Hi there, and thank you for visiting my blog! My name is Fiona Delaney and I’m a student at Chapman University in Orange, California. I am a creative writing major and Spanish minor.
Reading and writing have been apart of my life since the third grade; I could not imagine who I would be today without the two. I have also been interested in film, but I always shied away from really learning and understanding it. This class – Film, Gender, and Sexuality – is one of the first opportunities I have taken advantage of to learn more about it. As someone who identifies as bisexual, I also want to explore more about gender and sexuality. These two topics intersect wonderfully for me, and I’m very excited to explore both more in depth.
I think what I hope to focus on the most in film are the visual aspects of it, such as scenes, camera angles, and more that are hard to mimic within writing. The way a story is formed and developed in film can be much different than those in books, but I find both equally as interesting. I know less about film, however, and would like to expand my knowledge and analysis of it. In terms of gender and queer theory, I am not too knowledgable, and sometimes I feel that this creates a disconnect for me with the LGBT+ community.
I hope you enjoy my journey throughout this learning process!
The Half Of It directed and written by Chinese-American, lesbian Alice Wu was recently released by Netflix on May 1, 2020. The film follows witty Ellie Chu, a Chinese American immigrant living her life in a small town called Squahamish with her widowed father, as she helps Paul Munsky (who is usually called Munsky), a shy jock, write letters to his crush Aster Flores. Little does Munsky know – but the audience is clearly aware – that Ellie also has a crush on Aster. Through this seemingly typical love triangle (spoiler: it’s not), the audience explores Ellie’s struggles with class, racism, love, friendship, and blossoming sexuality. In this blog post, I will be explaining why The Half Of It is a much needed film in today’s society because of its inclusivity and intersectionality of class, gender, race and sexual orientation, as well as subversiveness to patriarchal and Hollywood norms and expectations.
If you would like to read a more detailed summary of the film click here. And yes, I know it’s wikipedia, but they had the best detailed summary I could find.
THE BECHDEL TEST
The Half Of It passes the Bechdel Test, which originated from a comic strip called “The Rule” created by Alison Bechdel (who credits it to her friend Liz Wallace). It is used to examine the presence and representation of women in a film. To pass this test, the film must have the following:
1. The movie has to have at least two women in it,
2. who talk to each other,
3. about something other than a man.
Some have even added that the women have to have names as well. Despite that a lot of Ellie’s interactions are with Munsky and her father, her conversations with Aster, her female teacher and somewhat mentor Mrs. Geselschap, and girls at a party have to do with something other than a man. Even though Aster and Ellie’s most prominent bonding moment did have Aster talk about her love life with Trig, it wasn’t the only thing they talked about, and most notably it was not the subject that started or ended that scene.
Now, not every movie that passes the Bechdel Test can be considered “feminist” or a very good representation or women; for example, Fifty Shades of Grey passes, yet over-sexualizes women and promotes abusive relationships. In any case, I would at least consider the Bechdel Test to be a “jumping off point” for good female representation in films. For The Half Of It, passing the Bechdel test shows the significant presence of not only one female character, but two (Ellie and Aster), and makes the female characters have depth beyond their concern for boys, which many teen movies fail to do. It also allows the movie to live up to the lesbian representation in the film: if Ellie had only talked about guys with another girl, it would have possibly sabotaged her portrayal by diminishing her presence as not only a female character, but as a lesbian.
Even though we are in a progressing society, many films fail to pass the Bechdel Test and fail to provide realistic, non-patriarchal performative female representations. But, The Half Of It does; girls and women alike don’t always just talk about guys, and even though this is a film about love, it’s important to show that guys or other love interests don’t define a woman’s character or life.
THE VITO RUSSO TEST
This film also passes the Vito Russo Test, which was inspired by the Bechdel Test. The Vito Russo Test, created by GLAAD, an organization that actively counters LGBTQ+ discrimination in the media, was named after a LGBTQ+ film historian, author and activist Vito Russo. It is used to examine the presence and representation of LGBTQ+ characters in a film. It has 3 criteria to meet in order to pass:
“ The film contains a character that is identifiably lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and/or queer.
That character must not be solely or predominantly defined by their sexual orientation or gender identity (i.e. they are comprised of the same sort of unique character traits commonly used to differentiate straight/non-transgender characters from one another).
The LGBTQ character must be tied into the plot in such a way that their removal would have a significant effect, meaning they are not there to simply provide colorful commentary, paint urban authenticity, or (perhaps most commonly) set up a punchline. The character must matter. ”
GLAAD
This test’s criteria is a little more specific than the Bechdel Test, but this helps to ensure that there is non-detrimental and more accurate representation and portrayls of an LGBTQ+ character.
