In the news:
"Cher will act alongside Christina Aguilera in “Burlesque,” a contemporary musical about a young girl (Aguilera) struggling to make it big in a Los Angeles burlesque club run by an ex-dancer (Cher). The role will mark Cher’s first onscreen gig since 1999." [Variety.com]
A summary can tell you what a movie's about, but it can't tell you how it's about it. So I have to say this: This film could turn out to be much, much better than I'm imagining it will be. However, if my imagination is correct, then on the day after the premiere, I will be gathering a consciousness-raising group, '70s style, to which you are all invited, because the day this movie comes out is the day that feminism dies, and we're going to have to get to work on bringing it back.
Showing posts with label feminism breaking out all over like poison ivy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feminism breaking out all over like poison ivy. Show all posts
6.24.2009
10.13.2008
I had a wildly off-schedule weekend -- I seriously overslept twice and am running on fumes right now. This is not unusual for me, but whatever combination of caffeine and/or naps that worked in the past is failing me now. So it's 5:30, and I'm running on fumes, and I'm 99% certain that I'm skipping hip-hop this evening, which is sad because it's fun; but it's not fun if I pass out in the middle of an 8-count.
I did make it through British cinema this afternoon, which was important because I had major issues with one of the films we screened last night, Naked (Mike Leigh, 1993). (I had no issues at all with the other film, A Hard Day's Night (1964), starring four adorable lads from Liverpool -- maybe you've heard of them, the Beatles?)
I HATED Naked, not because it was a bad film in formal/aesthetic terms, but because it was so horrendously misogynistic that I could barely keep my dinner down. I think my friend Ariel encapsulated the horrendousness when she admitted to me, "I turned it off after the third rape scene." (She was smart and watched it at home.)
I was slightly afraid that I *always* talk about gender, and I don't want to be that girl who never says anything unless she can use the word "patriarchal." But whatever -- some shit's got to be said. And this shit was obvious. So I tried to explain that, listen, I don't know whether it's a good movie or not, but I do know that as a woman, like all women, I organize my life around the fear of having my body violated, and as a woman watching, the film hit that fear button too often -- almost constantly -- and to no effect, except to make victims of its female characters physically, verbally, and narratively, and that the movie therefore does violence to the female spectator. I ended with something like, "This movie *hates* women. The *filmmakers* hate women. This movie hates *me*, and I hate *it*."
"Whoa," said Professor Katie Trumpener, "a manifesto." Damn right, KT.
I'm thinking now that I maybe should look into getting that certificate in Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies that the WGSS program offers. This seems to be a preoccupation.
Anyway, I'm proud of myself for sucking it up and risking the label of being "too political" in what can sometimes be an artsy-farsty program. Little victories, friends. Little victories, then bigger ones.
I did make it through British cinema this afternoon, which was important because I had major issues with one of the films we screened last night, Naked (Mike Leigh, 1993). (I had no issues at all with the other film, A Hard Day's Night (1964), starring four adorable lads from Liverpool -- maybe you've heard of them, the Beatles?)
I HATED Naked, not because it was a bad film in formal/aesthetic terms, but because it was so horrendously misogynistic that I could barely keep my dinner down. I think my friend Ariel encapsulated the horrendousness when she admitted to me, "I turned it off after the third rape scene." (She was smart and watched it at home.)
I was slightly afraid that I *always* talk about gender, and I don't want to be that girl who never says anything unless she can use the word "patriarchal." But whatever -- some shit's got to be said. And this shit was obvious. So I tried to explain that, listen, I don't know whether it's a good movie or not, but I do know that as a woman, like all women, I organize my life around the fear of having my body violated, and as a woman watching, the film hit that fear button too often -- almost constantly -- and to no effect, except to make victims of its female characters physically, verbally, and narratively, and that the movie therefore does violence to the female spectator. I ended with something like, "This movie *hates* women. The *filmmakers* hate women. This movie hates *me*, and I hate *it*."
"Whoa," said Professor Katie Trumpener, "a manifesto." Damn right, KT.
I'm thinking now that I maybe should look into getting that certificate in Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies that the WGSS program offers. This seems to be a preoccupation.
Anyway, I'm proud of myself for sucking it up and risking the label of being "too political" in what can sometimes be an artsy-farsty program. Little victories, friends. Little victories, then bigger ones.
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