Quote of the Day: Roseanne Barr

Roseanne Barr

In her recent New York Magazine piece, Roseanne Barr talks about creating and starring in a number-one sitcom, and relates her experience to the breakdown of Charlie Sheen, the state of comedy today, and the hostility Hollywood has toward women--and especially working-class women. Here's an excerpt. I highly recommend reading the entire piece here.

Hollywood hates labor, and hates shows about labor worse than any other thing. And that’s why you won’t be seeing another Roseanne anytime soon. Instead, all over the tube, you will find enterprising, overmedicated, painted-up, capitalist whores claiming to be housewives. But I’m not bitter.

Nothing real or truthful makes its way to TV unless you are smart and know how to sneak it in, and I would tell you how I did it, but then I would have to kill you. Based on Two and a Half Men’s success, it seems viewers now prefer their comedy dumb and sexist. Charlie Sheen was the world’s most famous john, and a sitcom was written around him. That just says it all. Doing tons of drugs, smacking prostitutes around, holding a knife up to the head of your wife—sure, that sounds like a dream come true for so many guys out there, but that doesn’t make it right! People do what they can get away with (or figure they can), and Sheen is, in fact, a product of what we call politely the “culture.” Where I can relate to the Charlie stuff is his undisguised contempt for certain people in his work environment and his unwillingness to play a role that’s expected of him on his own time.

But, again, I’m not bitter. I’m really not. The fact that my fans have thanked and encouraged me for doing what I used to get in trouble for doing (shooting my big mouth off) has been very healing. And somewhere along the way, I realized that TV and our culture had changed because of a woman named Roseanne Conner, whom I am honored to have written jokes for.

Bitch Flicks' Weekly Picks

Men outshouting women on radio from the f-word blog

Why we all need to see Bridesmaids from I Will Not Diet

Thelma and Louise Turns 20 from Women and Hollywood

Does Oprah's Finale Herald the Rapture? from WIMN's Voices Blog

Beyonce: Girls Run the World (Cue the Apocalypse!) from Ms. blog

Who Run the World? GIRLS! Who Wrote the Song? MEN! from Goddesses Rising

Dove: Visibly More White Beautiful Skin from Feministe

Short Skirts and Inappropriate Gender Messages in Tide Commercial from Marinagraphy

Leave your links in the comments!

Summer Movie Preview

Just kidding! This is another "From the Archive" post...but it's pretty safe to say that this will be relevant for the summer movie season, as well.

From the Archive: Norma Rae

I'm feeling a little nostalgic (and I'm on vacation), so today I'm reposting the very first review I wrote for Bitch Flicks, way back in March 2008. It's a movie I loved and still love, and is definitely worth your time if you haven't seen it.

Norma Rae

Sally Field’s career, honestly, hasn’t meant much to me. Aside from recent Boniva commercials, Forrest Gump, and Steel Magnolias, I haven’t seen much of her work. She’s always struck me as a respectable actress, but not someone I seek out from a personal interest. Not being familiar with her early career, her so-called serious turn in Norma Rae was lost on me. What wasn’t lost, however, was an honest portrayal of a working woman, and a social issue that continues to dog women and men (though women, I suspect, suffer more from lack of unions) everywhere.

A primary question about social fiction is whether the story remains relevant, or if the sociopolitical situation remains mired in the past. Norma Rae does retain relevance, though she’d likely be working in Wal-Mart today instead of a textile mill (as I watched, I wondered how many textile mills still operate in the U.S.). While the movie seems to be a window on a past time in working America, it’s still relevant—and progressive—on many levels.

The plot of Norma Rae is inspired by the real life experience of Crystal Lee Jordan, a woman who worked in a North Carolina mill to unionize its employees, spurred on by an out-of-town organizer, until being fired on a bogus charge of "insubordination." Norma Rae (played by Field, who won the Best Actress Oscar for the role) lives with her parents in the beginning of the movie, and reunites with an old friend who she marries after a brief courtship. As Norma Rae becomes more involved with union activities, the she experiences the usual relationship (romantic, familial, and work) strains, but doesn't quit until the mill bosses force her out. It's at this time she makes her famous stand; she refuses to leave, scrawls "UNION" on a piece of cardboard, stands on a table in the middle of a busy factory floor, and stoically remains--in an exhilarating climax to the film--until all her fellow employees shut down their machines and stand with her. She's arrested and fired in the end, but finishes what she started and believed in.

It's true that Field gives a standout performance, and the union-organizer Rueben (played by Ron Liebman) isn't bad either. But what stands out for me in the film--and what makes this, in my opinion, a good piece of feminist muckraking--is the character's relationship with men. We don't learn too much about her relationship with other women, but what's striking about her relationship with men is the lack of romanticism involved. Norma Rae has a couple of kids from a couple of different men--neither of whom are present in their lives--and when she marries Sonny, it's for entirely pragmatic reasons. He proposes while on a date with both their children present, and makes his case to her that he's a good man and that their lives might be easier if they lived them together. There's no grand romance, and it's refreshing to see marriage represented as the economic institution that it essentially is--particularly in the face of contemporary Hollywood, which just can't seem to make a movie without a romantic sub-plot geared toward female viewers.

The other--and more prominent--relationship in the movie is between Norma Rae and Rueben. I admit that while watching the movie I waited for romance to blossom between these two characters, but felt great relief when it never happened. We see their relationship go from cautious skepticism to a fully fledged friendship, as Norma Rae becomes dedicated to the union cause. There are few representations of purely intellectual relationships (not to mention asexual friendships) between men and women that come to mind in movies, and though one could certainly argue that there is sexual antagonism underlying their interaction, it's an emotion that stays below the surface, never consummated--all the way to their farewell handshake at the end of the movie.

Norma Rae isn’t a super mother, nor does she fit the description of a woman we’re typically supposed to look up to. She's made mistakes in her life and she'll probably make a few more. She's not looking to move away from her roots and improve her life based on others' terms; she doesn't act out of selfish desire. In other words, she's a rarity in film: a real woman. 

Degrassi, Teens, and Rape Apologism

This guest post by Marcia Herring previously appeared at Feministing.

A recent plot line in popular teen drama Degrassi: the Next Generation featured what was, for all rights and purposes, date rape. Instead of taking the standard track for the show, Degrassi ignored the issue and made the abusive actions of character Declan all right to thousands of teens watching.

If you are unfamiliar with Degrassi, you can watch the episodes in question ("Love Lockdown, Parts 1 and 2") here.

Oh, Degrassi. What hath thou wrought?

Background: Tackling issues that many teen dramas often avoid, or get wrong, Degrassi wins awards for its cliched and intense portrayal of high school life. Early years of the Next Generation saw several plotlines getting censored on American television: an abortion, a lesbian relationship, drug usage and consequences, school violence. Now Canadian and American networks work closely together to ensure that the programming is top notch and groundbreaking, including, earlier this year, the first transgender young adult on television (which was, by the way, handled incredibly).

The range of success in portraying teen issues varies, but ever since the original incarnation of Degrassi Junior High in the 1980s, the show has been used as a teaching tool for social situations and family discussions. In the absence of after school specials about what the kids get into these days, it is shows like Degrassi that perhaps show youth positive options to problems they may face.

A History of Rape: Degrassi is no stranger to rape. In season two, bitchy cheerleader Paige was coerced by a guy she liked into an upstairs room at a party, immediately pushed past her comfort zone, and, while shouting "No," held down and raped. As Feminist Music Geek notes, she used music to help overcome feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness to fight back, and testified against her rapist in court. Later, in season 6, uptight Christian Darcy decided to cut loose and go wild for a weekend: this backfired when her drink was roofied. When she woke up next to her boyfriend, she assumed they had engaged in consensual sex, which was, in itself, bad enough because Darcy had sworn to remain a virgin until marriage. Eventually, enough memory of the night came back (and Peter swore he had done nothing) that Darcy believed she had been raped. She got tested, had an STD, and began a downward spiral that involved a suicide attempt, and sexual advances toward a teacher who tried to help her. Both girls have slow healing processes, but they are shown to heal through extended plotlines, and the recurring issues that these involve (though Darcy is written out of the show so that Shenae Grimes could join the cast of 90210).

Demographics: Now. In addition to teaching life lessons, Degrassi has to drive an audience. The Degrassi audience is, for the purposes of this argument, comprised of 5 somewhat equal parts. Part one is loyal fans. These have seen every episode of every incarnation of the show, and will watch every week. They probably participate in some kind of fandom, whether it be following someone involved on Twitter or reading/writing fanfiction. Part two are new fans. These fluctuate with every generation or group of students that go through. These are the screaming fangirls who tune in when their favorite character has a plotline but doze off at other times. Part three are casual viewers, those who stay on the channel if they have nothing better to do and generally recognize the characters. Part four are parents of teens watching the show, and educators. They might watch with intent to monitor their childrens’ intake, or simply to partake in family time. They offer commentary on the action and are a sounding board for questions that viewers have, stirred up by the episode. They might even be fans themselves. Part five is a wild card: friend of a friend who has to watch the new episode at a sleepover. Boyfriend of a part one. Someone who marathons the show for a week, but then encounters a mean fan and drops the show.

An ideal Degrassi episode will have something for all of these audiences: fanservice (read: hot guys or the couple du jour) for the flighty new group, the structured and dramatic plot that older fans have come to expect, something to keep casual viewers coming back, and an educational value for parents and educators.

Thesis: The recent two-part episode "Love Lockdown" failed on a moral level, one from which I am not sure Degrassi can recover, no matter how many successful episodes follow.

Background: Holly J and Declan began dating in season 9 when he convinced her that he liked her take-charge, sometimes-bitchy attitude and was willing to go the extra mile to find out about her life. Their relationship was often physical, and focused on financial aspects as Declan’s family is very rich and Holly J’s family became quite poor. During their summer vacation (Holly J’s internship) to New York City, Holly J engaged in a rivalry over Declan with his sister, which resulted in Declan’s fluctuating behavior: at first angrily siding with his sister and then dramatically requesting forgiveness on a live television broadcast.

Later, in season 10, Holly J and Fiona (Declan’s sister) have a new friendship, one that is consistently troubled with issues of purchased affections. It is no wonder that this spreads into the relationship between Holly J and Declan: he has been living in New York, and believes that smooth-talking and a beautiful necklace will reassure his place in Holly J’s heart. They go on a break.

In Declan’s absense, Holly J and Sav engage in a casual relationship: flirty and physical. They always appear smiling and happy. Towards recent episodes this might even indicate deeper feelings than their original "only until graduation" pledge.

"Love Lockdown, Part 1": In "Love Lockdown Part 1," Declan returns. His goal is to convince Holly J to get back with him. From the moment he sees her with Sav, he does not register Sav as a threat, but as an obstacle to be brushed aside. He just needs to get some time alone with Holly J, and then she will see. For most of the evening, she sticks to Sav’s side (to Declan’s frustration, the episodes are told at his perspective) until Declan creates the perfect distraction: set up a sweet DJ booth for Sav the aspiring musician at a party. This gives Declan the in he has been wanting, where Holly J promptly turns him down. "I’m not going to do anything tonight/at this party"/"I have a boyfriend" are variations on Holly J’s replies to Declan’s pleading. He doesn’t get it.

Little sister to the rescue: Habitual drunk Fiona plays up her level of drunkenness for the sake of big brother’s love life, leaning heavily on her best friend and big brother. Holly J knows how to handle this situation and sends Sav home. Once Fiona is safely tucked in bed, Holly J and Declan are left alone, in the dark, on the sofa. A few words of concern about Fiona, and Declan’s agenda is back on the table. Holly J reiterates that she has a boyfriend, that she isn’t comfortable doing anything, that she doesn’t want to. Words that Declan ignores, kissing her shoulder, her neck. "We shouldn’t." He kisses her cheek, turns her head, kisses her mouth, and she, reluctantly kisses back as the episode ends.

The reaction: Two definitive camps. Holly J was raped. No means no. And, If you think Holly J was raped you are stupid. 

One fan's reaction.

 Most of the replies to this insisted that kissing and "spreading your legs" do in fact indicate consent. 

Another fan's reaction.

Victim blaming. Rape only exists under certain conditions. Holly J wasn’t raped because she didn’t really resist. Real victims suffer for years, they are beaten, drugged, and really abused. Holly J is fine.

"Love Lockdown, Part 2": The description of the episode: "Holly J feels extremely conflicted about what happened with Declan at his party." This episode too, though not as much as part 1, is framed in Declan’s narrative.

Holly J and Fiona:

"Last night, I didn’t want things to go as far as they did."

"Like, as in sex? You and Declan have done that before."

"No. Last night, I felt … pressured."

Holly J and Declan:

"I didn’t want to. I told you that!"

"I thought that was because of Sav!"

"Does it matter why?"

Okay, so we’re on the right track, at least to recover from something atrocious. Right? And then, Holly J gets into Yale with Declan … and ... 

"I don’t know how I feel."

"He thinks that you think he raped you."

"I never said that."

Holly J is backpedaling. Protecting herself from the pain she ends up feeling anyway. Rape is a stigma and a label that she obviously doesn’t want, so she denies it.

Part of the final scene, Holly J and Declan:

"I don’t… think you raped me."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"Do you hate me?"

"I regret what happened."

The reaction: A potentially facetious remark in tumblr RP, made to thedeclancoyne: "Congrats on not being a rapist."

The results: Internalized rationalizations. If you were in a relationship once, there is always a chance to rekindle, even if you use coercion. If a guy is hot, you probably want it. If you dated a guy once, had sex willingly with him once, you probably want it again. If you say no, but then go along with it, you are saying yes. If you are smart and sassy under normal circumstances but don’t put those skills to use under duress, you obviously didn’t really feel threatened.

These statements fit in perfectly with contemporary culture’s view on rape, but not with what our youth should be learning. Take a look at a few of the graphics and campaigns.

Would it have been difficult for Degrassi to take a step back from the heart-throb Declan’s point of view for a moment, to truly examine the situation, to show viewers that Holly J was over-rationalizing, acting fearful and in denial, instead of staying in Declan’s view and getting a romanticized picture of potential future love? NO.

