Archive | Feminist Matters

Floating on the ‘Clouds of Sils Maria’

Olivier Assayas may be one of the finest directors on either side of the Pond but his work, as subtle as it is strong, has rarely inspired superlatives. This may change with his newest, “Clouds of Sils Maria.” It’s hard to imagine a swoonier, smarter meditation on the intersection of gender, age, power, and the performance arts – especially one that passes the Bechdel Test with such flying colors. Here lies a film so deftly soulful that it revives the most tired of cinematic genres: the metamovie.

Internationally acclaimed movie star Juliette Binoche plays internationally acclaimed movie star Maria Enders, whose most intimate – if one-sided – relationship is with her personal assistant, Val (Kristen Stewart, who’s presumably had an assistant or two in her time). Enders has been asked to appear in a new staging of the (fictional) play “Maloja Snake” as a suicidal, middle-aged businesswoman romantically manipulated by a ruthless twenty-something female assistant. The problem: She still identifies with the younger character, whom she portrayed in a film adaptation of the same story – and which launched her career two decades before. Add in the fact that the actress who originally portrayed the older woman died soon after the play closed, and Maria is genuinely spooked, especially after the playwright, Wilhelm (loosely based on German director Rainer Werner Fassbinder), dies on the night she’s to accept an award on his behalf. Lest all this not be meta enough, Assayas co-wrote Binoche’s first starring role in Andre Techine’s “Rendez-vous” (1985), about an up-and-coming actress, and created “Clouds of Sils Maria” when she challenged him, after appearing in his real-estate drama “Summer Hours” (2008), to write a part that better encapsulated the female experience. Continue Reading →

‘Effie Gray’: An Unlikely Disappointment

“Effie Gray,” about the young wife of premier Victorian art critic John Ruskin, is an unlikely disappointment. Set against the unfettered backdrop of eighteenth-century Scotland, England, and Venice, it is written by Emma Thompson, who has a proven track record of penning slyly feminist screenplays (“Wit,” “Sense and Sensibility”), and it boasts all the ingredients of a female-empowering bodice-ripper: stifling family dysfunction, sexual liberation, a lurid love triangle. Yet this too-delicate biopic never develops the spine nor sparkle for which its titular character is celebrated.

A woefully miscast Dakota Fanning doesn’t help. Decked out in bosom-baring gowns, a mane of auburn waves, and a faint approximation of a British accent, she plays Euphemia “Effie” Gray, a Scottish lass of modest means who was raised in the house where Ruskin’s grandfather committed suicide. John (Greg Wise, as dour here as the real-life Ruskin appears in portraits) was so besotted that he wrote the novel The King of the Golden River for her when she was twelve years old. Yet when they wed eight years later, their marriage was never consummated for reasons that are still debated today. Continue Reading →

Boxing Helena Rubinstein

Helena Rubinstein was the world’s first female self-made millionaire. She commissioned portraits from artists ranging from Pablo Picasso to Andy Warhol, and she hobnobbed with the likes of Coco Chanel, Eleanor Roosevelt, Virginia Woolf, Josephine Baker, Audrey Hepburn, Colette, and James Joyce. She was a legendarily generous philanthropist and collector who trumpeted East Asian, South American, and African art decades before her peers, and who took a bag lunch to work every day. She was a four-foot-ten, painfully shy Polish girl from a poor Jewish family who, at age thirty, fled to Australia to avoid an arranged marriage – and went on to marry a bona-fide prince twenty-three years her junior after she’d made her fortune as the first cosmetics magnate. Add in the fact that she popularized bright-red lipstick (a hallowed achievement unto itself), and there are no two ways about it: Helena Rubinstein was one of the most remarkable women of the twentieth century.

Yet, since her death fifty years ago this week (she lived to age ninety-two), Rubinstein’s legacy has faded. Her once-powerful beauty company has changed hands twice and is now an ugly stepchild of L’Oreal. Her salons, once considered glamour incarnate, have closed their doors. Ask a person under forty who she was, and chances are good that they’ll draw a blank. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy