January 18, 2009
I’m not thrilled about the lineup of 2008 motion pictures contending for the coveted Oscar statuette this year. I haven’t seen most of them: that’s how thrilled I’m not. Last year marked the first year I ever walked out of a movie in progress (Pride and Glory) owing to its abysmal condition.
That’s not to say I anticipate that the prestige films will be terrible. After all, even last year’s duds, per audiences and critics alike – such as The Women and The Happening – weren’t really that bad. I’m sure there’s good stuff out there. I am looking forward to Mickey Rourke’s comeback in The Wrestler, as well as the always intriguing Marisa Tomei. And I owe it to my proposed dissertation topic (“New England Suburban Macabre”) to endure the angst of Revolutionary Road – though I think it is prudent for me to read the acclaimed source novel first.
Positive standouts in 2008 – for me – include Pixar’s WALL-E and Werner Herzog’s documentary Encounters at the End of the World; neither of which should be mistaken for any kind of fluff filmmaking. In both cases, non-English-speaking creatures capture the viewers’ imaginations; but don’t think for a second that either of these films limits itself to cutesy storytelling devices. Both films contain severe, critical analysis of human behavior. Both examine our human propensity for self-destruction.
But where did all of the interesting women go? Where are the classic heroines like Jane Eyre? Where’s Elizabeth Bennet? Lily Bart?
This past year, I can think of only two films I’ve seen that have posed interesting fuel for discussion about women’s issues: Appaloosa and The Duchess. In the former, a western, a female drifter (Renee Zellweger) arrives in town by train with a single suitcase and finds a way to survive via the gun slinging roughnecks that exist in her path. She emotionally abuses men by telling them she loves them, and then, while they’re not looking, arranges other romantic alliances that will advance her social standing – not to mention her means for survival. Men fall for her because she is elegantly manicured, sweet-smelling and flattering. What an interesting paradox: a woman who works for a living, but doesn’t work for a living. She’s a glorified prostitute…but what other options would a woman in her position have?
For my reaction to The Duchess, check out https://femspotter.wordpress.com/2008/10/11/no-sympathy-for-the-duchess-of-discontent/.
When I can’t come up with an annual “top ten” movies, I start thinking about a larger list: top American narrative feature films of all time. The American Film Institute (AFI) has a comprehensive list, often referred to as the “definitive” list, circa 1998 and revamped in 2007. I would charge myself with writing a feminist rebuttal, but there certainly aren’t 100 female-centered films of sufficient calibre to make for a serious argument. That – in and of itself – is the argument. Many of the films AFI lists do not contain fully realized female characters at all, and yet – they are “great” American movies. And many of the films that have struck me as “feminist” over the years lack the production value or general appeal necessary to convince readers that they should be counted among the great American films – not to mention that so many of them aren’t American in the first place.
So here’s my list of the top ten narrative feature films – made in America – that offer up feminist food for thought; or, at the very least, involve female characters in significant ways. Alas, none were directed by women – neither were any of the AFI films.
As Liz Lemon (Tina Fey – 30 Rock) said in 2008: No one has it harder in this country today than women. It turns out we can’t be President, we can’t be network news anchors, Madonna’s arms look crazy. . .
Apparently, we can’t direct major motion pictures either! Only three women have ever been nominated for the Oscar in the directing category, and of those, one was American (Sofia Coppola – 2004). Since AFI accounts for awards recognition as one criterion for its list, naturally, women directors and their films have been excluded. My criteria are as follows: 1)American made, 2) something “fem” to talk about and 3) you won’t laugh at me…much!
- All About Eve (1950) – AFI #28
- The Manchurian Candidate (1962) – AFI #67, moved off the list in 2007
- Anatomy of a Murder (1959)
- Bambi (1942)
- In the Bedroom (2001)
- Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
- Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
- Sling Blade (1996)
- Terms of Endearment (1983)
- Fargo (1996) – AFI #84, moved off the list in 2007
Sticking to American masterworks, I have excluded some of my personal feminist favorites, like foreign gems The Piano and Muriel’s Wedding; as well as three American female-centered films The Dead Girl, Waitress and Secretary, ironically liberating despite their titles. But the list includes films I could use to launch discussion in a college class about women as the subject of narrative film, even though, in many cases, the women are peripheral to the central male figures.
Some films that you might consider to be obviously missing – like Another Woman, Boys Don’t Cry, The Color Purple, The Miracle Worker and Sophie’s Choice (AFI #91) – contain great performances, even though they aren’t great films. But that’s a blog for another day.