"Love Lockdown, Parts 1 and 2" is a plotline that asks viewers to side with Declan and apologize for his rape of Holly J. This is simply unacceptable. And then, what prompted me to finally finish up this meta, teennick used this as a valentine:

The lines he used—"back when he was with Jane" (quote @teennick) to initially hook up with her— while she was hesitant, and already dating Spinner. His tradition of claiming and power in relationships is long. And instead of punishing him, we get a Declan valentine.

As of the posting of this entry, Holly J’s plot has not been resolved or addressed.



Marcia Herring is a rollergirl receptionist from Southeast Missouri. She is still working on her graduate degree, but swears to have it done someday. She spends most of her time watching television and movies and wishes she could listen to music and read while doing so without going insane. 

Bitch Flicks' Weekly Picks

DGA Says 'No' to Women from Works By Women

'Thelma & Louise' at 20 from Macleans

The Tony Awards, 2011 from The Feminist Spectator

Tropes vs. Women: #4 The Evil Demon Seductress from Bitch Media

At Cannes, Women With Diverse Visions from the New York Times

Hollywood's Diversity Problem Predictably Blamed On The Recession from Jezebel

Magazines, T.V. and Disney: The Negative Portrayal of Beauty in the Media from fbomb

The 10 Most Powerful Women in Television from Ad Week

Achilles Effect: Boys, Pop Culture, and Gender from Achilles Effect

Rape Is Still Rape, and No Still Means NO! from Ms. Magazine

Sound-Off: Is Beyonce Sending the Wrong Message? from Essence


Leave your links in the comments!

[UPDATE: All links should actually work now.]

Quote of the Day: Janet McCabe

Feminist Film Studies: Writing the Woman into Cinema by Janet McCabe (2004). Part of the Wallflower Short Cuts Series.

Leading comedic roles for women in film and television are often relegated to "romantic" comedy and these women still, in 2011, struggle to break into the classification of comedy--without modifiers--and remain relegated to the dreaded "chick flick" (a term that the title of this website plays off of).

From the section "Romantic comedy and gender" in the book Feminist Film Studies: Writing the Woman into Cinema.

Television comedy is another area of recent feminist inquiry, which investigates in particular star performance, joke-making techniques and the television audience. Alexander Doty (1990), investigating the interplay between the star image of Lucille Ball and the character she plays in I Love Lucy (Desilu Productions Inc/CBS, 1951-57) argues that Lucy Ricardo is constructed as the zany, loveable, ditzy and talentless housewife and mother based on the denial, repression and (re)construction of Ball's star image. Patricia Mellencamp (1997) is another scholar fascinated by Lucille Ball's slapstick routines. Recuperating Ball's performance as an act of defiance from the confinement of the domestic space allows her to locate the radical underpinnings of the show for female viewers. Each week Lucy unsuccessfully attempting to escape domesticity and break into show business. They physical comic routines performed by Ball offered a means of challenging patriarchy as she upstages her husband/other men; and this is what audiences tuned in to see. Drawing on Freud's theory of humorous pleasures (that is, humour used to avoid emotional pain) enables Mellencamp to argue that laughter directed at Lucy's performance of being talentless - 'her wretched, off-key singing, her mugging facial exaggerations and out-of-step dancing [is] paradoxically both the source of the audience's pleasure and the narrative necessity for housewifery' (1997: 73). She contends that Lucy's situation made visible the real dilemmas faced by many women: 'Given the repressive conditions of the 1950s, humour might have been women's weapon and tactic of survival, ensuring sanity, the triumph of the ego, and pleasures' (ibid).

One of the most sustained discussions on gender, representation and cross-cultural theories is Kathleen Rowe's study of the unruly woman (1995). Using theoretical models from Mikhail Bakhtin concerned with the grotesque, Rowe identifies the grotesque body as ultimately the female body - often an outrageous, voluptuous, loud, joke-cracking dissenter or 'woman on top'. The unruly female is not about gender confusion but inverting dominant social, cultural and political conventions; unruliness occurs when those who are socially or politically inferior (normally, women) use humour and excess to undermine patriarchal norms and authority. Focusing on Roseanne Arnold allows her to suggest how Roseanne's star image and her television situation (Carsey-Werner Company/ABC, 1988-1997) disrupt and expose the gap between feminist liberation (informed by second-wave feminism) and the realities of working-class family life (those of whom feminist liberation left behind), between ideals of true womanhood and unruliness to challenge notions of a patriarchal construction of femininity. Making a spectacle of herself - her overweight body, her physical excesses, her performance as loud and brash - reveals ambivalence as the unruly woman speaks out. Difficulties faced by Roseanne in the press with the vitriol directed at her 'make known the problems of representing what in our culture still remains largely unrepresentable: a fat woman who is also sexual; a sloppy housewife who's a good mother; a "loose" woman who is also tidy, who hates matrimony but loves her husband, who hates the ideology of true womanhood, yet considers herself a domestic goddess' (1995:91).

As I hope is clear, feminist critics disclose how television culture is informed by context and given meaning through the ways in which particular programmes are consumed, how narratives are experienced and what they mean to the female viewer - what television series says about women and how media texts function in their daily lives. Through interviews, Deborah Jermyn (2003) analyses how women talk about the series in an effort to understand what Sex and the City (HBO, 1998-2004) means to female fans. Pivotal here is the point at which Jermyn's own fandom intersects with the experience of those she interviewed - it is a moment that allows her to reveal both the pleasures and difficulties involved in understanding how fan culture operates and how to speak about it.

I Love Lucy and Roseanne are two shows that were able to reach a large mainstream audience, while Sex and the City remained, most definitely, for female audiences (as has the atrocious film franchise). Yet Sex and the City is very different from these two other shows, in that it is (for the most part) about women who aren't in these traditional domestic roles.

What leading women of comedy since the 90s reach across gender divides and avoid the ghettoization of the "chick flick?" Who are the new "unruly" women? Does Tyler Perry's Madea count? (I'm only half joking here.) I'd love to hear readers' thoughts on these matters.

Guest Writer Wednesday: The Hollywood Concept of Collateral Beauty

This guest post also appears at Djelloul Marbrook's web site.

One of the reasons I like the television series Bones is that women are doing well there, something you can’t say of Game of Thrones, The Borgias or Camelot or the many other shows where women are de rigeur decoration.

I don’t know if it’s occurred to filmmakers, but they’re a lot like museum curators who keep the work of women artists in their basements and then claim women are well represented within their four walls.

Emily Deschanel

On the other hand, women are doing quite well on The Good Wife, where the estimable Julianna Margulies creates a memorable woman with a few spare brushstrokes. Her riveting understatement is ably complimented by two other remarkable women, Christine Baranski and Archie Panjabi.

And then there’s Mary McCormack as the eccentric and poignant witness protection agent in the series In Plain Sight. She’s so genuine you think you’ve met her.

All to the good, but on the more problematic side, in eleven major television series corpses are the real stars of eight of them. And in The Borgias and Game of Thrones women are reduced to barn animals, while they’re chic accessories in some of the CSI, Law and Order, and NCIS shows.

But cameras have minds of their own. They gravitate towards actresses like Cote de Pablo, who is also a recording artist, in the original NCIS series. She gets more out of her role by underacting than her showier colleagues, and the producers are often obliged to team her up with the equally understated Mark Harmon, the show’s magnetic star.

