice prince” archetype, the character bears a dog’s name and typical ‘wolf’ impulsiveness and romantic vulnerability. In his second season introduction, he is confined to a wheelchair and forced to watch his beloved Drusilla seduced by “Ice Prince” rival Angel. In the third season, he’s pathetically dumped and weeping. In the fourth, he’s neutered by a brain chip that zaps him for attacking, so ‘he doesn’t chase the other puppies anymore’. In the fifth, the trope of Spike’s nakedness is introduced as vulnerability; he bares his chest to Buffy’s stake and confesses his love. This sequence is revealed as Spike’s dream; he is stripped and Buffy is fully clothed even in his own sexual fantasies. Spike is also stripped and tortured for love of Buffy by the dominant, female deity Glory in this season. In the sixth, after their first sexual encounter, Buffy is again fully clothed, abusing Spike verbally while he sprawls naked and defenseless. She repeatedly violates his sexual boundaries from a position of dominance; his attempt to force himself on her is presented as a crime of pathetic desperation. Though “Ice Prince” Angel wishes to torment and kill Buffy when he is soulless, Spike’s soulless state is no obstacle to his love – the emotional dependence of the ‘wolf’ knows no bounds.

Twilight’s Jacob Black is another wolf defined by constant loyalty, before attempting to force himself onto Bella in an act portrayed as pathetic desperation. Where Edward’s brief moment of toplessness is a dramatic, suicidal act that will dazzle a watching crowd, Jacob’s toplessness and skimpy attire are chronic, underlining his availability.

Shishihokodan! Or, Why Team Jacob Loses

Comparing the fandom of all four series reveals an interesting trend: fangirls are roughly equally divided between Team Jacob and Team Edward, Team Spike and Team Angel, Team Ryoga and Team Ranma, Team Koga and Team Inuyasha; nonetheless, the “Ice Prince” always gets the girl. It would be easy to blame the creators. Yet, Stephenie Meyer claims to be “Team Jacob.” Both Marti Noxon and Jane Espenson Buffy‘s main female writer/directors have made statements in support of the BuffyXSpike romance. Rumiko Takahashi’s writings in the romcom genre, Maison Ikkoku and One Pound Gospel, also reward and root for heroes in the vulnerable ‘wolf’ mode, and it is Takahashi who provides a structural explanation for ‘ice prince’ triumph with Ranma 1/2‘s Shishihokodan arc.

The “Shishihokodan” is a blast of energy which enables perpetual loser Ryoga to defeat the hero Ranma by harnessing his heartbreak. Ranma attempts to defeat the all-powerful Shishihokodan with a confidence-blast, but can only triumph by giving Ryoga momentary hope of sexual opportunity. In other words, Ryoga loses not because he is inferior, but because losing is the paradoxical source of his power. Any woman attracted to the “wolf” archetype is inherently drawn to vulnerability; her attraction is intensified by the wolf’s heartbroken rejection. Any woman attracted to the ‘ice prince’ is inherently drawn to dominance; her attraction is conversely reduced by his loss of mastery. As such, pursuing the resistant hero and resisting the pursuing hero create positively and negatively charged polarities to an explosive battery of sexual tension, a narrative trap which dooms the “wolf,” as Takahashi showed herself sympathetically aware with the Shishihokodan arc.

The wolf is difficult to dispose of: any alternative love interest would undermine his painful availability, thus one must be introduced with unsatisfactory suddenness at the last minute. The sudden arrival of a pig-fetishist marks Ryoga’s sidelining in Ranma 1/2; a wolf-girl for Koga is a last-minute addition to the Inuyasha anime, while Koga simply loses his previously foolhardy fighting spirit, forgets his long-established vengeance vendetta and slinks out of the original manga after admitting that Kagome should be with Inuyasha. Most disturbingly, the newly-arrived love interest for Jacob Black is literally newly-arrived as a newborn; his obsessive need to psychologically groom an infant into a future bride doesn’t bother the infant’s parents, presumably merely relieved that the wolf has been disposed of. More satisfyingly, rather than slinking away Koga-style, Spike’s acceptance that Buffy can’t love him “but thanks for saying” allows him to destroy the Hellmouth and be redeemed, incinerating himself in a spectacular blast of purest Shishihokodan.

