Women in Film – Page 2

‘Two Days, One Night’: Marion Cotillard’s Insight From the New York Film Festival

Cotillard did triple duty at the New York Film Festival Sunday to promote ‘Two Days, One Night,’ which had its U.S. premiere. (The film is Belgium’s submission for best foreign film.) At 1, in jeans and a casual but chic top, Cotillard participated in a Q&A for a standing-room crowd. At 3 she changed into Dior and walked across the street to Alice Tully Hall and joined the Dardenne Brothers as they introduced ‘Two Days, One Night’ to a sold out audience, and afterward participated in a Q&A.

This is a guest post by Paula Schwartz.

In Two Days, One Night, Marion Cotillard plays Sandra, a worker in a solar panel factory who returns to work after medical leave for depression to learn she has lost her job after management forces her co-workers to choose between keeping her on staff or receiving their 1,000-Euro bonuses. After the owner of the factory agrees to a revote, Sandra spends the weekend trying to meet with each of her 12 co-workers to plead her case and persuade them to change their minds.

Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, the veteran filmmakers who wrote and directed the film, raise global issues like wage stagnation, financial inequality, and the declining middle class, while focusing their story on a financially strapped woman desperate to keep her job.

“She’s a simple woman and very complicated at the same time,” Cotillard explained at a Q&A Sunday. “She’s just recovering from a very deep depression and she’s fragile and she’s going to discover things about herself that she didn’t expect.”

Cotillard, who received an Oscar for disappearing into her role as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose, in which she affected the singer’s nasal warble and her sickly hunched over physicality, makes Sandra, in her tank top and with her weary eyes, just as believable. A rare combination of movie star and character actress, Cotillard chooses roles in high-profile Hollywood films like Christopher Nolan’s Inception (2010) and The Dark Knight Rises (2012), along with parts in foreign and independent films, notably Jacques Audiard’s Rust and Bone and James Gray’s The Immigrant, just to mention a few.

Cotillard did triple duty at the New York Film Festival Sunday to promote Two Days, One Night, which had its U.S. premiere. (The film is Belgium’s submission for best foreign film.) At 1, in jeans and a casual but chic top, Cotillard participated in a Q&A for a standing-room crowd. At 3 she changed into Dior and walked across the street to Alice Tully Hall and joined the Dardenne Brothers as they introduced Two Days, One Night to a sold out audience, and afterward participated in a Q&A. As soon as the discussion ended she glided along the red carpet in the lobby for photographers and posed for selfies with fans, some who got a bit too chummy and close, but she never flinched.

Six things I learned about Marion Cotillard Sunday during the Q&A.

The Dardenne brothers have a long rehearsal process and take lots and lots of takes, and the actress is fine with that:

“Sometimes we would have already done 70 takes and I would ask for more… because some were sequence shots, which have to be perfect because you cannot edit… I trust them (the Dardennes) a thousand percent, so if they would have asked me to do 200 takes I would have done it because I knew there was a reason behind this amount of takes, and that was one of my best experiences as an actresses. They really offered me everything that I had always wanted in terms of relationships with directors, and today when I talk about the amount of takes, I’m like, ‘Oh yeah, this is a lot,’ but on set it was never overwhelming, it was never exhausting, it was just the process of getting something, getting what they wanted to have, and for me giving them exactly what they wanted to have.”

On whether she worried about going too deep into a role and how hard it was for her to come back when the movie is over:

“For Piaf it was kind of difficult because it was the first time I went that deep, and I immersed myself entirely for months into somebody else’s… But I’ve learned a lot trying to get back to my life after La Vie en Rose, so now I know that I need a process to come back to my life, and this process is as interesting as getting into someone, and now it’s part of how I work.”

On how she prepared for celebrity:

“I don’t think you are prepared for this very real weird thing actually… But at the same time it, when you’re an actor you’re looking for a connection with a lot of people you might never meet, but you want to tell a story, and you want this story to touch many people as a kind of connection… When I started in acting and people recognized me in the street it was so weird, but I didn’t know how to take it so I would run away. That was super weird. I felt very paranoid. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. And I’m a very sensitive person, and sometimes it would be too much, but I’m kind of used to it. It’s just a different connection to people. (She laughed.) And I like it.”

She admits to being drawn to playing dark and difficult women with big problems. (Next up is Lady Macbeth.):

“Unfortunately yes. When they offered me the role of Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, I said yes right away without my brain being involved in this decision, and then I started to think, and I was like, ‘Oh wow, yeah, here we go again. Drama! Drama! Drama!’ I must be, yeah, attracted to the darkness for sure. But sometimes I’m having very sane, not schizophrenic conversations with myself, but still conversations with myself, thinking when are you going to stop playing people who are so fucked up? And I have no answer. I’m just waiting for sudden light. It’ll come. It’ll come.”

She did have a brief but memorable appearance in Anchorman 2 starring Will Ferrell and directed by Adam McKay, but it seems she needed help loosening up:

“All these guys are my idols, so that was kind of crazy for me. When they asked me I didn’t even read anything, I was like, ‘Oh yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.’ I mean being on a set with Will Ferrell was a dream, and I was freaked out in that huge field, and Adam McKay was like super far away giving me lines, like new lines over this megaphone, I could barely understand what he was saying. Can I say that I was hungover? So it was part of me being in a disastrous state and at the same time having a lot of fun.”

She doesn’t think she was that great in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris:

“That was a tough experience for me actually because it took me a long time to actually believe that I was on a set with Woody Allen… I met Woody Allen five days before we started shooting, and we didn’t really exchange things. We discussed a little bit about the vision of this character, but I had very little information, and then being on set with him I was so scared that I wouldn’t be good enough… I was always scared that he wouldn’t get what he wanted because we had talked so little, and I think that I might have misunderstood what he wanted at the beginning, and I knew that he was not very happy, which does stay with me and so yeah, I felt very uncomfortable… It was not very easy for me either to be in front of an actress like an rabbit in the light (sic)… I’m very happy that I worked with him… I could have done better.”

Paula Schwartz is a veteran journalist who worked at the New York Times for three decades. For five years she was the Baguette for the New York Times movie awards blog Carpetbaggers. Before that she worked on the New York Times night life column, Boldface, where she covered the celebrity beat. She endured a poke in the ribs by Elijah Wood’s publicist, was ejected from a party by Michael Douglas’s flak after he didn’t appreciate what she wrote, and endured numerous other indignities to get a story. More happily she interviewed major actors and directors–all of whom were good company and extremely kind–including Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Morgan Freeman, Clint Eastwood, Christopher Plummer, Dustin Hoffman and the hammy pooch “Uggie” from “The Artist.” Her idea of heaven is watching at least three movies in a row with an appreciative audience that’s not texting. Her work has appeared in Moviemaker, more.com, showbiz411 and reelifewithjane.com.

‘Gone Girl’: How to Create the Perfect Female Villain

This is a guest post by Alize Emme.

SPOILER ALERT.

Kudos to the 20th Century Fox exec who decided to market Gone Girl (2014) as a great date movie. This is not a date movie. This is a horror story about the sensationalized pitfalls of a doomed marriage.

As good horror stories go, this one has the perfect villain: Amy Elliott Dunne.

Calculating. Manipulative. Patient. Sinister. Genius. Female.

Dunne (Rosamund Pike) is perhaps one of the greatest female fictional villains portrayed on screen, with bonus points for doing something her male counterparts rarely ever achieve: getting away with it. Dunne, with the help of a highly colored narrative penned by Gillian Flynn, manipulates a vibrant cast of stereotypes as she weaves the perfect crime web and literally gets away with murder.

After feeling like her husband, Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck), has taken her “pride, dignity, hope, and money,” Dunne sets out with fierce discipline and a detective’s eye for detail to frame her unsuspecting husband for her own murder. She befriends “a local idiot,” tells tall tales about fear and the threat of violence, authors a journal’s worth of history–some true, some false, simulates a pregnancy, lights “a fire in July,” and sets the perfect crime scene. She transforms herself into someone “people will truly mourn.”

The premise of Gone Girl works because it plays off our preconceived notions about loss and tragedy. The Pretty Murdered Wife. We as an audience know this story: she’s missing, feared dead, might be pregnant. The narrative needs no back-story, but we do get a glimpse.

Nick Dunne. He is done. Gone. Finished. We know this about Nick the moment we meet him just by his name as he’s standing in the middle of the street next to garbage bins. He is something to be taken out and disposed of with the trash; he is never getting his life back, and Flynn wants us to be aware. The Nick Dunne we are introduced to is a schlubby, beer drinking, ice cream eating, 5 o’clock shadow kind of guy with a dissatisfied marriage and a concubine on the side.

When Dunne goes missing and morphs into the Pretty Murdered Wife stereotype, Nick Dunne’s general disposition puts him right into the Smug Accused Husband category. He’s too charming; he’s too arrogant; he’s too suspicious. He’s a man with secrets. “He’s being a good guy, so everyone can see him being a good guy,” Officer Gilpin (Patrick Fugit) observes. He’s a man whose marriage has taught him how to fake it, who happens to be surrounded by women. There’s lead detective Rhonda Boney (Kim Dickens) who gives him a fair run. A fictionalized Nancy Grace clone, Ellen Abbott, (Missi Pyle) who pulls him apart every night on her nationally syndicated television show, and his twin sister Margo (Carrie Coon) who’s been with him since before they “were even born” and offers a stable voice of reason.