Julianna Margulies

It’s to the great credit of actresses like Stephanie March, Diane Neal, Marg Helgenberger, Emily Procter, Mariska Hargitay and quite a few others that their presence transcends the weak hands they’re dealt by directors, writers and producers. They illuminate their series in spite of the best intentions of the director to contain them. March, for instance, in episode after episode of Law and Order stood out from the ensemble because of her gravitas and aura of integrity. As for Helgenberger, the camera celebrates her no matter what hand the producers deal her. And who wouldn’t rather follow Procter into the jaws of hell than the show’s star, the one-note David Caruso? The same may be said for reserved Alana de la Garza, who first appeared in CSI: Miami, went on to Law and Order in New York and now plays in its spin-off, Law and Order: LA.

What many of these women have in common is a restraint we used to assign to laconic Western stars like Gary Cooper and James Stewart, a sense that while they have no wish, in spite of their beauty, to fill a room, it would be ill-advised to step on their toes. They are in many ways women of the century, liberated in spite of society’s hesitancy to license their liberation.

If you compare them to the women stars of the 50s, you’ll see that they’re more like Humphrey Bogart and John Garfield than Barbara Stanwyck and Ida Lupino. Their feminity has a touch of the divine, and I’m not talking about looks, I’m talking about empowerment. These actresses, like Lena Headey in Game of Thrones, should be leading armies, toppling empires, governing our destinies, not playing second fiddle to writers who evince a palpable inhospitality towards women.

Mary McCormack

If we truly wanted to be a great nation the filmmakers could lead the way. But first they must acknowledge that the Marlboro Man could be a boob, his looks being no warranty of anything but Big Tobacco’s preconceptions, Anglo-centrism and misogyny.

NCIS: Los Angeles strikes a blow in the right direction by casting the memorable Linda Hunt as director of operations, but the scriptwriters insist she parody herself like Caruso in CSI Miami.

More promising, much more promising, is Mary McCormack In Plain Sight role. Here the script writer lavishes good lines on her, obviously with the sanction of the director and producer, and she emerges as the character who’s got your back, the one who cuts the bullshit.

The dazzling Emily Deschanel as Temperance Brennan in Bones has the benefit of the concept of the show as well as a co-star, David Boreanaz, who steps aside graciously with much good humor. She also has an endearing cast of colleagues, not least Tamara Taylor, her smart and funny boss, and Michaela Conlin, Brennan’s quirky, in-your-face sidekick.

It’s strange that filmmakers freight good-looking male actors with their projections but continue to use women as floral design. Who, looking at Lena Headey, could even think of her in Game of Thrones as a one-dimensional meanie queen and incestuous lover of her brother, in this case the attractive Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, who shone in the defunct and much lamented New Amsterdam series?

Unfortunately beauty in a male-dominated society lends itself to incidentality. I wonder if this would be so of males in a female-dominated society. My mother in her paintings created a world inhabited entirely by women. She simply banished men. At the same time she introduced a hint of androgyny. I suspect we may be heading as a species toward androgyny.

But in the meantime I think much evil in the world, including terrorism, is rooted in the hatred and fear of women. In The Borgias this emerges cruelly in the treatment of Holliday Grainger as Lucrezia by her boorish husband Giovanni Sforza. If she was indeed a poisoner, one can easily forgive her. One wishes him the best poisons in Italy.

The question that keeps bothering me as I consider these actresses and how they’re cast is simply this: Don’t the filmmakers see them, I mean really see them? I guess not. It’s reminiscent of the poet Randall Jarrell’s unforgettable poem, “A Sad Heart At The Supermarket,” in which a shopper wonders why the bag boy doesn’t really see her.

Didn’t they cast a chubby Richard Burton as the famously athletic Alexander the Great in 1956? Would they have cast a chubby woman as Olympias? And if they wouldn’t think of Dolph Lundgren or Jason Statham as wimps, why in hell would they think of Headey in that way? And who but an idiot would mess with Eva Green in Camelot? Grainger looks much less dangerous—indeed she looks angelic—but by episode three of The Borgias she has already shown her goon of a husband she is nobody’s chattel. His leg is broken and worse is undoubtedly in his future.

The problem seems to be that the camera all by itself, with little help from the cinematographer, sees what the filmmakers can’t see. Do Headey, Green and Helgenberger look like anybody’s sweetie pie? True, Boreanaz and Caruso don’t treat Deschanel and Procter like sweetie pies, but that’s only because they know the camera can’t wait to quit them in order to linger on the women, so there’s no use being churlish.

I don’t think filmmakers and museum curators live on my planet. The camera keeps offering forensic evidence that they keep dismissing like judges in a kangaroo court. They have lots of precedent, of course. History books have been doing it for millennia.

The filmmakers often treat beauty much as the army treats damage—they collateralize it. But you can fill the original CSI set in Vegas with corpses, with William Petersen, with Laurence Fishburne, and Matt Damon if you can get him, and Marg Helgenberger will still be the only one in the room. It’s not because of her beauty alone: it’s a presence, the projection of a high seriousness that it took far more action and gunplay for Gary Cooper to display in High Noon.

What I’m talking about is the feminine principle and how the film industry goes to great lengths to marginalize it in the same way that the church devotes itself to paternalizing religion. The film industry has taken over where the church left off, handing out a sop here and there, but insisting on women as decor. There have been exceptions, Milla Jovovich in science fiction action films and Maggie Q in Nikita most notably, but the overall picture is that of an industry striving for the appearance of gender equality but unable to embrace it. In a way, the film industry is struggling with what I posit as a root cause of terrorism, fear of women. Perhaps a society whose biggest industries are prisons and war has that much to fear from women.

Djelloul Marbrook blogs at www.djelloulmarbrook.com and is the author of two books of poetry (Far from Algiers, Kent State; Brushstrokes and Glances, Deerbrook Editions) and three novellas (Artemisia’s Wolf, Saraceno, and Alice Miller’s Room). A retired newspaper editor, he lives in New York with his wife Marilyn. 

Best Picture Nominee Review Series: 2010 Roundup

It's over a year late . . . but here it is! 

Avatar reviewed by Elizabeth Tiller

"As much as I would like to sit through a movie like this and enjoy it for what it is (ground-breaking sci-fi entertainment that will go down in history), I simply can’t. James Cameron’s attempt to create a more spiritual, natural, and peaceful society leaves me annoyed that once again this idea is filtered through a white, Western, male member of a patriarchal society. Some theorists will consider Cameron’s Alien trilogy feminist, because of Sigourney Weaver’s empowered Ripley (legend says it was written to be asexual–with casting deciding the character’s sex), but she still has to prove her femininity and womanliness by saving cats and small children. I fear that many feminists will laud Avatar as well--for creating a world where the people worship a female entity (“Eywa”), because the Clan leader’s female mate/wife is as powerful as him, and since the female lead is as empowered as Ripley. However, like Ripley, Neytiri too has her feminine trappings, as her power can be explained away through her heritage."

