This post took a lot longer to write than I had intended, but I finally finished it. Hopefully you all will enjoy it. There are spoilers for all three of the films I discuss, so consider this your warning.
Last weekend I watched the first film of my AFI 100 Best Films Project, and that film was Gone with the Wind, number six on AFI's latest list (only sixty-five more films to go). This is one of those films that I'm surprised to have missed over the years. After all, adjusting for inflation, it is still one of the highest grossing films of all time, and after viewing it I can see why. It is an epic in every sense of the word. Everything the film does is big, or rather BIG: larger than life characters, a broad overview of an era, a sweeping score, and beautiful cinematography, a surprising element considering the aspect ratio. In short, I was reminded that nobody makes films like this anymore, which is both a good and bad thing.
Films are not viewed in a vacuum. Like all art, we bring our own histories, our own context, to each piece of art, which informs our reactions and our interpretations. I spent most of my time in college writing about women, so there is plenty in Gone with the Wind that I find disturbing, but before I get into the more disturbing aspects of the film there's something else I need to explain about last weekend. Gone with the Wind was not the only film I watched, of course. Surprisingly (or not), last weekend I watched a couple of other films with prominent female characters: Yentl and Antichrist. All three films are very different and yet each is a powerful representation of women, each film a point in history, another movement towards understanding the complexity of not just women but also of human nature.
Gone with the Wind (1939)
Really, a lot has been written about this classic, and there's really not much I can add here... But I'll try nevertheless. First, consider how women are treated and characterized within the film. There are five women who are given enough time to develop their characters: two are slaves, Prissy and Mammy; one's a Madame with a heart of gold, Belle Watling; one's the very picture of a "good Christian woman", Melanie Hamilton; and then there's the driving force of the entire film, Scarlett O'Hara.
The most interesting aspect of the film, obviously, is the growth and development of Scarlett's character, which can be measured by her marriages. Her first marriage, with the smitten Charles Hamilton, is born from Scarlett's jealousy and frustration, a rather childish reaction. After all, she didn't get the man she wanted, Ashley Wilkes, who went to marry Melanie Hamilton. Lucky for Scarlett, poor Charles dies of pneumonia early in the Civil War. Her second marriage comes later, but that marriage is not driven by some childish emotion but out of necessity. The taxes on Tara, Scarlett's home, are more than she could afford. Rather than risk the eviction of her and her family, Scarlett marries Frank Kennedy: a business owner, family friend, and more importantly a man with enough money to save Tara. Her third marriage, after Frank's death of course, is to the handsome and devilish Rhett Butler. This last marriage, for the first time in Scarlett's life is not out of necessity or some petty bout of anger. No, at the time of her marriage to Rhett, Scarlett has enough money to provide for her family, which means while Rhett has considerably more money than Scarlett, there is no pressing need to marry. For the first time in Scarlett's life, she is free to marry a man she loves, though of course she doesn't admit it at first, incapable to show any sign of true vulnerability.
These marriages highlight the three major sections of the film. They are the mile-markers of Scarlett's growth as an independent woman. She is decisive, fierce, ambitious, and determined. In short, Gone with the Wind is second only to Citizen Kane as the most "American" film I have ever seen. However, for the time period, Scarlett could not get away with such social atrocities, so in the final section of the film she suffers quite a lot, a string of devastating events culminating in probably the most famous line in film history, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." From my 21st century perspective, this last seems quite unfair, but not nearly as unsettling as some of Rhett's earlier actions. In one scene, quite drunk, Rhett forces himself upon Scarlett, which is the scene I found most disturbing of the whole film. He later apologizes for his "actions", but Scarlett doesn't seem the least bit hurt by those "actions", a reaction that's almost as disturbing as the implied act itself. Also, after the death of their daughter (Bonnie), Rhett mentions that he saw Bonnie as a younger Scarlett, before the war had turned her into the formidable woman she became. So is that what Rhett wants, a woman who never grows up? It seems he doesn't know what he wants. He was attracted to her character, but once married that attraction changed. He loved her domineering spirit, but only until the wedding vows, afterwards the taming began. But Scarlett is not to be tamed, and I for one will always imagine her as continually fighting for what she wants. Her final monologue, ending in the line "Today is another day," mirrors America's own independent spirit, the driving force behind everything that we have accomplished as a nation, both the good and the bad, of course.
