10.31.2008

Forty Fuckless Years and Performative Gender

From the few scenes we saw of the 40-Year-Old Virgin, I rapidly got the impression that it doesn't fit the concept of the radical romance.

One could argue that the lead character was an odd one, and he's forty, and still a virgin because of his social inadequacies, and hey, isn't that radical? But it isn't, not really. It sticks to the precepts of the Neo-Traditional RomCom: we are introduced to the "correct" Girl, Guy is in contact with "wrong" girls, Guy gets the "correct" Girl, it ends with marriage... and it even refrains from sex until afterward. There's even kids involved, which bolsters the idea of his being such a great guy. The only thing it teaches us is that nerds are people too.

The roles played by his male friends seem typical, in bragging of sexual exploits. They provide the expected stereotypical male advice: pick up drunk girls, act mysterious and dicky, porn collections, et al. They pass an uncertain point where they are compelled to determine that he is heterosexual, after which the discovery of his mere virginity is a relief (the continuing bias and fear of homosexuality is part of what Butler addresses).

Yet they also are supportive instead of derisive. While engaging in the competitive nature of male vs. female society, they also tap into an older (traditional as nothing else is) "rite of passage," that of a manhood ritual of a fellow male. It falls into what Butler references as the imitative nature of sex: that heterosexuality must be constantly updated, and performed, in order to maintain itself.

In this sense the movie reiterates the fear of homosexuality: that to "win" the protagonist proves his sexuality. The goal has never changed.

10.23.2008

Having an Affair on the Affair: The Graduate

"I'm very neurotic." - Mrs. Robinson

I was monitoring the symbolism during the first twenty-five minutes of "The Graduate."

A credit sequence of a pedestrian conveyor belt in an airport, a shot that would be repeated in Tarantino's Jackie Brown. Life is just moving Ben along without resistance. He does nothing to forward his own future. A man is like his luggage: moved along in an orderly fashion until picked up.

The sad clown in his parents' house. This is also Ben: desaturated in color, surrounded by gay finery, an object of merriment to everyone else, yet sour-faced, dealing with his mother still spit-smoothing his hair.

Water as solace, used also to indicate his shimmering waves of thought. Yet Ben is also encased in a diving suit, pressured by his parents in the same way he is pressured to date Elaine. He is immersed in his situation, deeper and deeper, and the camera pulls back to fade him into a grim obscurity.

He lies by the pool in dark glasses and white shorts, unconscious of his own youthful appeal... something that perhaps would later inform Tom Cruise's solitary dance performance in Risky Business.

Is it a radical romance? Sure. Mrs. Robinson insists that Ben maintain a romantic etiquette; he must open her car door, hang up her coat. Yet the affair is utterly under her control, and the ending is uncertain and cynical.

Elaine is less than her mother. Elaine lacks willpower; she lets herself be carried along by whatever whim Ben bugs her enough to allow. Mrs. Robinson bullies Ben into sex; Ben pressures Elaine into action with psychoanalytic questions. She seems to let herself be carried along for the moment, only later furrowing her brow in doubt.

Is this neurotic... or erotic? There seems to be an emphasis on the latter phrase.

10.21.2008

The Neo-Traditional RomCom

"... this type of film has exhausted its inspirations" (McDonald 90).

No kidding. This is why modern romantic comedies are generally made of suck, and McDonald is painfully aware of its slide toward oblivion.

It's not that the genre is inherently weaker; a love story, combined with humor to create empathy, is one of the staples of human interest. Not my usual cup of tea*, preferring hardassed Westerns and cynical films noir, but I recognize its validity.

It's that the modern RomCom suffers from the same malady nearly every other movie does: a fear of losing money due to alienating audiences. One does not dare to buck any trends, so movies are now subject to the formulaic cranking-out of clichés. Stick to what sold the first time, whether it be a celebrity matching-up, a happy ending, or screamingly obvious symbolism.

The romantic comedy of the 1970s, while grim and neurotically fatalistic, introduced new concepts: perhaps it doesn't work out at the end. There IS sex involved. There ain't no good guy, there ain't no bad guy, there's only you and me and we just disagree**.