“I am so sick of being picked apart by women,” Nick Dunne says. And he’s right, that’s exactly what’s happening now that he’s been labeled the Smug Accused Husband. This stereotype exists because there are men who do kill their pregnant wives and then go on TV and lie about it, and society remembers them. The case of Laci Peterson was one of the first things that came to my mind. And Affleck is clear to note that Scott Peterson was one of the models for his character. Even the “Missing” photo of Dunne is reminiscent of Laci’s with the bright smile, dangling earrings, and glossy lipstick. Gone Girl is a story that already lives on the edge of our thoughts.

As a couple, Nick and Amy have been pretending from the start. They have a perfect meet-cute, perfect dates, perfect celebratory rituals; they even buy the same sheets. He plays “hot, doting husband,” to her “sweet, loving spouse.” None of it is real; “I forged the man of my dreams,” Dunne says. And in doing so, she herself became the Cool Girl. Another stereotype of how women manipulate themselves to land a man.

Eating cold pizza, drinking beer, remaining “a size 2.” Dunne tailored herself to fit Nick’s taste. But “Nick got lazy.” Not holding up his end of the bargain was never the deal. When she sees that Nick’s sweet romantic gestures were not improvisations made up for her, but rather a well-rehearsed ruse easily tailored to the girl in front of him, Dunne makes a decision. She realizes her husband is no longer the man she married and decides to teach him a lesson he will never forget. “No fucking way,” she says, “He doesn’t get to win. Grown-ups suffer consequences.” She takes charge. She doesn’t let herself be walked on by this man. “Why should I die?” She asks, “I’m not the asshole.”

It’s an easy, cop-out that barely scratches the surface of accurate to diagnose Dunne as a psychopath. To say she’s an overly emotional, crazy woman who can’t handle daily life and descends into a PMS-filled rage, is falling pry to gender stereotypes. Dunne exhibits a perfectly cool demeanor, her emotions are consistently even, she is meticulous and complex. The layers of this character are masterful; she is the opposite of what every gender stereotype says women should be like. She is simply a great villain. “Show me that Darling Nicky smile,” Dunne coos like the Wicked Witch of the West as she stares at a video of her husband on a computer. She’s fascinated by her own work.

Pike’s performance is mesmerizing; she delivers Dunne’s words in this breathless manner like she’s seductively blowing out a candle. Pike makes us believe from the very beginning that Dunne is both sane and capable of deception. But seeing a female character portrayed so strongly on screen earns Dunne the unfortunate label of “controlling bitch.”

If Dunne were a man, none of these character and sanity accusations would hold true. Male characters that go on rampant murder sprees in movies are never labeled as psychopaths, when clearly they display the same behavior. Dunne is not a psychopath. Crazy people cannot mastermind murders and crimes and not get caught. Even her past acts of “insanity” should be taken with a grain of salt. The ex-boyfriend who calls Dunne a “mind fucker of the first degree,” still keeps a picture of her in his wallet. This woman has allegedly ruined his life, yet he’s still holding her image so close? This calls his authenticity into question while giving Dunne credibility.

Dunne is fiercely intelligent. She has plotted the perfect crime. And while she doesn’t succeed with her original plan, she still sets her husband up for decades of suffering with her pregnancy. For all the betrayed wives out there, Dunne is a hero with the perfect revenge. Her crime is personal, not random, which gets her sanity questioned. Flynn doesn’t touch the subject of Dunne’s mental state. She leaves that up to the audience. David Fincher also helms this story in a nonjudgmental way. He is respectful of Dunne and all the female characters. Dunne is never put on display as a woman, though several male characters make mention of her impressive physical attributes. The supporting female characters, which are all various stereotypes, are never blasted for it; they’re handled with care.

Detective Boney, for example, is the coffee drinking, slick talking lead on Dunne’s missing persons case. She’s an interesting foil to the other female characters that assume Nick Dunne is guilty from the start. Boney gives him the benefit of the doubt, refusing to arrest him because some “blonde dunce” on TV says so. Instead it’s her male partner, Officer Gilpin, who immediately makes up his mind when finding blood splatter in The Dunne’s kitchen that he is guilty.

Through Boney, we are offered the idea that not all women jump to conclusions and hate men. But as the story progresses, we discover that Boney didn’t properly handle her case. “We stained the rug,” she says “with a national spotlight” on her. Had Nick Dunne been left in Boney’s “deeply incompetent hands,” he would be on death row, Dunne conveniently points out. Therefore, Boney’s word is useless in bringing Dunne to justice. Men botch investigations all the time, but for Boney to do so, it’s suggesting a woman can’t properly handle the responsibly of performing a traditionally male job.

Noelle Hawthorne (Casey Wilson) is the wonderfully entertaining suburban mom down the street with triplets and another baby on the way. We know this woman. Everyone has that one inquisitive neighbor that if something were to happen, she would be the first one knocking on the squad car window trying to help the cops. There’s a sense of comedy to this hyperbolic character and her triple-decker stroller, but she is never mocked. We take her seriously. It’s a real feat.

Nick Dunne’s twin, Margo, is a cool girl who’s not the Cool Girl. She drinks bourbon with her brother at ten in the morning, she covers his back with Dunne’s mother, she knows the truth but that doesn’t change her opinion of him. She always speaks the truth with her perfectly snarky comments. “You look like hammered shit,” she tells Nick. He likes her. We like her. She is perhaps the one female character that deviates from a hardened stereotype and could exist in the real world.

Somewhat of a mysterious supporting character, Greta (Lola Kirke) acts as a catalyst for Dunne. She’s complex and calculating just like Dunne; she sees an opportunity, and she seizes it. “Did he put you up to this?” Dunne asks as Greta and her male accomplice rob her blind, “I put him up to it,” she replies. She’s a survivalist and essentially forces Dunne to abort her plan and switch to survival mode herself. Yes, Dunne then murders a man and fakes a sexual assault, but in the world of a villain, she’s just adapting to survive. And as someone who is “skilled in the art of vengeance,” Dunne doesn’t just survive; she thrives.

Dunne, as Nick asks: What are you thinking?

Seeing a female character like Dunne on screen is fantastic–a word she would deem “a little flippant,” but there has yet to be a female villain quite like her. Fincher draws us into this world, Dunne’s world, where everything is this perfect shade of monochrome with tungsten lighting, where the camera moves in slow and methodical push-ins and pull-outs just as calculating as Dunne is, where things change with such swiftness–a kiss to a tongue swab, just like real life. And as we return to real life, we have to wonder: What will Amy Elliott Dunne do next? We’re left with the image of her head, just where we started, much like a few scenes earlier; we are left with Nick Dunne standing before trash cans, just like we started. So much has happened, but what do we really know? And more important, what will we learn next?

Alize Emme is a writer and filmmaker living in Los Angeles. She holds a B.A. in Film & Television from NYU and tweets at @alizeemme.

What Country’s Film Industry Has the Best Gender Equity?

The study from the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media and a group of partner organizations analyzed 120 films from the 10 countries with the most profitable film industries in the world. On average, women don’t fare much better in films internationally than they do in the United States: only 30 percent of characters with speaking parts or names are women. However, the cinematic gender balance varies greatly between countries. In Korea, for example, 50 percent of leading parts went to women while women played only 10 percent of leading roles in Russian films.

French film "Blue is the Warmest Color" centered on compelling female stories—but behind the camera, men outnumber women in the French industry nine to one. Film still from Sundance. — French film *Blue is the Warmest Color* centered on compelling female stories—but behind the camera, men outnumber women in the French industry nine to one. Film still from Sundance.

This guest post by Sarah Mirk previously appeared at Bitch Media and is cross-posted with permission.

We know that women woefully make up only 30 percent of speaking roles in American films. But a new study looks at how women fare in cinema internationally.

One thing that’s frustrating about this disparity is not just that women aren’t reflected in our media but that films featuring women in speaking roles are often better movies. When a film has few women in speaking roles, that’s usually a red flag to me that it’s a poorly written film. That was backed up by American box office revenues last year: major films that passed the Bechdel test made far more money, overall, than films that failed to have two named female characters who talk to each other about something other than men. I’d be excited about a plan for American theaters to follow the example of a few theaters in Sweden that post whether a film passes the Bechdel test—then I’d be able to know which films to skip.

When thinking about gender representation in media, it’s essential to look at who is making our media. Female directors are more likely to work on projects with more women on screen. There’s no country that has gender balance behind the scenes in the film industry, but some do better than others. At the bottom of the pile is France, where male directors, writers, and producers outnumber women nine to one. Brazil is the most equitable overall, but the UK gets the special distinction of being the only film market where women make up a majority of film writers.

