Weekend update... Auction and a movie..

I was out in Boston over the weekend, and had the extreme pleasure of attending the GLAD Winter Party 2008 at the Artists for Humanity EpiCenter. It was a fantastic event to raise money for GLAD, and to celebrate "30 Years of Making History and Changing Lives". The highlight of the evening were the six live auctions- A South African Photo Safari, Red Sox vs. Yankees tickets, a Summer BBQ with GLAD's Senior Staff, a Starwood Hotels "Honeymoon" Package, Cocktails with Joan & Robert Parker, and, if I remember correctly, a trip to the South of France. All of which were, unfortunately, waaaay out of my bidding range (I did, however, bid on and win a case of wine).

It was a really great event, and the live auctions alone raised something over $18k for GLAD. The speakers talked about the the discrimination faced by the LGBT community at the St. Patty's Day Parade in Boston, and one of the speakers related her own experiences as one of the people who marched in the last parade that the LGBT members were able to take part in, and how, one year, the organizes of the parade cancelled the parade rather than let LGBT marchers participate. They cancelled an Irish parade in Boston, rather than let gays take part.

It was a moving story, and a powerful reminder of the sorts of discrimination and the lengths that people will go to, to exclude the LGBT community from taking equal part in our society.

I also had a chance to go to a movie while I was in Boston, and took the opportunity to see Persepolis. Now, I haven't seen it, but can someone explain to me how the movie about the cooking rat beat this? Because, seriously? This is some powerful stuff. Now, admittedly, Best Animated Feature is a pretty new category, and so it's tough to generalize, but I do think it's interesting that almost all of the nominees and winners have been pretty, shall we say... kid friendly? Persepolis is definitely not a kid's movie, and is only the second PG-13 rated film to be nominated in for the award.

At any rate, as you may be able to tell, I loved it. I've read Marjane Satrapi's books, upon which this was based, and the film brilliantly captures both the story, and her unique visual style perfectly. The animation is beautiful, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the individual frames from the book are replicated in the film.

The film- an autobiographical telling of Satrapi's life during and after the Iranian revolution- is an extremely powerful tale. One of the things that the film does a really great job of (and books, as well) is show how Satrapi and her family are caught between hostile forces on both sides. After the revolution, personal liberties were strictly controlled, and women were forced to adopt head coverings and there were armed police who could arrest women who were suspected of being at all immoral or immodest. There are scenes of people fighting over the last of the food remaining in a nearly empty store, and at one point, a person dies because a group of people decided to throw a party and dance.

But, at the same time, Satrapi faced serious descrimination when she was in Europe, too. People who had heard about the Iranian revolution talked about Iranians as though they were subhuman. At one point, a group of fellow students at her university call her savage. She talks about feeling lost in two worlds- she's a stranger back in Iran, because her experiences in France have changed who she used to be, but she's also a stranger outside of Iran, because people view her through a disturbing lens.

Like I said, it's an incredibly powerful and moving film, and I don't think I can recommend it enough. It is, at times, heart-breaking, and disturbing, and full of hope... and it's also incredibly well animated (and, apparently, not computer animated). All I can say is that the rat movie had better be really fucking good to show this one up, because this is one of the most impressive and intelligent animated features I've ever seen. Two big thumbs up.

Haunted Houses, Slasher Flicks and Gentrification...

I got an e-mail late last night pointing me to this article: "Haunted House Films Are Really About the Nightmares of Gentrification", with the question "What do you think?" It's an interesting article if you've got an interest in horror flicks and/or gentrification, but, I have to admit, I remain largely unconvinced. By which, I mean that I disagree with many of the things he's saying.

The basic premise is that haunted house films- a subgenre of horror- are really about gentrification. In particular, they're about people believing that their homes have been gained through violence, and will be taken back the same way, and that, since audiences are assumed to be white, and the victims of gentrification are generally communities of color, the monsters in these film are representative of racial minorities. Under this model, and according to the author, horror films serve as escapist entertainment that allows us to avoid the "truth" that we participate in the displacement of others, and that we are vulnerable to displacement, ourselves.