Yentl (1983)
If Gone with the Wind demonstrates that women have just as much determination and ambition as men, then Yentl is a further extension of that, an extension into the realm of intellectual capabilities.
I haven't seen too many Barbara Streisand films, and even now I've only seen three: Funny Girl (great fun, great music), The Mirror Has Two Faces (eh, I'd forgotten I'd seen it until I looked Streisand up on Imdb) and Yentl (beautiful). While I love Funny Girl, Yentl is far more fascinating as an exercise.
Of course, you have to get over the whole gender swap thing: a forty-year old woman cuts her hair and is accepted to an all-male religious school (the only kind in this film). The disguise itself is not at all convincing, but that's not the point. Since Shakespeare we've been suspending over disbelief over gender, so why stop now. The point is not Streisand's un-boyish look, but her intelligence and determination to learn. Here's a woman who is very smart and willing to learn everything, always wanting more.
On her way out of her hometown, Yentl meets Avigdor and a friendship blossoms. However, it's a bit complicated for both. I have always found the homoerotic nature of gender-swapping intriguing, for obvious reasons. However, most films don't adequately deal with those emotions. After all, it's okay because the audience knows Yentl is a woman, so Avigdor is forgiven his romantic feelings for his friend. Interestingly, Streisand doesn't stop with man-on-man feelings, she goes further when, by a head-scratching plot-twist, Yentl ends up marrying Avigdor's love, Hadass.
This complex (can it be called "love"?) triangle is only somewhat resolved in a heated exchange after Yentl reveals to Avigdor that she is in fact not a boy, but a woman. Needless to say, the shit hits the fan, and immediately Avigdor can no longer see Yentl as a superbly intelligent boy but as a woman, incapable of a sustained, intelligent argument. No, worse, she is unworthy of argument. It's a truly devastating scene that reveals Avigdor is not worthy of Yentl and she could not conceivably accept any relationship where they are not equals.
In his review, Roger Ebert wrote that the ending is a cheat. I disagree, although I did find it humorous that Streisand would put Yentl on a boat, clearly evoking Funny Girl. Honestly, I don't think it should have ended any other way. The time was not right for Yentl to find her place in the world, and so she must remain in our memories as a individual still searching for acceptance and unwilling to settle for anything less than what she deserves. It's quite an uplifting moment to a very beautiful film.
Antichrist (2009)
Now, enough with all this uplifting crap! On to the horror!
And I really mean that.
Antichrist is probably the most disturbing movie I have ever seen, more disturbing than Doom Generation, I think. I remember reading about the controversy surrounding Lars von Trier's film at Cannes a couple of years ago. Many were calling it misogynist, and after viewing it I can see why. However, such a critique is only supportable if you look at the violence literally. There is no way this film is meant to be taken at face value. It's images must be considered at length, although I'm not too sure I'd want to view it again, not so close to my first viewing at least.
The plot is fairly simple. The film opens with a couple (they are never given names so they will be referred to as He and She) making love, passionate love, all over the place. And in the middle of their love-making, their son climbs up to window, opens it, and falls to his death. Unable to cope with the loss, He suggests going out to their cabin in the woods, for some one-on-one therapy (He's a therapist). Well, the therapy doesn't work. Both end up losing their minds and take out their emotions in the most violent fashion. And, ladies and gentlemen, it is very, very graphic.
The film itself is beautifully shot, but what's most fascinating about the production is the fearlessness of the actor's involved, Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg. I couldn't imagine what I'd say if a director ever asked me to do the things they do in this film. I'd probably rip a page out of Scarlett's book and slap the crap out of him, every hour on the hour.
The fearlessness of the actor's aside and before I move into my analysis of the films hidden feminist side, I'd like to discuss the title of the film, Antichrist. What's interesting here is that the title itself brings out preconceived notions of evil (the end of days and all that), but the onscreen look of the title is not one word, but two. "Anti" sits above "Christ". This layout dispels any notion that an embodiment of evil will make an appearance: anti-Christ, not Antichrist. No, the film is about the darkest side of out nature, our capacity for cruelty and hopelessness. Once that child dies, all sense of reason and compassion vanishes.