Avatar reviewed by Nine Deuce

"Cameron can only seem to conceive of an ideal society five light years and nearly two centuries removed from our own if it exactly mirrors an episode of Fantasy Island in which he’s the guest star, but it’s cool. He’s got a revolutionary political message to communicate: if we don’t all buy Priuses and reject militarism and imperialism right quick, we’ll destroy our planet and rudely intrude upon blue fucker utopias everywhere, thus ruining countless enlightened neo-primitive sex parties attended by the universe’s hottest aliens."

The Blind Side reviewed by Stephanie Rogers

"There’s a way to tell a true story, and there’s a way to completely botch the shit out of a true story. Shit-botching, in this instance, might include basing the entire film around an upper-class white woman’s struggle to essentially reform a young Black man by taking him in, buying him clothes, getting him a tutor, teaching him how to tackle, and threatening to kill a group of young Black men he used to hang out with.

However, a filmmaker might consider, when telling the true story of Michael Oher’s struggles to overcome his amazing obstacles, to actually base the film on the true story of Michael Oher’s struggles to overcome his amazing obstacles."

The Blind Side reviewed by Nine Deuce

"What was the intended message of this film? It won an Oscar, so I know it had to have a message, but what could it have been? I’ve got it (a suggestion from Davetavius)! The message is this: don’t buy more than one Taco Bell franchise or you’ll have to adopt a black guy. I’ll accept that that’s the intended message of the film, because if the actual message that came across in the movie was intentional, I may have to hide in the house for the rest of my life."

District 9 reviewed by Sarah Domet

"Perhaps Blomkamp’s vision is to convey the notion that our greatest hope for an internationally practiced humanism is to fully experience the isolation and desperation at the individual level. I want to believe that this is his message. But I fear I may be giving him too much credit, for in the end Blomkamp never fully considers the implications of violent discrimination and segregation on anyone but (white, male) Wikus, the original perpetrator of this alien apartheid in the first place. In the end, Wikus becomes a victim, too, yes. However his victimhood is meant to be understood as a courageous act of martyrdom, and, more specifically, one of choice. After all, Wikus told Christopher Johnson to board the Mothership without him; Wikus would stay behind to fight the bad guys. If nothing else, Wikus was given the luxury of choice and self-determination, a luxury not afforded to the “others” of this film, woman and prawn alike."

An Education reviewed by Jesseca Cornelson

"The script isn’t bad. After all, if movies didn’t routinely take shortcuts by using familiar, stylized codes for characterization, they couldn’t tell their intricate tales in about 100 minutes. It’s just that the script is so tidy and effective that it doesn’t come anywhere close to transcending its form. At times I wondered if the film would have felt as artful if it had been cast with more familiar Hollywood types, say Julia Roberts as Miss Stubbs or Anne Hathaway as Jenny, both of whom I find exude a sweetness that always makes me aware of how terribly charming they are. Would the film have been as engaging if everyone had American accents? I wonder if audiences’ own aspirations to sophistication might make us a bit blind to how ordinary this film is."

The Hurt Locker reviewed by Amber Leab

"The Hurt Locker is a powerful anti-war film, which can almost get lost in the breathless action sequences. Its message is subtle but unmistakable: war utterly breaks you. The final scene of the film, which has been criticized for its ambiguity (we see James voluntarily back in action after a brief return home and a too-familiar scene representing shallow American excess), is actually a haunting, almost terrifying reminder of our implication in war. If you see James as a hero at the end of the movie, you haven't understood a frame of the film you just watched. Yet the film teases us with a traditional genre representation of the hero. We want him to be a hero, only finding joy in the adrenaline rush of war, but he isn't. He's an empty shell of a person, nothing more than an animated suit heading toward...nothing. He's walking off into the abyss. War has ripped out his humanity. This is what we do to our soldiers: we ask them to do the impossible in combat, and it destroys them."

Inglourious Basterds reviewed by Amanda ReCupido

"I saw Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds when it first came out and then again recently in the sweep of the Oscar season. I remember upon first viewing being surprised that, unlike all the posters and marketing would have you believe, Brad Pitt is not the hero of this story. In fact, it is an unassuming, quiet, doe-eyed Jewish girl, Shosanna (played by Melanie Laurent) who carries the film. Brad Pitt and his cronies just kinda happen to be there, bludgeoning and scalping people (this is, after all, a Tarantino flick), and faltering in their plans to sweep the Nazi regime, while Shosanna plots, schemes, threatens, and even fraternizes with the enemy in her mere disguise as a woman to bring the Third Reich to its knees. It is because no one expects her to plan such an attack that she is not viewed as a threat and able to get away with it. Shosanna’s womanhood is both her handicap and her ultimate weapon."

Precious, Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire reviewed by Carrie Polansky

"Certainly, all of the issues addressed in the film — including (but not limited to) rape, incest, teen pregnancy, poverty and illiteracy — have been addressed before by other films, and when addressing such topics, it’s all too easy to come off sounding preachy or melodramatic. Precious does not fall in to this trap. Precious addresses these topics honestly and directly, never undermining the horror of it all but still making it clear that these are real aspects of life, and that they aren’t death sentences. Though the character Precious is forced to deal with a huge number of issues that no young woman should ever need to face, the audience is not supposed to pity her. Precious is too strong a character for that."

A Serious Man reviewed by Lesley Jenike

"The Coens are, in my book, among the most consistently innovative filmmakers working today. And I don’t mean “innovative” in the sense that, as directors, they splice and dice filmic conventions the way Baz Luhrmann or Danny Boyle do, for example. Rather, they’re consummate storytellers, fancy jump cuts be damned, and their stories, no matter how dark, how disconcerting, become somehow universal, funny, and true. What’s ultimately so disconcerting about this movie, however, is its skeptical take on the Judeo-Christian tradition of parable and storytelling as illustration and explanation. The Coen brothers are undermining their own profession here, their own modus operandi, and call into question narrative’s effectiveness in light of a chaotic universe and incomprehensible suffering. It’s a dangerous move but ultimately a rewarding one."

Up reviewed by Travis Eisenbise

"Insert Pixar dilemma: Pixar has a girl problem. I don’t want to dwell too much on this, as the blogosphere has already run Pixar through the dirt (as it should). Noted in Linda Holmes’ blog on NPR, after 15 years of movie making, Pixar has yet to create a story with a female lead. Ellie is the only female voice in this entire movie and she is dead and gone within the first ten minutes. She’s not even allowed an actual voice as an adult. (see PT: #3). The entire story is told by a male octogenarian and a boy, Russell (voiced by Jordan Nagai), who is seventy years Carl’s junior, and who—instead of being a real-world boy scout—is a Wilderness Explorer (see PT: #2). It is devastating to watch this movie in a theatre of mothers and young girls who are forced to stretch their own experiences into the identities of these stock male characters. (PT #4: Employ an inordinate amount of male writers.)"

