The Flattening of Celine: How ‘Before Midnight’ Reduces a Feminist Icon

This is a guest post by Molly McCaffrey.
Before Midnight movie poster

There are numerous reasons why Before Midnight—the third film in the Richard Linklater Before Sunrise/Before Sunset trilogy—is an important film.
Jesse and Celine in Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, and Before Midnight

It’s an important film first and foremost because it’s a film about grown-ups doing grown-up things. The main characters—Celine (played by Julie Delpy) and Jesse (played by Ethan Hawke)—are in their forties raising two kids together, so the film revolves around the kind of issues such people face: how to be good parents, how to balance the needs of their careers, how to keep the spark alive in their relationship, how to deal with the aging process, etc.
Celine, Jesse, and daughters in the car

Thankfully the film doesn’t ever give into the gross-out humor that seems to almost be a requirement now for other movies about middle-age—This Is 40, Funny People, and Bridesmaids come to mind (as if moviegoers won’t see a movie that doesn’t have at least one fart joke or an explosion).
Movie poster for This Is 40

Before Midnight—like its predecessors—is also important because of its focus on character development, writing, and acting. This is because, thankfully, the major players and co-writers—Linklater, Delpy, and Hawke—believe in creating art that is both realistic and thoughtful. It seems obvious that the three of them want viewers to walk out of the theater asking relevant philosophical questions about both themselves and the characters, a goal which on its own makes these films admirable.
Jesse and Celine holding hands

Further demonstrating its importance is the fact that, unlike almost every other movie made today, the characters in this film look real. Sure, when the first film in the trilogy—Before Sunrise—came out, these actors had movie star faces and bodies:
Jesse and Celine in Before Sunrise

But by now they look like regular people:
Jesse and Celine in Before Midnight

Celine has fleshy arms, big hips, thick thighs, and a bit of a stomach while Jesse’s age shows in his drawn face, his lined forehead, and the countless wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Neither of these actors is likely to be cast in the part of the leading woman or man in a Hollywood film, but it’s their so-called flaws that make them so interesting and, in the case of Celine, so beautiful and such an inspiration. If more actresses looked like Celine, then maybe American women would finally learn to give up the notion that they must be thin to be attractive.
Jesse and Celine in Before Midnight

But for all of its accomplishments, there is a major problem at the heart of Before Midnight, and that problem is that Celine’s character is no longer believable or even entirely empathetic. This is in contrast to Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, where both Celine and Jesse are depicted as the most likeable and well-rounded liberals on the planet.
Celine and Jesse

In all three of the films, Celine’s feminism is a central focus of the story: she talks to Jesse about her desire to have her own life, her own ideas, and to not be defined by a man. And in Before Sunset and Before Sunrise, she expresses a desire to fall in love and share her life with a man in a committed relationship. In that way, Celine is a wonderful depiction of a modern heterosexual feminist, something we don’t see often enough on the big (or little) screen.
Celine and Jesse arguing in the car

But in Before Midnight, Celine’s feminism pushes her to behave in ways we’ve not seen her do before—she seems much more hostile and much less empathetic toward Jesse even though he has supported her values and her career throughout their nine-year relationship.
Celine and daughters

This is especially surprising given that in the first two films, Celine and Jesse agree about gender roles and feminist issues. But in Before Midnight they fight about it from start to finish—even though Jesse agrees with all of Celine’s ideals, making Celine’s depiction unrealistic and troubling.
This problem manifests itself in the following ways: *SPOILERS AHEAD*
1) Celine demonstrates no empathy for Jesse when he expresses regret after they drop off his son at the airport at the end of the summer so he can return home to his mother in the U.S.
Later Celine claims that Jesse is always moody after his son leaves, so it’s surprising that she isn’t more empathetic in this situation. Isn’t that what people do in a healthy relationship? Anticipate each other’s struggles and help them through it? This is just the first example of the ways that Celine acts as if they are in an unhealthy or unhappy relationship even though there are no other signs that they are.
2) Instead of being empathetic in that moment, Celine picks a fight with Jesse, insisting that he wants her to give up her career and move to the States even though he doesn’t ever say that he does.
It would have been so much more interesting for them to have a real discussion about this issue since that’s what healthy couples usually do in these types of impossible situations—acknowledge the difficulty of it, weigh the pros and cons over a period of time, and then make a decision. But Celine seems to see Jesse as incapable of compromising or working with her even though he has evidently done so in the past.
3) She won’t consider moving to the U.S., so Jesse can live near his son even though he moved to France so she could be near her mother when giving birth to their twin daughters.
Not only won’t she move, she doesn’t even want to talk about moving. Her resistance to merely discussing the idea seems strange simply because he has moved for her in the past, and again a healthy relationship between two intelligent adults often requires both of them to put the other’s career first at different times.
4) Celine brings up their problems in front of others at dinner.
There’s not much to say about this except that it’s such an immature move that it doesn’t fit at all with what we already know about Celine, a successful, intelligent, confident woman.
5) She offers little support when Jesse’s grandmother dies.
Not only does she change the subject pretty quickly, but she also declines to go to the funeral when he asks her to do so.
6) Celine implies Jesse was only drawn to her for superficial reasons.
At one point Celine asks Jesse if he would still want her to spend the day with him if he saw her on a train today. It’s a ridiculous question considering how beautiful and intelligent Celine is, especially given that Jesse hasn’t aged as well as she has, a fact acknowledged by Jesse when he says, “The real question is would you want to get off the train with me.” As a result, her question seems to imply that he—and all men by extension—are only attracted to young women and could not possibly find a forty-year-old woman attractive, an idea that may be believable in Hollywood but doesn’t hold water in the world Linklater has created for Celine and Jesse.
7) She resents his career and does so while simultaneously asking him to respect hers.
This resentment is demonstrated when she complains about their trip to Greece to spend time with another author, when she is reluctant to autograph Jesse’s books for a fan in their hotel (even though the books are about her), and when she insists he is never allowed to write about her again. It’s hard to believe that a true feminist—like the Celine we have come to know and love in the earlier films—would indulge in this kind of hypocritical behavior.
8) She holds Jesse responsible for all of her problems with men and the patriarchal society we live in.
She does this even though he’s proven he’s not that kind of guy and understands she’s not the kind of woman who would put up with that kind of man, explaining, “You could never be submissive to anybody.”
9) Finally, this problem comes to an ugly head when Celine tells Jesse—at the height of their argument about their future—that she doesn’t think she loves him anymore and then walks out on him.
It’s a cruel thing to say even if she does mean it, but the fact that Jesse doesn’t take it seriously and they make up leads the viewer to believe that she doesn’t even mean it and has possibly even said—or insinuated it—before. In that sense, it feels like she is playing a game with him, a dangerous childish game that is the adult equivalent of sticking your tongue out at someone. It’s a moment when Celine shows no respect for Jesse’s feelings, and viewers are left to wonder how she can expect him to respect her if she doesn’t do the same for him.
******
Because other aspects of this film—including acting and characterization—are so strong, I can only conclude that these problems with Celine are the result of bad writing. It’s certainly true that the writing in Before Midnight lacks the subtlety and complexity evident in the first two films.
Good writing demands well-rounded characters, but Celine seems more flat and one-dimensional in this film than she ever has before. Jesse’s flaws are rather ordinary—he doesn’t like to clean the house, and he has stubbornly held onto his slacker facial hair. But Celine’s flaws are the opposite of ordinary—rather than being average, they are so extreme in the third film that they don’t even seem believable given what else we know about her character. If she’s an educated, intelligent, confident, and strong woman, why doesn’t she trust the man who loves these things about her?
Though they haven’t done it before, Linklater, Delpy, and Hawke fall back on stereotypical ideas about what it means to be a feminist when writing Celine’s dialogue for this film. They make her seem harsh and narrow-minded—even irrational at times—rather than thoughtful and open-minded. In this way, the film harkens back to another well-known “talky” film about a heterosexual couple discussing important issues, 1978’s Same Time, Next Year.
Movie poster for Same Time, Next Year

Unfortunately it feels like Before Midnight also co-opted that film’s take on intelligent couples by merely showing them in constant disagreement. It’s a depiction that feels outdated given what we know by now about communication in healthy, equitable relationships.
This seems to be an honest mistake, but it’s a disappointing one nonetheless, especially since it’s so hard to find movies about strong feminists and because the two previous films sidestepped these landmines so well by making Celine both willful and caring.
In fact, by depicting strong, intelligent women as incapable of compromise and empathy, Before Midnight reinforces all of the ugly stereotypes about feminists and sends the message that you can’t be a good feminist if you stay home with the kids or sew curtains or move for your spouse. When in reality, feminists—female and male alike—can do all of the above since feminism isn’t about acting a certain way but rather about embracing equality.
This misrepresentation is alluded to when Celine says to Jesse, “I feel close to you… But sometimes, I don’t know? I feel like you’re breathing helium and I’m breathing oxygen.”
It’s this comment that best sums up the problems with the film because it implies that men and women are reduced simply to their differences and that they are, in fact, so different that they cannot possibly relate, agree, compromise, or even get along past a certain point in their relationship. It’s a rehashing of the old men-are-from-Mars-women-are-from-Venus idea that is anti-feminist and unbelievable as well as being one that this viewer found very difficult to relate to.


Molly McCaffrey is the author of the short story collection How to Survive Graduate School & Other Disasters, the co-editor of Commutability: Stories about the Journey from Here to There, and the founder of I Will Not Diet, a blog devoted to healthy living and body acceptance. She received her Ph.D. from the University of Cincinnati and has worked with Academy Award winner Barbara Kopple and World War Z author, Max Brooks. Currently she teaches at Western Kentucky University and designs books for Steel Toe Books. She has just finished work on her first memoir, You Belong to Us, which tells the story of McCaffrey meeting her biological family.

Wedding Week: ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ Is a Right-Wing Nightmare Interpretation of Women

Julia Roberts in My Best Friend’s Wedding
This is a guest post by Mab Ryan.
I saw My Best Friend’s Wedding when it premiered in 1997. At the time, I thought it was an interesting reversal of the rom-com convention that the leading lady always gets her man. Instead, the leading lady was the villain, while her competition won the happy-ever-after. I remember being disturbed that my friend really wanted Julia Roberts’ character to win the man’s affections. Watching it again now, I have moved past disturbed into nauseated. If Julia Roberts plays the villain, who is the heroine? There are no good options because both main female characters are terrible examples of womanhood.
To get us into the wedding spirit, the credits open over a pink background with four women singing and dancing to Dusty Springfield’s “Wishin’ and Hopin’.” A white woman dons a bridal gown, with three women (two white and one of indeterminate race) in bridesmaid’s dresses. The woman of color is wearing a different color/style gown than the others, for no apparent reason. Enjoy her, because she’s the closest thing to a POC character in this movie. The dance portrays the gist of the US wedding fantasy: cooing over a sparkling diamond ring, tossing a bouquet, pulling at a white glove with one’s teeth, etc. The song ends with the bridesmaid’s genuflecting at the bride’s feet, the bride looking up at a white glow washing over her, like an angel. Good girls follow the proper gender script and have perfect weddings.
Someone nicely made a collage of all this.
Julianne (Julia Roberts) is a restaurant critic. Tuck that fact away because it’s the only indication you’ll get that she has any kind of life outside of the sudden obsession that erupts for the course of the movie. Best friend and former lover Michael (Dermot Mulroney) calls while she’s working, prompting a stream of expositionary nostalgia, and damn if she didn’t just remember the half-assed pact they once made that if they were both still single at 28 (that magical age) they would just give up and marry each other. Too bad he just found someone else now that she’s decided she’s ready to settle for him.
Michael is marrying Kimmy (Cameron Diaz), and they want Julianne to be maid of honor. Julianne falls off the bed on hearing this, cluing us in that we can expect to see more of the Cute Clumsy Girl trope. The wedding is in four days. Yeah, she’s been on a book tour for the past month, but you couldn’t reach her on that foot-long cell phone? The second Julianne hears about the nuptials she decides to break up the marriage and steal the groom. Say what? She had zero romantic interest in this guy until now. “This is my whole life’s happiness. I have to be ruthless.” Aim high, sister!
This character embodies the worst stereotypes of feminists. We’re told she rarely cries, never wears pink, and hates romance and public displays of affection. She’s had no prior interest in monogamy, preferring to enjoy sexual encounters with a series of men. Rather than this being empowering, the movie depicts her in the way any right-wing radio host would expect: a bitter, jealous hag, disillusioned with the single, career-focused life, bent on destroying other women in pursuit of marriage.
Her competitor isn’t a great feminist role model either. Kimmy is the daughter of a rich man who owns . . . something about baseball. Ebert’s review refers to him as a “sports owner,” so we’ll go with that. She’s eight years Michael’s junior and about to forgo her senior year in college (as an architecture major) to travel with her sports writer husband-to-be. Several times, she expresses her preference to finish school and have a life of her own—but but but if it means losing Michael (it does) she will give it all up.
Kimmy is direct with Julianne, stating that she feels inadequate compared to the pedestal that Michael has put his old friend on. “I thought I was like you and proud to be, until I met Michael and found out I was a sentimental schmuck like all those flighty nitwits I’d always pitied.” Yikes. She also explains that she hasn’t chosen one of her cousin/bridesmaids to be maid of honor because they’re “basically vengeful sluts.” This movie does not have a high opinion of women.
Michael walks in on Julianne in her underwear like it ain’t no thang. He is the signal tower for mixed messages, and I’ve no doubt he knows exactly how he’s playing both of these women. But he’s just a garden variety asshole next to Julianne’s maliciousness. At a karaoke bar, Kimmy is conspicuously terrified, but Michael needles her to perform. Julianne takes the mic on the pretense of saving Kimmy, but instead forces her into performing, a feat that backfires when Kimmy’s tone deaf, but her brave performance wins the audience’s admiration and applause. Sadly, this is the most inventive ploy in a plot that has Julianne trying on the wedding ring and getting it stuck on her finger. Wacky!
Julianne cruelly forces a terrified Kimmy into singing karaoke.
Now’s as good a time as any talk about George. No wedding movie is complete without the Gay Best Friend™ played here by gay actor Rupert Everett. His sexuality is actually referenced rather than implied, so that’s progress I guess. But he’s never shown in a romantic situation with a man. And though he does host dinner parties and attend erotic book readings, these are callously interrupted by phone calls from the disturbed Julianne. He hates to fly, but does so (twice!) to come to Julianne’s rescue and offer her the sage counsel that her attempts to sabotage this wedding are doomed and she needs to get over herself. In so many words.
“It’s amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy,” George says to Julianne.
To make matters more homophobic, in a move that makes absolutely no sense, George is press-ganged into playing the part of Julianne’s fiancé. It’s really gross to watch a gay man forced to play beard to a straight woman, shoved into a closet to suit her conniving privilege. Kimmy hyperventilates in relief that Julianne is apparently no longer her competition, because nothing promises a more stable marriage than making sure there are no hot women around to tempt your man. George gets his revenge by telling apocryphal stories about meeting Julianne in a mental institution where she was receiving shock therapy, because we might as well add mocking the mentally ill to this movie’s list of sins.
Julianne’s meddling turns criminal when she fraudulently uses Kimmy’s father’s email account to send a message that will make Michael want to call off the wedding. The scheme works for about five whole minutes, but Michael decides to go through with the wedding after all. The denouement occurs when Julianne admits her love for Michael and plants a big smooch on him at the wedding brunch, in sight of the bride-to-be. Kimmy runs off crying, Michael runs after Kimmy, Julianne runs after Michael, and no one runs after Julianne because, no joke, she is terrible. She admits this in a lady’s room showdown with Kimmy, while a racially mixed group of women surround them, calling for a cat fight. “I’ve done nothing but underhanded, despicable, not even terribly imaginative things since I got here.” That’s okay movie writers! Acceptance is the first step to improvement. 
Kimmy confronts Julianne in the ladies room where we are reminded that POC do exist.
Michael and Kimmy somehow make up, which is great for them if you don’ t mind that he’s a self-important jerk who will probably end up screwing Julianne/other women on business trips in years to come, or that Kimmy has no self-esteem and is counting on this guy to be her EVERYTHING. Julianne knows that she has lost, and now that it is a solid two hours later and she’s no longer a threat, she’s able to perform her duties as maid of honor and offer the happy couple a toast. Mozel tov. It’ll probably be at least a day before Julianne gets arrested for tampering with a company computer and committing fraud (we can only hope).
George makes that second flight to be at the reception to provide solace for Julianne. I was 14 when this movie debuted and still part of the homophobic evangelical culture I was raised in. I remember thinking it would be nice if these two could now hook up, because I knew that George was gay, but I figured he could “reform.” I’m pleased to say the movie does nothing to encourage this interpretation. He states outright that he has no romantic intentions toward her. And sure, it’s great to have a friend who will drop everything and pamper you even when you have just proven to be a soulless nightmare, but let’s quit using the magical queer, huh?
The takeaway: gay men exist to render aid to straight ladies. Lesbians do not exist. Fat people do not exist. People of color exist only in sports stadium restrooms. Mental disabilities are funny! Women who pursue independence are terrible, and they really just want marriage. Women who pursue marriage by sacrificing their own desires and goals are good girls who are rewarded with husbands. Straight white men, just keep doing what you do, because in the end, you’ll get some girl or other.

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

Wedding Week: ‘Sex and the City’: The Movie We Hate to Love

The ladies of Sex and the City on their way to the wedding

This is a guest post by Amanda Morris. 

“Year after year, twenty-something women come to New York City in search of the two Ls: Labels and Love,” goes the opening voiceover for Sex and the City: The Movie. These words set the stage for the decadent, emotional rollercoaster to follow, featuring fabulous clothes, shoes, and the question of what is truly important: the wedding or the marriage?
When I was 37 and getting divorced while finishing my Ph.D., one of my girlfriends sensed the despair I felt (but tried to hide) over feeling alone and worrying that party of one would be my fate, despite intellectual acceptance of my ability to survive and remain a strong solo. Sometimes, emotions trump logic. My friend lent me her Sex and the City collection–the entire series–with the simple words, “Watch this. You’ll feel better.”
As many women likely are when faced with divorce and the possibility of life alone, I was skeptical of any advice laced with platitudes, but this sounded different and I trusted her judgment despite being against the entire series when it first appeared. Who wants to watch a bunch of stereotypical white women flaunt their wealth and privilege and leap from man to man while showcasing physical beauty and flawless fashion taste? My skepticism did not hold up and by the end of the first season, I was hooked. My initial disdain was tempered by truly inspiring and philosophical gems in each episode that I needed to hear in my emotionally questionable state.
By the time the movie was released in 2008, I was a true believer in the friendships, humor, and wisdom embedded in this seemingly frivolous packaging. As most fans were aware, this movie promised Big things for Carrie Bradshaw, played by Sarah Jessica Parker, and her main love interest, John Preston (also known as Big), played by Chris Noth–namely, the movie buzz suggested that their relationship’s fate would be revealed in the film.

Sex and the City official 2008 trailer
Revisiting this film five years later (as a happily paired person once again), I find myself chafing against the film even as I enjoy the drama. The choices and mistakes that Carrie make from the time that she and Big decide to marry to the moment he leaves her at the altar about a third of the way through the story are the choices and mistakes that many modern American women make: ignore the man and his wishes, allow friends to convince you that you need a fancier dress, venue, event, and become more enamored with the grandeur and history of a luxurious location over the real fears and concerns your partner has about a large, intimidating, and ostentatious event.
Initially, Carrie and Big mildly discuss their future over dinner prep and decide to get married, while foregoing the traditional diamond engagement ring, which Carrie does not want. At about twelve minutes into the film, Carrie announces to her friends, Charlotte York (Kristin Davis) and Miranda Hobbes (Cynthia Nixon), over lunch that she and Big made this decision and Charlotte excitedly screams, while Miranda looks on, horrified.
This tension grows between excitement over a traditional (and suggested to be more financially and legally secure) choice to marry and the unconventional decisions that Carrie tries to make as the story quickly progresses. Carrie’s implied choice of simple, civil wedding service is subverted by Charlotte’s “gift” of wedding planner Anthony Marentino’s (Mario Cantone) services, which turns the wedding into a grander event. Carrie’s elegant, vintage, and designer-less knee-length cream dress is not “wedding” enough for Charlotte or Anthony. Upon seeing Carrie’s dress choice, Charlotte frowns and says, “It’s pretty, but it’s so simple,” and Anthony mutters, “The invitation is fancier than the dress.”
Despite Carrie’s intentions to keep her classic dress and small wedding, her Vogue editor (Candace Bergen) offers her the opportunity to be featured in a photo shoot as a 40-year-old bride wearing bridal couture for Vogue’s annual age issue. Carrie agrees and when the Vivienne Westwood dress that she fell in love with at the shoot arrives at her apartment door, suddenly, the wedding takes on greater importance than the marriage. As Carrie explains to Big when she announces the guest list has jumped from 75 to 200, “The dress upped the ante.” Big seems noticeably agitated, responding that he just wants her and could have gone to City Hall.
In this respect, the film works as a rather harsh mirror for American women, especially those of us who have made or are thinking about making these same choices by privileging the wedding over the marriage and rationalizing the extraordinary expense to the possible detriment of our relationships. In the film these choices have consequences: Big leaves Carrie at the altar and by the time he realizes what a mistake his choice is, Carrie and her friends have left the church. When the two lovers see each other in the street, Carrie thrashes Big with her luxurious bouquet while tearily yelling, “I am humiliated!”