For the first part, Ellie is our character who is identifiably lesbian. Of course, every summary of the film mentions her love interest, Aster, or directly references her sexuality. However, if you were to watch the film without having any previous knowledge of it, the audience figures out Ellie’s interest in girls within the first 11 minutes of the movie. First, after Ellie’s voiceover of a greek myth about finding our “other half,” we see her looking at Aster as she sings in music class, the voiceover saying
“In case you haven’t guessed, this is not a love story. Or, not one where anyone gets what they want.”
(Wu 6:00)
Five minutes later, Ellie is helped out by Aster when someone bumps into her and knocks over her stuff in the hallways of school. Ellie, obviously love struck, manages to blurt out “I’m Ellie Chu” (Wu 10:25). Her feelings towards Aster become even more apparent in this scene, and continue to develop throughout the rest of the movie.
Image Source: The Half Of It
Ellie is also not solely or predominantly defined by her sexuality. Ellie is a great writer, witty, a beautiful singer, intelligent, funny, a great friend to Munsky, hard-working, loving daughter, caring, Chinese-American, and more. This is not a coming out movie, technically, which is another great aspect that helps alleviate her from being defined by her sexuality. While her sexual orientation plays a big part of the plot in the movie, it does not play Ellie’s whole character.
Lastly, if Ellie were removed from the film, there would be no film. Ellie is the center, as this story mainly revolves around her, and how she impacts the lives of others around her. To be more literal, if there’s no Ellie, there are no beautifully written letters for Munsky to give to Aster, and thus even if the script were to only include Munsky trying to win Aster over on his own, he would fail – end of story, end of film.
Passing the Vito Russo Test ensures that Ellie, our LGTBQ+ character, isn’t just in the story for representation’s sake, or as a joke, or a one-dimensional character, which subverses much of Hollywood’s representation of the queer community. Ellie is such a dynamic character who has many struggles that she is going through in life; a lot of people don’t have the luxury of just focusing on one, which is what a lot of films tend to do, especially ones with characters coming out as LGBTQ+ – Hollywood and the rest of the film industry needs to start moving on from coming out stories of teenagers. The Half Of It is a true inclusive film of a character who is LGBTQ+, which is something that is desperately needed.
INTERSECTIONALITY OF CLASS, RACE, AND SEXUALITY
The Half Of It manages to exhibit the intersectionality of class, race and sexuality – something most popular movies fail to do, or struggle to even juggle one. Other recent popular LGBTQ+ films have only portrayed white, middle or upper class characters, such as Love, Simon, Call Me By Your Name, and Booksmart.
Ellie’s lower-class status is brought into the picture right away. We see this as other students drive to school while Ellie has to bike through a canyon, when she is at first planning on going to a cheaper college rather than a better one, and when her electricity bill is overdue in the beginning of the movie. However, the overdue electricity bill was also due to her father’s accent. After the lights flicker within their home, Ellie asks her father (in Mandarin) if he called about the electricity. Without looking at her, he responds
“They don’t understand my accent.”
(Wu 9:24)
Image Source: The Half Of It
While this seems to be a simple detail, it is much more than that; Ellie’s father has a hard time getting necessities because of his accent and language barrier. It spells out the struggles of immigrants in America, as well as racism in a way. Ellie later tells Munksy that even though her father has a PhD in engineering from China, her dad wasn’t able to get an engineering job; Ellie’s parents had moved to America when she was young so that her father could become an engineer, and his jumping off point was supposed to be the train station in Squahamish that they live at. From there, he hoped to be promoted as time went on. However, the language barrier proved to be too much in the way, and possibly racism as well.
While Ellie doesn’t struggle with language, she experiences plenty of racial injustices as well. From microaggressions of being called “The Chinese Girl,” as well as her awful nickname “Chugga Chugga Chu Chu,” her fellow classmates pick on her for being Chinese. One group of guys relentlessly tease her, and even sabotage her piano performance at the senior recital – and there seems to be no real reason besides the fact that she is different, or Chinese.
The film also obviously addresses her sexuality, and in a refreshing way. It isn’t about Ellie coming out, but her exploring her feelings, even if it’s through catfishing Aster in a sense. But it’s also about Ellie having to hide her sexuality in a religious town; as Munksy says so eloquently,
“…it would suck to have to pretend to be not you.. uh… your whole life.”