What does this mean for our reading of film representations of male Madonna/Whore complex? It implies the continual defeat of the Whore as structural necessity – as a pursuing character she must be resisted to generate sexual tension, regardless of whether the author is Team Madonna or Team Whore. So, is womankind’s reading of a value judgement in the Madonna’s triumph flawed, like the hetero-male audience’s resentment of SARCom as poisonously emasculating? In fact, mankind’s Whore is generally portrayed as more empowered than womankind’s Wolf, probably because our culture sees male sexuality as common weakness but female sexuality as social rebellion. It is the female audience’s model of dominant-resistor/submissive-pursuer that aligns the rivalry dynamic of triumphant dominant with the love dynamic of triumphant resistor in a perfect feedback loop that structurally maximizes sexual tension (hence the squealing). But if male readers fail to appreciate Ice Prince/Wolf, are we likewise misreading Madonna/Whore? When Marlene Dietrich’s Frenchy hurls herself in front of a bullet and dies in James Stewart’s arms, is this the patriarchal punishment of a promiscuous woman or is it merely a blast of purest Shishihokodan?

Brigit McCone is unapologetically Team Wolf, writes and directs short films, radio dramas and The Erotic Adventures of Vivica (as Voluptua von Temptitillatrix). Her hobbies include doodling and making weird Pride and Prejudice analogies.

‘The Shining’: Demon Selection

Jack is both a victim and perpetrator of domestic violence. Jack’s father was an abusive alcoholic who beat and berated him. When Jack drank he used to parrot his father’s words (“take your medicine” “you damn pup”). He is primarily verbally abusive. The last incident of drinking that pushed him to sober up was accidentally breaking Danny’s arm. Wendy, perhaps like Jack’s mother, lied for him but swore she would leave if he didn’t sober up.

The Torrance family happily driving to the Overlook Hotel

This guest post by Wolf appears as part of our theme week on Demon and Spirit Possession.

Stephen King’s The Shining miniseries debuted almost 17 years ago. King’s take was made to follow closer to his original novel and as a rebuff of Kubrick’s classic (King still disliked the movie). The miniseries is often criticized for being long, needing more scares, and having too much detail and long dialogue. While these points have merit, King’s version has a better Wendy, more background, and far more character development. The story itself is well known – The Torrance family moves into the Overlook Hotel for the winter. Father Jack is an alcoholic, out-of-work teacher, and amateur playwright. Young Danny has psychic abilities. The Overlook is haunted. Wendy is along for the ride with no job to perform nor psychic abilities. She has also lead a fairly charmed life, minus Jack’s problems, and is not possessed by the Overlook at any point. *

But why does the Overlook not chose Wendy? Or why can’t it reach her the way it can Danny and Jack?

The Hotel wants Danny. Wendy knows it. Jack is already “infected” by the hotel and refuses to believe it. Danny knows it as well. This suggests that his power will live on in the hotel after he is dead and a ghost. The hotel might seek out people who Shine and their Shining stays with their spirits trapped in the Overlook. It is never fully explained how Danny got his gift or his Shining – which includes telepathy, telekinesis, visions, and the ability to regenerate a haunted hotel and its ghosts. Some fans have assumed Jack himself might have the Shining.**

Jack drinking with Grady at the party where all the guests and the band have been dead for years

Danny is never fully taken over by the hotel, but it grows stronger with his presence. It uses what it can take of his Shining and, being a little boy, he unintentionally feeds it. He has a false sense of security since he was told by Dick Hallorann, who works at the hotel and explains to Danny what the Shining is, that the things one might see at the Overlook are like “pictures in a book.” Soon the pictures become physical manifestations and the hotel has its own puppet to use when it takes full control of Jack.

There is one other very big reason why Jack might have been the one the hotel fully possessed (to the point where Jack tries to control himself and can’t–only once does he break through and tells Danny to run, but loses this battle within minutes): Jack is both a victim and perpetrator of domestic violence. Jack’s father was an abusive alcoholic who beat and berated him. When Jack drank he used to parrot his father’s words (“take your medicine” “you damn pup”). He is primarily verbally abusive. The last incident of drinking that pushed him to sober up was accidentally breaking Danny’s arm. Wendy, perhaps like Jack’s mother, lied for him but swore she would leave if he didn’t sober up.