Up in the Air reviewed by Kate Staiger

"Bingham’s other female sidekick is Alex (Vera Farmiga), a sexy, strong-corporate-woman. She meets Bingham, a fellow super-traveler, in a hotel bar. They hit it off, do the deed, and she becomes the love interest. They exchange contacts and meet for booty calls in cities where they happen to cross paths while on business. As their relationship progresses, he goes through the formal “sworn-bachelor-stumbles-into-love” process, schlepping it all with sentimentality and making it confusing to understand the direction of this movie. Aren’t I supposed to be watching a movie about the tragedies of people losing their jobs? Or am I supposed to be focused on Ryan Bingham’s thawing heart? Or no, it’s this: Ryan Bingham has a hard job and travels a lot. It makes his life experience void of human connections. He is now in the process of making it better as a result of his pesky sidekick on one shoulder, and his hot woman-equivalent on the other. YES!"

And you can read all the reviews of the Oscar-nominated films for 2011 in our Best Picture Nominee Review Series: 2011 Roundup. 

The Grass is Not Always Greener: On Body Image and Illness

Originally published at I Will Not Diet and reprinted at The Opinioness of the World. An alternate version appears at Shakesville.

People have often told me—throughout a lifetime of being underweight—how great I look.

I confidently wear a bikini.

I’m one of those people you might love to hate: I can eat anything, and as much of it as I want, without gaining weight.

People, especially girls and women, praise my thinness, exclaiming “How do you stay so skinny?!” or “You’re so lucky.”

Other people envy me—a person whose thinness is due to cystic fibrosis, who has had regular, extended hospital stays since childhood, and whose daily medical regimen no one would ever envy. But I have this bizarre cultural privilege: I am skinny. It hasn’t generally mattered to people why; thinness is seen as an always-positive attribute in our society.

In the summer of 2004, I weighed 92 pounds. I was very sick and doing everything in my power to put on weight. My doctor went so far as to prescribe an appetite stimulant, derived from cannabis, which was supposed to give me the legal munchies.

It may have helped me put on a pound or two, but that wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t just that I was too thin; I needed a lung transplant and had to weigh a minimum of 100 pounds before I would even be considered for the surgery. I was left with one option: a feeding tube for high-calorie protein shakes every night while I slept, in addition to a high-calorie diet every day. This was scary for me, not just in the way that a feeding tube (and serious illness) would be frightening for anyone, but because, in spite of the serious illness, I liked being so thin and was afraid of gaining too much weight.

I know now that these feelings had much more to do with control (and, specifically, the lack of it in my life at that time) than the actual numbers, and that they weren’t rational or healthy attitudes to hold.

As much as I knew intellectually that I was too thin, I never felt too thin.

When I finally got beyond my fear of “fattening up” (which is how countless doctors and nurses, clearly not sensitive to issues involving body image, jokingly referred to my need to gain weight) and faced the reality of my situation, I scheduled the procedure to place the feeding tube.

I did so with reticence and anxiety.

There would be anesthesia, there would be an incision through the wall of my abdomen, there would be a tube permanently sticking out, there would be pain while my stomach healed from the surgery. I would be hooked up to a nutrition pump, much like an IV pole, every night.

On the operating table, I was prepped for the procedure by a female nurse and a male doctor. When the nurse lifted the hospital gown above my abdomen, she exclaimed, “Look at that pretty flat stomach!”

I processed this statement for a moment. A medical professional had complimented me on my thinness, which was so extreme as to prevent me from having life-saving surgery, while prepping me for a procedure intended to help me gain weight.

To his credit, the doctor quickly snapped, “That’s the problem!” but her message couldn’t have been clearer.

We live in a culture that so values thinness, that values such extreme thinness, that I received a compliment about my body when I was on an operating table, when I was so ill and weighed so little that doctors feared I might not survive major surgery.

While this might’ve been a single extreme incident, I can’t say the same about a lifetime of these compliments, the envy of women, and the gaze of men directed at my ultra-thin (so thin because it was diseased) body.

I can forgive myself for enjoying these moments; I had a difficult life that inspired little envy, and I took the compliments and positive feelings about myself where I could find them.

When I received that comment on the operating table, though, I felt a tangled mess of emotions: I was happy to hear something—anything—uplifting during such a trying time, I was scared to lose that unscarred, flat stomach, and I was angry at the nurse for her inability to read the situation.

Later that same year I had a double-lung transplant and have since gained 25 pounds. I’m still thin, but curvier than before. I threw out the old bikinis. The regular “You’re so skinny!” compliments are gone, but I’ve come to see those comments, even when they were meant in kindness, as all part of our toxic culture.

Depictions of unhealthily thin women in film, television, and advertising constantly bombard us, distorting the way we see one another and how we define a “healthy” body. Extremely thin bodies are often seen as the epitome of health and beauty, when the fact is that healthy, beautiful women come in all shapes and sizes.

If we all didn’t have such a distorted view of the female form, women might have better relationships with their bodies, instead of hating them, resorting to cosmetic surgery for self-esteem issues, and having unrealistic expectations about how they should look.

Bitch Flicks' Weekly Picks

The Best Black Comedy You're Not Watching from Colorlines

Hasidic newspaper erases the women from that iconic Situation Room photo from Feministing

Why Bridesmaids Matters from Women and Hollywood

1 in 6 women would rather be blind than fat -- so? from The F Word

Eagerly anticipating the Freedom Riders documentary ... from AngryBlackBitch

"Bridesmaids": A triumph for vomit, and feminism from Salon

The Fall of the Female Protagonist in Kids' Movies from Persephone Magazine

Palme pioneers: women directors at Cannes from The Guardian

Movie Review: Source Code

This guest post by Markgraf also appears at Bad Reputation.

Original artwork by Markgraf

The last film I reviewed, Sucker Punch, had a magnificent trailer. It really stoked me. I was all, “Hey, this trailer is awesome! I must avail my face of the cinematographical delight it advertises!” And then I saw it and it was crap.

Source Code, starring my favourite Jake Gyllenhaal and directed by David Bowie’s son, Duncan Jones, was the total opposite. I saw the trailer and scattered my scornflakes to the four winds. “Pssh and foo,” I said. “Gorgeous, creepy premise and it’s all about SAVE THE LADY, WOOO, TOTALLY UNFEASIBLE ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP IS THE CRUX OF ALL ACTION.” I guffawed and rolled my eyes. “How boring. How stupid. How anachronistically unfeminist, to have the woman as a passive thing that needs rescuing.”

But I went to see it anyway, because my passion for Jake Gyllenhaal’s beautiful face is unrivalled and disturbing. And also because Duncan Jones’s breakout film, Moon, was widely touted as a dreadfully disturbing psychological affair, and I still rue the fact that I missed it at the cinema – so maybe it would have my proverbial cookies after all?

Short answer: yes.

Long answer: yeeeesssss, mmm, yes, mmm, thank you, Duncan, mmmm, Jake Gyllenhaal, hargleblarge he handcuffs a man to a pole, nrrgghhnnffnnff nargb.

Long intelligible answer: It certainly does. It turns out that the film’s content is the complete opposite of what the trailer would have me believe. The trailer bigs up the romantic relationship and downplays the unsettling premise. The film, on the other hand, is all about the premise, which rules the shop from start to finish, throwing up questions of morality and ethics in science, what happens to the universe when we make decisions, and the nature of a good death. The romance is a barely-there breath of something sweet and touching that’s symptomatic of the premise rather than an event all in itself.

I keep talking about this magical wonderpremise like it’s Jesus and I haven’t even explained what it is. How rude of me. Let’s fix that.