After that point Hollywood retreated. You can't reference an older movie without "showing the audience" earlier what movie it was. You can't have an ending where the scripturally indicated Guy gets the Girl. Gay people are still suitable only as the supportive comic relief. And due to a weird uprising with a prudish "Protect the Children!" mentality, there can't be any sex before marriage, unless you portray it as a mistake.

Eek. NeoComs. I knew there was an ugly buzzword lurking somewhere.


* Or shot of whiskey, considering.

** Apologies for the Dave Mason lyrics, but it's the '70s.

10.19.2008

The Blaxploitation Heroine: Complicating Romance with a New "Other"

Grover: I got your fix, don't you want your fix?
Coffy: No, but you do.
- Coffy (1973)


In her Introduction to The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir highlights the historical necessity for a patriarchy to maintain order; men who subscribe to this structure "still see in the emancipation of women a menace to their morality and their interests" (par. 21). Woman is seen as outsider rather than the normative, and thusly does not dictate power--nor does she tend, according to de Beauvoir, to reverse this paradigm. The prominent females in literature and film seem likelier to seek out a suitable partner than to combat their oppressors.

The social revolutions of the 1960s allowed for a greater exploration of sexuality and power structure; in the '70s, exploitation films intended for an urban black audience rose to prominence, some few of which starring women as central progatonists. There is little romance in these films, portraying life as a harsher, less idealized reality. Male characters are often criminal lords, ugly goons or drug dealers; women are prostitutes or are otherwise low in the hierarchy. Unlike the passive, unconsciously bonded woman of de Beauvoir's commentary, however, the Blaxploitation heroine is dissatisfied with the injustice of the status quo and seeks to correct wrongs herself.

Pam Grier portrays such a heroine in 1973's Coffy. A nurse driven to retaliation after her sister becomes a hospitalized addict, Coffy pretends to be a prostitute, even engaging in sexual encounters to infiltrate the world of the drug dealers and pimps responsible for her sister's downfall. She also has a romantic connection with two men: Howard, a wealthy politician, with whom her relationship is sexual, and Carter, a childhood friend and an honest cop, who maintains an unrequited love for Coffy.

Grier's presence in the film brings a multicultural ambiguity, as a "physically threatening but sexually appealing Amazon" (Reid 86). This brings a new level of complexity to the typical male-female Romance, and to the "Other". The Blaxploitation heroine is neither pure nor demure, using sex as well as violence to achieve her ends, which some may see as demeaning the Romantic value; such scantily clad heroines "appeal to a male ego that has been threatened by the rise of the women's liberation movement" (Reid 87), and suggests that this new "Other" is able to use her power of sexual enticement to bypass the norms of a Romantic relationship.

Some could claim that the role Coffy plays to achieve her goals--a prostitute, albeit a dominant queen over other prostitutes--serves to undermine the sense of female empowerment, that "most audiences consider these unsheathed Amazons as objects to be sexually and racially disempowered. The penetrating male heterosexist gaze does more to disarm these heroines than their actions do to empower the filmic image of black women" (Reid 88). However, it can also be argued that it highlights the struggle itself; Coffy does what she can, to accomplish what she feels she must. The levels of power in which she operates force her to penetrate the system in whatever manner she is able.

And penetrate she does. Simone de Beauvoir might have noted that "woman cannot even dream of exterminating the males" (par. 12), but Coffy does not settle for defeating her enemies and returning to the "right man;" by the end of the film her foes have been exterminated by her personally, and she emerges alone and without partner. Given, her actions are not a general intention to right the social wrongs of history. but vendettas motivated by personal loss. Coffy's story does not reflect an active attempt to reverse the history of hegemony, nor does it reflect a search for a perfect romantic match. Coffy faces off against women as well, particularly when she threatens a white prostitute for information, and flees when the pimp--a heavyset black woman--returns. This further redefines the concept of Romance, in that a sexually-suggestive conflict includes only women of differing ethnicities: "I come back and find you ballin' some n***** bitch! You white tramp!" (Harriet, in Coffy). Coffy also engages in a vicious combat with several prostitutes to gain a prominent drug lord's lecherous attention. It suggests a non-discriminating battle to the top rather than a battle of the sexes.