(Wu 1:27:52)
All three of these subjects weave a beautiful film together, and explore a dynamic not usually seen in others. The inclusion of diversity in race, class, sexual orientation, and gender all in one film is important, especially of teenagers, and should be done more often; we can’t choose to only represent things that we like, prefer, or make us happy. Doing that would overlook many of the voices and experiences that all films should include. After all, this is the United States, and we have a very diverse population here, as well as a large immigrant population, so the American film industry should start realizing that too. Having young people grow up seeing someone like them – whether they are a Chinese Immigrant, LGBTQ+, in a lower class, or in this case, all three – makes such an impact on someone’s life.
THE MALE GAZE
Another accomplishment that The Half Of It completes is the lack of the male gaze. In most Hollywood films, women are sexulized by the male gaze, and treated as objects of desire. In Film Feminisms: A Global Introduction, Kristin Lené Hole and Dijana Jelača describe how Laura Mulvey’s “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” identifies
“a dominant pattern in class Hollywood cinema within which women onscreen embody to-be-looked-at-ness, and are framed as objects of male desire.”
(Hole and Jelača 54)
They go on to say that “Mulvey argues that this gaze is a controlling device that perpetuates the patriarchal framing of women as sexual objects of male desire” (Hole and Jelača 54). Examples of this male gaze is when shots fixate on the woman’s body, or specific parts of it, such as her legs, and the sectionalization of the body, especially while undressed.
The Half Of It never exhibits the male gaze throughout the course of the film, and this is especially apparent with a scene with Ellie and Aster in a hot spring. Aster brings Ellie to a hot spring, and begins to undress; however, we only see the back of her, shoulders up, for a second as she takes off her shirt, then the frame goes to Ellie’s surprised reaction, who instantly turns around to respect Aster’s privacy. The camera turns to face Ellie looking at the trees, who awkwardly asks “Are these deciduous trees?” (Wu 1:08:24). The camera does not exert the male gaze on Aster in this scene, and continues to do so as Ellie gets into the spring. Ellie goes in with a shirt on, due to her shyness of course, and we never see anything below Aster’s collarbone while she’s in the water. Even when Aster gets out to turn on the radio, the gaze does not follow her body, nor show any of it, besides her hand turning on the radio. At one point, we see the both of them laying on their backs, however the frame is only focused on the side view of their heads, side-by-side as opposites. Even when this scene pulls out to a bird’s eye view, the girls are not conceived with a male gaze; Aster has also put on a shirt by this point, and it shows a moment of understanding silence for the two (and no, their shirts aren’t suction-cupped to their breasts as many other films do).
It is such a refreshing take on scenes like these where women – especially teenagers – are not sexualized and treated as objects of desire. This scene focuses on their conversation and their bond forming, not the fact that they are nude; instead, it provides a non-sexual intimacy of comfort for Ellie to experience with Aster. It subverses the male gaze and therefore the patriarchal power and framing of women as sexual objects of desire. Here, Aster and Ellie are women – and their own persons – who are coming to an understanding in this delicate, bonding moment.
The Half Of It – Photo Credit: Netflix / KC Bailey
The male gaze can be overpowering in many films, even with young women in them. By having women not be sexualized in every which way they can be, The Half Of It succeeds in letting these young girls just be these young girls. The Half Of It actively combats having to be sexy, or beautiful, but instead shows girls that they can just be themselves, and this is especially shown by Ellie wearing her shirt and Aster later changing into one. This alleviates the indirect pressure on girls and women of having to conform to these patriarchal ideas of having to be “desirable,” a stressor that women grow up with and learn not only from the real people around them, but what they watch or read or observe.
AUTHORSHIP
A big issue that the filmmaking industry has, and notably Hollywood, is authorship. Many have problems with writers and directors representing races or sexualities without sharing the same ones, as it can lead to misrepresentation as well as other issues with culture and identity. For example, Paris Is Burning, a documentary about the African American and Latinx ball/drag community in New York City, was directed by Jennie Livingston, a white lesbian cis-gender woman. Some had issues with her representing this group as it had seemed to impact how the group and culture itself was misrepresented in the documentary.
However, The Half Of It seems to have “appropriate” authorship. Director and screenwriter Alice Wu is a Chinese American who is lesbian, and in multiple interviews she has mentioned that much of the story was based off of her own experiences. So why is this so important? For starters, woman representation both on and off the screen is devastatingly low. In a study conducted by the University of Southern California’s Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism, 1,200 popular films from the years 2007 to 2018 were analyzed, showing that only 4.3% of directors were female. According to the same study, only nine of the 1,200 top grossing films released between 2007 and 2018 were directed by women of color, “with no noticeable change over time: five were directed by African American women, three by Asian women, and one by a Latina” (Obenson). In this study, LGBTQ+ directors weren’t even mentioned, which spells out an even bleaker image.