The study also looked at how women are portrayed on screen, including what jobs they hold. Discussions of how women are portrayed in film are endless, but I think the most interesting part of this analysis is its number-crunching on the actual jobs women hold in films. The researchers looked at the number of characters who hold jobs in science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM) fields and other male-dominated careers. The results are telling. In the United States for example, women hold 24 percent of jobs in STEM fields. But onscreen, only 12.5 percent of characters with jobs in STEM fields are women. Women are also absent onscreen from high-level political positions: only 9.5 percent of high-ranking politicians in films internationally are women. These onscreen representations are important because they offer role models for the viewer—not always good role models, of course, but even if women are playing nefarious scientists or politicians plotting global domination, people sitting in the audience understand that women are a vital presence in the laboratories and capitol buildings of the world. As the study notes, “Filmmakers make more than just movies, they make choices. Those choices could be for balance, for less sexualization, and for more powerful female roles. The choice could be for gender equality.”

Related Reading: Sweden is Now Rating Films for Gender Bias.

Sarah Mirk is Bitch Media‘s online editor. Right now, she’s really into watching Elisabeth Moss in Top of the Lake.

Seed & Spark: The Bad Mamas of Contemporary Cinema

This is not an article that will chronicle empty mother characters. This is for all the badass mamas out there—the honest mother roles that women have nailed. Hopefully this will present a case for why we need a million more. Here’s to the female characters who have outlived the digital revolution and will continue to. Characters that live with us and remain faulted heroes. And here’s to the women who made them so electric.

Badass mom warrior Patricia Arquette in Boyhood — Badass mom warrior Patricia Arquette in *Boyhood*

This is a guest post by Mara Gasbarro Tasker.

Women have been speaking the hell up about gender in Hollywood this year and it’s been an awesome uprising to see. There has been an outpouring of voices across multiple demographics in media getting aggressive about the lack of opportunities available in all of its platforms.
What I find challenging, though, is the near constant focus on scarcity—the highlighting of women missing chances to shape film and media.

Rather than dive into the dark abyss of what feels a regression of women’s roles in the world, I decided to focus this article on what is working. On our successes. It’s much easier to model our creative designs and ourselves after things that we can see. So, if I had a beer right now, I’d pour it all out for my female homies who have trail blazed contemporary cinema. Here’s to the women who are “crushing it” in complex roles, who take every opportunity on screen to serve as their own victory of what can be done.

Last week I went to see this summer’s hot blockbuster Dawn of the Planet of the Apes. Now I will fully admit that this black and white, Italian Neorealism nerd fully enjoyed the ride. Much to my surprise, the film actually had me thinking of Shakespeare and Greek tragedy because— in terms of technicalities of story and character structure— they pulled some classic tricks out of the bag and that’s always cool with me. But during the movie there was one note that kept hitting the wrong key. Can someone, anyone, please explain why Keri Russell had only a one line backstory (that she lost her child as the Simian Flu spread) but then was never touched on again in the film? She was prescribed the role of mother, lone survivor, who clings to others and is a surprisingly talented nurse on a whim. But where in the film did she represent what a woman who has lost her child in a bleak new world might actually be like? There was a human being missing in her character.

(Also brief aside, ladies we’re not really going to survive the apocalypse based on the ratio presented in the film. Because, uterus.)

Keri Russell in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes — Keri Russell in *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes* after walking into ape territory

This article is not one that will chronicle those empty characters. This is for all the badass mamas out there—the honest mother roles that women have nailed. Hopefully this will present a case for why we need a million more. Here’s to the female characters who have outlived the digital revolution and will continue to. Characters that live with us and remain faulted heroes. And here’s to the women who made them so electric.

Boyhood is, by logline and poster art, a film about a boy. But I was not alone in walking out of the theater thinking, “Patricia Arquette, you are a baller.” She is undoubtedly the silent hero of the film. From the start, she’s energetic, imperfect, driven, smart (but not genius) and loves her kids even though she wants nothing more from them than to go the hell to bed. She was a single mom who worked hard, got tired, got things moving in her life, and kept on. We’ve seen the foundations of her role a thousand times. (I will hold my comments about any Tyler Perry rendering of real life.) As the film evolved, she made mistakes; her body changed; at times she was involved with her kids and at times she was distant. What to me makes this a successful female role is that if you were to remove the rest of the cast from her, she still has an identity. Motherhood is a part of what she does in the same way that being married or single is a part of what she does. But stripped of supporting cast, she remains a real person with ambitions that grow internally and thoughts that are driven by her own needs and wants.

You see, there was always a storyline that belonged privately to her. She was the master of her own life and the force behind her children’s. When they grew, she grew too. She was very much a mother character AND an individual. It’s roles like these that are needed time and time again in the process of redefining the women we want to see on screen. She is multidimensional and therefore, truthful. (And, yes, I realize the film spans a very real 12 years in the world but even so. ) Kudos to Arquette for rocking the mom jeans like a warrior for 12 years.

Patricia Arquette in Boyhood — Mother and individual: Patricia Arquette in *Boyhood*

Definitely more overbearing but equally complex was Melissa Leo’s character in The Fighter. She was so nuanced. She got violent, volatile, and was packed with emotion. While she was unpleasant at many points in the story and her motivations were often outwardly selfish, she was honest. It was a straightforward portrayal of a mother not wanting to be outdone, even by her own children. She channels her own life through them and while this may not be a method condoned by any parenting books, she was very much alive and outspoken—faulted and capable of deep love. Again, if robbed of the other characters in the story, she was still a complete human being. There was nothing sexy added to her and yet her ferocious state of mind made her enigmatic and inescapable. (We need not bare tons of boob to get people to watch.) Her dynamic portrayal of a woman in a particular region and socioeconomic position, coupled with the hyper masculine surrounding pulls from her a wealth of complex emotions and decisions. And, let us not forget, unlikeable characters can still serve as outstanding representations of the depth of the female mind, soul, and existence. One of the elements ignored by women’s press this year is crowdpleasing. We want more opportunities. In every way. But I don’t care about crowd-pleasing characters. I go to the movies in search of truth. Give me that.

A complicated mother: Melissa Leo in The Fighter — The pistol Melissa Leo in *The Fighter*

Taking it even farther into the realm of complex is Julianne Moore in her disturbingly on point performance as Amber Waves in Boogie Nights. Apart from the fact that the movie itself is genius, much of its success is brought out by the powerful performances of its all-star cast. Moore’s character is particularly wild to follow. She has the softness and natural nurturing quality of a mother who has always wanted to be a mother. She is a soothing source of support but this, in the world of Boogie Nights, of course becomes complicated and perverted by the fact that she is also sexually drawn to the very young Mark Wahlberg. Her attraction to him, their on camera sexploits, and her simultaneous motherly qualities make her immediately full of wonder, questions, and provocations.

Adding to that, she’s an exciting hot mess. The woman likes her cocaine as she proves when doing hearty lines with Heather Graham in the bedroom one fateful afternoon. While in this heightened state, if you will, her inner life comes bubbling out and she emotionally confesses about how much she misses her son. She may be all over the place and her nose miiiiight be white at the end of it but she’s given fair treatment by the filmmaker and audience alike. She is trapped by her history, moves in certain ways because of it and, like any fully formed human being, when in a vulnerable position (or totally f***ed up), her inner demons come out into the world. She misses motherhood and longs for her child. It’s a part of her wiring and yet she continues to live outside of it. A hot mess with a real history—it’s a beautiful, vital performance. She embodies multiple elements of a woman in the world in this time and place and she won’t let you look away from it.

Hot mess of a mother: Julianne Moore in Boogie Nights — Julianne Moore before the infamous coke binge in *Boogie Nights*

Compared to the Hollywood backup female roles we usually passively sit through, not one of these roles and not one of these women has created as a silent, flat, disturbingly calm character. That is an untruthful portrayal in this spectator’s opinion. They came out screaming. Their exuberance breathed into these will written roles the fiery heat of a person with a true life, true purpose and fluid identity. These are the kinds of roles that make more room for women to prove that we thrive in the complex—that we are complex and that we want truth on screen.

Examples of female roles that kick ass exist. Women who will not let their roles become secondary exist. It’s been done since the beginnings of film. Alice Guy Blache’ didn’t take any shit and that was at the turn of the 20^th century. She directed, produced and wrote more than 700 films. She was doing it then, and women behind and in front of the camera have done it ever since. It’s our job now, in 2014, to recreate what we can accomplish based on our current industry model and find ways to make sure that truthful performances enter the marketplace. Hollywood films have always had plenty of fluff roles. But they’ve always had standouts. We are still in this position. We have model characters who broke ceilings once before in storytelling and will again. So…carry the torch and rock on.

In case you need further encouragement: Eva Khatchadourian in We Need to Talk About Kevin, Ofelia from Pan’s Labrynth, Kym from Rachel Getting Married, Nina Sayer from Black Swan. Marnie, Briony Tallis, Thelma Dickinson, Kate “Ma” Barker, Marge Gunderson, Bonnie Parker, Shoshanna Dreyfus, Nikita. Judy Barton/Madeleine Elster, Amelie, Evelyn Mulwray, Blanche Dubois, Betty Elms/Diane Selwyn, Coffy, Mia Wallace, Lisbeth Salander, Jackie Brown, The Bride, Hermione Granger, Clementine Kruczynski and Annie Hall.

Like Costner said in The Untouchables, “Let’s take the fight to them, gentlemen.” (ladies)

Mara Gasbarro Tasker is a filmmaker based in Los Angeles. She’s currently working as an Associate Producer at Vice Media and has co-created the Chattanooga Film Festival, launching later this spring. She holds a BFA in Film Production from the University of Colorado at Boulder. She is directing a grindhouse short in April and is still mourning the end of Breaking Bad.

Seed & Spark: Inviting Global Celebration of Films #DirectedbyWomen

We are living in an age where there is an explosion of films #DirectedbyWomen. That’s cause for celebration, but an enormous number of women filmmakers are working below the radar or on the fringes of awareness in the global film community. The result? Many film lovers are being left in the dark. They’re missing out on a rich vein of film treasures. Let’s draw films #DirectedbyWomen up into the light, so we can explore and appreciate them. Let’s help the world fall madly in love with and wildly celebrate women filmmakers and their films.

This is a guest post by Barbara Ann O’Leary.

Go ahead… fall in love! No need to wait. Any moment is a perfect moment to relish films #DirectedbyWomen, but we want to concentrate that love by bringing the global film community together for a powerful 15-day worldwide film viewing party next year: September 1-15, 2015. During this intense and exuberant celebration, film lovers will gather together in their communities around the world for film screenings, guest filmmaker visits and other celebrations, focusing attention on and offering appreciation for women filmmakers and their work.

We want to be sure to give everyone plenty of time to plan, so we’re launching this initiative with over a year to prepare. Film lovers/makers – women and men – everywhere are invited to create #DirectedbyWomen film viewing parties in every corner of the world.

There’s so much beautiful work unfolding and so much more ready and eager to burst forth. Let’s embrace films ‪#‎DirectedbyWomen with open arms. Let’s stand ready to receive them. Let’s say YES to the films women are creating. Let’s say “I WANT TO SEE FILMS #DIRECTEDBYWOMEN!” Let’s bring the films into our lives… into our communities… proactively. Let’s watch the films with attention and appreciation. Let’s share our responses to these films with the makers and with each other passionately. Let’s say “THANK YOU!” to the makers. Let’s say, “MORE please!” Let’s open greater opportunities for women filmmakers to create and share their work through the power of celebration and appreciation. Let’s step up to repeat this process.

I think it’s time for a worldwide film viewing party. I’m sending out this invitation to you and to every film lover on the planet. Everyone’s invited to co-create a global celebration next year. The only thing required in order for us each to gather with friends next year in September to watch films ‪#‎DirectedbyWomen is our intention to do so, BUT if we want to be able to create a celebration that raises awareness about women filmmakers and their work on a global scale, we need resources to reach as many people as possible, extend invitations, brainstorm event celebration ideas, share information about films #DirectedbyWomen and how to arrange screening rights, coordinate event and venue information, create podcasts, generate Wayfinder Tributes to honor the individuals and groups who pour their energy into supporting women filmmakers, and other actions that will help the celebration flourish everywhere.

We’re thrilled to be offering our crowdfunding campaign on Seed & Spark. Their invitation to include this project on their Independent Film Championing platform signals that major perceptual shifts within the film community are happening now and will continue to unfold rapidly as more filmmakers and film lovers stop up to embrace films #DirectedbyWomen. Seed & Spark’s innovative approach to crowdfunding, which includes opportunities for supporters to back financially or to provide in kind contributions, makes it a tremendous place to build community and come together to bring this global celebration into being.

It’s exciting to be part of this adventure into deep appreciation and wild celebration of films #DirectedbyWomen. Let’s celebrate!

Barbara Ann O’Leary, Indiana University Cinema’s Outreach Specialist, loves to help people engage authentically. Recent projects include: #DirectedbyWomen, a worldwide film viewing part; Every Everything: The Music, Life & Times of Grant Hart (Executive Producer); Indy Film Festival (World Cinema Jury [2014] & Screening Committee [2013]); Indiana Filmmakers Network Made in Bloomington Film Series (Programmer); Bloomington Screenwriting Community (Founder/Facilitator). She’s available to work one to one with people who would like support in making the perceptual shifts that will align them more deeply with their authentic creative core.

Richard Linklater and Ethan Hawke Praise Patricia Arquette’s Performance in ‘Boyhood’

Arquette, who is terrific as Olivia, turns in a nuanced and complex performance that is vanity free. We watch her age perceptively and slowly as her character gains wisdom but still falters. In other words, she’s the kind of three-dimensional woman we rarely see in American films.

This is a guest post by Paula Schwartz.

The stars of Richard Linklater’s Boyhood–Patricia Arquette, Ethan Hawke, and Ellar Coltrane–age in real time in this one-of-a-kind nearly three-hour film. Boyhood, which was shot in short annual increments over a dozen years so the effect as you watch the actors change imperceptibly and slowly is like watching time-lapse photography.

This approach would come across as a gimmick or stunt if the movie wasn’t so good. The real magic of the film is that as you watch characters grow and age, you can’t help looking back and contemplating your own life changes.

The three stars and the director of Boyhood participated at a lively press conference recently at the Crosby Hotel in SoHo to promote the film. This marks Ethan Hawke’s eighth film with the director, whose most notable collaborations include the Before Sunrise trilogy and Dazed and Confused (1993).

Boyhood tracks the life of a full-faced pouty six-year-old, Mason (Coltrane) and his older, bratty sister, Samantha, played by Lorelei Linklater, the director’s daughter, as they grow up and mature. The story focuses on Coltrane’s character who evolves from boyhood to early manhood amid personal and family dramas, including family moves, family controversies, faltering marriages and re-marriages, new schools, first and lost loves, and good and bad times. Children of divorce, Mason and Samantha are raised by their beleaguered but devoted mother Olivia (Arquette), a hard-working woman with terrible taste in men, and her ex-husband, an immature man with a good heart but little sense of responsibility (Hawke).

Linklater described Boyhood as “this little collection of intimate moments that probably don’t fit into most movies. They’re not advancing the character enough or the story enough or the plot, but they all add up to something much bigger than each little place and each little piece of it, so that was kind of the feel to the whole movie, that it mirrors our lives.”

As to whether the film was an intimate character study or a sweeping family epic, the director said it was both. “It’s very specific and intimate but universal within that specific world. It could have been made in any country and any time. There’s such a commonality here.”

The cast and director of Boyhood — The cast and director of *Boyhood*

The film could just as accurately been entitled Motherhood or Fatherhood or Parenthood, Hawke said. He described it as “an epic about minutiae. That’s what it is. It’s difficult to title because of that. It’s a family seen through one boy’s eyes, so that title makes as much sense as any other.”

As for whether it was difficult for the actors to get back in character every year for the brief period they shot their roles, Coltrane explained, “It was a very long build up every year. We’d have a couple months to think about what we were doing and then a solid week of kind of work shopping and building the character and figuring out where the characters were that year, so by the time we got to filming we were kind of just already there.”

Hawke turned to Arquette during the press conference and told her, “I’m just throwing props your way. I’m surprised that people don’t write about more is that how awesome it is to see Patricia’s character be in this movie and to see a real woman who is a mother and a lover and more than one thing in a movie. I feel so proud to be a part of a movie that respects her character the way this movie does, and I feel it’s also sometimes so real and so true that you almost don’t ever see this in film,” he said. “It’s true in life. We see it all the time, but I don’t see that woman in movies. I don’t see her.”

“She’s in the background or just kind of in the background or ancillary elements to give some encouragement in some way to some scruffy guy. Olivia is a real, three-dimensional human being, and it was so exciting, and the women in my life who see the movie so appreciate it,” he said. ” She’s not just good, she does stupid things and smart things.”

He added, ” I just love her. You can’t pin down. One minute you go, oh she’s a good mother! No, wait, actually that was not a great decision. We’re used to people in movies being one thing, all the time.”

Arquette explained her acting technique. “In acting you have to get past your own head and your own ego and all of these fucking barriers and walls to just get to a place where hopefully you can be present enough in a scene with someone.” She added of the collaborative process, “I trusted the process. It was jumping into the void from the get-go, but when you’re in the right hands, and you jump into the void together, really great things can come of it.”

Ultimately, the director said, the movie “was always going to be a portrait of growing up but also parenting and aging. That you don’t quit growing up, especially once you’re a parent.” Hawke and Arquette’s characters are bumbling through parenting as this was happening in real life with the actors and director. “We had ourselves as parents,” Linklater said. “During this film we had five children born between us and that was just an ongoing part of life.” At the same time, “ You’re thinking of your parents once you’re a parent yourself.”

The movie mirrored what was happening in the lives of the actors and director. “We didn’t want anything to feel like it wasn’t earned or tethered to some sort of reality. I don’t think there’s anything in the movie that didn’t come out of my life or their lives,” Linklater said. His hope was that the film opened the audience up to the possibility of seeing the connection between their lives and that of the characters in the film. “Once you get to this thinking about life in general and your own life and loved ones and your own experiences, triggering all kinds of wonderful things I hope, painful and wonderful things.”