Why the departure from romantic norms? There is an "obvious" choice for male companion in the form of Carter, an upstanding citizen who cares deeply for Coffy. Howard is an uncertain choice, rich and charismatic and at first appearing to fight for civil rights. Carter is removed violently from the story, while Howard proves corrupt. Coffy, as independent heroine, must accomplish her aims without male aid; the "Other" is now an active, central force rather than an accompanying subordinate. The black heroine in these films may not be meant to provide something with which to identify, but rather to add to an already complex Other, and in the case of Coffy--who turns out to be more woman than her opponents can handle--also resists the tradition of the Romantic by creating a new, appealing Other.

WORKS CITED

Coffy. Dir. Jack Hill. Perf. Pam Grier, Booker Bradshaw, Robert DoQui, and William Elliott. MGM, 1973.

de Beauvoir, Simone. Introduction. The Second Sex. 1949. Marxists.org. 2005. 14 October 2008 .

Reid, Mark. "Black Action Film." Redefining Black Film. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993: 69–91.



10.17.2008

The Blaxploitation Heroine: Complicating Romance with a New "Other" (Long Version)

Grover: I got your fix, don't you want your fix?
Coffy: No, but you do.
- Coffy (1973)


Note: This is a first draft of this paper, actually longer and more complete. I consider this a better paper than the one which was compressed down to a smaller, three-page format. - Dave Elsensohn

In her Introduction to The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir highlights the historical necessity for a patriarchy to maintain order, namely by keeping the female sex in an inferior position; men who subscribe to this structure "still see in the emancipation of women a menace to their morality and their interests" (par. 21). Woman is seen as outsider rather than the normative, and thusly does not dictate power--nor does she tend, according to de Beauvoir, to reverse this paradigm: ""Why is it that women do not dispute male sovereignty?" (par. 9). The prominent females in literature and film seem likelier to seek out a suitable partner than to combat their oppressors.

The social revolutions of the 1960s allowed for a greater visual exploration of sexuality and power structure in later decades; in particular, exploitation films intended for an urban black audience rose to prominence in the '70s, some few of which starring women as the central progatonists. There is little romance in these films, as they choose to portray life as a harsher, less idealized reality, a world of "racial dualism, explicit sexuality, and vengeful violence" (Reid 86). Male characters are often criminal lords, ugly goons or drug dealers; many of the women are prostitutes or are otherwise low in the hierarchy. Crime and revenge are a major plot theme. Unlike the passive, unconsciously bonded woman of de Beauvoir's commentary, however, the Blaxploitation heroine is dissatisfied with the injustice of the status quo and seeks to correct wrongs herself. There is little opportunity to savor a romantic relationship; almost all other characters in such a story are vile. Those are aren't are "punished" for their purity, indicating the film's world and its corruption.

A heroine such as Pam Grier portrays in 1973's Coffy brings a level of complexity to the socially typical male-female relationship, and introduces a new sense of "Other"--that of woman, that of black, that of one who does seek to dispute the "male sovereignty." Coffy is a nurse who is driven to retaliation after her sister becomes a hospitalized addict. Pretending to be a prostitute and even engaging in sexual encounters to get past obstacles, Coffy infiltrates the world of the drug dealers and pimps responsible for her sister's downfall in order to exact revenge. Aside from her intentional sexual exploits, she has a potential romantic connection with two men: one is Howard, a wealthy politician, with whom her relationship is sexual, and the other is Carter, a childhood friend and an honest cop, who maintains an unrequited love for Coffy.

Grier's presence in the film brings a multicultural ambiguity, as a "physically threatening but sexually appealing Amazon" (Reid 86). This, mainly, is what introduces the complication into Romance and into the Other: the Blaxploitation heroine is neither pure nor demure, and needs neither a male as protector nor societal approval. She uses sex as well as violence to achieve her ends, which some may see as demeaning the Romantic value; such scantily clad, hyper-sexual heroines "appeal to a male ego that has been threatened by the rise of the women's liberation movement" (Reid 87), and therefore suggest that the "Other" is able to use her power of sexual enticement to bypass the norms of a Romantic relationship. The body is yet another tool.