Carrie is humiliated

The question once again becomes what will happen to Carrie and Big? For the audience, another question lingers: Were those choices worth this result? As Carrie admits to Miranda during their Valentine’s dinner the following year, “I let the wedding get bigger than Big.”
When Carrie and Big do finally come back together at the end of the film, have an unassuming civil service, and a low-key restaurant gathering with their closest friends, this seems the perfect end.
Big proposes to Carrie at the end of the film
However, even after all of the movie’s (and series’) promises to break with convention and turn tradition on its ear, to learn from mistakes, to know better…three of the four main female characters end up in traditional marriages–husband, wife, and for two of them, children. The film promises an alteration of expectations related to weddings and marriage and ends up in the same rut that American society stubbornly refuses to leave, and because we love the fantasy, the opulence, and the promise of love against all odds, Sex and the City is a movie that we love, but hate that we do.

Amanda Morris, Ph.D. is an assistant professor of multiethnic rhetorics at Kutztown University in Pennsylvania and when she’s not writing or wrangling students, she loves shark fishing, gardening, and cooking with her man.

Wedding Week: Why We All Need to See ‘Bridesmaids’

Movie poster for Bridesmaids
This guest post by Molly McCaffrey previously appeared at her blog I Will Not Diet and is cross-posted with permission. 
I keep hearing people say they aren’t going to watch Bridesmaids because it’s a rom-com or a chick flick, and since this is really an important movie for women, I want to tell you why it’s not either of those things and why you need to see it.
Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig exercising in Bridesmaids
1. First and foremost, this is not a rom-com. Yes, this movie is a comedy, but it’s not a rom-com because those movies put the romance first (and it’s usually cheesy, unbelievable romance) and the comedy second. Notice that the word “rom” comes before the word “com”? That’s because the rom is center stage, and in Bridesmaids, comedy definitely trumps romance. (By the way, women don’t exercise in a rom-com; they just look perfect without trying.) Also, this movie is not a rom-com or a chick flick because the main plot of the story is not about a woman who would only be happy if she could just find the right guy, which brings me to my next point … 
Drinks, pre-food poisoning, in Bridesmaids
2. No, this is a movie about … wait for it … female friendship. I know what you’re thinking—a movie about female friendship? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Well, there was Thelma and Louise, but that was like a million years ago. Yes, that’s my point. It’s been WAY TOO LONG since we’ve had a movie about female friendship, which is why people are saying … 
3. This film is the first of a new genre. Perhaps you’ve heard of the bromance? Well, Bridesmaids is supposed to do for women what Wedding Crashers did for men. This new genre still doesn’t have a name—“sismance” and “wom-ance” just don’t sound quite right, and if you come up with a clever moniker (maybe “broad-mance”?), I’m sure you could make millions doing so.
Bridesmaids karaoke
4. And because this is a movie about female friendship, it passes the Bechdel Test, which asks: 1) Are there two named female characters in the film? There are SIX in this movie. 2) Do they talk to each other? Yes, they do. 3) About something besides men? Absolutely. I don’t have the exact numbers, but I would venture to guess that about 90% of the movies made in Hollywood do not pass this test, reinforcing the wrong-headed notion that women are only in the world to be accessories to funny male comedians or hot male action stars. In other words, that women are defined by men. And guess what? We’re not.
Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids
5. It’s also the first Hollywood movie in a long time about a woman who is not played by an A-list actress. This may seem like no big deal at first, but when you think about it, it really is. The reason that most movies about women have to feature A-list actresses is because the people in Hollywood think good stories about women aren’t interesting enough to make us want to see them on their own and that they need something else—like Julia Roberts or Reese Witherspoon or Angelina Jolie—to get us in the seats of the theater. But we know that’s not true, and by giving Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph the leading roles in this movie, the powers-that-be are also giving us a chance to prove that. And because they are played by “regular” actresses … 
The ladies of Bridesmaids
6. Bridesmaids features women who look like women in real life, which is almost unheard of in Hollywood movies these days. Kristen Wiig, as beautiful as she is, also looks her age in this film. She has wrinkles and bags under her eyes and doesn’t dress like she just stepped out of a Prada boutique. Maya Rudolph looks adorable, but she also doesn’t look stick thin. Nor does Wendi McLendon-Covey or Melissa McCarthy. Yes, three of the women in this bridal party are Hollywood thin, but three are not. And three out of six really ain’t bad. And the fact that we get this range of curvy bodies—from Rudolph to McLendon-Covey to McCarthy is really unbelievably impressive since normally Hollywood only features the two extremes of big and small with no in-between. Not only do the women in Bridesmaids look real … 
A sweaty Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids
7. Like real-life women, they talk about sex … If Sex and the City was important because it showed women talking about sex in raunchy ways that we had previously only associated with men, Bridesmaids is important because it shows them talking about it—and acting on it—in believable ways. Now that we’ve experienced Samantha Jones (and thank God we did), we can have authenticity, which is what you’ll find when Wiig and Rudolph discuss sex over breakfast, a scene that reads like an homage to the post-coitus brunch that was a staple of Sex and the City.

8. They also talk like real-life women. Like the rest of us, they talk about everything in life … they talk about their jobs, their life choices, their regrets, their bodies, their friendships, other women, their hopes and dreams, and, yes, their clothes and even sometimes men. But they don’t ONLY talk about men, which is crucial.

Kristen Wiig’s airplane freakout in Bridesmaids
9. And, for me, the most important thing is that these woman are well-rounded characters who have personalities and genuine flaws. And, no, I’m not talking about their bodies. I’m talking about the fact that these characters sometimes make the wrong decisions about their friendships, their jobs, their roommates, their lives, and as a result, the audience can’t help but feel for them while also wanting to kick their butts. Kristen Wiig’s character goes through the same kinds of ordeals we all go through—the kind that make us question who we are and what life is about. And her struggles are so frustrating and so moving that I found myself actually sobbing through the middle of the movie. The crazy thing about it is that while I was sobbing, I also started laughing. I’ve laughed and cried in a movie, but I’ve never before done both at the same time, and I did both while watching this movie more than once. I always tell my students that over-the-top comedy only works if it is paired with real, honest emotion, and my response proves that is something Bridesmaids does really well.
Annie Mumolo and Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids
10. Finally, this movie was written by two women, Kristen Wiig and her former Groundlings castmate Annie Mumolo (pictured above). As we all know, there are not nearly enough women in Hollywood, so we need to support them as much as we can.

So what are you waiting for?


Molly McCaffrey is the author of the short story collection How to Survive Graduate School & Other Disasters, the co-editor of Commutability: Stories about the Journey from Here to There, and the founder of I Will Not Diet, a blog devoted to healthy living and body acceptance. She has worked with Academy Award winner Barbara Kopple and received her Ph.D. from the University of Cincinnati. Currently she teaches at Western Kentucky University and designs books for Steel Toe Books. She is at work on her first memoir, You Belong to Us, which tells the story of McCaffrey meeting her biological family.

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

This is a guest post by Alisande Fitzsimons.

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

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

Best friends turned worst enemies

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

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

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

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

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

Liv in Vera Wang

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

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

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

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

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

The madness at work

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

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

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


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

Where Have You Gone, Sarah Connor?

Remember Linda Hamilton (playing Sarah Connor) and her guns in Terminator 2?
This guest post by Holly Derr is cross-posted with permission from The Ms. Magazine Blog.
Summer always makes me a bit nostalgic for childhood. I remember fondly the excitement of being out of school, the long days with nothing to do but read and the cool refuge from the hot Texas sun provided by a matinee of a summer blockbuster at the local movie theater.
Unfortunately, this summer’s action movies have left me nostalgic for more than the air conditioning. Only a few of the most highly anticipated movies of the summer feature more than one woman, and those women are primarily co-stars, not leads. After Earth and World War Z have wives who stay home while the man goes on the adventure. Elysium co-stars Jodie Foster as a bad guy, but from what little information has been released on the plot, her weapon of choice appears to be government red tape. Even Monsters University only has one female student—and she’s a cheerleader.
Anne Hathaway as Catwoman
To make matters worse, the characters who do get in on the action are mostly played by women who cannot believably fight. The Heat is a buddy cop movie starring Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy, but it looks to be more comedy than action. The female hero of Kick Ass 2 is a young girl. And though Gwyneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts in Iron Man 3, Zoe Saldana as Uhura in Star Trek: Into Darkness, Gal Gadot as Giselle and Michelle Rodriguez as Letty in Fast and Furious 6, and Rinko Kikuchi as Pacific Rim‘s Mako Mori are supposedly tough, they are so thin that it’s hard to believe that they’re actually capable of action. In fact, though Uhura is present for two of the fights in the new Star Trek, in the first, she mainly hides behind a wall, and in the second, she merely fires a phaser which, being a phaser, doesn’t even have any kickback.
This trend is disturbing but not accidental: The diets these women go on to prepare for their roles mean that no matter how much training they do, they’re not eating enough to build muscle. To prepare for Catwoman, Anne Hathaway went vegan and was, by her own account, exhausted all the time. Not surprisingly she failed to build any muscle despite intensive training: most scientists agree that the full range of amino acids responsible for muscle growth is only found in animal products. (Think about it–have you ever seen a muscular vegan?) Gwyneth Paltrow published her “elimination” diet in her book, It’s All Good, and indeed it does appear she does more eliminating than eating. And Alice Eve, whose totally unnecessary underwear scene as Carol Marcus in Star Trek: Into Darkness has prompted its fair share of criticism, told Allure that to prepare for the role she ate nothing but spinach for five months. Perhaps that’s why she and her counterpart in the film, Saldana (who clocks in it at a whopping 115 pounds) spend most of the movie looking like they are about to cry.
Ellen Ripley
I say we bring back Ripley. To prepare for her role in Aliens, Sigourney Weaver did dumbbell chest presses, squats, shoulder presses, and rows—all with weights—and she didn’t diet at all. Did you hear that? Not at all. I say we bring back Sarah Connor. In Terminator 2, Linda Hamilton did basic soldier training and ate a high-protein diet, and, indeed, she has guns in her hands and on her arms. Or remember when a 140-pound Jamie Lee Curtis did a strip tease to protect her “cover” in True Lies? Now that was a motivated underwear scene. (Note to J.J. Abrams: Having Eve take her clothes off in the middle of rushing from one place to the next for no reason at all is simply objectification.)
These female heroes of yore were popular not just because they were badass: They were also fantastic characters. Unfortunately, the summer movie with the best female fights (and the most diverse casting) is probably going to be the one that provides the least opportunity for character development. Gina Carrano, an actual Mixed Martial Arts professional, and Michelle Rodriguez did almost all of their own fights for Fast and Furious 6, and those fights are pretty damn cool. But because Rodriguez’s character Letty has amnesia, she moves through every moment of the film when she’s not driving or fighting like she’s in a daze. Carrano as Riley never speaks more than one or two lines per scene.

 

 

Saldana, Eve and Paltrow are gorgeous and talented, and the problems with their performances are largely the result of underwritten characters. I don’t mean to body shame this summer’s starlets for being slender, though I do wish they would eat. I mean to shame Hollywood for asking them to starve themselves, and to shame a culture that thinks starving women are beautiful. It’s not a coincidence that many women action heroes are actually children—that’s about as big as Hollywood lets women get these days.
Media-saavy Geena Davis, in an interview about her movie The Long Kiss Goodnight (in which she played amnesiac CIA agent Samantha Caine who, like Jason Bourne, has forgotten who she was but not how to fight), explained why this matters:

Thelma and Louise had a big reaction, there was a huge thing at the time, that, ‘Oh my god, these women had guns and they actually killed a guy!’ … That movie made me realize—you can talk about it all you want, but watch it with an audience and talk to women who have seen this movie and they go, ‘YES!’ They feel so adrenalized and so powerful after seeing some women kick some ass and take control of their own fate. … Women go, ‘Yeah – fucking right!’ Women don’t get to have that experience in the movies. But hey, people go to action movies for a reason; they want to feel adrenalized and they want to identify with the hero, and if only guys get to do that then it’s crazy.

Long live Samantha Caine. Long live Thelma and Louise.

Holly L. Derr is a writer, director, and professor living in Los Angeles. She writes regularly for The Ms. Magazine Blog on theater, film, television and reproductive rights. Her tumblr Feminist Fandom addresses representation of sex, gender, sexuality, and race in the media. Follow her @hld6oddblend.

 

Sarah Polley’s ‘Stories We Tell’: A Radical Act

Movie poster for Stories We Tell

 

Written by Stephanie Rogers.
We live in an age now when things seem … less “real” to me. Facebook lets us put our private lives on display, and even then, it’s a version of our lives that we edit, exaggerate perhaps, and invent—all for public consumption. People become overnight stars when homemade YouTube clips go viral—often another version of an edited public performance. Our television shows, especially Reality TV—and even shows such as American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance—present stories that appear to be true but are, in fact, edited for a public audience.

So, how do we define “real” anymore or, for that matter, what is “true”?

 
Polley and her father in Stories We Tell
Sarah Polley explores this concept in her wonderful documentary, Stories We Tell. While the film focuses on her family background and a long-kept family secret of sorts, it ultimately explores memory—how it aids and fails us, and how the act of storytelling sometimes requires us to fill in the gaps. This isn’t a new concept by any means, but Polley’s decision to tell her story through film, and to put that story on screen for a wider audience—in a society (and film industry) that consistently devalues women’s work and women’s stories—is a radical act.

Mary Jo Murphy gives some background on the film in her New York Times review:

A bit more about “the story”: Ms. Polley is the youngest of five siblings. Dad was an English actor in Toronto; Mom, an actress, had two children from a marriage before she met him. She died of cancer when Sarah was 11, and at some point after that, one or more of her much older siblings began to tease her about her paternity. Eventually she did a little investigating.

When she found her answer, and talked to her father and siblings about it, she became fascinated with how each of them was “telling the story and embellishing the story and making the story their own.” The act of telling the story, she said, “was changing the story itself.”

Polley’s father in Stories We Tell
I love the idea of the past existing as fluid, ever-changing. And Stories We Tell touches on that, reminding us that people truly do live long after their deaths—in the memories and celebrations of those most important to them. I certainly don’t mean to sentimentalize the story because it’s not a sentimental film (which isn’t to say that the audience in the theater wasn’t a weeping mess), but I want to convey that a woman making an emotionally gripping film about herself, about her mother, about motherhood even—is absolutely a radical act. Some disagree. Mike LaSalle of the San Francisco Chronicle wrote the following in his review (titled, “Stories We Tell Review: Not Worth Telling”):


Polley is making a film about her father, her late mother, her siblings. She should protect them. What she shouldn’t do is offer up the resulting feel-good whitewash to the scrutiny of a watching world. She shouldn’t force on strangers the task of sitting through this. And she shouldn’t present a work of vanity and closed-in narcissism as an exercise in soul baring, because it’s embarrassing for everybody.

Polley’s mother and father in Stories We Tell
In actuality, the most important part of this film—and what makes it feminist—is precisely its “vanity” and “closed-in narcissism.” Of course, I wouldn’t use those words to describe it—I’d say “intimacy” and “closed-in confidence”—because they play into the dominant ideology that women’s stories aren’t important. And Stories We Tell is exactly that—Sarah Polley’s story: embellished, re-enacted, unsure, important. She interviews her father(s), her siblings, her mother’s former lovers, and her mother’s friends, all while keeping herself outside the frame and directing her subjects, or “storytellers” as she calls them, to tell their individual version of events. How Polley chooses to direct the film, to edit it, to interrogate the assertions of her storytellers, and to learn from them—that is her story. And telling it is a radical act.



Leigh Kolb wrote a piece for Bitch Flicks last November called, “Female Literacy as a Historical Framework for Hollywood Misogyny” in which she suggested that, “When women finally break through and are able to tell their stories, those stories are immediately dismissed as silly and trivial.” She goes on to say:

Perhaps this bleak, largely anti-feminist landscape in Hollywood is more deliberate. If we acknowledge women’s long history of being neglected education and literacy, and that women have been repeatedly told (or observed) that their stories lack action and intrigue for a broad audience, how can this not have larger social effects? And at some point, do we come to the conclusion that these messages are what the dominant group wants?

Polley’s mother in Stories We Tell
The good news is that reviews like the one written by Mick LaSalle, who refers to Stories We Tell at one point as “the opposite of a courageous piece of work,” look ridiculous next to all the praise for the film. In fact, if we’re lucky, maybe the success of Polley’s piece will spark a larger conversation about the marginalization of women and minorities in our culture, about whose stories “deserve” to be told and who gets to tell them. This film—if “the personal is political” still means anything in the age of my multiple fake Facebook identities—needs to be seen. It deserves to be seen. It’s a film about women knowing and not knowing one another. It’s a film about forgiveness and disappointment and searching for one’s identity and place within the family. It’s about existing as both participant and observer in one’s own life. It’s about longing and loss and how we define families. It’s about the art of filmmaking itself. It’s about mistakes and motherhood and heredity and unconditional love.

And, perhaps most importantly, it’s about a woman in Hollywoodan industry that boasts less than 20% of women film directors and an ever-shrinking number of available roles for women—refusing to accept the devaluation of women’s work, getting behind a camera … and daring to tell a story. 
Sarah Polley, badass

Summer Movie Preview

Written by Max Thornton.
Time’s relentless onward march has brought us to the end of April. In just a few days it will be the first weekend in May, which is – in the strange, terrifying minds of Hollywood executives – the first weekend of summer.
Summer movies are an odd and frustrating bunch. I have taken a cursory glance at some of 2013’s biggest, emptiest spectacles and pre-judged them with extreme censure, so you don’t have to.
Iron Man 3 (May 3)
The deal: The first Iron Man was a pleasing diversion for a world with low expectations of a second-tier-superhero film. The second Iron Man was much like the first, but bigger, louder, and overlong. If other superhero trilogies are anything to go by, the third Iron Man will be even bigger, even louder, and – 130 minutes, are you freakin’ kidding me? Why does no one heed Hitchcockian wisdom re: film lengths and bladders?
Likelihood of passing the Bechdel test: 25%. Rebecca Hall has third billing after Robert Downey Jr. and Gwyneth Paltrow, but I’ve seen a superhero movie before, and I don’t really expect anyone to talk about anything other than Iron Man.
Likelihood of general intersection!fail: The inestimable Andrew Ti of Yo, Is This Racist? says 100%. Who am I to dissent?
Will I see it?: Eventually, probably on DVD. I don’t care very much about Iron Man, but I am a little stoked to learn it’s directed by Shane Black, writer-director of my beloved Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
The Great Gatsby (May 10)
The deal: You went to high school. You don’t need me to tell you what The Great Gatsby is about. (But, if you need a refresher, it’s boring and the plot is basically the same as R. Kelly’s Trapped in the Closet.)
Likelihood of passing the Bechdel test: Like no percent, unless they change stuff from the book I guess.
Likelihood of general intersection!fail: 100%. It’s about straight white rich people, like fully all of big Hollywood movies.
Will I see it?: No. I don’t like Gatsby and I don’t like Baz Luhrmann. If you have a different opinion on either or both of these things, you will feel differently.
Star Trek Into Darkness (May 17)
The deal: Much like the first Iron Man, the 2009 Star Trek reboot was a slight popcorn delight for those of us with low expectations; much like Iron Man 2, this latest Trek will probably sink under the weight of current heightened expectations. If nothing else, it’ll be jolly to once again witness Karl Urban channel DeForest Kelley (and cringe at Simon Pegg’s Scottish accent, oy).
Likelihood of passing the Bechdel test: 25% if I’m generous. There are fully two lady-type humans in this movie, and as much as I’d like the writers to overcome the failures of the original series, that’s a lot of failure to overcome.
Likelihood of general intersection!fail: High. See above re: failures of TOS.
Will I see it?: I don’t see how I can possibly avoid it.
Spaceship! *starts salivating*
The Hangover Part III (May 24)
The deal: No.
Likelihood of passing the Bechdel test: 0%.
Likelihood of general intersection!fail: 1000%.
Will I see it?: Oh fuck no.
Man of Steel (June 14)
The deal: Superman is boring and zzzzzzzzz.
Likelihood of passing the Bechdel test: Low.
Likelihood of general intersection!fail: High.
Will I see it?: Yawn.
World War Z (June 21)
The deal: World War Z is probably the greatest zombie novel ever written and you should go out and read it, like, yesterday. I am so over how enormously boring this film adaptation looks, and I mourn for the TV miniseries that was once talked about and would have been a much better way of adapting the sprawling complexities of the book.
Likelihood of passing the Bechdel test: 10%. If Brad Pitt is the core linking the story together, I can’t see much happening without him. Also, I’m very afraid that this movie will do the horrible Walking Dead/ Stephen King / every apocalypse story ever thing of taking the apocalypse as an excuse to revert all of humanity to gross reductive caveman gender roles.
Likelihood of general intersection!fail: 90%. A summer Hollywood blockbuster in which a white dude travels all around the world trying to save it? Racism, xenophobia, and neocolonialist paternalism pretty much guaranteed.
Will I see it?: I expect so, and I expect I’ll hate it.
Seriously, read the book.
Monsters University (June 21)
The deal: While I hear the argument that Pixar needs to take a step back from the sequel-ing and prequel-ing, they had me as soon as this website rocked up months and months ago. And tell me that any TV enthusiast could look at the list of voice talent involved without squeeing: Nathan Fillion! Aubrey Plaza! John Krasinski! Charlie Day! Dave Foley! And that’s just the people who are on TV shows I like!
Likelihood of passing the Bechdel test: 5%. Pixar is awesome at so many things, but representing the non-male demographic is not one of them. I will continue to dream of a scene in which Aubrey Plaza’s character and Helen Mirren’s character hang out and shoot the shit, but I don’t hold out hope.
Likelihood of general intersection!fail: I mean, it’s a movie about monsters? I don’t know to what extent I can really hold it accountable for, say, race!fail.
Will I see it?: HELL YES.
Pacific Rim (July 12)
The deal: I may have mentioned this before, but I am losing my mind over how impossibly amazeballs this movie looks. ROBOTS VS. ALIENS. GUILLERMO DEL TORO. IDRIS ELBA. My fingertips are tingling just typing about it.
Likelihood of passing the Bechdel test: 5%. Women are not so much with the being in this movie.
Likelihood of general intersection!fail: 70%. Rinko Kikuchi is in this movie, and if God loves me she will share scenes with Idris Elba and my eyeballs will burst into flames from so much hotness onscreen at once; but I know better than to expect, say, queers or PwD to be represented meaningfully in mainstream SF.
Will I see it?: HELL EVEN YES-ER.
 