It really is a man’s business: making movies!
1. All About Eve (1950)
The title suggests that this story will be “all about Eve” Harrington (Anne Baxter); but the truth of the matter is that this witty and enduring film set in the New York stage scene of the 1940’s is all about Margo Channing, the aging actress. In a culture that validates mainly youth and beauty in women, Channing – fabulously portrayed by the aging Bette Davis (age 42), in her comeback role, with every relevant chuckle and sneer – forgets, that while she’s reaping the benefits of fame and fortune, there’s always someone younger and hungrier waiting in the wings to usurp the throne. There’s perhaps not a more relevant topic to women in every walk of life in every era: the feeling of becoming obsolete as we age and lose the sparkle of our youth. Men don’t get older…they become distinguished. Sean Connery will never be “old;” he’s “noble,” “stately” and “refined.” Men don’t age as much as they accrue wisdom and experience.
Apparently, women just get old…or they get fake. Just ask plastic surgery casualty Joan Rivers!
2. The Manchurian Candidate (1962)
Speaking of age, Angela Lansbury was 36 years-old when she played the proverbial corruption of motherhood in this taut thriller, just three years older than Laurence Harvey who played her son. Mrs. Iselin – the brain behind her oaf of a husband, Senator Iselin, as he makes a bid for President – is one of the most ruthless, yet memorable women of American cinema history. While most parents of our literary and cinematic tradition wish the quality of life of their children to exceed their own, Iselin uses and abuses her son for her own advancement. Power-hungry and stealthy (a traditionally masculine combination), Iselin is as delicious as she is appalling. We applaud the woman who makes her own rules, and hate the mother who makes a mess of her son’s psyche. Iselin has many layers to her personality, while other female characters have few or only just one.
3. Anatomy of a Murder (1959)
The pleasure derived from any serious courtroom drama that delights in analyzing women’s undergarments is immeasurably increased by George C. Scott acrimoniously shouting the word “panties” through clenched teeth; and that’s just what happens in this Otto Preminger classic. The reason for designating the word is so that the court of law – all male and held in great esteem – can determine whether or not the premeditated murder of an alleged rapist was warranted. The rape victim, wife to the murderer, is known for her sexual promiscuity, and so the film broaches the additional question: was the rape warranted?
Sexuality is tricky and has historically been suspect in women. Men often fear women who exhibit a desire for physical love. Can this desire be controlled? Will it unleash the unfathomable male appetite for sensual sin? I’m sure we can all agree that women have the right to safety…even when their attire is less than modest. Well…all of us, except Barney Quill who raped a flirtatious woman and now lies dead in his grave.
4. Bambi (1942)
“Your mother can’t be with you anymore.” This is unarguably one of the most crushing statements ever uttered on film. Often, in the animal kingdom, motherhood is an all-inclusive parenthood. This is the case with most mammals that engage in polygamous unions. The male often lives alone, fathering offspring as the occasion arises. The female nurtures her babies until they are able to forge their own lives equipped with the knowledge of how best to survive. Mom did it this way, so they do it the same way. Father was nowhere to be found.
“The Great Prince of the Forest” – also known as the stag who knocked up Bambi’s nameless mother – levies this heavy verdict upon Bambi after his mother is shot by hunters. She (“Mother”) represents the bravest and most self-sacrificing maternal figure on this list. We have: corrupt mother (2), jilted mother (5), betrayed mother (6), pathetic mother (7), helpless mother (8), insecure, overbearing mother (9), and hardworking expectant mother (10). But Bambi’s mother transcends mundane maternity and reaches iconic status as one of the first of many murdered (or just plain dead) mothers in family cinema history. Experts tell us that little children feel more secure in their home environments when they’re exposed to a little scary fiction. There’s nothing scarier than a dead mother to a 3, 4, 5 or 6 year-old. That’s why Disney repeated this same motif again – hesitantly at first, and why classic short stories are full of wicked stepmothers. If mother is everything (both parents and all hope for survival), then the fear that she could cease to be entirely is overwhelming to viewers. In the case of Bambi, mother is all or nothing: she exists as the perfect model of female evolution in her species, or she is dead. And that’s what makes the other mothers on this list so interesting: they will never be perfect mothers. Neither will we…there’s no such person!
5. In the Bedroom (2001)
Indulge me on this one. I originally had it placed in the number 1 spot because I think it is the greatest American drama ever made. I’m fascinated by contemporary stories of New England families and how these stories are rooted in – and often times retelling – the great American literary classics that were spawned during more primitive stages of the American lifespan in geographic areas where this county found its genesis. This film takes a look at an American family identity (military identity; New England identity; affluent, white, educated identity). When it comes to women and our issues, In the Bedroom shows us how difficult it is for an educated, working mother (Sissy Spacek) to relax her influence over her only child as he grows into adulthood. She is rigid and has designed a list of unspoken rules for him. She shuts him out emotionally, rarely showing him love through words or gestures. Women who share this pathology with Spacek’s character might know that such underhanded manipulation often backfires. The son – in what Freud would deem an Oedipal tendency – lusts after an altogether different matriarchal figure (Marisa Tomei), one who doesn’t seek to control or pressure but instead encourages and listens to her own children. I don’t want to betray every plot detail, but I will say that I appreciate the scrutiny that the film employs to examine the way such a manipulative woman is able to control her malleable husband. This is not a caricature but a sharply observed and evenly rendered character study.
I know real women just like this one.
6. Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
In the last five films, motherhood is repeatedly examined. Unlike the case of the villainous mother in The Manchurian Candidate, these mothers are well-intentioned, if somewhat flawed, human beings (aren’t we all?). They are (respectively) duped, weak, helpless, competitive and critical, and finally distracted. In the case of Rosemary, viewers adopt her perspective because director Roman Polanski’s makes clever use of sound. Being inside Rosemary’s apartment in New York City is like being inside her head, with “Fur Elise” playing in one corner of her mind and doorbells ringing in another. The film also stages two disorienting dream sequences shown from her perspective. Viewers are appalled by the betrayal made by her self-centered, fame-hungry husband because we have looked through Rosemary’s eyes when he (as the hairy incarnation of Satan) rapes her. Were we not manipulated to take on Rosemary’s perspective, we might not experience such a visceral reaction to the things that she endures.
7. Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
This film also places a naïve young woman at the feet of a despicable male character, and it is a difficult challenge for this woman to build a barrier between this vile man (the murderer of wealthy widows) and her unsuspecting mother. In fact, this Alfred Hitchcock classic presents quite the opposite of a feminist perspective and, in doing so, forces viewers to argue back. The killer’s rationale for killing women is as follows:
The cities are full of women, middle-aged widows, husbands, dead, husbands who’ve spent their lives making fortunes, working and working. And then they die and leave their money to their wives, their silly wives. And what do the wives do, these useless women? You see them in the hotels, the best hotels, every day by the thousands, drinking the money, eating the money, losing the money at bridge, playing all day and all night, smelling of money, proud of their jewelry but of nothing else, horrible, faded, fat, greedy women… Are they human or are they fat, wheezing animals, hmm? And what happens to animals when they get too fat and too old?
The young female protagonist points out that these women he resents are human beings. We, the audience, nod. “Are they?” he asks us. Yes!
8. Sling Blade (1996)
Sling Blade gives us the male perspective of a mentally handicapped drifter named Karl, who, as a child, had murdered his mother because she was having sex with someone other than his father, but who learns to appreciate the pitiable position of another mother and subsequently rescinds his earlier insistence that the murder was warranted. Why? He changes his mind because he realizes that in the cases of both women, angry men control (or controlled) their lives and they have few, if any, alternatives to breaking propriety.
The portrait of a working class mother in this film demonstrates her limitations (mental, emotional, financial, etc.) while exposing her grace and kindness. In fact, this entire film is a celebration of kindness; and the aforementioned mother is heroically kind in the face of her own personal tragedy (the suicide of her husband) and the violence of her hateful new beau. She even makes Karl biscuits from scratch in the middle of the night, with less than a few hours to sleep before going to work as a clerk in a dollar store. Additionally, she is the only person in this rural Southern (United States) town to befriend homosexuals.
9. Terms of Endearment (1983)
Terms of Endearment is an accurate portrait of the relationship between a controlling mother and her daughter, who consistently falls beneath her mother’s expectations. Aurora wants Emma to be happy and successful, but not for Emma’s own happiness’ sake, for her mother’s. Aurora measures her own success, as a woman and mother, by the success of her daughter. I believe this type of competitive relationship, where a mother resents her daughter’s limitations as reflections on her lack of maternal competency, to be common in our American culture, which validates success in sports and beauty in strictly pass/fail or win/lose terms. American cinema has yet to fully reflect this dynamic in women much beyond Terms of Endearment. Classic American works like Death of a Salesman, might have you believe that parents only want the best for their children for their children’s sake. In truth, parents often want the best for their children to measure their own success as parents. Aurora questions and critiques every one of Emma’s choices because they are less than the best in Aurora’s estimation.