At first, it seems as though He is only trying to help his wife. He is arrogant enough to believe that he alone is capable of curing her of her grief, but there's more to it than that. That "I'll cure her" mentality eventually leads them out to their cabin where He's facade gradually melts away to reveal his own desire to punish her for their son's death. And this is only the surface of the psychological complexity of the film. He is dealing with anger. She is dealing with her own anger, but also with guilt. Anger and guilt are the driving forces behind both characters and cause them to commit atrocious acts against each other. However, only with She are those acts internalized.
She had gone to the cabin a year before their son's death to finish her thesis, which dealt with the cultural preconception that women are inherently evil. While there she succumbs to this very belief, despite the fact that she meant to criticize that same belief. And when She informs He of her feelings, He tries to get her to see otherwise. However, He later finds a few pictures of their son with the wrong shoe on the wrong foot. He presses her about this mistake, forcing her to see herself as damaging their son, forcing her to see herself as a bad, evil mother. It's a devastating moment for both because it's now clear that neither have been psychologically "okay", even before their son's death. After that picture is revealed, the violence against each other begins.
I don't think I've ever seen a film with so much sex and so little eroticism. Sex is used as a weapon in this film, a brutal one at that. The only time sex is seen as pleasurable is in the opening montage. After that, it is a distraction and a weapon, but never again erotic.
As a reaction to her guilt and anger, She mutilates both He's and her own sexual organs (her's is the most graphic and makes me shutter still, though his was the most surprising because it seemed to come out of nowhere; her's was a slow progression; you saw what was going to happen before it did). She is reacting against the very forces that produced the child in the first place. If the source of her pain is vanquished, then the pain of loss will vanish along with it.
In the end, He kills She and burns her remains, like so many witches before her; and in the epilogue, He is walking through the forest when a hundred women with blurred faces descend upon him until he vanishes from the screen, overcome by sheer numbers. He, I believe, having killed his wife, is complicit in the countless murders and mutilations against women throughout the world and throughout time. After all his posing and all his education, He is no better.
Trier's film is an indictment against misogyny in all its forms, especially those that are hidden under the guise of caring. It is a reminder that women still suffer in this world, and it is also a reminder that Scarlett's actions, though not as violent, are quite similar and just as psychological complex as She's. Evil in this world does not derive from some outside source, but from our own darkest sensibilities.
It's strange the connections one can make, no?
Last weekend I watched the first film of my AFI 100 Best Films Project, and that film was Gone with the Wind, number six on AFI's latest list (only sixty-five more films to go). This is one of those films that I'm surprised to have missed over the years. After all, adjusting for inflation, it is still one of the highest grossing films of all time, and after viewing it I can see why. It is an epic in every sense of the word. Everything the film does is big, or rather BIG: larger than life characters, a broad overview of an era, a sweeping score, and beautiful cinematography, a surprising element considering the aspect ratio. In short, I was reminded that nobody makes films like this anymore, which is both a good and bad thing.
Films are not viewed in a vacuum. Like all art, we bring our own histories, our own context, to each piece of art, which informs our reactions and our interpretations. I spent most of my time in college writing about women, so there is plenty in Gone with the Wind that I find disturbing, but before I get into the more disturbing aspects of the film there's something else I need to explain about last weekend. Gone with the Wind was not the only film I watched, of course. Surprisingly (or not), last weekend I watched a couple of other films with prominent female characters: Yentl and Antichrist. All three films are very different and yet each is a powerful representation of women, each film a point in history, another movement towards understanding the complexity of not just women but also of human nature.
Gone with the Wind (1939)
Really, a lot has been written about this classic, and there's really not much I can add here... But I'll try nevertheless. First, consider how women are treated and characterized within the film. There are five women who are given enough time to develop their characters: two are slaves, Prissy and Mammy; one's a Madame with a heart of gold, Belle Watling; one's the very picture of a "good Christian woman", Melanie Hamilton; and then there's the driving force of the entire film, Scarlett O'Hara.
The most interesting aspect of the film, obviously, is the growth and development of Scarlett's character, which can be measured by her marriages. Her first marriage, with the smitten Charles Hamilton, is born from Scarlett's jealousy and frustration, a rather childish reaction. After all, she didn't get the man she wanted, Ashley Wilkes, who went to marry Melanie Hamilton. Lucky for Scarlett, poor Charles dies of pneumonia early in the Civil War. Her second marriage comes later, but that marriage is not driven by some childish emotion but out of necessity. The taxes on Tara, Scarlett's home, are more than she could afford. Rather than risk the eviction of her and her family, Scarlett marries Frank Kennedy: a business owner, family friend, and more importantly a man with enough money to save Tara. Her third marriage, after Frank's death of course, is to the handsome and devilish Rhett Butler. This last marriage, for the first time in Scarlett's life is not out of necessity or some petty bout of anger. No, at the time of her marriage to Rhett, Scarlett has enough money to provide for her family, which means while Rhett has considerably more money than Scarlett, there is no pressing need to marry. For the first time in Scarlett's life, she is free to marry a man she loves, though of course she doesn't admit it at first, incapable to show any sign of true vulnerability.