Hee hee

This summer in sum: Not every forthcoming blockbuster looks to be entirely egregious in every respect – some of them I might even enjoy quite a bit – but women are conspicuously, depressingly, appallingly underrepresented in the big popcorn flicks. As usual, Hollywood utterly fails to notice or care that women comprise half the human race, and we’ll have to look to smaller and independent cinema for acknowledgment of that basic, yet still somehow controversial, fact.
———-

Max Thornton blogs at GayChristian Geek, tumbles as transsubstantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax.

 

‘Stoker’: The Creepiest Coming-of-Age Tale I’ve Ever Seen

Stoker movie poster
Written by Stephanie Rogers.
If I were asked to describe my reaction to Stoker using an acronym, I’d go with “WTF,” although I definitely experienced some “OMG” and “STFU” moments here and there. By the end, I could hear myself mentally reviewing the film and toying with the idea of titling this piece merely, “OFFS.” That’s the overall reaction, distilled, I had to Stoker from the first five minutes of watching the film all the way to the final credits. I mean, I’m not saying I didn’t like it. Or even love it. Or possibly want to find all existing film reels (and whatever digital incarnations exist) and set them on fire. I just won’t be able to tell for a few months or so. It’s one of those movies. 
Uncomfortable mother-daughter interaction
In a lot of ways—okay, like, two—it reminded me of Silver Linings Playbook. Its genre-mixing, unpredictability, and innovative storytelling, particularly with how it illustrates the hereditary aspect of mental illness, works incredibly well. Of course, while Silver Linings Playbook can make a person joy-cry at the end, Stoker’s ending (and beginning and middle) should come with a Serious Trigger Warning for depictions of violence, sexual assault, and incest. I plan to address those things in this review as well, and I’ll also add a Spoiler Alert, if only to avoid writing a horrible paragraph like this ever in my life:
It’s hard to avoid spoilers at this point, but let’s leave it at this: India discovers that her parents have been concealing something very important regarding her uncle—and, given her emotionally close relationship with him, something very important about herself, about character traits that are a part of her own blood. When the truth comes out, her world is overturned, her monsters are unleashed, and she finds herself without the solid footing of character, self-knowledge, and moral clarity to fight them.

(It’s probably not nice to make fun of Richard Brody of The New Yorker, but since Vida’s Count recently showed us in its annual illustration of literary journals that unapologetically refuse to publish women writers or review the work of women writers, The New Yorker can go fuck itself. Also: “her monsters are unleashed” … No.) 
Evie (Nicole Kidman) and India (Mia Wasikowska)
Seriously though, what the hell did I just watch? One could categorize Stoker as any of the following: a coming-of-age tale, a crime thriller, a sexual assault revenge fantasy, a love story, a murder mystery, a slasher film, a romantic comedy (I’m hilarious), or even an allegory about the dangers of bullying, parental neglect, or keeping family secrets. Throw a recurring spider in there, some shoes, a bunch of random objects shaped like balls, along with a hint of incest, some on-screen masturbation, imagined orgasmic piano duets, and a handful of scenes that rip off Hitchcock so hard that Hitchcock could’ve directed it (see Shadow of a Doubt), and you’ll have yourself a nice little freakshow! 
Seriously though, shoes and balls are really important in this movie. 
Saddle Shoe (girlhood!) and High Heel (womanhood!)
Unlike this review, Stoker starts off straightforwardly enough. Mia Wasikowska (our favorite) plays India Stoker, a comically quiet teenager reminiscent of Wednesday Addams, at least until she evolves into a full-blown psychopath, who hates to be touched, gets bullied by boys at school—they call her “Stroker”—and mourns her father (Dermot Mulroney) after his suspicious death in a car accident on her 18th birthday. Nicole Kidman plays Evie, India’s mother, in typical Kidman as Insufferable Ice Princess casting, and there’s pretty much nothing redeeming about her. She gloms onto her dead husband’s estranged brother Charlie at the funeral (played by Matthew Goode), whom she’s never met and never once questions the presence of, and when Mrs. McGarrick, her housekeeper of a million years mysteriously vanishes, she says things like, “Oh no, what will we do for dinner now!” with earnest incredulity. 
Evie loses her shit on India (finally!)
I realize Evie isn’t supposed to be likeable, that we’re meant to roll our eyes at her upper-class privilege and displays of affection toward her husband’s mysterious younger brother, that maybe we’re even supposed to feel a tiny bit sorry for her. But I despise one-dimensional women characters onscreen, and Evie is just that, a collection of simplistic tropes used to move the narrative forward: a bad wife, a bad mother, a bad boss (like, aren’t you even going to look for your missing housekeeper?), and a bad niece-in-law (Aunt Gin needs to talk to you alone for a reason, you idiot.) Her obliviousness to everything happening around her doesn’t read as the dissociated or even unstable response of a wife in mourning; it reads as the selfish and feigned cluelessness of a generally awful person. 
Goodbye, Auntie Gin
Evie—hats off to Nicole Kidman—eventually delivers one of the scariest monologues I’ve ever seen on film. It’s the first time she utters anything longer than a few sentences at once (which are usually about the importance of polite behavior and playing the piano), but this monologue, I mean, chills. It’s also the only time Evie exhibits just as much overt “crazy” as the other characters, and I found myself savoring that moment. Isn’t it funny how a character can become interesting once she’s allowed to do things other than comment on etiquette and pass out drunk?
I wish we got to see that less passive side of Evie earlier in the film because, the thing is, we don’t need to dislike Evie in order to feel sympathy for her daughter. It’s certainly possible to make characters bad and villainous while also making them complex and even charming. The makers of this film know that, too. You know how I know that? Because Charlie Stoker exists. 
Evie and Charlie (Matthew Goode)
This fuckin’ guy. He rolls onto the family estate during his brother’s funeral like he’s been there all along, and somehow, “I’ve been travelling the world for 20 years” seems like a reasonable excuse for his lifelong absence. Naturally, he decides to move in with Evie and India because why not, I’m sure everyone will be totally fine with that, nice to meet you! And they are. Except for Aunt Gin and Housekeeper McGarrick, who genuinely—rightfully—fear this bro, even with all his charisma and sexy-sheepish smiles. They know some shit. India mistrusts him at first, too, but the more she learns about him, and the creepier (and more murderous) he becomes, the more India identifies with him. Queue The New Yorker’s Richard Brody: her monsters are unleashed.
Accompanied by a few feminist themes. 
India imitating a yard statue, accompanied by saddle shoes
For one, I don’t think it’s possible to not read Stoker as a coming-of-age tale, mainly because it puts so much emphasis on India’s burgeoning womanhood. We see her in flashbacks as a young girl, a semi-tomboy who hunted birds with her dad, who wore the same pair of black-and-white saddle shoes all her life—she received a bigger size every year on her birthday (remember, shoes and balls are really important in this movie)—who never identified with her beautiful, quintessentially feminine mother, and whose experiences with boys include stabbing one in the hand with a sharpened pencil (loved that) when he and a group of friends sexually harass her behind their high school. 
These fucking shoes!
That foreshadows India’s upcoming attempted rape … because what would an onscreen coming-of-age tale of burgeoning womanhood be without an attempted rape scene? (I’m only half-joking here; considering one in three women lives through a sexual assault in her lifetime, and most films seek to reveal some Truth About Humanity, I’m surprised the issue of sexual assault and rape isn’t addressed more often—and accurately—onscreen. Oh wait, I forgot we’re talking about women’s stories here: UNIMPORTANT.) Um.
In my mind, the film exists in two parts: everything that happens before the attempted rape and everything that happens after it. 
I’m sure this is a 100% acceptable uncle-niece interaction
Stoker addresses India’s sexual feelings early on; she clearly feels an attraction toward her uncle, and she seeks out a boy from school immediately after she catches her mother and uncle kissing. The juxtaposition of these scenes—India watching two people engage in sexual activity and her subsequent desire to do so herself—touches on a couple of familiar adolescent emotions. One could read India’s reaction to discovering her mom and uncle’s indiscretion as a big Fuck You to both of them. One could also read India’s reaction to discovering her mom and uncle’s indiscretion as an attempt to behave like an adult, to emulate what she sees (remember: coming of age!). Both of those responses ring true to me, and Stoker effectively captures the confusion inherent in leaving the familiarity of girlhood and entering a not-yet-entirely-defined womanhood.
But India decides during her make out session in the woods with the rapist that she doesn’t want to do anything more than kiss, at which point she tells him she wants to go home. He ignores her, physically assaults her, and attempts to rape her. And that’s when her monsters are unleashed. (I can’t stop saying it.) 
India as Hunter
I won’t reveal what happens during this scene because—damn—but believe me, it changes everything for India, for everyone. From here until the end of the film, Stoker explores India’s equating of death and violence with sexual awakening, and it looks at the relationship between power, innocence, and what it means for a young woman to lose both. It also asks a question about choice, about how much power we really have over ourselves, our actions, over who we become.
The film opens with a voiceover (that bookends the film) of India telling us, “Just as a flower does not choose its color, we are not responsible for what we have come to be. Only once you realize this do you become free.” This, contrasted with what the film reveals about Charlie’s past and India’s present—and the similarities of both—raise an important, albeit subtle point regarding mental health and the genetic predisposition of mental illness. Stoker takes it even further though, with a welcomed feminist slant; because, while India seems to make difficult choices to protect her mother and herself from violence at the hands of men, we’re ultimately left wondering just how much of a choice—like many women in relationships with abusive men—she really has.