It's an interesting idea, and I can think of a few films where it's probably applicable, but that doesn't make it applicable to all horror. The problem is that Miller, the author, seems to want to take what is an interesting theory about some haunted house films, and shoehorn it onto horror in general, while ignoring the historic context of horror in film and literature.

Now, there are definitely films that I think you can legitimately argue draw inspiration from or can be tied into gentrification in some way. Generally, these types of films are the "rich folks sticking their noses where they don't belong" type. You take a group of rich or middle class people from "the city" and have them head out into the country, where they stumble upon some dangerous local color. It almost always involves having the city folk looking down on the locals as uneducated hicks... until the country folk turn out to be homocidal maniacs.

There's definitely some class issues at play in those kinds of stories, but it's sort of hard to know which way to take it. We're usually presented with a bunch of a spoiled, ignorant city folk who get their just deserts at the hands of insane, homicidal poor people. Think: The Hills Have Eyes or Texas Chainsaw Massacre (neither of which, it should be noted, are haunted house movies). Of course, it's never quite that simple, either. While The Hills Have Eyes is certainly about a bunch of spoiled lazy city folk, it's also shows how thin the facade of civilization is- in the right circumstances, even a "normal" middle class family can become violent, brutal, and savage. And neither of them are haunted house films.

Even if we accept that some films involve themes dealing with gentrification, does it makes sense to claim that all films are about gentrification? Miller points out that a lot of modern haunted house films are about "fictional families [that] move into spaces from which others have been violently displaced" and then "suffer for that violence even if they themselves have done nothing wrong."

I'm willing to accept that a large number of haunted house movies rely on some variation on this theme, but I think that the conclusion Miller draws from this fact is questionable: "This thriving subgenre depends upon the audience believing, on some level, that what 'we' have was attained by violence, and the fear that it will be taken by violence."

My question here is... why? In what way does this subgenre depend on this fact? Many haunted house movies depend, not upon this idea that we believe what we have was gained through and will be lost through violence, but, rather, on the notion that evil acts can stain reality. They can be about the fear of losing things to violence- and, certainly, the fear is about loss (of life) to violence- but I'm not sure that it's the case that it's always about a fear of losing your home. It's often more about the fear of the unknown, or, another cliche that Miller seems to ignore: the fear of an evil that never dies.

Movies like Halloween, Friday the 13th, and Nightmare on Elmstreet are practically the gold standard for this cliche- no matter how hard you try, you just can't kill evil. The main antagonist of Halloween- Michael Myers- is shot repeatedly, stabbed, hit by cars, thrown out of windows, tossed down a well, blown up... and he just keeps coming back for more. One of the protagonists in the first film states it rather explicitely very early in the film- Myers is evil personified.

But, those are slasher films- what about haunted houses? Consider The Grudge, which Miller specifically points to. Miller asks "is it possible to imagine The Grudge in an economic structure where housing is guaranteed -- however problematically -- and where people have extremely limited freedom to choose their own housing?"

I argue, yes, in fact, it is. Nothing that happens in The Grudge relies on the people involved choosing the house. The Grudge is a film about the ways that evil acts leave a stain- a curse- on the things around them. The film could just as easily have taken place in some kind of forced housing situation. The haunting is about the evilness of murdering your family, and the stain that it leaves.

Miller's premise, however interesting, is significantly harmed by poor justification, and what appears to be a serious lack of understanding about some pretty important aspects of horror. Horror, in both film and literature, has a long history of beening very subversive. It's often used to criticize social norms and culture, and as a means of making people uncomfortable with things they take for granted- it's generally not used to make audiences feel good about bad things.

This problem becomes really evident starting at paragraph six, when he suggests "The biggest cliche in the modern haunted house film is that of the Indian Burial Ground. In Pet Semetary, The Shining, and The Amityville Horror, the source of the problem is that the real estate parcel in question has desecrated sacred ground."