Image Source: KC Bailey/Netflix
Alice Wu’s authorship not only boasts accuracy and relatability of the subjects included within the film, but inclusion in the film industry of race, gender and sexuality. This inclusion itself creates greater intersectional representation, and even creates someone who is not white and straight for others to look up to. Authorship directly impacts the story and every detail within a film; the showing of Chinese heritage, immigrant and class struggles, micro-aggressions and racism, as well as the portrayal of a LGBTQ+ character came from Wu herself. We need to hear and see more diverse voices in films, and that includes the directors and writers themselves.
ISSUES: CONSENT AND CHEATING
One issue that is indirectly addressed in this film is consent. After Munksy takes Aster on a second date – which didn’t end in a disaster like the first one thanks to Ellie – he kisses her. We don’t see this on screen, but in a different scene where he tells Ellie about their kiss while they shop for her senior recital outfit. This is followed by Ellie furrowing her eyebrows as she makes a confused face. This can be taken as her being upset about him and Aster kissing since she does like Aster, however it seems more of the sentiment of genuine confusion. She asks timidly how a kiss even happens. This is followed by an awkward dialogue sequence:
Munksy proceeds to shrug and says “I-I kissed her.”
“How do you know she wants to be kissed?” Ellie asks.
“Um… she gives you a look.”
“A look?”
“Yeah, like um -” Munksy then awkwardly proceeds to make “the look.” Ellie is left even more confused, and Munksy finally says
“Ok she just gives you a look, and when you see the look, you make your move, otherwise you come off looking like a real putz.”
Munsky making “the look” – Image Source: The Half Of It
I believe that Ellie’s confusion and skepticality is supposed to reflect the audience’s sentiment – we with Ellie Chu are asking if Aster really wanted to be kissed. Ellie’s reaction to Munsky’s poor explanation/reason for kissing Aster emphasizes the whole idea of consent, and that a “look” isn’t exactly enough for it. Munsky’s reasoning is even proven wrong later within the movie when he tries to kiss Ellie after his football game. Ellie abruptly pulls away and Munsky asks “Y-You don’t want me to kiss you?” and Ellie responds with a loud “No!” (Wu 1:19:40-1:19:45).
However, despite this being what I believed as a critique, at the end of the film we see Ellie kiss Aster without direct consent either. After Ellie says her final goodbyes to Aster before leaving for college, Ellie starts to walk away, then suddenly runs back to kiss Aster. I was very surprised and honestly a little disappointed. Although it felt like a great scene at the moment, upon further contemplation of consent it felt like a not-so-great moment. I think if Wu still wanted to include this kiss within the movie, it would have been very in-character for Ellie to ask Aster beforehand. Who knows, maybe Aster would say yes. Especially during the time of the “Me Too” movement, this is something that should be re-addressed within the film.
Another issue with the film is that Aster is cheating on her boyfriend Trig the whole time. When I first watched it I for some reason assumed that Trig and Aster were just an on and off thing, something that is very frequent in high school. However, when Aster tells Ellie at the pond that Trig intends to propose to her – and he eventually does in the church – it is pronounced as a more serious relationship. It’s not a very great message that the film portrays about cheating, and it definitely could have been avoided. Maybe Wu could have made Aster and Trig into an on and off couple, or maybe even had them break up for a bit when she is seeing Munksy and then get back together after Aster stops talking to him.
However, Trig doesn’t seem to be so loyal either. At the senior recital when Ellie plays her song on the guitar, he remarks “When did Ellie Chu get kind of hot?” (1:00:18). Also, later in the film, Trig approaches Ellie as she is coming home from Munsky’s football game, saying that he knows that she’s in love with him since she’s been following him around (but the audience knows that Ellie is actually following Aster who just happens to be with him). When Ellie sarcastically says yes, she is, Trig takes it seriously and tries to lean in for a kiss; Ellie’s dad then sprays him from the window of their home. Again, this is not a great portrayal of a high school relationship – or any relationship really – and sends out a questionable message about cheating.