2013 Oscar Week: The Roundup

Academy Awards Commentary:

“Oscar Hosts Preferable to Seth MacFarlane: An Abbreviated List” by Robin Hitchcock

“This Needs No Explanation” by Stephanie Rogers

“Fun with Stats: Best Actor/Actress Nominations vs. Best Picture Nominations” by Robin Hitchcock

“5 People Who Should Host the Oscars at Some Point” by Lady T

“Fun with Stats: Winners of Oscars for Acting by Age” by Robin Hitchcock

“2013 Academy Awards Diversity Checklist” by Lady T

“Race and the Academy: Black Characters, Stories and the Danger of Django by Leigh Kolb

“5 Female-Directed Films That Deserved Oscar Nominations” by James Worsdale

“Best Actress Nominee Rundown” by Rachel Redfern

“Feminism and the Oscars: Do This Year’s Best Picture Nominees Pass the Bechdel Test?” by Megan Kearns

“Academy Documentaries: People’s Stories, Men’s Voices” by Jo Custer


Amour: nominated for Best Picture; Best Actress, Emmanuelle Riva; Best Director, Michael Haneke; Best Foreign Language Film; Best Original Screenplay, Michael Haneke

“Best Actress Nominee Rundown” by Rachel Redfern


Life of Pi: nominated for Best Picture; Best Cinematography, Claudio Miranda; Best Director, Ang Lee; Best Film Editing, Tim Squyres; Best Original Score, Mychael Danna; Best Original Song, Mychael Danna, Bombay Jayashri; Best Production Design, David Gropman, Anna Pinnock; Best Sound Editing, Eugene Gearty, Philip Stockton; Best Sound Mixing, Ron Bartlett, D.M. Hemphill, Drew Kunin; Best Visual Effects, Bill Westenhover, Guillaume Rocheron, Erik-Jan De Boer, Donald R. Elliott; Best Adapted Screenplay, David Magee


Argo: nominated for Best Picture; Best Supporting Actor, Alan Arkin; Best Film Editing, William Goldenberg; Best Original Score, Alexandre Desplat; Best Sound Editing, Erik Aadahl, Ethan Van der Ryn; Best Sound Mixing, John Reitz, Gregg Rudloff, Jose Antonio Garcia; Best Adapted Screenplay, Chris Terrio

“Does Argo Suffer from a Woman Problem and Iranian Stereotypes?” by Megan Kearns


Lincoln: nominated for Best Picture; Best Actor, Daniel Day-Lewis; Best Supporting Actor, Tommy Lee Jones; Best Supporting Actress, Sally Field; Best Cinematography, Janusz Kaminski; Best Costume Design, Joanna Johnston; Best Director, Steven Spielberg; Best Film Editing, Michael Kahn; Best Original Score, John Williams; Best Production Design, Rick Carter, Jim Erickson; Best Sound Mixing, Andy Nelson, Gary Rydstrom, Ronald Judkins; Best Adapted Screenplay, Tony Kushner

“In Praise of Sally Field As Mary Todd Lincoln” by Robin Hitchcock


Beasts of the Southern Wild: nominated for Best Picture; Best Actress, Quvenzhané Wallis; Best Director, Benh Zeitlin; Best Adapted Screenplay, Lucy Alibar, Benh Zeitlin

“Best Actress Nominee Rundown” by Rachel Redfern

Beasts of the Southern Wild: Gender, Race and a Powerful Female Protagonist in the Most Buzzed About Film” by Megan Kearns

Beasts of the Southern Wild: I Didn’t Get It” by Robin Hitchcock

“Cosmology, Gender, and Quvenzhané Wallis: Beasts of the Southern Wild by Max Thornton

Beasts of the Southern Wild: Deluge Myths” by Laura A. Shamas


Silver Linings Playbook: nominated for Best Picture; Best Actor, Bradley Cooper; Best Actress, Jennifer Lawrence; Best Supporting Actor, Robert De Niro; Best Supporting Actress, Jacki Weaver; Best Director, David O. Russell; Best Film Editing, Jay Cassidy, Crispin Struthers; Best Adapted Screenplay, David O. Russell

“Best Actress Nominee Rundown” by Rachel Redfern

Silver Linings Playbook, or, As I Like to Call It: fuckyeahjenniferlawrence” by Stephanie Rogers


Django Unchained: nominated for Best Picture; Best Supporting Actor, Christoph Waltz; Best Cinematography, Robert Richardson; Best Sound Editing, Wylie Stateman; Best Original Screenplay, Quentin Tarantino

“From a Bride with a Hanzo Sword to a Damsel in Distress: Did Quentin Tarantino’s Feminism Take a Step Backwards in Django Unchained?” by Tracy Bealer

“Heroic Black Love and Male Privilege in Django Unchained by Joshunda Sanders

“The Power of Narrative in Django Unchained by Leigh Kolb

“Race and the Academy: Black Characters, Stories and the Danger of Django by Leigh Kolb


Zero Dark Thirty: nominated for Best Picture; Best Actress, Jessica Chastain; Best Film Editing, Dylan Tichenor, William Goldenberg; Best Sound Editing, Paul N.J. Ottosson; Best Original Screenplay, Mark Boal

“Best Actress Nominee Rundown” by Rachel Redfern

“Jessica Chastain’s Performance Propels the Exquisitely Sharp But Aloof Zero Dark Thirty by Candice Frederick

Zero Dark Thirty Raises Questions on Gender and Torture, Gives No Easy Answers” by Megan Kearns

“The Zero Dark Thirty Controversy: What Does Jessica Chastain’s Beauty Have to Do With It?” by Lady T

“Maya from Zero Dark Thirty Is an Emotional Character” by Alison Vingiano


Les Misérables: nominated for Best Picture; Best Actor, Hugh Jackman; Best Supporting Actress, Anne Hathaway; Best Costume Design, Paco Delgado; Best Makeup and Hairstyling, Lisa Westcott, Julie Dartnell; Best Original Song, Claude-Michel Schonberg, Herbert Kretzmer, Alain Boublil; Best Production Design, Eve Stewart, Anna Lynch-Robinson; Best Sound Mixing, Andy Nelson, Mark Paterson, Simon Hayes

“Extreme Weight Loss for Roles Is Not ‘Required’ and Not Praiseworthy” by Robin Hitchcock

Les Misérables: The Feminism Behind the Barricades” by Leigh Kolb

Les Misérables, Sex Trafficking & Fantine as a Symbol for Women’s Oppression” by Megan Kearns

Les Misérables: Some Musicals Are More Feminist Than Others” by Natalie Wilson


Flight: nominated for Best Actor, Denzel Washington; Best Original Screenplay, John Gatins

“The Women in Whip Whitaker’s Life: Representations of Female Characters in Flight by Martyna Przybysz

Flight‘s Unintentional Pro-Woman Message” by Lady T


The Impossible: nominated for Best Actress, Naomi Watts

“Best Actress Nominee Rundown” by Rachel Redfern

“It’s ‘Impossible’ Not to See the White-Centric Point of View” by Lady T


The Master: nominated for Best Actor, Joaquin Phoenix; Best Supporting Actor, Philip Seymour Hoffman; Best Supporting Actress, Amy Adams

The Master: A Movie About White Dudes Talking About Stuff” by Stephanie Rogers


The Sessions: nominated for Best Supporting Actress, Helen Hunt

“On Sex, Disability, and Helen Hunt in The Sessions by Stephanie Rogers

“The Transformative Journey of Sex in The Sessions by Rachel Redfern

“Depicting Sex Surrogacy in The Sessions by Alisande Fitzsimons


Brave: nominated for Best Animated Film

“Why I’m Excited About Pixar’s Brave & Its Kick-Ass Female Protagonist … Even If She Is Another Princess” by Megan Kearns

“Will Brave‘s Warrior Princess Merida Usher in a New Kind of Role Model for Girls?” by Megan Kearns

“The Princess Archetype in the Movies” by Laura A. Shamas

Brave and the Legacy of Female Prepubescent Power Fantasies” by Amanda Rodriguez


Frankenweenie: nominated for Best Animated Film


ParaNorman: nominated for Best Animated Film

“The Brainy Message of ParaNorman by Natalie Wilson


The Pirates! Band of Misfits: nominated for Best Animated Film


Wreck-It Ralph: nominated for Best Animated Film

Wreck-It Ralph Is Flawed But Still Pretty Feminist” by Myrna Waldron


Anna Karenina: nominated for Best Cinematography, Seamus McGarvey; Best Costume Design, Jacqueline Durran; Best Original Score, Dario Marianelli; Best Production Design, Sarah Greenwood, Katie Spencer

Anna Karenina, and the Tragedy of Being a Woman in the Wrong Era” by Erin Fenner


5 Broken Cameras: nominated for Best Documentary

“Academy Documentaries: People’s Stories, Men’s Voices” by Jo Custer


The Gatekeepers: nominated for Best Documentary

“Academy Documentaries: People’s Stories, Men’s Voices” by Jo Custer


How to Survive a Plague: nominated for Best Documentary

How to Survive a Plague: When Aging Itself Becomes a Triumph” by Ren Jender

“Acting Up: A Review of How to Survive a Plague by Diana Suber

“Academy Documentaries: People’s Stories, Men’s Voices” by Jo Custer


The Invisible War: nominated for Best Documentary

The Invisible War Takes on Sexual Assault in the Military” by Soraya Chemaly

“Academy Documentaries: People’s Stories, Men’s Voices” by Jo Custer


Mirror Mirror: nominated for Best Costume Design, Eiko Ishioka

“Trailers for Snow White & the Huntsman and Mirror Mirror Perpetuate Stereotypes of Women, Beauty & Aging and Pit Women Against Each Other” by Megan Kearns

“Happily Never After: The Sad (and Sexist?) Rush to Cast Some of Our Most Promising Young Actresses as Fairy Tale Princesses” by Scott Mendelson


Searching for Sugar Man: nominated for Best Documentary

Searching for Sugar Man Makes Race Invisible” by Robin Hitchcock

“Academy Documentaries: People’s Stories, Men’s Voices” by Jo Custer


Skyfall: nominated for Best Cinematography, Roger Deakins; Best Original Score, Thomas Newman; Best Original Song, Adele Adkins, Paul Epworth; Best Sound Editing, Per Hallberg, Karen Baker Landers; Best Sound Mixing, Scott Millan, Greg P. Russell, Stuart Wilson

“The Sun (Never) Sets on the British Empire: The Neocolonialism of Skyfall by Max Thornton

Skyfall: It’s M’s World, Bond Just Lives in It” by Margaret Howie


Snow White and the Huntsman: nominated for Best Costume Design, Colleen Atwood; Best Visual Effects, Cedric Nicolas-Troyan, Philip Brennan, Neil Corbould, Michael Dawson

“Trailers for Snow White & the Huntsman and Mirror Mirror Perpetuate Stereotypes of Women, Beauty & Aging and Pit Women Against Each Other” by Megan Kearns

