Archive | Feminist Matters

Neither Dick Flick nor Chick Flick: ‘Wild’

At heart, Wild, Cheryl Strayed’s wildly popular memoir about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, is a mother-daughter love story. Cheryl and her mom, Bobbi, attended college at the same time, and before the two got a chance to resolve their deeply loving, deeply charged dynamic (or even receive their degrees), Bobbi died of breast cancer – leaving Cheryl to feel she had failed in what she perceived as her job to protect her mom. It’s no wonder that the younger woman ruined her marriage, became addicted to heroin, and, almost secondarily, forced herself to walk 1,100 miles of desert and mountain land. She had a ghost to exorcise, and she exorcised it so beautifully that along the way she spawned a best-selling memoir – and, by extension, a movie produced by and starring Reese Witherspoon in the titular role. As Witherspoon has joked, this may be the first film ever to star a woman who has no money, no man, no parents, no job, and no opportunities but still boast a happy ending.

The overall pedigree of “Wild” is both impressive and a little surprising. Of course the story has flinty Reese and her strong jaw written all over it, and Laura Dern’s raw grace makes perfect sense for the character of Bobbi. Less intuitive is louche British novelist Nick Hornby as screenwriter, with direction provided by Jean-Marc Vallée, who helmed last year’s sinewy AIDS drama, “Dallas Buyers Club.” Valée also co-edited this film under the pseudonym John Mac McMurphy (as he did “Dallas Buyers Club”), and that’s the most important credit at hand. This is a film that’s really all about the editing. Continue Reading →

The DIY Feminism of ‘The Babadook’

If science fiction shows us what we fear about our future, horror films show us what we demonize now. Take last year’s “Mama” and “The Conjuring.” Though quite good, both channeled our culture’s feminist backlash by indicting women who defy their “natural” maternal instincts. “The Babadook,” the debut feature from Aussie writer-director Jennifer Kent (expanded from her award-winning short “Monster”), may press that same bad-mommy button, but it does so with a great deal more insight and compassion – not to mention a crafty girl aesthetic. Imagine a movie hand-stitched by an Etsy queen or, better yet, a Bust Magazine editor, and we have some sense of what “The Babadook” brings to the table.

Amelia (Essie Davis) is a struggling single mother. With her salary as an eldercare nurse, she barely makes ends meet, and she’s still mourning her husband, who was killed en route to deliver their son, Sam (Noah Wiseman), now six years old. It doesn’t help that the kid is a handful. With his penchant for shrill tirades and handmade weapons, the hyperactive boy has been pulled out of school and alienated everyone in Amelia’s life. Even before a real monster descends upon their household, then, life is a nightmare – an effect captured in a recurring series of quick, rhythmically intercut shots that recall the drug montages of “All That Jazz” and “Requiem for a Dream.” (A clever association.) Click: child yanks mother from a deep sleep. Click: they peer under bed for monsters. Click: they peer in wardrobe for monsters. Click: mother reads child another bedtime story. This repetition of the mother-and-child routine is a soul-chilling metronome–one that’s especially unsettling because Amelia drones on in an exaggerated version of the impatient singsong every parent uses with a kid who just won’t go the f–k to sleep. Continue Reading →

The Fairest of Them All

I woke up laughing today. I’d dreamed that someone had (nastily) said to me, “Your ass is getting fatter” and I’d replied, “Thank God.” I’m still laughing as I write this–the person was so devastated I wasn’t devastated!–but it does make me think. What would happen if we all, especially women, unplugged from caring what others thought of our looks? A negative (hell, even a positive) evaluation of our attractiveness is often the most powerful weapon in a saboteur’s arsenal. Imagine how much we each could get done if we stripped others (and ourselves) of that power.

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