With the hotel influencing Jack, but not yet controlling him, he begins to act like the alcoholic he once was and uses the same words. This was more intense than his last incident as a dry drunk; this is full drunk Jack with no alcohol. Eventually the hotel has the power to conjure objects that torment the family – party favors and panties in an elevator that turned on by itself (“There is something that wants us to join the party, Don’t you understand that?” Wendy explains to Jack) and a bar with alcohol for thirsty Jack.

Jack possessed by the Overlook — Jack, possessed by the Overlook

The hotel preys on Jack’s past problems. Even as a grown man, he still loves his father and speaks to what sounds like his ghost on the radio. The emotional conversation where Jack acts like a crying boy and is berated once again, culminates in Jack smashing the family’s one means of communication with the outside world. Jack carries the scars of abuse, the confusion of loving your abusive parent, and guilt over continuing the cycle of alcoholic abuse.*** He also confides that he feels like he belongs at the Overlook. He lashes out at Wendy in jealousy over her good life and unleashes all of his frustrations with his own life. His fear of them living on the street if he can’t fulfill the duties of this job are probably exaggerated, but his feelings of failure and concern for his family never being able to obtain a comfortable lifestyle are genuine.

Jack isn’t an evil man. He is damaged and the hotel takes full advantage of it. He is alone, hurt, guilty, and has a past full of enticing cruelty and trauma for the sinister hotel to enjoy. We do not know about other victims of the hotel. Did the woman in 217 who has sexually charged scenes, including the way she kisses and then strangles Danny, have some sexual abuse in her past before she committed suicide at the Overlook? Did she even plan on killing herself before checking in or was the suggestion given to her during her stay? Does this shed light on how the hotel that has killed so many remains open and functioning with its “indiscretions” covered up by management?

Without the word of the (Stephen) King, we can only guess that the hotel wants people who Shine or who have emotional issues that make them susceptible to the demonic influence and also please he sadism of the Overlook. And this is why Mr. Jack Torrance was possessed by the hotel and not his wife. This is why Jack let the hotel in, while Danny tried to keep it out.

*In the DVD Wendy isn’t the only one to hold this honor; Dick Hallorann never subcomes to the Overlook. In the book, however, when the hotel is at its strongest, Dick has a moment where he is compelled to kill Danny.

**This theory gains momentum since Dick’s grandmother had it. Perhaps it skips or is weaker in some generations.

***! ! ! SPOILER ! ! ! Danny grows up to be an alcoholic in King’s latest novel.

Wolf is known to her friends as the Pop Culture Queen and loves to read books, watch movies, and keep up on her TV shows. She is a perpetual psychology student who hopes to finish her schooling before she’s 90. She occasionally finds the time to write for fun and win trivia contests. Criticism, questions and suggestions are always welcome in her email: hairdye_junky@yahoo.com.

‘My Sister’s Keeper’: Anna and Kate Growing Up On Screen and On the Page

My Sister’s Keeper is a story about growing up, identify, family, death, and life (how can we truly tell any story about life when death isn’t the costar?), but its uniqueness is that it is told primarily through two young girls.

My Sister's Keeper poster — *My Sister’s Keeper* poster

This guest post by Wolf appears as part of our theme week on Child and Teenage Girl Protagonists.

My Sister’s Keeper is a film based off of a book of the same name. Books that become movies follow a set sequence of events: the book fans anticipate the film, new-comers are targeted by the studios, the choice of what to cut/what to keep is made, some movie fans read the book, and the endless debate over which is better ensues. Both versions of My Sister’s Keeper take the wonderful approach of letting the main characters take turns telling the story. Some people, myself included, learn to love both based on their own merit. The book has a goal and story to tell that differs from the movie. The movie has its own unique story and goals. The biggest difference is the main characters; the movie focuses on Kate and the book centers on Anna. The storyline of two sisters whose lives are entwined stays intact in either case.