Snow White and the Huntsman: A Better Role Model?” by Allison Heard

“Happily Never After: The Sad (and Sexist?) Rush to Cast Some of Our Most Promising Young Actresses as Fairy Tale Princesses” by Scott Mendelson

“A Feminist Review of Snow White and the Huntsman by Rachel Redfern

“The Princess Archetype in the Movies” by Laura A. Shamas

“Matriarchal Impositions of Beauty in Snow White and the Huntsman by Carleen Tibbets


Chasing Ice: nominated for Best Original Song, J. Ralph


A Royal Affair: nominated for Best Foreign Language Film (Denmark)

A Royal Affair by Rosalind Kemp

“More Royal Than Affair” by Atima Omara-Alwala


Hitchcock: nominated for Best Makeup and Hairstyling, Howard Berger, Peter Montagna, Martin Samuel

“Too Many Hitchcocks” by Robin Hitchcock

Hitchcock Turns the Master of Suspense into a Real Life Dud” by Candice Frederick


The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey: nominated for Best Makeup and Hairstyling, Peter Swords King, Rick Findlater, Tami Lane; Best Production Design, Dan Hennah, Ra Vincent, Simon Bright; Best Visual Effects, Joe Letteri, Eric Saindon, David Clayton, R. Christopher White 

The Hobbit: A Totally Expected Bro-Fest” by Erin Fenner

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey: The Addition of Feminine Presence During a Quest for the Ages” by Elise Schwartz


No: nominated for Best Foreign Language Film (Chile)


Ted: nominated for Best Original Song, Walter Murphy, Seth MacFarlane

“Damning Ted with Faint Praise” by Robin Hitchcock


War Witch: nominated for Best Foreign Language Film (Canada)

“A Thorn Like a Rose: War Witch (Rebelle) by Emily Campbell


Kon Tiki: nominated for Best Foreign Language Film (Norway)


The Avengers: nominated for Best Visual Effects, Janek Sirrs, Jeff White, Guy Williams, Dan Sudick

The Avengers, Strong Female Characters and Failing the Bechdel Test” by Megan Kearns

The Avengers: Are We Exporting Media Sexism or Importing It?” by Soraya Chemaly

“Quote of the Day: Scarlett Johansson Tired of Sexist Diet Questions” by Megan Kearns


Moonrise Kingdom: nominated for Best Original Screenplay, Wes Anderson, Roman Coppola

“An Open Letter to Owen Wilson Regarding Moonrise Kingdom by Molly McCaffrey


Prometheus: nominated for Best Visual Effects, Richard Stammers, Trevor Wood, Charley Henley, Martin Hill

“Is Prometheus a Feminist Pro-Choice Metaphor?” by Megan Kearns

“A Feminist Review of Prometheus by Rachel Redfern

Prometheus and the Alien Movies: Feminism and Anti-Feminism” by Rhea Daniel


Documentary Short Film: nominees include Inocente, Kings Point, Mondays at Racine, Open Heart, Redemption

Animated Short Film: nominees include Adam and Dog, Fresh Guacamole, Head over Heels, Paperman, Maggie Simpson in “The Longest Daycare”

Short Live Action Film: nominees include Asad, Buzkashi Boys, Curfew, Death of a Shadow (Dood van een Schaduw), Henry


Guest Writer Wednesday: "Girls Make Movies Too": Riding on Kim Swift’s Call to Arms

This is a guest post from the New York Film Academy Faculty.
A few weeks ago, the incredibly talented Kim Swift wrote an outspoken blog post which resonated with people who are keen to see a positive shift in the industry. 
Now rightfully recognized as a creative powerhouse in the industry, Swift notes that it was only down to parental support and determination which got her so far in a male-dominated industry rather than any notable female role models. “I didn’t see a person with two X chromosomes that I could point and go ‘Yes, if she did it, so can I!’” 
Swift went on to add: “So, I have a secret wish. Whenever I’m in the public eye, whether it’s doing PR or giving a talk – and this is going to sound amazingly corny — I hope that there’s a little girl out there that sees me and thinks to herself, “Oh look! Girls make games too.” 
And save for the last two words of that quote, or any prior knowledge of Kim’s work, you’d think she was talking about the film industry.
Although the gaming and film industry has many parallels, none are more prevalent than the male-centricity which run deep in both. If anything, girls in gaming have had a rougher ride over the past few decades than chicks in flicks, especially since leading ladies in film are often treated in reverence whereas their virtual sisters are nearly always sexualized to the point of banality. Either way, we can still borrow a lot of Kim’s wisdom when it comes to women driving the engine behind the curtain.
Is it Getting Better Anyway?
Arguably, yes. There has been a big paradigm shift in the last five years in gaming and the same is true – of an arguably lesser scale – in Hollywood. Even if the possibility of direct intervention is slim, the more the community writes on feminist issues in film, the more we raise consciousness amongst the general moviegoer and studios gradually move to meet demand. Although they had a few minor issues, movies like last year’s Brave and Hunger Games were a step in the right direction and proved to the establishment that they won’t be punished in the box office for empowering female leads.
So that’s the front of the house seemingly in order, or at least on the up. But what about the back of the shop? 
It’s not looking good. 
Around a decade ago, the figures were extremely grim. The representation of women in the fields of writing, directing, production and cinematography have always been shocking – bouncing up and down by a couple of percent points every year for the last decade – but as of 2011 (the latest figures we have) show that things are about as worse as ever. 
According to long-windedly named (but totally brilliant) Center for the Study of Women in Television & Film, only 5% of the top grossing films of 2011 were directed by women. That’s the lowest its been in… well, we can’t find statistics for any year in which we’ve had less female directors. Women wrote 14% of the top grossing films for 2011, a four-point improvement over 2010, but it still leaves a lot to be desired. A good overview of all the figures available was posted on Indiewire which, when collated like this, posts a pretty embarrassing picture. 
And there’s no excuse for such shockingly low numbers. The Center itself published an illuminating study into box office returns back in 2008 (well worth reading in full), demonstrating that: when women and men filmmakers have similar budgets for their films, the resulting box office grosses are also similar. In other words, the sex of filmmakers does not determine box office grosses.
Blowing The Winds of Change 
It would be very easy to look at such figures and become despondent. But this is where a touch of positivity – a la Kim Swift – rather than negativity comes into play. 
As she rightly points out, in such competitive industries it can be career suicide to put your head above the parapet too much or too often. But we need female professionals to wax lyrical about their craft in a public forum now more than ever. We’re not talking about the film writers and reviewers – heck, we’ve always been out to make as much noise as possible, and always will. We’re also not talking so much about the actresses who are already doing fine PR work. 
What we want to see is every ‘invisible’ female film professional being more vocal about what it means to be a female working in a male-dominated industry, even if it’s someone who considers themselves to be ‘just a sound editor’ starting up a blog to talk about how much she loves her job. Only with a focus on all- inclusive film making, be it on a college level or higher, can we expect a positive swing into the next generation of creatives over the next couple of decades. 
And if you’re not in the industry but a film fanatic nonetheless, be sure to spread the above figures (or this blog post) anywhere you can. 
Change comes from the bottom up. 
———-
At New York Film Academy, all programs are based on the philosophy of “learning by doing.” NYFA offers an intensive, hands-on, total immersion approach to learning. The academy maintains an unparalleled faculty and one of the largest film and production equipment inventories in the world. Courses offered include Filmmaking, Acting for Film, Producing, Screenwriting, Documentary, Cinematography, Game Design, Animation and Photography.

Let’s All Take a Deep Breath and Calm the Fuck Down About Lena Dunham

Lena Dunham and the cast of Girls

Written by Stephanie Rogers. 

Dear Lena Dunham Haters,
I’m sick of the Lena Dunham hate.
I’m not referring to the criticisms of Dunham, which are—in most cases—valid and necessary critiques of her privilege, especially how that privilege translates into her work. The first season of Girls in particular either ignored people of color entirely, which is problematic enough since the show takes place in Brooklyn (a predominantly Black neighborhood), but when it did include people of color, they tended to appear as stereotypes (nannies, homeless, etc), and Dunham absolutely deserves to be called out for that.
But I’m sick of the Lena Dunham hate
Just take a moment and Google the phrase “I hate Lena Dunham.” Feel free to spend some time browsing through the more than a million results. Searches related to “I hate Lena Dunham” include such gems as “Lena Dunham annoying,” “how much does Lena Dunham weigh,” and “what size is Lena Dunham.”
We live in a society that constantly undervalues and devalues the work of women while simultaneously expecting that the work we do—from mothering to directing movies—is performed fucking flawlessly. That said, we can’t sit back and pretend the vitriol directed at Dunham isn’t largely about a young woman breaking barriers in an industry that doesn’t like women (especially women who aren’t conventionally attractive and who aren’t gasp! spending all their waking hours apologizing for it). We shouldn’t pretend either that we, as a culture—and that includes women and feminists—haven’t internalized a little bit of this uneasiness surrounding successful women. It makes sense, then, that the undercurrent bubbling beneath all this Dunham hate is the very sexist notion that somehow Dunham doesn’t deserve her success.

Lena Dunham, looking all ungrateful for her unearned success

Elissa Schappel wrote an interesting piece for Salon two weeks ago, right after the Golden Globes ceremony, called “Stop Dumping on Lena Dunham!,” in which she puts forth some excellent counterarguments that a hater might want to consider.
On how Dunham doesn’t deserve the gigantic advance she got for her book deal:
I have yet to hear anyone react to the news of an advance with, “Yep, that seems about right.” It would be great if the writers and books that deserved the most money got it—ditto the same amount of attention and praise. And all the gripe-storming about how slight her book proposal was, and how she’ll never make back her advance—when did we start reviewing book proposals? When did writers start caring so passionately about publishers recouping their losses?

On how Dunham doesn’t deserve her success because she has inside Hollywood connections:
The entertainment industry is not a meritocracy. From before the days of Barrymore to our present age of Bacons and Bridges, Sheen-Estevezes and Zappas family has, for better and worse, equaled opportunity. The Coppola family’s connections and influence are so vast they’d make the mob envious.

On how Dunham doesn’t deserve her success because her show lacks diversity:
I hear the diversity criticism. However, to suggest that “Girls”—a show whose charm lies in part in its documentary-like feel—presents the universe these young women inhabit, working in publishing and the arts, as rich in racial diversity, would be, sadly, to lie. Besides, did anyone ever kvetch about Jerry Seinfeld’s lack of Asian friends?