First of all, three movies does not "the biggest cliche" make. Second, the most recent of those three movies was Pet Sematary, which was released almost twenty years ago. Hell, Amityville Horror was released in 1979, almost three decades ago. In other words, this "cliche" isn't nearly as ubiquitous as Miller suggests.

There are a lot of cliches in modern haunted house films, but "Indian burial ground" isn't really one of them. More common is the "ghost of a murderer/murder victim/suicide" (in other words: ghost of a person who causes or is the victim of a tragic death)trope from films like 13 Ghosts, House on Haunted Hill, The Grudge, The Others, Rose Red, Stir of Echoes... Hell, horror movies involving demons or the devil coming to torment or possess people are more common than the Indian burial ground.

And, ultimately, Miller's argument isn't just about haunted house films, either. After his comment about Indian burial grounds, he mentions the father of all zombie films, Night of the Living Dead: "That's one of the main ways the horror genre, on its surface so apolitical, connects to the United States' histories of genocide. How far a leap is it from the menacing ex-slaves in Birth of a Nation to the zombies in Night of the Living Dead?" and:

The spate of slow-moving zombie films that followed in the wake of "Night of the Living Dead" represent a capitalist nightmare of communist revolution: the brain-dead bloodthirsty working class, desiring nothing but our destruction, rises us up to besiege "us" in our comfortable homes, our malls, our military bases.

This is probably the most blatant example of Miller misreading/misunderstanding/misrepresenting a work of a horror. How far is the leap from menacing ex-slaves in Birth of a Nation to the zombies in Night of the Living Dead, Miller asks us, and I'm happy to answer: huge.

In Birth of a Nation, Gus is presented as a monster- an animal. He is murderous, and attempts to rape an innocent woman. When he is lynched, the audience is supposed to be glad, because he "got what was coming to him". Night of the Living Dead, on the other hand, is strongly critical of racism in America. The death of Ben in Night of the Living Dead is important- Ben, the only black character, is a strong, smart character who does his best to help save everyone in the house, and is able to survive the night until "help" arrives in the form of a posse of gun-toting white folks, who then shoot him. The audience is supposed to be shocked and outraged by Ben's death, and the casual racism of those who murder him without a second thought.

Further, Miller's interpretation of the zombie film as a genre is seriously flawed. I'd certainly agree that zombie films generally represent a "capitalist nightmare", but it's sure as hell not one "of communist revolution: the brain-dead bloodthirsty working class, desiring nothing but our destruction, rises us up to besiege "us" in our comfortable homes, our malls, our military bases."

The horror of the zombie film is that we are the zombies, not communists. The zombie film is critical of the mindlessness of capitalist consumption, of the herd mentality of people who buy into consumer culture and flock like herd animals to malls and subdivisions. The horror isn't about losing your possessions. Zombies don't care about your things, they want to make you just like them. The horror of a zombie is the horror of never-ending consumption- of a hunger that never ends, and can never be filled.

Middle class America are the zombies. It's never really been a very subtle metaphor.

Dawn of the Dead is a scathing criticism of American culture- from the casual racism of the police slaughtering immigrants during a raid on a tenement and the bloodlust/thrill of violence that leads to Roger getting bit, to the dangers of greed that unbridled capitalism perpetuates.

The characters in Dawn of the Dead think they've found a paradise when they come across a mall to make their home. They've got everything they ever wanted- nice clothes, jewelry, entertainment... everything that we're told makes for happiness. And yet, they eventually realize that these things don't make them happy- they're prisoners. And when a group of bikers break into the mall, it's in an effort to loot and plunder- another capitalist pursuit.

It's no coincidence that many zombie movies show how the greatest danger to us during a zombie uprising isn't the undead, but other living humans. Greed, anger, and distrust are frequently shown as being at least as dangerous as the zombies are.

