You've seen some of these movies before. You're all familiar with this plot beat. The woman, almost always a love interest, has been captured by the villain, and the hero has to brawl or bargain to save her. There's nothing inherently sexist about the situation, just as the use of such a plot device doesn't automatically make a movie sexist. But that's beside the point. This supercut puts a lot of unpleasant Hollywood trends in stark relief.
For starters, notice how in most of these clips the woman doesn't even speak. She's a prop. The only important dynamic in the scene is that between the (generally) male hero and the (generally) male villain. Their relationship is the important one, the real one, the dramatically resonant one. The men have all the dialogue, all the power, all the agency, all the charisma, all the audience's rooting interests--everything. Meanwhile, the women just have weakness and manufactured tears. They are little more than poker chips in these scenes, an observation driven home when the heroes start offering money to trade for her: "I'll give up the gold," "I gave you the money," "I'll open the safe." Then, as if it wasn't apparent enough, we have the litany of scenes that make the utter unimportance of the woman explicit: "This is between you and me," "She's not important," "She doesn't belong here."
If she's really so unimportant to the central conflict, why is she even in the movie? The answer is even sorrier than the question: She exists in these films as nothing more than a pawn, a plot device, and an eventual reward for the man to take home and mount on his mantle. Figuratively speaking.
If you're starting to squirm because you really like some of the movies in that supercut, that's fine. So do I. That shouldn't stop you from engaging with one of the most heinous institutionalized problems in Hollywood: its inexcusable treatment of women. Take a look at one of my favorite infographics.
http://www.indiewire.com/article/gender-inequality-film-in-infographic-form
The infographic is a few years old, but it's not like everything's been fixed since then. Encountering Ava DuVernay in the graphic's list of "influential women in film" drives that point home, what with her recent snubbing by the academy in the category of Best Director for Selma.
"But what if DuVernay just wasn't one of the best directors in 2014? Is the Academy sexist for thinking someone else was better?" Again, no, not necessarily. Like I mentioned above, there are conversations to be had about individual instances of women being sidelined in film. There's nothing wrong with men making movies about men in and of itself. But I bring you that supercut and that infographic to demonstrate the sexism in Hollywood on a macro level. Men making movies that don't include women is fine, but it stops being fine when those movies treat women as lowly objects who exist only to please the film's manly heroes. It stops being fine when women making movies are taken less seriously than men. It stops being fine when only male-driven movies with masculine perspectives are greenlit because that's what the studios believe will be bankable above all else. It's one of the most pervasive and insidious lies of popular culture, a lie that replicates itself indefinitely: Of course the average male moviegoer believes he doesn't want to see a "girls movie," there are so few that aren't condescending that he's probably never seen a good one. And since he doesn't think he wants one, they don't get made. And since they don't get made, he doesn't think he wants one. And so on and so forth until the only roles left for women involve them playing the simplest of characters: Woman who wants to be saved.
It doesn't have to be this way. If you don't believe that, then you need to brush up on your history, because it hasn't always been this way. Back in the silent era, a person's gender had little to do with whether they could work in the film industry or not. Some of the most popular films of the day were created by prolific and well-respected women like Mary Pickford and Lois Weber and Frances Marion. In fact, over half the films made in Hollywood during those early years were written by women. That's a percentage that dwarfs women's contributions to Hollywood today.
What happened between then and now? I honestly don't know enough film history to be able to tell you exactly, but whatever sea change occurred, we have since developed the idea that women are less important to Hollywood than men because that's how it always has been and always should be. That's the sort of odious conservative attitude, founded on lies and the almighty dollar, that needs to die immediately.
It won't. But there is still hope.
Speaking comparatively, 2014 has been a good year for women in film. While video game culture has spent the year wallowing in a seething mire of sexism and xenophobia, cinema has been quietly giving women more and better opportunities than they've had in years past. Let's take a look at what's been happening, a few trends that I feel comfortable calling progress.