To take the conversation surrounding non-progressiveness of television in general a bit further, Carly Lewis wrote last April about the sexism behind the Dunham/Girls backlash, and I agree with her:
It’s cute (read: pretty hypocritical, actually) to see this sudden spike in concern over television’s portrayal of women, but this fixation is propelled by the same sense of threatened dudeness that makes a show written by and about women so “controversial” in the first place. If television were an even playing field, Dunham would not be on the cover of New York magazine atop the subheading “Girls is the ballsiest show on TV,” nor would the debut of this series be such a massive deal. (Where are the cultural dissections of CSI: Miami?) The critics calling Girls disingenuous because it stars four white women should redirect their frustration toward misogyny itself, not at the one show trying to fight it.

Lena Dunham, probably getting ready to annoy people with her incessant whining

Admittedly, I have a soft spot for Dunham, having written about her wonderful film Tiny Furniture way back in 2011, before she’d manage to offend the entire nation with her giant thighs and sloppy backside. I think she comes across as genuinely funny and interesting, and I hope that her success—and the hard hits she’s taking because of it—will make the next woman who dares to step out of line (where “line” means “the patriarchal framework”) do so with just as much fearlessness.  

Girls continues to evolve in season two, although I haven’t seen the new episodes yet, and it seems that Dunham has taken the criticisms of racism and lack of diversity seriously. In response to the question from the New York Times Magazine, “Should we expect to see an episode in which the girls get a black friend in Season 2?” she said:
I mean, it’s not going to be like, “Hey guys, we’ve been out looking for a black friend or a friend in a wheelchair or a friend with a hat.” The tough thing is you kind of can’t win on that one. I have to write people who feel honest but also push our cultural ball forward.

And people already have lots of opinions about Dunham’s attempt to accurately represent Brooklyn’s diversity in the second season with the casting of Donald Glover as Sandy, Hannah’s love interest, so I’ll treat you to a few.
Here’s what I think, after watching the first half hour of the season: I admire that Dunham took the criticism she got last year to heart. There are so many examples of how Hollywood ignores this type of thing. In fact, there are whole websites devoted to it. It really seems like she listened; I can’t tell from thirty minutes that everything has been solved, but it seems to be off to a good start? Lena Dunham isn’t so bad? Maybe? I say that with reservation but enthusiasm. Before I go, a couple thoughts on the good and the bad:

Good: I’ll start with positive reinforcement: Girls is definitely more diverse this season!

Bad: That definitely wasn’t the hardest thing to do.

Good: Donald Glover as Sandy! Hannah’s new, fleshed-out, not at all T-Doggy boyfriend.

Bad: I’m just hoping Donald Glover won’t simply be this show’s Charlie Wheeler.

Good: About the extras: A marked improvement in the representation of Brooklyn’s racial mix. So, Lena Dunham created a popular show, a critically acclaimed show, and instead of being, like, “Whatever. They’re all going to watch me anyway!” she actually made an effort to improve her show. That’s good. Very good. And to be honest, she probably realizes that a more realistic mix equals a more realistic world for her characters to live in.

Bad: Again, this is about the extras: There are definitely more black people on the show, but … I mean … I’ll put it this way. Realistic diversity is definitely not in your first season, girl. But it also not this. It’s definitely realistic here. But—it’s not this either, so don’t go overboard.

White Women

Laura Bennett at The New Republic said this:

Dunham uses the Sandy plot line as an opportunity to skewer both the complaints of her critics—Hannah herself echoes them with the misguided assumption that her essays are “for everyone”—and her characters’ blinkered worldview. Glover’s arc on the show is brief, but he is key to illustrating the limited scope of Hannah’s experience. “This always happens,” Sandy tells Hannah during their fight. “I’m a white girl and I moved to New York and I’m having a great time and oh I’ve got a fixed gear bike and I’m gonna date a black guy and we’re gonna go to a dangerous part of town. All that bullshit. I’ve seen it happen. And then they can’t deal with who I am.” Hannah responds with an explosion of goofy knee-jerk progressivism: “You know what, honestly maybe you should think about the fact that you could be fetishizing me. Because how many white women have you dated? Maybe you think of us as one big white blobby mass with stupid ideas. So why don’t you lay this thing down, flip it, and reverse it.” “You just said a Missy Elliot lyric,” Sandy says wearily.

It is wholly unsubtle, but it is still “Girls” at its best, at once affectionate and credible and lightly parodic. There is Hannah: impulsive, oblivious, tangled up in her own sloppy self-justifications. And then there is Lena Dunham, the wary third eye hovering above the action. “The joke’s on you because you know what? I never thought about the fact that you were black once,” Hannah tells Sandy. “I don’t live in a world where there are divisions like this,” she says. His simple reply: “You do.”

Feministing, of course, has been talking about the show since its inception, and Sesali Bowen had this to say about “Dunham’s attempt to introduce racial discourse into her show”:
And I find myself back at the same place I was when Maya and I talked about Beyonce. No, Dunham’s attempt to introduce racial discourse into her show doesn’t suddenly make it diverse, but I think she still deserves some credit. If it sounds like I’m saying: the white girl gets a pass for not painting an accurate portrait of Blackness because she doesn’t have lived context/experience, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Why do we expect “all or nothing” from anyone who dares to align themselves with a few feminist values, even if they don’t call themselves feminists? When will we begin the process of meeting people where they are?

And, as Samhita wrote on this topic, maybe we should spend less time “scrutinizing [Dunham’s] personal behavior instead of looking at the real problem—the lack of diverse representations of women in popular culture.” Do we need to see realistic representations of Black girlhood on television? Yes, that’s why we need more Black girls writing shows. *raises hand* Do we need examples of diversity in film? Yes, that’s why we need more people from diverse backgrounds writing them. Truthfully, I’d rather not leave that task up to a white girl with “no Black friends.”

I love these important conversations! Please, let’s keep having them!
But how about we leave the I HATE LENA DUNHAM BECAUSE SHE SEEMS ENTITLED AND KINDA HORRIBLE AND WHINY AND ISN’T DOING THINGS THE WAY I WOULD DO THEM IF I WERE LENA DUNHAM grossness off the table for five seconds.

Lena Dunham, being all entitled and shit
When I was 26, I was spending my fifth year failing undergrad, drowning in student loan debt (that’s still happening), smoking pot incessantly, binge-eating pepperoni rolls, sleeping through most of my classes on a broken futon, and shoving dryer sheets in my heating vents because my shitty always-drunk neighbors wouldn’t stop chain smoking. Occasionally, out of nowhere, a giant fly would swoop down from some unseen cesspool where flies live and attack me. Those are my memories of being 26. Maybe your memories of being 26 suck way less, and if so, congratulations! But you’re allowed to make mistakes at 26. You’re allowed to learn from those mistakes and evolve into a person who looks back and thinks, “Wow, 26 was rough, and I sucked at it.” That’s a general goddamn life rule, and we aren’t taking it away from Lena Dunham just because she’s a young woman who dares to make her mistakes in public. (Read Jodie Foster’s thought-provoking essay on society’s disgusting unsurprisingly misogynist reactions toward young women acting like young women in public.)
I mean, just to double check, we’re all still cool with Louis C.K., right? I haven’t yet seen season three of Louie, that award-winning show that C.K. writes, directs, produces, edits, and stars in (sound familiar?), but I remember the first few episodes or so of this New York City-set critics’ darling being fairly fucking White, except for a few peripheral characters outside of Louie’s inner circle. And the Black people who do exist (at least in the first season) pretty much serve as vehicles to illustrate Louie’s uncoolness by comparison. (Has anyone given a name to that trope yet?) So, did I miss the accompanying INTERNET FREAKOUT, or does this bro maybe represent—I dunno—society’s favorite quintessential middle-aged, balding white dude who can’t get laid, that we all find so endearing and impossible not to love?
Did I also miss the 100% JUSTIFIED NOT REALLY BECAUSE IT NEVER HAPPENED OUTRAGE over C.K. exposing his huge gut and sloppy backside to the masses—whether he’s climbing on top of hot women (duh) or getting a totally unnecessary (because assault is funny!) rectal exam from doctor-character Ricky Gervais? And we’re all still cool with his awkward and embarrassing sex scenes, right? Because they’re just … so … what’s that word people keep railing against when it’s used to describe the sex scenes in Girls … oh yeah … “REAL” … ?

“Eh, what are you gonna do?” –privileged White dudes everywhere, in response to rarely getting called out for their bullshit

My bad. I’m probably missing something, since Chuck Bowen called Louie “possibly the most racially integrated television show ever made,” (I’ll admit “Dentist/Tarese” is an interesting episode toward the end of season one) and there isn’t at all an inkling of a double standard at play here regarding what we consider “acceptable” bodies to display onscreen. (Sidenote: I love, not really, how groundbreaking it is that C.K. cast a Black woman to play his ex-wife in season three of Louie, yet we’re still treated to that “schlubby dude landing a hot lady” trope. I can’t keep suspending my disbelief forever, boys.)
Sorry, tangent. But seriously.
If I sound like a Lena Dunham apologist aka “a fucking pig who can go to hell,” let me clarify (again): Lena Dunham should be—and certainly has been, I mean fuck—criticized for her show’s failings. Most television shows and films for that matter would benefit even from a miniscule amount of the kind of intense anger flung at Girls over its racism and lack of diversity. But I’m angry that people—including women and feminists—can’t seem to criticize Lena Dunham’s show without launching into sexist attacks against Lena Dunham, in the same way I was angry when people couldn’t (and still can’t) separate their criticisms of Sarah Palin’s conservative policies from their sexist attacks against Sarah Palin.
So, if nothing else, I give you these few words and phrases to move away from when talking about Lena Dunham: “whiny” … “annoying” … “ugly” … “gross” … “frumpy” … “hot mess” … “neurotic” … “slutty” … you get the idea.

NEPOTISM NARCISSISM LENA’S BODY UGH

The truth is, ultimately, it doesn’t matter to me who likes Girls and who doesn’t. For what it’s worth, I liked the first season, mainly because I’ve been writing about representations of women in film and television for five years, and it was nice for once to know I wouldn’t have to analyze every scene to figure out whether this show passed The Bechdel Test. It sort of blew my mind to hear women talk to one another about abortion, HPV, colposcopies, virginity, and menopause, like, repeatedly—and with no unnecessary mansplainy perspective involved. I think the show actually makes a pretty serious case against living like an entitled, culturally insulated hipster, while still managing to love its characters. But I understand, even excluding the criticisms regarding lack of diversity, that people still legitimately dislike the show for other reasons. That’s allowed. I hate Two and a Half Men and Family Guy and The Big Bang Theory and How I Met Your Mother and every other White-dominated show on television that keeps pretending women exist merely as fucktoys and mommies to their manchildren, and that’s allowed too.
But if you’re having an epic conniption over HOW HORRIBLE GIRLS IS OMG WHY DOES ANYONE LIKE IT LENA DUNHAM IS THE WORST, maybe it’s time to evaluate the hate—not dislike of, or boredom with, or ambivalence toward—but the actual hatred of Girls Lena Dunham, and why it’s really there.