These marriages highlight the three major sections of the film. They are the mile-markers of Scarlett's growth as an independent woman. She is decisive, fierce, ambitious, and determined. In short, Gone with the Wind is second only to Citizen Kane as the most "American" film I have ever seen. However, for the time period, Scarlett could not get away with such social atrocities, so in the final section of the film she suffers quite a lot, a string of devastating events culminating in probably the most famous line in film history, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." From my 21st century perspective, this last seems quite unfair, but not nearly as unsettling as some of Rhett's earlier actions. In one scene, quite drunk, Rhett forces himself upon Scarlett, which is the scene I found most disturbing of the whole film. He later apologizes for his "actions", but Scarlett doesn't seem the least bit hurt by those "actions", a reaction that's almost as disturbing as the implied act itself. Also, after the death of their daughter (Bonnie), Rhett mentions that he saw Bonnie as a younger Scarlett, before the war had turned her into the formidable woman she became. So is that what Rhett wants, a woman who never grows up? It seems he doesn't know what he wants. He was attracted to her character, but once married that attraction changed. He loved her domineering spirit, but only until the wedding vows, afterwards the taming began. But Scarlett is not to be tamed, and I for one will always imagine her as continually fighting for what she wants. Her final monologue, ending in the line "Today is another day," mirrors America's own independent spirit, the driving force behind everything that we have accomplished as a nation, both the good and the bad, of course.
Yentl (1983)
If Gone with the Wind demonstrates that women have just as much determination and ambition as men, then Yentl is a further extension of that, an extension into the realm of intellectual capabilities.
I haven't seen too many Barbara Streisand films, and even now I've only seen three: Funny Girl (great fun, great music), The Mirror Has Two Faces (eh, I'd forgotten I'd seen it until I looked Streisand up on Imdb) and Yentl (beautiful). While I love Funny Girl, Yentl is far more fascinating as an exercise.
Of course, you have to get over the whole gender swap thing: a forty-year old woman cuts her hair and is accepted to an all-male religious school (the only kind in this film). The disguise itself is not at all convincing, but that's not the point. Since Shakespeare we've been suspending over disbelief over gender, so why stop now. The point is not Streisand's un-boyish look, but her intelligence and determination to learn. Here's a woman who is very smart and willing to learn everything, always wanting more.
On her way out of her hometown, Yentl meets Avigdor and a friendship blossoms. However, it's a bit complicated for both. I have always found the homoerotic nature of gender-swapping intriguing, for obvious reasons. However, most films don't adequately deal with those emotions. After all, it's okay because the audience knows Yentl is a woman, so Avigdor is forgiven his romantic feelings for his friend. Interestingly, Streisand doesn't stop with man-on-man feelings, she goes further when, by a head-scratching plot-twist, Yentl ends up marrying Avigdor's love, Hadass.
This complex (can it be called "love"?) triangle is only somewhat resolved in a heated exchange after Yentl reveals to Avigdor that she is in fact not a boy, but a woman. Needless to say, the shit hits the fan, and immediately Avigdor can no longer see Yentl as a superbly intelligent boy but as a woman, incapable of a sustained, intelligent argument. No, worse, she is unworthy of argument. It's a truly devastating scene that reveals Avigdor is not worthy of Yentl and she could not conceivably accept any relationship where they are not equals.
In his review, Roger Ebert wrote that the ending is a cheat. I disagree, although I did find it humorous that Streisand would put Yentl on a boat, clearly evoking Funny Girl. Honestly, I don't think it should have ended any other way. The time was not right for Yentl to find her place in the world, and so she must remain in our memories as a individual still searching for acceptance and unwilling to settle for anything less than what she deserves. It's quite an uplifting moment to a very beautiful film.
Antichrist (2009)
Now, enough with all this uplifting crap! On to the horror!
And I really mean that.