Some could claim that the role Coffy plays to achieve her goals--a prostitute, albeit a dominant queen over other prostitutes--serves to undermine the sense of female empowerment, that "most audiences consider these unsheathed Amazons as objects to be sexually and racially disempowered. The penetrating male heterosexist gaze does more to disarm these heroines than their actions do to empower the filmic image of black women" (Reid 88). It is historically apparent that the African-American female has been portrayed often in a purely physical sense, possibly for the sake of exoticism (admittedly, Coffy chose a "Jamaican" prostitute persona to play), possibly to continue a racist patriarchal image of the "naked savage." However, it can also be argued that her nudity and casual sexual encounters serve to highlight the struggle itself; Coffy does what she can, with what weapons she has at her disposal, to accomplish what she feels she must. The levels of power in which she operates force her to penetrate the system in whatever manner she is able.

And penetrate she does. Simone de Beauvoir might have noted that "woman cannot even dream of exterminating the males. The bond that unites her to her oppressors is not comparable to any other" (par. 12), but Coffy does not settle for defeating her enemies and returning to the "right man" for her; by the end of the film her foes have been exterminated by her personally--by shotgun, knife, car, et al--and she emerges alone and without partner. She even wields a sort of phallic dominance, in forcing a dealer to inject himself with a lethal needleful of heroine, and in leveling a shotgun at her disingenuous politican lover, who turns out to be in league with the drug dealers.

Given, her actions are not a general intention to right the social wrongs of history. but vendettas motivated by personal loss. Coffy's sister was brought low by a drug dealer. Carter is beaten into a coma when he refuses to take money to keep silent. The levels of power structure remain low and gritty. Coffy's story does not reflect an active attempt to reverse the history of patriarchal hegemony, nor does it reflect a search for a perfect romantic match despite her sexual appeal. The conflict also does not solely remain in the realm of Woman vs. Man; Coffy faces off against women as well, particularly in one scene where she threatens a white prostitute for information. She is forced to flee when the prostitute's pimp--a heavyset black woman--returns; this further redefines the concept of Romance, in that a sexually-suggestive conflict includes only women of differing ethnicities: "I go away for half an hour for you to turn a trick... and I come back and find you ballin' some n***** bitch! You white tramp!" (Harriet, in Coffy). Coffy also engages in a vicious combat with several prostitutes in an attempt to gain the lecherous attention of a prominent drug lord. It suggests a non-discriminating battle to the top rather than a battle of the sexes.

Why the departure from romantic norms? There is an "obvious" choice for male companion in the form of Carter, who is an upstanding citizen and cares deeply for Coffy. There is an uncertain choice in Howard, in that he is rich and charismatic at first, appearing to fight for civil rights. Carter is removed violently from the story, while Howard proves corrupt. It seems that Coffy, in her role as an independent heroine, must accomplish her aims without male aid. The "Other" is now an active, central force rather than an accompanying subordinate; to be otherwise would dilute the conflict and cast doubt on whether the womanly Other could be a solitary agent of change without male support. With Coffy's emergence alone from her trials, the Romantic aspect has been deconstructed; she is free to dictate her own future.

The black heroine in these films may not be meant to provide something with which to identify, but rather to add a level of complexity to an already complex Other. She also serves to unravel the concept of Other by obtaining a level of power equal to the male suppression she endures, although she does not waver from de Beauvoir's claim that Woman is not unified: Coffy is the sole protagonist, the action hero(ine). She is superior to other females, in the same way that a male action hero is superior to other males, and in the case of Coffy--who turns out to be more woman than her opponents can handle--also resists the tradition of the Romantic by creating a new, appealing Other.

WORKS CITED

Coffy. Dir. Jack Hill. Perf. Pam Grier, Booker Bradshaw, Robert DoQui, and William Elliott. MGM, 1973.

de Beauvoir, Simone. Introduction. The Second Sex. 1949. Marxists.org. 2005. 14 October 2008 .