Don't get me wrong, horror films are not perfect, and many of them do reinforce some pretty terrible social stereotypes. You don't have to look far to see, for example, a lot of really sexist stuff in horror movies, and the slasher flick, in particular, is notorious for exploiting puritanical notions of sex. Essentially, having it leads to destruction.

Ultimately, I just can't agree with Miller's argument. Even if we narrow the argument down to just haunted house movies (despite the fact that he goes off to argue that all kinds of slasher films, zombie films, etc are also about gentrification), there are simply too many cases where that argument doesn't makes sense- e.g. Dark Water, where a poor single woman moves into a cheap apartment in a rundown area is about gentrification? What about a haunted house film where the house is a former asylum? etc.

A better argument could be made that many haunted house films work well as illustrations of the class or race struggles that gentrification leads to. In other words, horror movies aren't necessarily about gentrification, but can be used to illustrate the problems with it. Instead, Miller came up with an interesting theory about a couple of movies, and attempted to shoehorn it onto an entire genre of films, and is forced to use examples that don't make sense.

And I really disagree with this bit:

These days, the two most popular plotlines in the dozens of scary movies that come out each year are: (1) A middle class family or group of teenagers wanders into the wilderness and the clutches of a depraved monstrous lumpenproletariate ("The Hills Have Eyes," "Wolf Creek," "The Descent," "Wrong Turn," "Cabin Fever," "Chainsaw Massacre," "Silent Hill"); or: 2) A similar configuration of victims menaced on their own luxurious turf by monsters who symbolize "our" paranoid fantasies of the violent, dispossessed working class, even if they do not actually come from it ("When A Stranger Calls," "Cry Wolf," "Cursed," "Scream," all the slasher films that do not fall under the first category).

I'll grant that there are some serious similarities between The Hills Have Eyes, Wrong Turn, Wolf Creek, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and that there are some pretty obvious issues at play in the conflict there: middle-class educated people who are afraid of and terrorized by depraved, uneducated, poor people. I disagree with including films like Silent Hill or The Descent with those, though- the themes are radically different.

Silent Hill isn't about a class battle, it's about religious persecution. The evil, there, comes from a religious cult that burns an innocent child alive, and, in her pain, she makes a deal with the devil to get revenge. The Descent isn't about class warfare, either- the monsters in it aren't human, nor are they stand-ins for humans. The story is really about two women, and their reliationship to each other- it's about trust, family, love, and honesty, and how we deal with betrayal. The monsters are incidental, and are just a tool used to create conflict and force the women to undergo change.

The idea that all horror is necessarily about class conflict and monsters "who symbolize 'our' paranoid fantasies of the violent, dispossessed working class" just seems really forced and reductive, and, like I said, it seems to intentionally ignore the history of horror as a means of social criticism.

Still, I really liked the last paragraph:

The haunted house film makes assumptions that are worth questioning: Who are "we" as an audience? To whom do these films address themselves? Who haunts "our" homes? Whose homes do "we" haunt? But it also contains the seeds of a real dialogue concerning the human costs of the housing crisis, and our responsibility and our power to do something about it.

Obnoxious scare-quotes aside, those are all valid questions. You don't have to think that all horror is about gentrification to address them, either.

Extra reading:
Even when I think that Miller is on to something, I feel like he takes it the wrong direction. Consider his remarks about Native Americans with regards to The Shining. Miller says:

Guilt over the North American genocide persists, in spite of centuries of racist history that have clouded the general public's grasp on the extremity of violence perpetrated against the Native Americans -- the broken treaties, the Indian Removal Act, the smallpox blankets. With the death of the Western as a film genre and the success of the Civil Rights Movement in challenging the blatancy of racism in mainstream culture, the Indian-as-bloodthirsty-savage was transformed into the Indian-as-murderous-ghost.