10. Fargo (1996)
Motherhood is a pervasive theme to examine in my ten, but it is Frances McDormand’s portrayal of pregnant Police Chief Marge Gunderson in Fargo that makes a great cap to this list and finds feminists divided on the issue of motherhood and whether or not it should be a self-sacrificing pursuit. Some might argue that Marge is the pinnacle of what feminists should aspire to: a strong, working woman in a professional position of authority. And she can have it all, they say: a career, a loving husband, a comfortable home and a child to call her own. Other feminists who view motherhood as a pursuit worthy of total focus might argue that Marge is selfish in her professional function where she may be shot and killed, her baby along with her, at any moment. The issue is polarizing. If you’re a feminist like me, you have yet to side with either group. Whatever you believe, Fargo is a great film to see if – for no other reason – you want to bask in one of the great cinematic performances by an American actress.
The reason for compiling a list of this type is to encourage people to view and discuss these works. (There’s certainly more that can be written about each one of these films.) AFI wants you to watch and consider Citizen Kane and Raging Bull, etc. As a feminist film critic, I want you to see these and other motion pictures with an open mind. With so few feminist film critics working in the mainstream media, you may not have considered these and other films in this way before. Maybe you have and perhaps you even have ideas about other films that warrant a fresh look at the way they too challenge phallocentrism in cinema. The more we watch and the more we raise our voices in forums like this, the greater the chance becomes to change the way Hollywood understands and portrays women, and the more plentiful the opportunities for women as creators of cinema will become.
November 26, 2008
I was a kid in a candy store at my first screening of Pixar’s new miracle WALL-E. The film has generated quite a bit of Oscar buzz in that it might transcend the patronizing “Best Animated Feature” category and ascend to the higher realm of “Best Picture.” (As if animated movies require less vision or hard work on the part of their creators than do live action films!)
I fell in love with the little bot as he diligently hummed to and fro, compacting more than 700 years’ worth of human trash into orderly spires of stinking excess. As the sign says, he’s “working to dig (us) out.”
The darker message of the film is that we have destroyed our planet, making it so uninhabitable that we literally cannot inhabit it anymore. We relocate to a luxury spaceship cruise liner where – over those 700 elapsed years – we’ve managed to bulk up our body fat and trim down our bone mass. (Sounds like a terrific movie for children!)
Actually, it is a terrific movie for children. The lighter message is one of love: WALL-E and EVE will sacrifice everything – including their sacred directives – to spend time with each other. And what do they do together? Dance and hold hands. Isn’t that love…at least to a 4-year-old?
My husband – of the pantheon of men who tell their wives “No, I will not watch a love story with you!” – watched the film for a second time with me a few days ago. And just when I got up to go to the kitchen for a cup of tea, I heard a shout from the living room: “Babe, EVE has found WALL-E!” he yelled with glee.
Well, he did watch a love story with me after all…but that’s the secret genius of this film: it isn’t what it appears. To recap: WALL-E is at the same time a love story and a condemnation of our collective consumerism and ecological shortsightedness. But the film also proves a theory that I hold dear: gender (i.e. masculine or feminine) is almost entirely a social construct having very little to do with one’s given sex.
My brother the psychologist says that most children can identify their sex by the age of 3 or 4. And even if they have gay parents, they’re so inundated by examples of heterosexual coupling in the pop culture world around them that they begin to distinguish the differences between men and women – other than those differences they’ve exposed to each other on the playground. Before they even see the film, they identify WALL-E as a male character and EVE as a female character, even though these robots are not anatomically correct. The boy is boxier with square shoulders, my brother points out. EVE, the girl, is shiny and smooth. And if you hear their voices, you note that WALL-E’s voice is slightly deeper in tone than is EVE’s.
Magically, these characters’ genders do not correspond. WALL-E has spent 700 years alone on a deserted Earth…with no real company except for Cornelius Hackl and co. in the 1969 musical extravaganza Hello, Dolly! (And let’s face it: Michael Crawford is not the world’s most masculine hero!) Ergo, WALL-E spins and sputters in an earnest attempt at musicality. He picks up trash and shoves it in his vaginal-cave-of-a-stomach. And he’s emotionally moved by all of the little things rougher beings take for granted: a love song, the life of a lowly cockroach, etc. Like Princess Ariel in The Little Mermaid (1989), WALL-E collects precious (to him) things from the long gone human world and treasures them in his tiny, lackluster domicile.