The premise, without spoiling anything, is that there is some military science (SCIENCE! more like) that allows a person to take possession of a dead person’s final memories, ten minutes before their death. This involves, of course, a poor bastard (in this case, a harassed-looking, sweaty Jake Gyllenhaal) being held prisoner in a Science Tank and forced back into some dead guy’s brain so that he can solve terrorism forever. In this case, Jake Gyllenhaal scuba dives through time and space into ten minutes prior to a big-ass explosion that detonates an entire train on the way to Chicago.

In the process of this, Jake Gyllenhaal observes the bloody, violent reality of the terrorist attack, and experiences first-hand the nature of the death the train passengers had foisted upon them out of the blue. This raises two issues: firstly, the morality of the military experiment that forces a man to repeatedly experience death from which he cannot escape. Secondly, we realise, along with Jake’s captive captain, that death without closure is worse than death itself.

So the reason, then, that there’s this romantic subplot anything, is less about OH ROMANCE, SAVE THE LADY, THE MERE PRESENCE OF A WOMANLASS MAKES MAN LOSE ALL SEMBLENCE OF RATIONALITY AND FLING ASIDE ALL PLANS AND SCHEMES FOR HER, FOR SHE IS RUBBISH GIRL! WHO CANNOT SAVE HERSELF! AND HE IS ERECTILE-TISSUE-BRAIN MAN! WHO THINKS OF NOTHING BUT WHETHER OR NOT HE CAN BESHAGGERATE A THING! and more about giving this woman – and her fellow passengers – a chance to have a good death.

Wow, that was one hell of a paragraph. What I’m saying is that Source Code doesn’t buy into the “Fuck everything, save the chick!” spiel wholesale. It touches upon it, but it’s made emphatically clear through events in the film that it’s not really about that at all. And good job too, because we all know that that kind of carrying-on is insulting to everyone involved.

Another thing: although this film deals heavily with military science – a combination of fields that stereotypically leaves women out wholesale – one of the lynchpin characters is a woman, and she’s not only steely and full of agency and poise, but she carries a bucketload of morality and cunning, too. I loved her. I was very glad she was in it to balance out the do-stuff-and-explode machismo of Jake Gyllenhaal Fighting Science.

That said, he fights science very well, and when we’re dumped right into the thick of it along with Mr Gyllenhaal’s beleaguered captain with as much explanation as he gets (that is to say, none whatsoever) the tension is wound so tight that it’s painful. It’s frightening and paranoia-inducing, and flavoured with a little pinch of Groundhog Day.

Overall, yeah! Source Code is surprising: it’s a fun and entertaining ride without being brainless. Also, I did mention the thing with Jake Gyllenhaal and he’s in a suit and he’s doing things and oh god help I’m on fire.

YOU SHOULD SEE THIS FILM BECAUSE:

• It’s not revolve-around-romance stupid as the trailer makes it out to be
• It does fun and interesting – if not necessarily innovative – things with choice-making and time
• Morals and ethics and science, oh my
• Jake Gyllenhaal, suit, things, oh god his gorgeous face etc.
• Some bits are, if you think about them, really fucking creepy

YOU SHOULD NOT SEE THIS FILM BECAUSE:

• Well, the science is fucking hilarious. Wait, that’s a reason to see it.

Markgraf draws pictures, plays Pokemon, watches films, writes for BadRep, caresses tanks, talks to himself in public and collects interesting bits of cardboard. He wishes he had a life.

Guest Writer Wednesday: Machete

Machete (2010)

This is a cross post from Heroine Content.

Trigger warning here for a joke from the movie concerning sexual assault, which is mentioned briefly at the end of this post.)

 

Ah, Machete. What I remember best about Machete, unfortunately, is the phone call I got as the credits started to roll. It was my mother in law, telling me my three year old had fallen off a love seat onto a tile floor, landing on his head, and now he was saying his head was buzzing and his tongue felt funny. Everything turned out okay, but now Danny Trejo will likely always be linked for me with my son's possible concussion and the Dell Children's emergency room. It's a shame, because I really like him. If I could re-link that memory to Jessica Alba, I would, but after Fantastic Four that there just isn't room for more Jessica Alba pain associations in my neural pathways.

Before all of that excitement, though, I'm pretty sure I saw a film that included two things.

First, I saw multiple people of color, including women, as the forces of good in an action film about the concerns of hardworking, decent people who just happen to be one of the most villanized groups in my home state of Texas - Mexicans and Mexican-Americans! In this film, these people are the real heroes, and for a lovely change of pace in media, the U.S. is portrayed with just as much corruption as Mexico, if not moreso because of all the hypocrisy.

I thoroughly enjoyed this aspect of the film, especially when Team Good got to kick major ass.

(This is where some drive-by commenter is going to come along and be all "are you really anti-racist or are you just against white people?" just like happened on my review of Batman Returns. I'm not sure why people do the drive-bys. Do they think I'm going to be struck by the insightfulness of their observations and get therapy to resolve my virulent anti-white-people agenda?)

Unfortunately, in addition to the righteous ass-kicking by people of color for great justice, the second thing I saw while watching Machete was a film that ruthlessly exploited women for the glorification of a male action hero and the satisfaction of the male gaze, and it was really fucking disappointing.

To get this across better, let's take a look at the nurses:

The nurses

Electra Avellan and Elise Avellan play the nurses, and I love them. They work in a hospital for The Network, an underground resistance movement that assists Mexicans who immigrate into Texas. I'm not sure they have any medical skills, as their main responsibility in caring for the wounded Machete seems to be comforting him with eye candy, but they are on the side of good and they wear fantastic platform heels and shoot things and I have absolutely no problem with any of that. If sexy nurses with machine guns can't be part of your revolution, then I don't want any. 

(That's not what you thought I was going to say, was it?)

In a feminist utopia I think the nurses could still exist in a movie, because I think there are a lot of women who would find that a lot of fun, and for good reasons. When Grace reviewed Grindhouse, which included Robert Rodriguez's Planet Terror, she said this:

...the whole package pays homage to/makes fun of the "grindhouse," which is a beaten-down movie theater that plays double-bills of B movies. [...] Now that we're clear that these are supposed to be B movies, that they are hearkening back to and a parody of a specific kind of film, then we can skip all of the ways in which they are typically sexist. Yes, there are copious bare breasts and ass shots, women are called bitch all over the place, sexual violence is threatened (though, and I thought this was telling, never actually enacted) [...] If there is any chance of you enjoying Grindhouse, or finding anything about it to be subversive or interesting, you are going to have to consider these things part of the kitsch that Rodriguez and Tarantino are playing with and move on.

To me, the nurses are part of that kitsch. They're a lighthearted genre trapping. What I DO have a problem with is that almost every other woman with a speaking part in this movie is basically the exact same character as the nurses, just in different clothes. They exist to fawn over the hero, look hot for the audience, and kick ass, without any distracting personal goals or motivations.