Seed & Spark: Beyond the Bechdel Test: Strong Female Friendships on Screen

On screen male friendships are portrayed completely differently than their female counterparts. Boys have rebellious adventures together for adventures sake (e.g. ‘Kings of Summer’). Boys pull off heists together (e.g. ‘Oceans 11′). Boys are “bros” and seem to get along for the most part.

But girls are a different story. Girls fight over boys (e.g. ’27 Dresses,’ ‘Something Borrowed’). Girls are catty (e.g. ‘Bride Wars’). Girls are overly dramatic (e.g. ‘I Hate Valentines Day’).

This is a guest post by Molly McGaughey.

When I was 10 years old, there was one thing I knew I needed more than anything else—even more than a drum set (and I was pretty sure I had to have one of those). There was one thing that trumped most other prized possessions.

I always knew that I needed to have a bosom friend. Why? Anne of Green Gables told me so. A few hours each week were spent playing the movie over and over and watching the overly imaginative redhead get into mischief with her kindred spirit, Dianna.

I related so much to Anne: the way she let her imagination get the best of her, the way she went on adventures with Dianna and the way that, though they didn’t quite turn out as planned, those adventures were poetic just the same. Because anything can be marvelous when you have imagination and a bosom friend, of course.

For my 11^th birthday, I finally got that drum set that I wanted. Sure it was patched up with duct tape and from a yard sale, but it was mine and it was wonderful.

I was thrilled. That is, until I told a neighbor about it. He promptly informed me: “Drums aren’t for girls.”

Though new to me at the time, the process of deciding what is and isn’t for girls or boys started centuries ago. Strangely, it often applies to more than objects, extending even beyond hobbies and careers to relationships. Certain kinds of relationships have been deemed “normal” for each gender.

And, as a film-lover, I can’t help but wonder if the stories told on screen affect why we have certain expectations of same gender friendships.

On screen male friendships are portrayed completely differently than their female counterparts. Boys have rebellious adventures together for adventures sake (e.g. Kings of Summer). Boys pull off heists together (e.g. Oceans 11). Boys are “bros” and seem to get along for the most part.

But girls are a different story. Girls fight over boys (e.g. 27 Dresses, Something Borrowed). Girls are catty (e.g. Bride Wars). Girls are overly dramatic (e.g. I Hate Valentine’s Day).

As I grew older and watched less of Anne and Dianna and more of modern day “chick flicks,” I felt my expectations about female friendships shift. But let’s get one thing clear: I think it is unlikely that female friendships are drama-filled because that’s how our gender is programmed to behave. It is time to consider that this is a reflection of what we’ve seen portrayed on screen.

We’ve all hopefully heard about the Bechdel test at this point. We know that strong female protagonists are few and far between in the world of motion pictures. But a vital facet that often gets overlooked is that even when women are portrayed, strong female friendships are not.

Time and time again, when two guy friends are in a movie, it’s an adventurous buddy comedy romp, but the minute that girls are paired together it’s because they are competing for a guy. Or, when that is not the case, one exists just to listen to the other’s problems (and, thus, speed up the storytelling). A third option is that the friends backstab, gossip, and their friendship breaks up. These female friendships are not often a semblance of a healthy relationship.

Have you ever noticed how much girls fight on screen? Whether it be friends or sisters or an evil stepmother, it seems to be a much more common trope for female characters. Can you imagine the latest buddy comedy featuring two guys that try to sabotage each other to get the girl while an evil stepfather looms in the background? Why is that not a thing?

Think about it next time you pop in a “mindless chick flick” starring a group of girlfriends who tend to be dramatic or the next time you stop by the theatre to see the latest action adventure featuring two guys that pull off insane heists together, without an argument. Think about it the next time you see an evil stepmother paired with a father that is totally chill. Are we allowing what’s on screen to dictate what kind of interpersonal friendships each gender should or probably will have?

Movies show us what’s normal. They show us how to be, giving us something to aspire to. When we see dream chasers, friendships, and true love on screen, we want it. So it’s important to have a better representation of what friendship, sisterhood, and girlhood really means.

As an independent filmmaker, I want to tell stories that better represent female friendships and the adventures to be had through kindred spirits on screen.

The latest short film I’m directing, Live a Little, while totally unique from Anne of Green Gables, just happens to be about a spunky, imaginative, talkative redhead and her best buddy. They must conquer an overly ambitious bucket list by the end of the day. Chick flicks don’t have to be about romance or cattiness. It can also be a genre about kindred spirits doing what kindred spirits do best—having adventures.

Molly McGaughey is a director, writer, performer based out of Manhattan. She is crowdfunding for her latest film “Live a Little” on Seed & Spark. She can be found on the internet at mollyvivian.com and also founded The Not So Starving Artist, an online resource for Performers, Filmmakers and Writers. Her comedic directing work has been featured on comedytvisdead, funnynotslutty, playbill, backstage and more. Molly is also a character actress with an affinity for improv and standup. You can find her on Twitter at @Molls_MCG.

Seed & Spark: What Is a Woman’s Story, Anyway?

Nothing has made me more appreciative of my upbringing than the Verizon spot that’s gone viral in the past few weeks, about all the little micro-aggressions that bully women into a societally accepted mold, away from the common interests that all kids share like building and dinosaurs. The spot made me wonder about other ways this belittling behavior has affected women, especially in the way it affects the kind of films women want to watch—and make.

This is a guest post by Elle Schneider.

Blade Runner has been my favorite film since a sleepover in sixth grade, and I have 200 Star Wars figures and thousands of Marvel cards stashed away in in my childhood closet (in protective cases, obviously, what kind of barbarian do you take me for?).

It was Wes Craven’s Nightmare on Elm Street that made me realize I could make a film by splattering blood on some friends, and James Bond became my directing aspiration. And as far as I knew, this made me just like any other girl growing up in the 80s and 90s.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/embed/XP3cyRRAfX0″]

What if you grew up hearing, “Isn’t this movie a little too scary for girls?”

We worry rightly about girls having heroes to look up to and there is an undeniable need for gender parity in onscreen protagonists. But why must we designate girl heroes for girls, and boy heroes for boys? What’s wrong with a character like Indiana Jones being a hero for both boys and girls? Because it teaches girls to be adventurous? And why, as an industry, are we so massively afraid of letting a woman make a film like Raiders of the Lost Ark?

We tell boys that they should tell any story they want—whether it’s their own struggle or Indiana Jones’ struggle. We laud men who adapt Austen, or make a great biopic about a female heroine like Hawaiian Princess Ka’iulani, as my friend Marc Forby fought for nearly ten years to do. At Cannes 2012, when no women appeared in Competition, filmmakers like Michael Haneke and Jacques Audiard were praised for making great films about “powerful” female characters. The question was raised: does it really matter how many women are represented as directors so long as stories about women are being told?

Sharon Waxman of The Wrap held court at a panel at the American Pavilion that year to discuss the issue of gender at Cannes, and I raised my own question: how can we help the women who want to work in genre films? Her response was one I’ve often heard from women disinterested in genre: “Women shouldn’t feel like they have to make the movies that men make.”

But what if that’s what I want to make? And why is that a bad thing? What if I want to make the same kind of film that excited me as a child, just like Gareth Edwards, Ryan Coogler, Rian Johnson, or any other male filmmaker has had the opportunity to do?

My first film, made in summer 2001. It was a ripoff of EVIL DEAD about kids getting mixed up with the supernatural after finding a tarot card deck in a shack in the woods, and starred Margaret Thomas, Josh Fairchild, Jaya Saxena, Lily Harden, and a young Matt McGorry, who has gotten a better agent in the last 13 years. — My first film, made in summer 2001. It was a ripoff of *EVIL DEAD* about kids getting mixed up with the supernatural after finding a tarot card deck in a shack in the woods, and starred Margaret Thomas, Josh Fairchild, Jaya Saxena, Lily Harden, and a young Matt McGorry, who has gotten a better agent in the last 13 years.

When women filmmakers get that rare chance to make a film, we’re usually encouraged to use the opportunity to focus on a “woman’s story” with a “strong female protagonist,” as if a female filmmaker’s first duty is to social issues rather than storytelling or forging a career. But what the hell is a woman’s story, anyway?

Try as society might, women are not one homogenous group; women are not a hive-minded audience solely interested in stories that reflect a single shared experience. Ticket sales show that women make up 50 percent of the theatrical box office, despite the low number of female protagonists on screen, and that’s because women are not myopic viewers. On the contrary, women see men and women as people; men see men as people and women as women. Unlike male viewers, a woman’s story really could be anybody’s story, if only we were encouraged to tell anybody’s story.

I recently had a conversation with a group of women filmmakers who were insistent that men and women are just different kinds of storytellers—women are just naturally more “grounded” and “realistic” in their characters and settings, and that’s why women can’t get work in the testosterone-driven studio system. Studio films are male-power fantasies anyway; one participant mentioned that average white guys are constantly writing action movies, imaging themselves as Ethan Hunt, when they look nothing like Ethan Hunt. Women don’t project fantasies like that; we write what’s real.