Antichrist is probably the most disturbing movie I have ever seen, more disturbing than Doom Generation, I think. I remember reading about the controversy surrounding Lars von Trier's film at Cannes a couple of years ago. Many were calling it misogynist, and after viewing it I can see why. However, such a critique is only supportable if you look at the violence literally. There is no way this film is meant to be taken at face value. It's images must be considered at length, although I'm not too sure I'd want to view it again, not so close to my first viewing at least.
The plot is fairly simple. The film opens with a couple (they are never given names so they will be referred to as He and She) making love, passionate love, all over the place. And in the middle of their love-making, their son climbs up to window, opens it, and falls to his death. Unable to cope with the loss, He suggests going out to their cabin in the woods, for some one-on-one therapy (He's a therapist). Well, the therapy doesn't work. Both end up losing their minds and take out their emotions in the most violent fashion. And, ladies and gentlemen, it is very, very graphic.
The film itself is beautifully shot, but what's most fascinating about the production is the fearlessness of the actor's involved, Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg. I couldn't imagine what I'd say if a director ever asked me to do the things they do in this film. I'd probably rip a page out of Scarlett's book and slap the crap out of him, every hour on the hour.
The fearlessness of the actor's aside and before I move into my analysis of the films hidden feminist side, I'd like to discuss the title of the film, Antichrist. What's interesting here is that the title itself brings out preconceived notions of evil (the end of days and all that), but the onscreen look of the title is not one word, but two. "Anti" sits above "Christ". This layout dispels any notion that an embodiment of evil will make an appearance: anti-Christ, not Antichrist. No, the film is about the darkest side of out nature, our capacity for cruelty and hopelessness. Once that child dies, all sense of reason and compassion vanishes.
At first, it seems as though He is only trying to help his wife. He is arrogant enough to believe that he alone is capable of curing her of her grief, but there's more to it than that. That "I'll cure her" mentality eventually leads them out to their cabin where He's facade gradually melts away to reveal his own desire to punish her for their son's death. And this is only the surface of the psychological complexity of the film. He is dealing with anger. She is dealing with her own anger, but also with guilt. Anger and guilt are the driving forces behind both characters and cause them to commit atrocious acts against each other. However, only with She are those acts internalized.
She had gone to the cabin a year before their son's death to finish her thesis, which dealt with the cultural preconception that women are inherently evil. While there she succumbs to this very belief, despite the fact that she meant to criticize that same belief. And when She informs He of her feelings, He tries to get her to see otherwise. However, He later finds a few pictures of their son with the wrong shoe on the wrong foot. He presses her about this mistake, forcing her to see herself as damaging their son, forcing her to see herself as a bad, evil mother. It's a devastating moment for both because it's now clear that neither have been psychologically "okay", even before their son's death. After that picture is revealed, the violence against each other begins.
I don't think I've ever seen a film with so much sex and so little eroticism. Sex is used as a weapon in this film, a brutal one at that. The only time sex is seen as pleasurable is in the opening montage. After that, it is a distraction and a weapon, but never again erotic.
As a reaction to her guilt and anger, She mutilates both He's and her own sexual organs (her's is the most graphic and makes me shutter still, though his was the most surprising because it seemed to come out of nowhere; her's was a slow progression; you saw what was going to happen before it did). She is reacting against the very forces that produced the child in the first place. If the source of her pain is vanquished, then the pain of loss will vanish along with it.
In the end, He kills She and burns her remains, like so many witches before her; and in the epilogue, He is walking through the forest when a hundred women with blurred faces descend upon him until he vanishes from the screen, overcome by sheer numbers. He, I believe, having killed his wife, is complicit in the countless murders and mutilations against women throughout the world and throughout time. After all his posing and all his education, He is no better.
Trier's film is an indictment against misogyny in all its forms, especially those that are hidden under the guise of caring. It is a reminder that women still suffer in this world, and it is also a reminder that Scarlett's actions, though not as violent, are quite similar and just as psychological complex as She's. Evil in this world does not derive from some outside source, but from our own darkest sensibilities.
It's strange the connections one can make, no?
Can't wait to watch antichrist since reading your review. Sounds like a good way to disturb myself at night.
ReplyDeleteI've been trying to wash away the images from "Antichrist" for about a week and a half now, which is probably the reason I've been reading "The Lord of the Rings" so ferociously.
ReplyDelete