From the naked woman who betrays Machete and stabs him in the leg with his own knife to win a drug lord's favor, to Jessica Alba's ambitious INS agent whose career ambitions are quickly sacrificed to furthering his quest, to Cheryl Chin's turn as the Dragon Lady enforcer for the drug lord, to Lindsay Lohan's drugged out, often naked internet porn star (who gets used sexually by Machete to humiliate her father, in a plotline I thought was beyond atrocious), there there is barely a hint of any female activity that does not revolve around men. Michelle Rodriguez's Luz comes close, but even she is ready to turn over leadership to Machete as quickly as possible, anointing him leader of her desired revolution. (For all Rodriguez's talk in the media lately about how she wants to be typecast as the bad-ass instead of the boring girlfriend, I was expecting a little more.) Alba and Rodriguez even get new costumes late in the movie to make them fit better into the nurse paradigm, and the results are not awesome.

Lately I've been reading some of the Criminal comic book series by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips, and it's gotten me thinking about women in genre fiction. Criminal is specifically noir crime fiction, and when you read that kind of fiction, you know from the get-go that the dame is going to be trouble. I would argue that action movies are almost as bad for prescribing the roles female characters must play, and B movies doubly so. So if you're going to create in a genre like that, how do you work with your female characters in a way that's not horribly sexist? How do you give them agency? How do you give them personalities and missions in their lives beyond their usefulness as plot points for the hero?

Let me tell you, the people who made Machete haven't asked themselves any of those questions. Or if they have, they're doing it wrong. "All your babes are belong to our sexy stereotype" is not creating strong female characters, regardless of how many guns you give them. Turning all women into genrelicious Barbie is not staying within the genre, it's turning them into objects. You could argue that the men in this film are also stereotypes, but damn, at least they get to have clothes on!

I desperately want to give this film some stars. The way the film treats women, though, is appalling. The rape joke made by Machete's brother when Machete brings two drugged, naked women to his church was also not okay.

No stars.

Skye Kilaen blogs about women kicking ass in action films at Heroine Content, where the unofficial slogan is "Helping feminists with their Netflix queues since 2006."

Movie Review: Something Borrowed

This post is by guest writer Megan Kearns.

I’m usually no fan of chick flicks romantic comedies or chick lit women’s commercial fiction (god I hate the infantilizing term “chick”). While I enjoy romance, I cringe over the vapid dialogue, shallow characters, the reinforcing of stereotypical gender roles, the obsession over men, getting married and finding The One. I find the absolute solipsism given to men in these wretched movies unbearable, as if women never talk or think about anything else. But every now and then, a movie (like oh say Devil Wears Prada or Definitely, Maybe) comes along, surprising and delighting me. So with this skeptical yet ever so slightly hopeful attitude, I went to see Something Borrowed.

Based on the New York Times best-selling book by Emily Giffin, Something Borrowed follows the lives of Rachel (Ginnifer Goodwin) and Darcy (Kate Hudson) who’ve been inseparable best friends since childhood. Smart, studious Rachel is an attorney while vivacious, lime-light stealing, party girl Darcy is…well, we’re never quite sure what she is in the movie (although in the book she works in public relations). Darcy is also engaged to Dex (Colin Egglesfield), Rachel’s smart and handsome good friend from law school. At her 30th birthday, Rachel confesses to Dex that she used to have a crush on him years ago, a revelation that ends up testing her friendship with Darcy.

Now, the premise bugged me right from the start; it glorifies infidelity. Oh, it’s okay if you sleep with your best friend’s fiancé so long as he’s The One; otherwise you’re a big whore. But what pissed me off even more is how movies and the media perpetually pit women against each other…and this film is no different. Movies often devalue women’s friendships; they’re tossed aside as if women are too catty, too calculating, too backstabbing, and too man-hungry to ever really get along.

The actors make the movie a bit more likeable, particularly the hilarious scene-stealing John Krasinski. Colin Egglesfield does his best charming Tom Cruise here. But Ginnifer Goodwin who’s supposed to be the center of the film is forgettable (except for her rampant usage of the word “stop” throughout much of the film) and Kate Hudson plays…well the same role she always plays.

I couldn’t help comparing this film to Bride Wars, perhaps because Hudson forever churns out these shitty movies, mere mimeographs of one another. I hate the consumerism and competition suffocating Bride Wars. But I must admit that the end makes me weep like a baby as Anne Hathaway’s and Kate Hudson’s characters realize what truly matters: their friendship. But the same can’t be said for Something Borrowed. In the book, you discover that while Darcy is selfish, she stood up for Rachel against a school bully and she would never blow off her friends for a guy. In the movie, the only scene just about the two friends, rather than weddings or boyfriends, occurs during a bachelorette party sleepover when they dance along to Salt N Pepa’s “Push It,” bringing me back to my own junior high days as my best friend Angela and I choreographed a dance to that song too (what is it about that song?!). Yet despite this cute moment, I’m never really sure why Rachel is friends with Darcy, other than habit as they’ve been friends for decades. Perhaps the movie would have been more compelling had the plot focused on the complexities of being friends with someone you find simultaneously infectious and exasperating.

In the movie, Rachel’s confidante is another childhood friend, Ethan (the adorable Krasinski). But in the wretchedly awful book (which yes, I unfortunately read as research for this review…clichéd language, corny dialogue, lacking character development…the lengths I go to), Rachel confides in Ethan but also her close friend from work Hillary, a female character completely erased from the film. Rachel laments throughout the film that Darcy breezes through life, taking things away from her. But Ethan tells Rachel to stop passively waiting around and to take charge of her life. As a result, Rachel eventually recognizes that it’s not Darcy doing the taking, it’s Rachel giving herself away. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that I wished another female friend advised her or she came to this realization on her own. Again the film conveys that women don’t need other women or themselves for that matter, only men.

Not only are two women ultimately pitted against one another, they exist as two common female archetypes: the good girl and the bad girl. No depth, no subtle nuances exist here. Rachel is hard-working, thoughtful and sweet while Darcy is impetuous, obnoxious, boisterous, and likes sex. Despite Darcy being the person who’s wronged through her best friend’s betrayal, it’s clear whom we’re supposed to root for here. Through this one dimensionality, women fall into one of two categories and on two sides sparring for the prize: a man. Even though she dabbles in bad girl territory, Rachel follows her heart so all her betrayals and dishonesty become justified; she does it in the name of love so she’s ultimately still a good girl. Too often, women’s roles are relegated to simplistic caricatures, frequently in a virgin/whore dichotomy. Women are far more complicated and nuanced than Hollywood would have us believe.

In Something Borrowed we learn about Dex’s parents and Dex’s dreams and aspirations but not Rachel’s or even Darcy’s. It’s as if the women in the film don’t really matter; it’s all about the men. Movies like these continually reinforce the notion that careers and friends don’t count; it’s only your love life that matters. Society tells women they can never truly be happy without a man in their life. I call bullshit. Perhaps I’m being too hard on a movie intended to exist as light-hearted, romantic escapism. But I don’t find anything fun about a movie that silences women’s voices and erases their relationships with each other.

Megan Kearns is a blogger, freelance writer and activist. A feminist vegan, Megan blogs at The Opinioness of the World. Her work has appeared at Open Letters Monthly, Arts & Opinion and A Safe World for Women. She earned her B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology and a Graduate Certificate in Women and Politics and Public Policy. She lives in Boston. She previously contributed reviews of The Kids Are All Right, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest to Bitch Flicks.