This is interesting, to me, precisely because there's plenty of evidence that The Shining is a criticism of the way that White America ignores and overlooks the poor treatment of other races (particularly Native Americans), as this author suggests. The Shining isn't about "Indian-as-bloodthirsty-savage... transformed into the Indian-as-murderous-ghost" at all. There's no evidence that it's ghosts of Native Americans creating the problem- rather, it's the evil of our own actions coming back to haunt us. The ghosts in the hotel in The Shining are the spirits of white men, not Native Americans, and the victims in the story are all minorities- a black man, children, a woman- not Nicholson's character. Nicholson represents the evilness of the hotel, and the history of racism that it represents.

Happy Halloween! (and why Medusa kicks ass)

Halloween is one of my two favorite days of the year. I love Halloween. I love that you get to carve pumpkins and dress up in awesome costumes and that kids get to go around and horde candy. Now that I'm an adult, Halloween is an excuse to play dress-up and watch horror movies- two things that I think are tons of fun.

I've been a little busy lately (I'm taking the GRE on Saturday. Saturday!), so this is going to be an open post: what are you doing for Halloween? Did you carve a pumpkin? Want to share a picture? What's your favorite costume? Favorite horror movie? Something else?

In the meantime, I decided- in an effort to continue with the "I'm not just posting terrible things that make me angry" effort- to create a list of fictional women I like. These are women from books, video games, comic books, movies, and mythology that I think are pretty kick-ass for various reasons. Feel free to contribute, criticize, or congratulate my choices. I'll probably (maybe) post more as time goes on, but here are a few:

First up: Medusa, Queen of the Gorgons.

Why: Because Medusa kicks all kinds of classic ass. I've seen some feminists adopt the image of Medusa as a symbol, and I love it. It makes sense. Now, the image that most of us probably have of Medusa is from Clash of the Titans, where she's a horrible monster whose sole purpose is to be there for Perseus to kill and use as a weapon against the Kraken.

But there's so much more there. According to some sources, Medusa was originally a beautiful nymph, until she was raped by Poseidon in one of Athena's temples. Athena cursed Medusa, and changed her into a gorgon.

So why do I love Medusa?
Because it's an excellent representation of patriarchy in action. Medusa is a woman who is raped by someone in a position of power. Rather than blame him for his actions, she is blamed- if only she weren't so beautiful. She is punished for the transgression of being too beautiful and causing a man to lose control. Her punishment is to be made ugly. Instead of destroying her, though, this gives her more power (literally, in fact- she is more powerful as a gorgon, since her gaze has the power to turn men to stone and her blood has the power to kill or cure). When Perseus is sent to kill Medusa, he is aided by Athena- the very goddess who transformed Medusa into a monster in the first place.

Medusa became a symbol of female power- and the fear that power represented. Her blood was alternately a deadly poison, or a life-giving cure. I also appreciate that, in a world designed around the male gaze, Medusa's gaze- the female gaze- was so feared. I love the idea of co-opting Medusa- a being typically thought of as a terrible, evil, destroying women- and reimagining her. She's not evil- she's a victim who was punished for being victimized, but turned that punishment into a source of power, and was eventually slain for it... and yet, her legacy lives on. She's easily more recognizable as a figure than Perseus or Athena are.

Next up: Warrent Officer Ellen Ripley.

Why: It's no secret that I love the first two Alien movies. I think that they're amazing films. The first one is one of the most tightly filmed horror movies ever. There's hardly a wasted scene in it, and it's still scary as hell today as it was almost three decades ago. Add to that the fact that Ripley is completely kick ass, and you've got a winner.

What's not to love about Ripley? She's written as an actual character, not as a stereotype of a woman. She's in the charge, commands respect from her crew, and isn't hypersexualized. The only real cliche that she falls into is that of being the lone-survivor of a horror film, but I can forgive that, given that she doesn't spend the rest of the movie screaming in fear or relying on other characters to protect her. She's smart, tough, and full of awesome.