Anna exists because of Kate, literally. Kate has cancer, leukemia to be specific, and was diagnosed when she was under 5 years old. She is almost certainly terminal. Her parents aren’t a match, much to their shock and dismay. Jesse, her older brother, isn’t a match. They are given the suggestion to create a designer baby, one who will be the perfect genetic match for Kate. This brings us to our second character, Anna (Andromeda in the book, named by her father, Brian, who is a firefighter and amateur astronomer). Kate takes the cord blood first, stem cells, blood, other small donations later, and by the time the story really begins Kate needs Anna’s kidney. Anna files a lawsuit for medical emancipation to prevent the forced donation.

I could honestly write half a book about the portrayal of this fictional family in both the book and film (Kate, the cancer-stricken crux of the family; Sara, the supermom; Brian, the level-headed father; Jesse, the forgotten child; Anna, searching for who she is). The idea that there is a pro-life/pro-choice metaphor (suggested by Roger Ebert in his review) is also interesting and perhaps a good subject for another day.

But the objective here is Anna and Kate, two children who are growing up and having to act more grown-up than they really are.

Kate is a child, but she faces an event typically reserved for adults: death. Kate knows she is dying. She holds no illusions. She has even tried to kill herself. She also suffers for others, but not like Anna does; she lives through the agony of cancer for the sake of her family. She has a mature acceptance of death most of the adults around her do not. At times in the movie, she seems to be the only one living in reality. Her parents fail her in this aspect–they want to save her, even if that means denying the reality of her situation and keeping her in pain. She doesn’t only suffer physically. She has the emotional trauma of knowing her cancer is harming her parents’ marriage, her brother is ignored in lieu of focusing on her (in the book, Sara admits she gave up on him), and Anna’s life revolves around saving Kate.

Both daughters must grow up because their parents fail them. They love them, undoubtedly, but they do not always act in their best interest nor are they often granted agency. Sure, when Kate wants to miss school in the books because of her cancer-stricken appearance Sara allows this. She understands a teenage girls’ vanity. But her desire to end her suffering is ignored. Anna is granted small choices as well based on her desires, but despite her mother’s claims she is being forced to donate her body parts. By the very fact that Sara pushes her to donate and fights the case in court shows she doesn’t care about Anna’s wishes.

Anna’s well-being (the procedures are painful and dangerous) is not taken fully into account. In the books, Brian didn’t want her to donate again when Kate’s cancer reemerged. She didn’t remember the blood draws or injections, but if they had her donate again she would be old enough to remember. He is overruled and concedes to save Kate. The judge doesn’t find her parents guilty of any neglect or indifference but can see that this choice is complicated and Anna needs a voice of her own. (Sara and Brian will speak for Kate’s best medical interest; her wish to die isn’t considered valid.)

Kate wasn’t expected to live past 5. Sara plans as though she will survive in both versions, even telling Dr. Chance that he will come to her wedding one day. Brian stopped dreaming of milestones to avoid the pain when her cancer came back or became more aggressive. In the movie, Kate doesn’t talk about her future; even while “dating” Taylor they talk about their impending deaths. Kate is taken aback in the book when she is asked about her future plans–no one asks her that, even as they fight to keep her alive. She confides that she wants to be a ballerina because they have “absolute control. When it comes to their bodies they know exactly what will happen.” These small situations are more drawn out in the books. Kate hemorrhages from the leukemia; blood is gushing out every opening it can find, from head to toe. Sara gives her a pad and wonders if she will live long enough to get her first period. She will likely not live to experience growing up the way most people do before they die.

For this reason, in both versions, her parents allow her to go to a hospital dance for patients. Taylor, her “boyfriend,” is a rare joy for Kate. In the movie, she finds the perfect wig and dresses like a princess. In the book, she can’t stand wigs and must wear a mask because she is so compromised. Her sexuality is treated differently than it would be if she were cancer free. In the movie, Taylor and she either have sex or “do stuff” that is sexual in nature. But it’s hard to be upset by this. We can’t after all ask her to wait–she’s already living past her life expectancy. Fertility and STDs are not concerns for a girl with cancer. In the book, they only kiss. Sara allows this despite the medical risks, despite the fact that it might kill her–because she knows Kate needs this moment. Every girl needs her first kiss.

This point is driven home when Taylor dies soon after the dance.

It’s only a matter of time before Kate dies as well.

Anna could in theory save Kate. If she were willing, if the hospital signed off, if Kate’s body could handle surgery, and if her kidney functioned well in her sister’s body. Anna files the lawsuit because her sister wants to die and she was asked to “set [her] free.” Anna in all actuality would give her kidney or her right arm or everything she had to save her sister. But the guilt is real. Whether it’s cheerleading and soccer (movie) or hockey and studying abroad (book), Anna really does want her own life and future. She isn’t just expected to save her sister at her own expense but agrees with this prescription for her life. She doesn’t have any real friends nor does Kate. They have each other and that’s enough. But Anna had to give up hockey camp in the book because they wouldn’t let her leave the state in case Kate got sick and needed her. If she gives her kidney, no coach will risk her joining the team. She might have to forgo children of her own if the risks of pregnancy are deemed too severe for her with only one kidney. Anna had to choose between herself and her sister. Kate made the choice for her.

This still doesn’t mean Anna is an adult. In the books Anna throws tantrums, serious tantrums, like opening a car door while it’s in motion to run away. Movie Anna has an outburst here and there but is far more composed and mature. She still falls asleep in her mother’s arms and is most distraught by people being disappointed by her. She wants her parents, but she doesn’t want them to make medical choices against her will. This still doesn’t mean she has adult foresight. When Campbell offers to make Sara stop talking to her about the case, she doesn’t stop to think that this means her mother will be removed from the home. Campbell, who was fine with referring her to Planned Parenthood before he knew the specifics of her case, forgets the fact that she is an adolescent and not a typical client.

The final change from book to movie is the ending.

In the movie, Kate dies. It’s expected and is so spot on for those who have lost a loved one. Kate never gets to grow up. Anna has to grow up without her sister, her best friend, her identity. And the family must come together without Kate’s gravitational pull holding them in and propelling them through their lives. We don’t know what Anna becomes as an adult; we only know the family gets together on Kate’s birthday and Anna gets to have all the choices every other girl does.

In the book, the last words we hear from Anna are about her future: “Ten years from now, I want to be Kate’s sister.”

Anna dies in a car crash on her way home from court immediately after her proclamation. Campbell is also injured, but since he holds medical power of attorney he sends her kidney to Kate upstairs. Her other organs go to help other families. Kate almost dies despite this, but claws her way back to life. She hates herself for this–for surviving. Sara falls apart and must live without the child she never thought she’d lose. Brian works overtime to avoid going home. He falls into alcohol. Somewhere in the mist of this tragedy, Jesse finds a way to turn himself around and becomes, of all things, a cop. Kate eventually becomes a dance instructor and takes Anna, by extension of her kidney, with her wherever she goes.

These girls are very relatable. They are more realistic in the books, but that’s also because there is more time and room to get to know them. Movies must be trimmed so they don’t run too long. Some cuts and differences are there to emphasize points that can’t be dwelled upon, but must be understood quickly. Sisterhood is a constant theme (Anna/Kate; Sara/her sister). The film is female-centric (Judge DeSalvo), despite cutting out a female character, Julia, and merging her role into a preexisting male character, Campbell. This may be one of the few films where common female tropes–the martyr, the mother, the savior–are displayed in a non-offensive, realistic manner. They are furthermore examined and challenged in the same fashion. Women do not have to be saviors or martyrs, but we understand why Anna and Kate fall into these roles. We also understand why they both feel so much guilt, especially Anna, who wonders if she is “rotten” for wanting a future, for wanting the things all girls growing into adulthood long for. Super-Mom is often hard to empathize with because of how single-minded she is about saving Kate. In both versions, it’s a miracle Jesse isn’t dead or in jail due to her and Brian’s lack of parenting. But we understand both her love and her fear of what will she be if she loses her daughter; can she go on if Kate dies and all of her sacrifices, namely her other two children and marriage, were for nothing?

My Sister’s Keeper is a story about growing up, identify, family, death, and life (how can we truly tell any story about life when death isn’t the costar?), but its uniqueness is that it is told primarily through two young girls.