I recently posted my Top Fifteen of 2014 list, a list which was spilling over with good stuff, many of them so-called "blockbusters." I believe we are in a blockbuster renaissance, an observation which ought to be undeniable after exposure to the big budget movies of 2014. Sure, Michael Bay is still around spoonfeeding us Transformers 7: This Time It's Turtles, but last year brought us a smorgasbord of intelligent, engaging, political, well-crafted blockbusters, the biggest and most unexpected of which was my second favorite movie of the year: Guardians of the Galaxy.
I spoke at length about the character of Gamora in my Guardians review, but I'd like to say a few further things for the purposes of this post. It's clear throughout the movie that writer/director James Gunn loves his characters. He creates them with such care and respect, Gamora included. Unfortunately, the movie is so stuffed that Gamora often gets sidelined. She doesn't get the A-list dialogue, or the A-list character development that some of her teammates do. I've spoken with people who are dissatisfied that Gamora ends up answering to Peter Quill despite her obvious qualifications for the leadership role. I personally think the film gives us enough good reasons for Star-Lord to become the leader, but it's undeniable that Gamora's potential is somewhat wasted by the film.
That being said, she is still a step in the right direction. She is funny, layered, and has a complex relationship with her sister. She is treated by everybody as an equal. She is more than capable of taking care of herself, but also more than capable of being a team player. Even the time she has to be rescued by Star-Lord doesn't feel like a "let her go" moment, but rather one warrior sacrificing himself to save another warrior--and a good friend. Gamora does not need to be saved because of her gender. She needs to be saved because she was so committed to pursuing her goal that she overextended herself and paid the price. That's not a woman's role--that's a human character trait.
I would file Gamora with The Lego Movie's Wyldstyle in the category of "female characters in blockbusters who take a step forward for female representation but don't quite make it to the sweet spot."
That sweet spot is currently occupied by Katniss Everdeen. The Hunger Games series may be the single most important pop cultural force happening right now. It has achieved the incredible feat of topping annual box office gross for two years running, with Mockingjay Part 1 just barely edging out Guardians of the Galaxy. Meanwhile the first entry came in a measly third place... basically, more people are watching these movies than anything else.*
*since I wrote this, I believe American Sniper has passed Mockingjay up as highest grossing film of 2014. oh well.
I guarantee these films are breaking down barriers for women because no production studio bigwig is going to look at these numbers and say, "Harumph well I still think people don't want to see movies with girls Harumph." This is a female-led franchise that is taking cinema by storm. It's got to be a breaking point.
Not to mention that these are damn good films. Catching Fire in particular was one of my favorite movies of 2013. They center around a character whose femaleness is not exploited. She is capable, psychologically realistic, and independent. She has admirable traits and flaws. She saves her male friends far more often than they save her--indeed, she goes about saving Peeta in ways that are traditionally masculine, and he goes about saving her in ways that are traditionally feminine.
Katniss's merits are well-trod terrain, but take a step back and think about the wider universe she inhabits. Think about how little institutionalized sexism you see, especially compared to a universe like, you know, ours. Two participants from each district are chosen for the Games each year: a boy and a girl. Never is it mentioned or even implied that the girls have less of a chance at winning the Games. Just as most of the Districts use both men and women to produce their goods, there is no discrimination in the Hunger Games. We see all sorts of victors from years past in Catching Fire, and it's abundantly clear that gender is not a limiting factor. Even the one woman who won the Games by hiding the entire time (Mags I think?) is not shamed or branded as cowardly--it's just her strategy, a strategy that worked.
Something about apocalyptic and dystopic fiction makes gender norms feel far less consequential. Men and women are more equal in The Hunger Games because why wouldn't they be--everyone's trying to survive, who has time for idiotic stereotypes? It's an interesting trend that we see in almost everything from Attack on Titan to the excellent trailer for the upcoming Mad Max: Fury Road. Dystopia is the great equalizer. When the class system is as screwed as it is in The Hunger Games, all energy is focused on that issue and the revolution that may undo it.