Reid, Mark. "Black Action Film." Redefining Black Film. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993: 69–91.



Group Presentation: My Contribution

I hate to do things like this. It forces the walking of a fine line between showboating ("look what I did!") and addressing imbalance. Anyway:

For the "Breakfast at Tiffany's" project, Kim P. did a lot of the arranging; she successfully gathered us, wrangled our information onto paper, and began email threads about what to do. We met at the Library, and had a very productive meeting, hashing out our subject matter.

There are a few things I can point to and claim credit. The syllabus asks whether the work reaffirms or resists traditional relationships and gender roles, so I originally presented the argument that "Breakfast" bucks the trend on all fronts: Holly is not your typical heroine looking for a Prince Charming, there is no happy guy-gets-girl ending, sexual roles are ambiguous.

In keeping with that theme, I submitted numerous lists of talking points, notes from Barker and from various essays and articles, and my own thoughts about what we could discuss and what theories we could connect to. I was also lucky enough to find and post the group's article referenced in the discussion.

My own part of the presentation/discussion was to point out that there are no stereotypical male roles in this novella, no romantic protagonist. All the males in the book are submissive, desperate, old or otherwise out of the running. The only typical male is an unnamed tomcat.

I'm afraid I'm guilty of suggesting the concept of showing the movie's ending and saying "That was Happy Go Lucky; this is Holly Golightly." I cannot help but give in to rhythmic assonances.

10.03.2008

American Psexo



In Chapter 9 of Barker's Cultural Studies: Theory and Practice, the section "Problematic Masculinity" refers to the "apparent destructiveness" of modern men, of bad men actually being "sad men, the damaged goods of industrial society," because of "the adoption of impossible images of masculinity that men try, but fail, to live up to" (Barker 304).

While I do not know the pressures driving the Patrick Bateman character in "American Psycho," he is certainly driven to perfection. He is--like all the other financially high-end, 1987 male personas in the movie--arrogant, confident, and power-seeking, with brutality behind his sneer. He pushes women to be "The Other," and is murderous toward those he does not respect or whom he feels is undeserving.

Bateman is the epitome of non-essentialist identity, claiming "there is no real me."

Distracted Notes for Interest's Sake:

1. Really? A thick serifed font on a 24-lb weight business card with a raised burlap pattern? So gauche. Go minimalist: tactile texture over visual. Assclown.

2. After Patrick delivers an axe blow to Paul Allen's face, he sits and lights up a cigar with a Zippo. For shame, Mr. Bateman. One does not light a double corona with a chemical-fluid lighter. Sheesh.

3. Hmm... so Christian Bale goes from playing Bateman to Batman. I'm sure I'm not the first to notice this... *Looks*... Nope. No, I'm not.

4. Someone in class made a note about how we are "diagnosed" as male or female due to our "symptoms". I applaud him.



Works (barely) Cited:

Barker, Chris. Cultural Studies: Theory and Practice.

women r teh roxxorz, sez media



One thing that I've noticed that's prevalent on television commercials is a subtle shift of the appearance of superiority.

Basically: the woman remains the domestic housecleaner, but is the "wise" one about housecleaning. Commercials display the husband and children as helpless, dumbfounded and unable to guess what it would take to clean up a mess or cook a meal; along comes the youngish, short-haired, capris-wearing modern wife who "solves the problem" with the featured product.

Thus results a pretty solid stereotype now in commercial media: men are silly and dopey, women know best.

Which is fine.

Except that it still rings of patriarchy. It's almost as if the ruling apparatus is saying, "Here, have your illusion of superiority, your vapid You Go Girl! moment... your minor success is fine with us as long as you don't notice that you're still being kept in your domestic place."

10.02.2008

Barker and Sex



To go off on a tangent, commencing thusly:

Chris Barker had a tough job: he had to summarize volumes of cultural studies, critical theories, and translated brouhaha from hundreds of human thinkers and bring that knowledge into a single volume.

That said, reading a Barker chapter is a little like an Egg McMuffin:

It's a bit dry and bland, precariously stacked, and you aren't entirely sure what was in it.