One thing I don't understand: How does she rank lower than Clarice (from Silence of the Lambs) on the AFI 100 Heroes and Villains list? Clarice is cooler than Ripley? Really? Because I don't remember Clarice kicking a bunch of alien ass.

Also: Part of what looks to be an interesting article about "tough women" is over here.

Friday Friday Friday! Open Thread, and Reader Participation!

I keep starting to write posts and deleting them, so I thought, why not make this another open thread?

I was originally going to write about Princess Mononoke, because I really love it, and I think that it's got some really interesting women in it. It's nice to see a movie where a man and woman end up having to rescue each other, and neither one of them is made into an oaf or a fool. It's also nice to see a movie where the woman who is set up as the antagonist isn't an evil witch, but is, in fact, a reasonable person who does a lot of good but just happens to have goals that conflict with the protagonist. That kind of moral complexity is refreshing and enjoyable. Plus, the animation is absolutely beautiful.

Unfortunately, I'm feeling too fuzzy to write more than a paragraph about the movie before it starts to look... erm... wrong? So, those are my thoughts on Princess Mononoke for the day. Maybe more some other day?

Has anyone else seen it? I assume some of you probably have... it's not exactly an unknown piece of animation. Heh. I'd love to hear what other people thought of it.

In other news: I'm going to be out of town until Monday evening, so I won't be around for the next few days. Not that I'm usually here on weekends, but I likely won't have a post up on Monday either. I'm going to be doing a little hiking and swimming. I haven't been swimming yet this year, which is weird, since we're already into August, but there you have it. What's everyone else doing this weekend? Fun stuff, I hope.

Blatant Sexism *Isn't* Benign, Thank You Very Much...

When Cara over at the Curvature remarked about John Travolta saying that "women have power I didn't know they had" about being groped, there was a comment about this being, essentially, a non-issue. The commentor suggested that Cara should "lighten up... it's painful to see people getting offended at such benign comments..."

It reminded me a little bit of a conversation taking place over at Shrug, about sexism in RPGs. The conversation was a little different- there, the conversation was about the casual sexism a group of RPGers were engaging in, and how much the intent (or lack of) should matter in regards to the response- but there are some similar aspects.

In both cases, I think that there's a form of apologism going on that borders on concern trolling.

It's hard to know exactly what Cara's commentor was getting at, since there wasn't any follow-up, but the suggestion seems to be that, since Travolta likely didn't mean to be offensive (since his comment was described as "benign"), it's wrong to take offense. That's pretty similar to the comment over at Shrub, where it was suggested that a person who takes offense to a comment has some kind of obligation to find out what the intent was behind a comment before taking offense.

This sort of attitude is interesting- it's essentially saying "Because I didn't know that I was being offensive, I can't have been offensive." Interestingly, I'd guess that people engaging in this form of apologism don't mean to engage in apologism, either. This kind of apologism ignores the ways that positions of relative power or authority can lead to bigotry, or how easy it can be to be ignorant about the experiences of other people when one is in a position of power. It's easy not to notice how many people go hungry when you're feasting on steak every night.

Travolta's comments come from a position of extreme power. He's an upper class, straight, white, male commenting about the experiences of women based on his experiences in costume, in a safe environment, with people he ultimately has some level of control and authority over. In other words, his comments about the experiences of women come from a place of extreme ignorance. I'll totally give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he probably didn't mean to be offensive, and may not even understand why his comment is offensive.

Why does that matter, though?

A lot of bigotry probably comes from a place of ignorance about The Other. There's a tendency to assume that our experiences are similar to the experiences of Other People. It seems to me that Travolta is doing one of two things: 1. Making fun of, and attempting to minimize, the harassment that women go through based on his time in costume. 2. Trying to make a generalization about women's experiences based on his time in costume.

Either he really believes that it's empowering when women are groped, or he's making light of it, as though it's not that big of a deal. In either case, it's likely to be coming from a place of ignorance.