Except that’s not true. As the National Science Foundation study cited in the Verizon spot, 66 percent of fourth grade girls express an interest in science. Many young girls I knew growing up were writing amateur versions of Lord of the Rings, as George Lucas and James Cameron did on their path to making Star Wars and Avatar. These were personal fantasies, stories where we played out our day-to-day dramas, angst, and adolescent ideas about the world through the avatars of fictional characters and settings. As a 12-year-old, this was natural. But as a 28-eight year-old? Why bother writing what you know you can’t afford?

As Lexi Alexander succinctly put it: “What do we say to a 12-year-old girl who watches Star Trek for the first time and says: ‘I want to make movies like that.’ Do we say: ‘Yeah, try to reduce your vision to something that’s crowdfundable, you’re a girl after all’?”

The reality is we do say that, as a society, if not in so many words. Women’s stories do tend to be “small” and “personal” because we’re taught to pare down from the get go, to trim our own wings before we can fly. Women are taught to expect limited resources, to envision the world through the scope of our often purposely sheltered life experience. Women are not taught to ask for more, and worse, are not taught that asking is even an option. Women’s stories are the stories of those without a voice.

It’s a myth that women are inherently unable to envision or execute large scope or genre-driven projects, a myth that too many women buy into themselves. That myth is what keeps women from being studio contenders, as Indiewire blog The Playlist recently illustrated in their article “10 Indie Directors Who Might Be The Next Generation Of Blockbuster Filmmakers.” The article features 10 eligible white, male heirs to the throne of Hollywood—because the (male) writers at Playlist can’t envision even someone as accomplished as Debra Granik—whose Winter’s Bone launched the career of blockbuster and Reddit darling Jennifer Lawrence, and whose Vietnam vet doc Stray Dog just won the LA Film Festival—successfully helming a big-budget feature.

The Playlist’s top pics for the future of Hollywood. Such white. Many scruff. Wow. — *The Playlist*’s top pics for the future of Hollywood. Such white. Many scruff. Wow.

Granik has more than proved her chops as a storyteller, and she’s done it by with compelling, award-winning portraits about strong men and women. Brit Marling, Lexi Alexander, and countless others have done the same. When do we get to see their takes on Star Wars, whose best installment was written by a woman, Leigh Bracket, back in in 1979? That’s the kind of woman’s story I want to see.

Elle Schneider is a writer and director of the genre persuasion. Award-winning graduate of USC’s School of Cinematic Arts, she was the cinematographer of SXSW Film Festival selections I AM DIVINE and THAT GUY DICK MILLER, and is a co-developer of the Digital Bolex cinema camera. She is raising production funds for her action comedy HEADSHOTS this month on Seed&Spark. You can find her on the twitters @elleschneider, and she is deeply sorry to have exceeded 1,000 words.

Seed & Spark: Hollywood’s Leading Ladies: To Be a Mom or Not to Be; What Role Will You Choose?

For a very long time, women who didn’t want to have children were deemed “selfish,” because — well, I’m not quite sure why. Men, however, although maybe a disappointment to their mothers, weren’t really labeled anything. They were bachelors, at worst.

In many movies, the struggle that men have is not a result of a decision involving kids. But in most romcoms and dramas, if there is a female role of a certain age, it centers upon the subject of children.

I wanted to look at three current movies and their depiction of parents, particularly how their children influence their decision making and where the children fit into their lives.

I chose to examine three movies where the lead was nominated for Best Lead Actress in 2014 and in a fertile age range, which led to the movies ‘Blue Jasmine,’ ‘American Hustle’ and ‘Gravity.’

This is a guest post by Kelsey Rauber.

I wanted to look at three current movies and their depiction of parents, particularly how their children influence their decision making and where the children fit into their lives.

I chose to examine three movies where the lead was nominated for Best Lead Actress in 2014 and in a fertile age range, which led to the movies Blue Jasmine, American Hustle, and Gravity.

As I told a friend about the idea of this article, she immediately interjected: “But it’s not just film! It’s across the board!” She proceeded to name at least four of her very good female friends, whose husbands travel a lot, while they hold a full time job as are the primary person responsible for the child’s well-being. Is this still justified in a world where nearly two-thirds of women are the primary breadwinner of the household?

(May contain some spoilers.)

Blue Jasmine by Woody Allen

Jasmine, recently widowed, with no kids of her own but a stepson that no longer speaks to her, makes a good case for child-free living. Her husband cheated on her and embezzled lots of money. To top it all off, her mental health is questionable.

Blue Jasmine, as a movie, feels like a possible realistic take on women–who they can be, how they can fail and the choices that they make. Jasmine, obviously blinded by wealth, doesn’t quite understand what it means to care about other people.

On the other hand, we have Jasmine’s sister, Ginger, who is probably the truest depiction of an underpaid, divorced woman that I have seen in a movie in a long time. The supporting role is her role in life.

She works hard (in a grocery store), doesn’t get out often (hasn’t been to a party in years), and looks for love in all the wrong places because she was never made to believe that she is worthy.

She and her ex-husband share custody of their two boys, but the boys live with their mother. The one thing I find most fascinating about her: She doesn’t complain. She has her life and she lives it. She isn’t unhappy. As far as she’s concerned, she is doing her best and it is good enough.

None of the men that either Jasmine or Ginger date throughout the movie comment on having kids.

American Hustle by Eric Warren Singer and David O. Russell

Though I wasn’t a huge fan of this movie as a whole, it is interesting in its different take on the paternal role. Here, it is actually the protagonist, Irving Rosenfeld, who makes a sacrifice for his adopted son. When an FBI agent busts Irving and his partner in crime/mistress, Sydney, she proposes they pack and leave the country. Irving isn’t willing to do it, because he feels a strong sense of responsibility toward his son.

Irving’s wife, Rosalyn, is depicted as a pretty terrible mother. She constantly blows things up seemingly out of sheer boredom. She’s also portrayed as an alcoholic, which fuels her inability to take care of her child (which is her full-time job).

What is interesting here is that the viewer walks away with a feeling that Irving is a good dad. I’m not saying he is a bad father, he clearly cares about his son, but the information that we don’t get in the film is how long he disappears for when he is with his mistress— he manages to have a whole other life with Sydney. I can’t help but feel that this movie sets the viewer up to feel a certain way toward the father/son relationship, even though we really only know part of the story.

If they decided to make a sequel to this movie about the boy, I think we’d see that there is no hope for this kid; his male role models are his adoptive father, a crook, and his mom’s new boyfriend, who works for the mafia.

Gravity by Alfonso Cuarón and Jonás Cuarón

Gravity is easiest to discuss given its confinement to two main characters. The viewer is left alone with two strangers for more than two hours, so inevitably things get personal.

Ryan Stone, a medical engineer, specialized in hospital scanning systems and is on her first mission in space. She gets stranded with Matt Kowalski, who is on his final mission, about to retire.

Very early in the movie, Ryan opens up about her deceased daughter: “She was playing tag—she slipped, hit her head, and that was it.”

This revelation sheds some light on Ryan’s passivity. Any loss of this magnitude would change a person’s perspective on life. The viewer is left to wonder, who was Ryan before the loss of her daughter? Was she fun and optimistic? Was she absent a lot because of her job? Would she be in space right now if her daughter was still alive?

Matt, like most Clooney characters, is a recently divorced, childless, charismatic individual. He doesn’t open up about why he doesn’t have kids. The question is never posed.

I can’t help but wonder, if Matt would’ve been replaced by a female character, would the fun, charismatic individual, who knows the ins and outs of space, not fight a bit harder to save both their lives, rather than sacrificing her own life for a woman who doesn’t give anyone the impression there’s much to live for?

I’m usually fan of movies that defy stereotype. (Un)fortunately, it still seems like a niche quality, mostly found in Indie films.

All of these movies were written by men and some depict women better than others. Generally, women are given great jobs, great flaws, and a human touch, which is great since… you know, we are human.

What does it mean to not have children, or not want them as a woman? Where can we get answers to these questions? My first response would be: Not Hollywood.

My interest in this topic erupted from my recent diagnosis with PCOS, which is one of the leading causes of infertility in women. I’m also gay, so the thought of having children had already been slightly complicated.

I don’t know if I want kids. I do know that I’d like the option.

After consulting with family and friends, I took an interest in the portrayal of parenthood, as well as the absence of normalcy surrounding not being a parent for women in Hollywood movies, which led to this article as well as the short we are crowdfunding for, titled We Had Plans.

The production company I work with, CongestedCat Productions, drives content with a less generic, more realistic take on individuals whom are usually forced into a box based on gender, sexuality, race, etc. We portray people as people and expect our audience to look at them that way and relate to them on an emotional level. We don’t do caricatures or stereotypes. If this is something you can get behind, we are making films you’ll want to see.

Kelsey Rauber is a New York City-based screenwriter and an integral member of CongestedCat Productions. She was named Grand Prize Winner in the comedy division for her feature About a Donkey by the 2012 New York Screenplay Contest. That same screenplay was also a semi-finalist in the 2013 LA Comedy Shorts Festival. She is the writer and co-creator of the comedic web series Kelsey, which premiered on blip.tv in September 2013 to rave reviews and consistent press coverage, being named a Critic’s Pick and one of the best comedy web series of 2013 by Indiewire. She is currently crowdfunding on Seed&Spark for her next projects.

Why All Our Daughters Need to See ‘Maleficent’ Right Now

We need heroines who tell girls that they are strong and capable entirely on their own, that they don’t need a family and ESPECIALLY don’t need a lover in order to become themselves. We need heroines who prove in action that no one ever—EVER—has the right to take your livelihood or body or home away from you, as well as that—if it happens—it doesn’t have to destroy you forever. Girls need to see that it’s okay to seek and use power, that there is nothing at all wrong with being a strong, emotional, powerful leader as a woman.

This is a guest post by Melissa Cordner.

***Sole warning: contains all the spoilers.***

Reviews and friends will tell you that Maleficent was predictable, at times slow, and seemed to be primarily an excuse for the artists to show off their CG skills (that dragon though!). In terms of action-based plotlines, this is fair, but those who are bored by the film are overlooking one key factor: character development. Maleficent is a classic stereotypical “total bitch”—and THAT’S PORTRAYED AS A GOOD THING.

Maleficent was a sweet little girl, adored by her community and brave enough to defend it peaceably. She fell in love, as we are prone to do, and had her heart broken when the object of her affections left to chase fame and fortune, as we are also prone to do. This heartbreak made her cautious, but it did not destroy her. No, it was when he came back, soothed away the pain of years with his sweet talk and cuddles, and then drugged her and brutally hacked off and stole her wings, that she went a little crazy with pain and rage.

The importance of the wing theft seems a little underplayed in the film; at no point does Maleficent come out and say “the person I was in love with broke my body and spirit by taking away my main source of pride, mobility, and identity.” She spells it out a little for Aurora when she explains that her wings never faltered and were always dependable, but that doesn’t quite get to the heart of it either. On one level, her wings were what made her a fairy and made her the protector of the moors; without them, she is landlocked and crippled, incapable of work and even play. This would destroy anyone, but the fact that her wings were stolen not in battle but under the guise of romantic love adds another more complicated layer to the trauma. This man felt entitled to her body; he felt it fair to drug her and take what he wanted with no respect for what she wanted or needed or how she would survive afterwards. He took away her identity, her pride in her body, and her livelihood. He never asked permission, he never apologized, and she was left with trust in nothing and no one—not even herself.

It is interesting to note that he could not bring himself to kill her, but chose to cause her a lifetime of pain and suffering instead. Like Maleficent in the Sleeping Beauty saga, Stefan is easy to read as evil and malicious; however, we see he still has a bit of compassion when he can’t bring himself to drive the blade into her back. Of course he still destroys her in every way possible by tearing off her wings; does this make him better, or worse, than a murderer? He also could have used the knife and let her bleed to death from the experience but chose instead a chain which (we can guess) was made of iron and therefore cauterized the wounds; is this compassion, or cruelty? Even here, Maleficent shows that things are not always black and white.

It is also important to note that her wings—which Stefan keeps locked under glass as a bizarre morbid trophy—come to life and return to Maleficent when she is about to die, immobilized by her inability to fly away from the power-sapping iron (another secret her once-lover has used against her as a way to destroy her, for those of you keeping track). It is no accident that those wings lay dormant behind that glass for sixteen years while Maleficent’s heart was consumed by a bitter storm of resentment and revenge. It is no accident that they came to life when Maleficent was about to die, AFTER she had told Aurora to run, using close to the last of her strength to protect what her heart cherished most. It is no accident that sixteen-year-old Aurora is who topples that trophy case and frees the wings to return to the fairy. Maleficent’s wings return because her heart does when she puts Aurora before herself, just as they disappeared when her faith and ability to love were stolen. You don’t erase a rape or betrayal—ever— but it IS possible to get your livelihood back and become proud of your body again.

The fact that Aurora— the child upon whom Maleficent cast a vengeful curse so powerful even she could not undo it—is the reason Maleficent’s heart (and wings) return to her is hugely important. This shows audience members that we don’t only deserve love, even when we run from it; we also deserve forgiveness. Maleficent was bitter and hurting and angry and made a bad decision. She made a huge mistake that destroyed an innocent person’s life for the sake of revenge… and that person LOVED HER ANYWAY. If Aurora hadn’t loved Maleficent as much as Maleficent loved her, even after finding out the source of the curse, the kiss would not have been of true love and the spell would not have been broken. We know this because the kiss from Phillip didn’t work; they didn’t know each other well enough, they didn’t love each other truly enough. As in Frozen (and Enchanted now that I think about it), Disney finally gives us the message that love at first sight is not all it’s made out to be.

This generation of girls has had sassy, brave and strong heroines before Maleficent, of course, but all these heroines have left us wanting more complexity. I grew up with Hermione, the cleverest girl at Hogwarts—who solved riddles for the main male character and played a vital-but-still-merely-supporting role to his adventures. Teenagers now identify with Katniss, the badass figurehead of the rebel movement in The Hunger Games—an emotional, confused girl who bravely defended her sister and then forevermore served as a puppet for the movement rather than a leader. Disney’s movies have participated in this movement as well. Tangled’s Rapunzel dared to question authority but was still fulfilled by finding love and a throne; Brave’s Merida valued herself as more of a person than a princess and learned the value of bravery without a supporting man but remained a princess and even—painfully enough—underwent a “makeover” to become more stereotypically beautiful/soft/feminine later on. Frozen gave us female characters with a bit more emotional complexity, but even Anna—who proved that true love does not have to be romantic love—was sweet and a little bumbling and would never hurt a fly… and even she ended up with a boyfriend. All of these women show girls that it’s okay to be emotional and scared, it’s okay to rely on others, and it’s possible to be brave and strong and true to yourself while you do it. That is a message that our girls, who still dress up like Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella, need desperately to hear.

But I, for one, think it’s time to take the “you don’t need to be helpless and dependent to be feminine” theme a little further. We need heroines who tell girls that they are strong and capable entirely on their own, that they don’t need a family and ESPECIALLY don’t need a lover in order to become themselves. We need heroines who prove in action that no one ever—EVER—has the right to take your livelihood or body or home away from you, as well as that—if it happens—it doesn’t have to destroy you forever. Girls need to see that it’s okay to seek and use power, that there is nothing at all wrong with being a strong, emotional, powerful leader as a woman. It’s time we tell our girls that you can fight back, even using defensive violence, and still be a good person. It’s time to tell our girls that they can make mistakes and even hurt the people they love, and still deserve that love. Yes, Maleficent DOES have a slow plot, instead centering almost entirely on the character development of one woman—and it is about damn time.

Seed & Spark: My Heroes Have Always Been Cowgirls

Female characters are often filler, like the cartilage that goes into hot dogs, with no real meat on their bones. They stand in the doorway, boxed in the jam, never truly inhabiting the whole room. Why? Why are female characters relegated to the margin? Maybe because studios believe men go to the movies more than women. Maybe because the industry spends time and money making action figures and toy guns for boys, whose mothers are trying to teach them that violence is always unacceptable, especially toward women. We have got to stop feeding this system.

This is a guest post by Tracy Nichole Cring.

Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables), Jordan O’Neill (G.I. Jane), Ellen Ripley (Alien), Marie von Trapp (Sound of Music), Jo March (Little Women), Zula (Conan the Destroyer). These women are my role models.

I want to be Diane Court (Say Anything), popular because she’s smart, Sally Albright (When Harry Met Sally) a funny friend and cohort, Andie Walsh (Pretty in Pink), a girl who has the guts to go it alone in a homemade dress. Growing up, I specifically patterned aspects of my personality, humor, and gumption on the females I saw in film. Thankfully, I had a mother who introduced me to them and wanted me to be inspired and moved. Without these amazing works, I absolutely would not be the woman I am today. And this is exactly what concerns me when I look at the marquee at the CinemaPlex: Why are women so underrepresented? How will future generations gain inspiration? The Hunger Games is a good film, but it’s violent and not terribly deep or inspiring. The recent string of white-washed young adult tween books turned film are just not very soulful. Everyone is lapping it up, but I say this milk is sour!

That being said, I did go to the theater to see Godzilla. I love my popcorn blockbusters. But riddle me this: Why would Juliette Binoche be in less than ten minutes of the film? Why were there no other female characters introduced? The studios might think that a bunch of girls aren’t going to watch Godzilla anyway—who cares if we kill the best actor in the film before the opening credits are finished? But I call a foul on the play.

But it is possible to have a complex and fascinating female character. Look at the amazing Robin Wright, for example. Early in her womanhood, Robin was cast as the static ethereal beauty. Because of this typecasting, as she moved into her 30s, she was lucky to have the small parts in big movies—lucky to be a distracted mom or a doting wife with a few lines. In her 40s, she shared the spotlight with Naomi Watts in Adore, showing off her complexity AND looking amazing. Then, House of Cards came along and Robin was catapulted into the meaty role of the modern Lady Macbeth. As the series continues, she only grows more and more complex; she’s Gordan Gecko, she’s smart, powerful, and when she makes mistakes, she owns up to them. She plots her success and navigates toward it. She truly is a fully rounded and realized human being.