EVE, on the other hand, has a great big weapon that shoots nuclear missiles in a split second. She’s slightly larger than WALL-E, and certainly more aggressive. She rescues him – the “damsel” in distress – and carries his broken body back to Earth in a desperate attempt to heal him and hold his hand. This is an empowering message for little girls, who are alternatively allowed princess role models or Bratz dolls (you know, the dolls who sport bare midriffs and the appearance that they’ve just emerged from botox injection therapy?).
Now, I know what you’re thinking: will WALL-E turn little boys into sissies if EVE is giving little girls another Joan of Arc? Certainly not! But there may be a silver lining in this film viewing experience for boys too: they might learn a little sensitivity…and one day they’ll be open to movies other than Rambo and Die Hard.
The bottom line is that until we’re told we have to behave in a certain way – for instance: our parents say so, our girlfriends do so, or magazines show so – we girls usually behave in a way that feels natural for us. Sometimes, we find ourselves seeking permission to behave differently than other little girls. There are standards out there. This is why little boys often find it difficult to cry…and probably why little girls often find it difficult not to. How quickly they learn the rules!
I’m excited to report that, while WALL-E and EVE might not change our children, they will enlighten them.
July 10, 2008
I have many a feminist topic to rant about. But today, I feel a bit under the weather…and that tends to put me in a sentimental mindset. During my usual a.m. news perusal, I came across the following video:
The leatherback turtle is an endangered species, according to the United States government, which recently woke up to the possibility that we’ve destroyed the habitats of polar bears. Leatherbacks can grow to weigh as much as 2000 pounds. They are threatened by extinction owing to several human behaviors. They often become entangled in fishermen’s nets and drown. They have been known to mistake plastic bags and other discarded human waste floating in the sea for jellyfish and ingest the waste, causing bowel obstruction or choking. And their eggs, which they lay on the sandy beaches of Florida, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands, are often harvested for food by predatory egg poachers, human and animal alike.
There’s a certain amount of trust that is being betrayed it seems. Mother turtles lay their eggs in the sand and return to the sea. It’s an instinctive tradition. Once the eggs hatch, the hatchlings crawl toward the ocean – some inexplicable force calls them home. Both mother and child trust the world, trust the animals of the Earth and trust themselves to make the journey safely.
As I watched the video of the wee turtles flopping helplessly toward the water and then being swept away, I wept. Their behavior was so natural, so innocent, that I couldn’t help but want for their safety. I feel sorry that the leatherback turtle leaves so much to chance when human choice would have it that these docile creatures go with the flow and yet often find their flow obstructed. We may have the power to choose how we live, but it seems to me that the turtle does not make choices. The turtle simply behaves as its instinct dictates.
So while we may choose to eat the turtle eggs as a delicacy, the little ones struggle to travel what must seem an enormous distance despite what might have been an easier choice to nestle in the warm sand.
Somehow Pixar understands this. Its new film WALL-E is the toast of the critical world. And I loved it too but not because the animation is pristine – which it is – or because the expectation that humanity will destroy itself is so transparently available to viewers – which it is; but because WALL-E is just like the turtles in a way. He has religiously compacted our waste for 700 years, without stopping to consider his own fears, his own loneliness or his own mortality. It’s not the close shot of his inquisitive eyes that draws me in; rather it is a wider look at the little robot wheeling to and fro, doing as he was intended without fail…no matter what…
The robot does develop what we perceive are feelings. Pixar has made rather a blank canvas of the character onto which we project our own emotions. But there’s still the actuality of his preceding 700 years of repetitive behavior.
We think that our ability to choose makes us better than creatures of instinct. But what we fail to consider is that we have the choices we do because others do not. We can choose to eat turtle eggs now, and until we have eaten the last of them, because the leatherback instinctively crawls from eggshell to ocean and back again. We can choose to eat cow and pig meat and treat livestock cruelly on the way to the slaughter because the livestock cannot choose to fight us back.
But someday, all the eggs and polar bears and cows and pigs and fresh air and hope for a brighter day may be gone. And all because we abused our power to choose and looked upon harmless instinct with contempt. We can be so cruel.
Perhaps we should take a lesson from the giant sea turtle at large and the giant sea turtle Crush from Pixar’s other masterpiece Finding Nemo. How does Crush know when the little baby sea turtles are ready to swim on their own? “Well, you never really know, but when they know, you know, y’know?” he said.
And without making a conscious choice, the wee ones swam safely along.