The good thing about ignorance of this type is that it can be changed. If I say something stupid and offensive, I can be corrected, and if I was unaware of what I was doing, there's the potential there for me to change that behavior and learn from the experience. If I say something offensive on purpose, confronting me about it is unlikely to change my mind, because the whole point was to say something offensive.

I'm not sure that Travolta knows or cares about whether he's offending women. My impression is that he likely doesn't give a damn. There are, however, other people who might read his comments and not understand or know that they're offensive. They might chuckle along thinking that he's just cracking a good joke. It's only by engaging his comments and making our stance clear, and explaining why these sorts of comments are unacceptable and inappropriate that we can work to change the attitudes that lead to them.

That's why it's important to engage with people who use bigotted language in their day to day lives. When someone calls something "gay" or uses gendered insults like "being girly" or "pussy" to insult or deride other's, we have an opportunity to challange ignorance and help that person understand why those comments are insulting and how they contribute towards cultural bigotry. Because the person in these cases wasn't setting out to offend, it's more likely that sie will understand where the offense came from, and might try to avoid that in the future. Someone who is unintentionally sexist is more likely to be willing to address that than someone who is actively invested in being sexist.

Which is why I find comments like that so harmful. If we're not supposed to engage with people who say things that are ignorantly sexist, with whom are we supposed to engage? If we don't point out the things that people say that are casually biggoted, what do we address? When we ignore things that seem obviously sexist, we don't do ourselves any favors. Ignoring that kind of bigotry won't help us change things. Ultimately, I think it probably hurts us, because it helps normalize that kind of thing. When casual sexism goes unchecked or unremarked upon, others can cite it and look to it as a justification for other practices.

So, no, Travolta's comment wasn't benign.
His comments were offensive, and it's absolutely appropriate to call him on his shitty behavior. The only people that would profit from silence on the subject would be sexists, and I'm not really interested in helping them.

Because you know what's funny? Gay People. And Asians. Oh, and short people. And, well... everyone but average heighted, straight, white men.

What the eff, Hollywood?

I went to see Transformers the other day (Shut up!), and was treated to the delightful previews. There was a preview for the new Adam Sandler flick, I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry. See, they're fire fighters, but there's something about them needing to be married to make sure that their families can get the money if they die. Or something. The point is, they pretend to be gay! See, that's funny! The preview includes the brilliant comedy bits you'd expect: When told they can kiss at the wedding, Adam Sandler punches Kevin James instead, and says something about "Yeah, that's how we are in our family." Which, of course, gets a knowing look and an "Ooooooh" from the man officiating the ceremony. Oh, and the hill-are-ee-us scene where Jessica Biel strips to her underware in front of Adam Sandler because, you know, he's gay, right? And she makes him feel her breasts. Because they're real.

Anyway. Yeah, looks like a real flippin' winner, this one. Nothing screams comedy like men pretending to be The Gay.

And if that wasn't enough brain smashing comedy genius, I got to see a preview for Rush Hour 3, as well! See, it's a loud black man, and a martial artist Asian man! And they have wacky hijinks! Woooooaaaaah! Ker-azy!

Yeah. It looks awesome. Especially the part where they're in France, and a Chinese man shouts something in French at Tucker, and Tucker responds "You Asian, man, stop embarrassin' yourself!"

Yeah. Brilliant.

I hate that. I really do. It's not that race or sex or other statuses can't be used to great comedic effect. They can. It's just that the majority of Hollywood writers seem quite content to play it low. They're not looking to poke fun at stereotypes, they're looking to reinforce them. It's possible to poke fun of and subvert stereotypes for comedy, but, far too often, being gay/black/female is the joke. If your whole schtick is "Look, I'm a man pretending to be gay! I loooove fashion." then you're not being clever. Sorry to break the news to you.

And before anyone says it: No, I havne't seem them yet. Maybe I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry will be awesome. Maybe it'll expose some of the very real and very harmful bigotry that homosexuals still face in our society. That'd be awesome. As it stands, though, the preview plays to that very same sort of bigotry. Stereotypes of homosexuality are funny. Har. Har.