So it is in the Korean sci-fi masterpiece Snowpiercer. Sure, we get an all-American white guy in the lead role, but he is surrounded by an incredibly diverse and eclectic crew of friends and foes. Not only that, but his white guy heroism is severely undercut over the course of the film. Regardless, this is yet another dystopian apocalyptic universe in which gender is not a huge deal. Octavia Spencer's character kicks as much ass as anyone, Alison Pill's character steals her only scene by being one of the biggest badasses in the movie, Ah-sung Ko's character plays a well-rounded character who is not only a foreign woman but also doesn't speak any English (unthinkable in the Hollywood studio system), and Tilda Swinton... my god, Tilda Swinton...
Continuing the trend of progressive apocalyptic films, we have Edge of Tomorrow, a sci-fi action SFX extravaganza that also manages to have an incredible plot structure that, among other things, violates all sorts of audience expectations about gender roles. Sure, Tom Cruise is our main guy, but Cruise's persona is turned on its head--he is a driveling coward, and Emily Blunt's character is tasked with shaping him up. We expect Cruise to be a manly man--he is not, at least initially. We expect Blunt to take on the role of the love interest--she is not, at least initially. We expect her battle-hardened warrior to be a one-note character, the Full Metal Bitch as she's colloquially branded--but she most certainly is not, ever. This is a film with layers upon layers upon layers, each of which urges us to question our assumptions about the characters and the roles they play. Sure, Edge of Tomorrow isn't really about gender in any direct way, but maybe that's what makes its commentary so effective. Rita Vrataski, with her get-it-done attitude and helicopter blade sword, has taken the internet by storm as the ultimate badass. Everybody walked out of that movie with the words "Emily Blunt" on their lips long before they got around to "Tom Cruise," and that is a seminal achievement for a Hollywood popcorn action flick.
Violation of expectation is an effective way of upending our assumptions of gender roles, but it is not the only way. We also have films like We Are the Best! that exist not to pull the rug out from under us, but rather to present a world in which the progressive is so normalized that it works on us in beneficial ways. This Swedish film presents the lives of three adolescent girls on the fringes of society with such great respect and such little condescension that we can't help but realize two things:
1. Hey, kids are people!
2. Hey, girls are people too!
As a movie about girls discovering their identity and sexuality that doesn't exploit or mock, we get a window into an unfamiliar lifestyle that nonetheless feels endearing and healthy. The characters are so well-drawn that we can't help but love them, and by extension love what they stand for. When they end a punk music set by shouting out the titular phrase, "We are the best!" we must agree. They are the best, and screw those guys who kept insisting on calling them a "girl band."
This is the social power of cinema: presenting us with an unfamiliar worldview that generates so much empathy that it becomes relatable and normalized. Of course, not all cinema seeks to generate empathy, or put its characters in a form that is easy to swallow.
Gone Girl provokes. The pacing and tone of the film lull you into a false sense of security, then out of nowhere it bites. Hard.
In my observations, no other film this year has generated such... spirited discussions about gender. So many people are conflicted about the role of Amazing Amy, and what her character signifies. There are plenty of people who characterize her as the nightmare conjuring of a Men's Rights Activist--they say she sets back women's rights by being cartoonishly conniving in the way that sexist men believe women to be. Meanwhile, the other side fires back a challenge: If men can have Hannibal Lectors in the movies, why can't women? Amy Dunne represents a type of female villain we don't see that often. Calm, cool, collected, rational, with a buried rage deep down inside. Amy doesn't represent all women, they argue, but rather represents the equalizing ideal that women can be just as many things as men--hero or villain. I fall in with this contingent. I don't believe there's anything sexist about Amy, and that she provides yet another fascinating wrinkle in this year's (comparative) abundance of prominent female figures in film.