Given the enormous success of House of Cards, why are these central, complex female characters so few and far between? And why does this discrepancy extend behind the scenes too? The disproportionate number of male “leads” is in every facet of this business. What are the causes?

Men. They just don’t get it. As writers, the only women many seem to write are mirrors of their own disconnected wives or the bimbo they want to bed. But this is not to say that a man does not have the ability to write a female character. It’s pretty easy—change some of the male characters to females. The sexes are not dissimilar in what drives them and how they react. Remember that Sigourney Weaver’s famous role as Ripley in Alien was originally written as a man. When they changed it, it brought a new dynamic to the role, which kick-started a franchise.
Women. We just can’t seem to get out of our own way. As long as we insist that “lifetime” storytelling belongs in major or indie films, we will never be taken seriously in this business. The term “chick flick” is a very dangerous one, pigeonholing female artists into unrewarding genres. This problem becomes evident when a director like Kathryn Bigelow confounds conventions about the kind of films she wants to make—movies that have no concern for appealing to a general sex but, instead, are grand spectacle and intimate storytelling. Near Dark, Point Break, and Strange Days all have gender equality and high-octane entertainment. But who is the female equivalent of Gilliam, Lynch, Cronenberg, or Kubrick? Every one of those artists was an outsider who scraped for every project he ever did. Where are our risk takers? We have to go find them and support with ticket and DVD purchases.
Children. They are a cinematic problem for everyone. A family seeing a film together is at least three tickets as opposed to the individual with one. So when math influences art, you see that art diluted so as to not offend the sensibilities of anyone under 18. This thinking is responsible for a huge majority of forgettable entertainment in the last twenty five years. The fact that Baby Geniuses even exists proves my point. Let Disney and Pixar fight out the family market. Of AFIs top 100 films of all time, how many of them would appeal to a seven-year-old? Let children have their entertainment, but films that appeal exclusively to adults are important. Though there are great movies rated G and those rated NC-17, the story should dictate the rating, not the box office.

So, to put it simply: To solve this problem a variety of people need to take action. Men, diversify your characters outside of the people who look and sound just like you. Women, support sophisticated entertainment and don’t reward inequality with your ticket money. Children, don’t torture the babysitter so Mom and Dad can go see a film that reflects what they are going through.

Now make your opinion known and support the films you want to see more of.

Tracy Nichole Cring grew up in a small town in Tennessee. Surrounded by industrious and self-taught artisans, she was inspired to follow her own path and fell in love with film. By 17 she had taught herself to use cameras, edit, and she won her first film festival (Los Angeles Film Fest 1997) for which she received the grand prize of the latest, new filmmaking gear.

After moving to Nashville (200?) she met Jon Russell Cring and put to use her festival winnings co-writing, shooting, and editing a TV series together.

“The ExtraOrdinary Film Project” was born – an attempt to make 12 feature films in 12 months. Though it took 20 months to complete all 12 features, shot on such locations as Bugscuffle, Tenn., Phoenix, Ariz., San Fransisco, Calif., and Flint, Mich., Tracy was cinematographer for all 12 films. In addition, she also co-directed Budd (film no. 12), appearing in the Route 66 Film Festival, Southern Appalachian Film Festival, and Memphis Film Festival in 2008.

Tracy then moved to Albany, New York with the aim of slowing the production pace and taking time to study and hone her craft. Her last three films, And See All the People, Creeping Crawling, and Little Bi Peep, currently touring the film festival circuit, have been winning awards ( New Orleans fest, Atlanta Horror, Atlantic City Cinefest (four awards) and have distribution offers.

A natural at writing unique scenes that speak to her audience, Tracy has also taken on writing feature screenplays with partner Jon Russell Cring to great success, having optioned many to other producers.

Tracy serves on the board of Upstate Women in Film and Television and has teamed up with fellow UPWIFT Board Member and President, Actor/Producer Heidi Elizabeth Philipsen-Meissner and her husband, Producer Niko Meissner to collaborate on Tracy and Jon’s newest script, the dark drama, This is Nowhere. The indie feature, currently in development, is projected to enter production in the late summer of 2014.

Seed & Spark: Agency and ‘Afternoon Delight’

I was lucky enough to listen to Jill Soloway speak recently at a small gathering to discuss a new filmic voice for women, hosted by the genius and innovative Emily Best, CEO of the crowdfunding and distribution platform Seed & Spark. Soloway spoke so eloquently about her process and about women’s opportunities and struggles in the film industry. She was so engrossing and inspiring to listen to that there was a palpable feeling of magic in the room. One of the valuable lessons I took away from our discussion was about her career turning point — from producer to filmmaker — is that she realized that no one else was going to make it happen for her. It makes me wonder how many other women and men are waiting for permission to make their masterpieces, and license to make the characters within them bold, alive, and human.

Juno Temple and Katherine Hahn in Afternoon Delight — Juno Temple and Katherine Hahn in *Afternoon Delight*

This is a guest post by Leah Rudick.

I recently made my first foray into screenwriting. Very exciting, no? A few months ago, I started writing a script about a woman in her early 30s who finds herself suddenly living in New York City, wading through the murky waters without direction, a passive observer in a sea of eccentric, cruel and hilarious characters. A woman searching for her purpose. Who’s excited? Did I pique your interest? Is that a resounding YES?! I wrote about 40 pages, got stuck, and showed it to my intuitive and brilliant better half who read it, gave me some very generous compliments, and then asked, “Why don’t you give Sarah [my heroine] some agency? What does she want? Is there a way for her to be bolder instead of having all of these things happen to her? A way to let her be the ignition for whatever construction or destruction occurs? Can we watch her be the cause rather than the reaction?” They were great questions. Why was I interested in writing something about a woman who seemed comfortable being so inactive? Who was satisfied sitting back and observing, judging, but paralyzed from actually stepping in and taking part.

It’s a manifestation of a struggle I’ve always had, the fight against my natural instinct to be the shy, passive observer. It’s something that my inspired 78-year old acting coach worked tirelessly to drill out of my head: “Leah, what do you want in this scene? You can’t exist in this gray area. It’s boring!” It’s an issue that I notice in many films that I’ve seen and worked on. The female character is the watcher, the muse, the victim, the object. And while I have been easily able to detect this trope in the work of others, I was totally oblivious to it in my own work.

When I watched Jill Soloway’s most recent feature, Afternoon Delight, I was, in the truest sense of the word, delighted. It was everything I wanted in a movie: Hilarious, tragic, deeply moving, beautifully shot with incredibly grounded and brilliant performances across the board. The story follows stay-at-home mom Rachel (Katherine Hahn) who takes in a young stripper named McKenna (Juno Temple) in an effort to save her and also to distract herself from her own upper middle class malaise.

This is a film about women’s agency, and watching it was an eye opener for me. The movie is so bold and colorful and also so feminine in a more real way than I think one often sees in film, even sometimes in those made by women. It is emboldening to watch, because it has been created by the voice of a woman who is seemingly unfettered by the much discussed “male gaze” in filmmaking.

Leah Rudick and Katie Hartman in web series Made to Order — Leah Rudick and Katie Hartman in web series *Made to Order*

I’m grateful she had the realization, because Afternoon Delight is masterful at defying the norms of the comedy genre in such an incredibly subtle way. This conversation of agency begs another discussion about which genres best lend themselves to this kind of work. It is one thing to make an action film with a female lead and make her active and in control and awesome (I am so excited to see the Seed & Spark funded Sheila Scorned, a “grindhouse short starring a quick-witted stripper who’s out to get even with the men in her way” because it looks badass), but what about when the genre is one that typically does not allow for female agency?

I produce a web series with my comedy duo, Skinny Bitch Jesus Meeting, called Made To Order about two sisters who start an underground food delivery service. It is a sort of high octane comedy about two women who forcefully throw themselves into a world they know nothing about at the expense of everything. With my very brilliant comedy partner, Katie Hartman, it has been thrilling to create two characters who do rather than watch and manage this in a completely unhinged way.

I love the idea of finding more ways to write female characters with agency in every genre, across the board. This awareness and need for these types of character in creative work has had a profound effect on my own writing and I know that I’m not alone in this sentiment. When we start allowing characters to do, rather than to simply watch others do, worlds open up and we can actually started having fun.

Leah Rudick is an actress, writer and comedian. Film credits include Cut to Black (Brooklyn Film Fest Audience Award), Lost Children (Desperate Comfort Prod., IFP Lab Selection), Bloody Mary (Sci-fi channel), Kids Go to the Woods, Kids Get Dead (Darkstar Entertainment), Prayer to a Vengeful God (Insurgent Pictures) and Jammed (Runaway Bandit Productions). She can be seen on the popular web series High Maintenance and on the webby-winning youtube channel Barely Political. She is a founding member of Lifted Yoke Productions, and is currently in pre-production for their feature dramedy, Sweet Parents. Their first short film, Blackout, can be streamed at Seed & Spark Cinema. She is a contributing writer to Reductress.com. She is half of the sketch comedy duo Skinny Bitch Jesus Meeting (Edinburgh Fringe, The PIT, UCBT, NY Fringe Fest) and co-creator/co-star of their upcoming web series Made To Order (madetoorderseries.com).