Speaking of movies and previews:

Most of us have heard the news about the billboard ads and the lead-in to Captivity. Joss Whedon put up an impressive missive on his site after seeing the ads and watching the trailer. It was, shall we say, a shit storm. The news on the release party- suicide girls, cage fighters, live torture rooms, something "probably not legal" etc...- didn't help. That the party was touted as a "personal little tribute" to "women's groups" didn't, either. The whole thing painted a pretty bleak picture.

And that's the thing that's interesting to me: I know it shouldn't be a surprise, but it is. The whole controversy? All the "it's a movie about kidnapping, torturing, and murdering a woman"? It's all smoke and mirrors.

It's all PR bullshit meant to drum up controversy in support of the movie. From reviews of people who've seen the movie, and from the many posts you can find online, it's pretty clear that the whole thing was manufactured. It's all a scam. All the posters and billboards and the buzz around it being about her getting tortured and murdered? Intentional controversy to get people's interest piqued.

Which, ultimately, brought a question to my mind:

Which is worse? A guy who makes a movie about kidnapping, torturing and murdering a woman because he's an asshat who thinks that is totally awesome, or a guy who makes a movie where the woman escapes, but uses shitty adverts to sell it?

It's Reader Participation Day: Part I - Feminism and Film

Yesterday, I asked you what kinds of things you'd be interested in reading. Given that I gave you all of a day, I think I got some good responses. So, as promised, I now tackle your topics. Part II, which will be right above this one, is about the title of my blog, and what it means. Part I is about feminism and film: Jaclyn asked me what films I would feature, and why, if I were in charge of a feminist film festival.

That's a tough one, because (I'm almost embarassed to admit) I'm rather unfamiliar with feminist film. The majority of mainstream American film doesn't seem to be particularly feminist, though there are a few that I'd consider feminist friendly, for sure. Obviously, I'd put Alien/Aliens in there- I've written about that before, though. After reading Amanda's review of 28 Days Later, it might get a place, as well. I think I'd be remiss in not including Antonia's Line, as well, but since I actually learned about that movie through Jaclyn, I suppose that's not particularly helpful.

So, those are easy because I've written about them before or been told about them. So, let's go for the harder ones.

I suppose I'd have to start the festival off with something by Helke Sander- I confess that I've never seen her work, but the impression I get is that she's a pretty important feminist film-maker. So, I'd start with something by her, if for no other reason than that I want to see what she's all about.

I think that the Killing Us Softly documentaries are sort of a must see. I haven't seen the newest one (2000), but I remember watching the first one, and the analysis of the way that women and women's bodies are portrayed in advertising is important.

I'd also include A Question of Silence, which follows an investigation into the murder of a shop-keeper by three women. The movie serves as a device to explore the nature of sex-based oppression, and is an excellent analysis of the ways that the personal can become political- the murder of the shop-keeper is assumed to be an act with some kind of individual, personal, or phsychological motive, but, by the end, the psychiatrist (and the viewer) realize that the murder was, in fact, a political, not personal, act stemming from larger social inequalities. There's a lot here about the ways that women interact with each other, and how connections can be made.

I've heard some good things about Girls Town, as well, though- like Sander's films- I haven't seen it. It deals with a girl who commits suicide, and how the fallout from this leads her friends to question their roles as working-class women in our society.

I've got a strong soft spot for The Children's Hour, with Audry Hepburn, so I might include that, as well, for an example of how women's sexuality can be used as a weapon against them.

I think that's a solid start... I'm going to think on this some more, because I'm sure that there must be many great films I'm missing. Anybody else have suggestions that they'd add to our little festival?

Also: if you've got more ideas, feel free to throw them here- I'm going to try to reserve Friday to answer reader questions or to blog about suggested topics. Friday can be Reader Participation Day. Huzzah!