If you want to really dig into the discussion, I will point you to an essay by my favorite film theorist, Film Crit Hulk, called "Dialogues, GONE GIRL And The Maybe-Art Of Post-Feminist Pulp." It's a gem.
http://badassdigest.com/2015/01/13/film-crit-hulk-smash-dialogues-gone-girl-and-the-maybe-art-of-post-feminist/
As HULK mentions in the essay, at the end of the day a film is really about the dialogue it inspires. Even if you watch a movie alone and never talk to anybody about it, you've had a dialogue with the onscreen experience. Nobody has ever watched that movie like you did.
In the spirit of important dialogue-expanding films, we must talk about Obvious Child. Writer-director Gillian Robespierre unlocks the comic genius of Jenny Slate in a thoroughly
[Ed.: At this point in the post I moved and lost the privilege of an internet connection. There is a several week gap between the beginning of this post and the end, but I believe I remember where I was going and will try to tie it up succinctly.]
enjoyable and occasionally earthshattering way. Robespierre and Slate craft an abortion narrative that avoids the cardinal mistake of political-minded art; the movie is really about characters, and any good political excoriation is rooted firmly in the personal. Obvious Child is an abortion dramedy, and the "dram" never detracts from the "edy" or vice versa. Since we are given a window into the life of a comedian, it makes sense that the crushingly serious and the delightfully comic are so inextricably tied. Again, Obvious Child has discovered the not so secret secret to successful filmmaking: character first.
The movie is also revolutionary, simply for the fact of being a film about abortion that does not severely punish the woman who wants to undergo the procedure. This is rare--in fact, it used to be quite impossible. Check out this excerpt from the Motion Picture Production Code, Hollywood's rulebook for what was allowed in movies until 1966:
The subject of abortion shall be discouraged, shall never be more than suggested, and when referred to shall be condemned. It must never be treated lightly, or made the subject of comedy. Abortion shall never be shown explicitly or by inference, and a story must not indicate that an abortion has been performed, the word "abortion" shall not be used.That's called censorship. But we've come a long way since the sixties, right? you ask with a glimmer of hope in your readerly eyes. Sorry though, not so much as you might think. Just look up any article about the history of abortion in film to see how fraught the topic is--here's a short example. All of this goes to show how unprecedented Obvious Child really is, and the amazing thing is the film never acts like what it portrays is anything out of the ordinary. It's all downright obvious.
Just as obvious as the fact that women are more than capable of making kick-ass movies from both sides of the camera. That should go without saying, but take another look at the infographic at the top of this post to see how shockingly rare it is to find a successful female screenwriter and, even more seldom, a successful female director.
Thankfully, 2014 has been the year when the Gillians come out swinging. We've got Gillian Robespierre crafting the excellent Obvious Child, and Gillian Flynn penning the slick screenplay for Gone Girl. Even our most progressive female-driven films are frequently created by men, often with input from women who don't get accredited. That's why we need to support directors like Ava DuVernay, even when the Oscars will not.
But you know what? It's not hard to support talented women. It's what you call a win-win situation. In fact, for the first time in my life, the 2014 filmmaker I discovered whose potential most excites me is a female director: Jennifer Kent.
Ohhhhh Jennifer Kent, writer/director of The Babadook. A movie about a single mother who is terrified by her child's behavior. This type of toxic, suffocating domestic relationship is so rarely explored in mainstream film, and the way Kent squeezes the vitality out of her protagonist makes the film feel like a horror movie even before the titular monster shows up. For my money The Babadook is one of the most terrifying, thematically rich, and visually/aurally inventive horror movies of the past decade. And this is her first film! Horror is one of my pet genres, and I can't overstate how unbelievably refreshing it is to have a mature female perspective weigh in on the genre. Horror is notorious for shoving women into the narrative just long enough for them to flash their goods and be brutally murdered. The Babadook's protagonist is psychologically complex and respected as a human with agency--an agency that is constantly being stunted. This film goes a long way toward proving that a genre is only as limited as those who are dabbling within it.
Alright. I've tried to make this post both positive and realistic. We hear far too many negative stories from Hollywood and pop culture in general, its nice to notice stories that aren't *actress felt up by prominent director who was simultaneously feeling up a small boy* or *Hollywood pioneering new concept of "reverse raises" for women* or *Transformers 5 confirmed*. Good things are happening too. I want to end by talking about someone who is swiftly climbing the list of my favorite actors against all expectation.
Once upon a time the popular conception of Scarlett Johansson was that her role in Hollywood was little more than a pair of boobs and a butt. People saw her as a low rent Angelina Jolie, or a high rent Milla Jovovich--yet another woman who could act just well enough to be on the big screen thanks to the fact that she was impossibly beautiful.
Over the course of her career, Scarlett Johansson has completely reinvented herself.
That's not to say she hasn't always been talented. Little ScarJo did good work in Ghost World, then two years later hit the scene big with Lost in Translation. Since then her career has been up and down, sometimes finding her in the unenviable position of starring in a Michael Bay film thanks primarily to the aforementioned boobs and butt (for some reason I am going hard on Michael Bay in this post).
But recently she has had the selectivity, proclivity, and opportunity to be in a string of excellent movies in which her sex appeal is not the most important thing going on. Let's look at her 2013 films.
Don Jon. Okay, I've immediately contradicted myself--her sex appeal is the main thing going on in this role. However, there's a self-awareness to it all that actually creates a good self-commentary on selecting actresses/romantic partners on the merit of sex appeal alone. She's subverting the norm.
Under the Skin. Johansson sinks into one of the most complex performances of the year, both eerily alien and eerily human at the same time. She manages to comment on all sorts of sex and gender norms from the position of outsider. Who would have pegged her as an actress who would be so successful in such weird, art house fare?
Her. This is the big one for me. Sure, she's playing the love interest, but she's playing a love interest completely via voiceover. Johansson is never pictured in the movie. Her is the ultimate expression of Johansson's acting prowess because it has nothing to do with her physical attractiveness. She is creating a real character that has nothing to do with eye candy. Only pathos and meaning. Plus, much like the way she blends humanity with alienness in Under the Skin, her seamless blend of humanity and artificial intelligence here is incredible. Her is also a movie that subverts all sorts of unhealthy gender norms. Johansson's character may have been made for the express purpose of pleasing our protagonist, but she transcends that almost immediately. She becomes a person with agency who cares about the protagonist, but will not sacrifice her own personhood to cater to his needs. Her was my favorite movie of 2013 for good reason. Much of that had to do with Scarlett Johansson.
Last but not least, I have to mention her ongoing role as the Black Widow. When she first appeared in Iron Man 2, her role felt kind of gross. The hot girl shows up for Tony Stark to flirt with, and she gets to kick some ass too! But as the Marvel movies have accumulated, Johansson has crafted a much-loved and much-respected character who has carved out her place in the pantheon of heroes. She may be the only woman, and she may not have any powers, but she holds her own with her peers physically, socially, emotionally, dynamically... she did great work in The Avengers, but her character really came into its own when Captain America: The Winter Soldier let her share the screen with Steve Rogers for much of the film. She was not sidelined, condescended to, ignored, or even objectified--their relationship was real and playful, but never romantic. The Black Widow was in that movie as a character, not a replacement love interest or a hero's reward. And it all felt so simple, sensible, and right.
Scarlett Johansson has paved out an encouraging niche for herself in Hollywood. Artists like her are making more and more things possible for the next generation of women who aspire to be on the big screen as an integral part of a piece of art, rather than just the garnish on top. Things are changing because things have to change. Hollywood may be one of the last folks to show up at the equality party (nobody's heard from video games, we might have to start the party without them), but good things are finally happening. Slowly but surely.
In the meantime, let's all do our best work to speed up the process.
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