CONCLUSION
Despite its flaws, The Half Of It is a movie that is very needed in today’s society and film industry. It portrays so many different aspects of life – from race, sexaulity, bullying, class, love, school, family – in a very relatable, refreshing, and informative way. Many people grow up through reading books and watching films and TV shows, and they have a role in people’s lives as many people learn from portrayals and stories within those works, whether the audience realizes this or not. Having a film about teenagers like The Half Of It allows the audience to learn so much more than from a usual Hollywood white-washed, perfect-ending love triangle. There is more representation and inclusion of different groups, and the film succeeds in sending important messages about sexuality, race, gender, and class by emphasizing things such as the micro-aggressions that Ellie experiences, and de-emphasizing others such as not sexualizing Aster and Ellie in the hot spring scene. This film is not perfect, but it doesn’t have to be; most films are never going to be perfect, but ones like The Half Of It are trying, and are doing better than most. And, we live and we learn, and move ahead trying to fix what isn’t perfect in the future. This is a film unlike many others, and that’s the unfortunate part – there should be more films like this, and hopefully more films and even TV shows in the future will follow in similar footsteps.
WORKS CITED
Dijana, Jelača and Hole Kristin Lené. “Chapter two: Spectatorship and Reception.” Film Feminisms: a Global Introduction, Routledge, 2019, p. 54.
I stare into the blue screen for a long time. Sometimes my eyes flicker back and forth, waiting for a change: but no. There is no change, only blue; maybe the slight ripple of pixels or wavy edges, but always blue. I am trapped with Jarman in this blueness and I am frustrated for me and for him and for everyone else. I am impatient, feet rapidly tapping the ground. My arms twitch listening to the drip drip and the side effects nausea shaking, vomiting, chills, fever, headache, bleeding from the stomach, and a million more. A lump forms as 30 or 40 pills are taken just to live – just barely.
“I shall not win the battle with the virus.”
I want to reach out my hand and save something that has already passed and he knows his passing and it makes me want to call out more and say no, do not give up, but I know the end. I know of the suffering, but don’t understand it. I am whisked from waiting room to waiting room; no name, but numbers, for the poor voice. Dehumanizing. I grasp more images and more pain from the bell ringing in my ears and the voices singing, jagged like broken glass. Anger rises in my chest as dying is the only option, yet living longer is prolonged suffering.
More doctor’s visits. Eye doctors. Lights, disturbing flashes. I rub my eyes thinking of it. I am standing next to him in the room yet he does not know, or maybe he does. Blue is his reality, and for now, it is mine. Blue invades my visions and I do not fight it off but let it melt into me. It is my favorite color, and I wonder if I could get sick of it, as I see what he sees. I conclude that I could. I try to grasp every poetic verse whispering into my ear, my pen scribbling and scribbling the beautiful words yet I know these words do not come from a beautiful place. He speaks of his dead friends.
“Others faded like flowers cut by the scythe of the blue-bearded reaper, parched as the waters of life receded.”
Brutally beautiful. Sadly tremendous. Tremendous sadness. Yet I still sit here and take it in like a follower of a church sitting in the pews, nodding their head as the father speaks. But this is no father, this is no church; this is a film, and this is the voice of a dead man dying. A ghost whispering blue hues into my ear. I am unsettled. I should be unsettled. I hear once again the names of his friends: David, Paul, Howard, Terry. Sometimes I hold my breath, waiting to see if he will speak again. And he does. The music and voices move within me, eyes closed or open, but even with eyes glued to the screen I feel as if I am splayed into a trance, staring into the blue. The ocean crashes again and again and the sea of blue takes me under and I watch from beneath with him.
“Blue upon your grave.”
The pressure crushes my chest and the ending silence leaves me empty.
Paris is Burning is a highly praised, but also highly controversial, documentary that looks into the life of drag queens and “balls” in 1980’s New York City. It is directed by Jennie Livingston, a white, lesbian American director. When I first watched it, I was amazed by the culture; I had never seen anything like it. As a white woman myself, however, I didn’t realize the extent that white, dominant culture influenced this subculture, or at least seemed to; while I was somewhat surprised by the hetero-normative categories in the ball competitions, I didn’t take it with a further meaning, or see the consequences of this, until I read the following articles. In “Is Paris Burning?”, Bell Hooks discusses the problems with race as well as hidden issues of class and sexuality from authorship within the documentary. Ryan Caldwell’s article “Gender Queer Productions and the Bridge of Cultural Legtimacy: ‘Realness and ‘Identity’ in Paris is Burning,” discusses “if drag performances are appropriations or subversions of socially constructed gender identity categories” (Caldwell 78). Although I learned much about drag and ball culture from this documentary, I find myself agreeing with Hooks and Caldwell and their criticisms.
Hooks delves into the criticisms of how white culture, specifically white womanhood, was praised and fixated on by the drag culture, or at least portrayed to seem that way. Hooks says that
“Within the world of the black gay drag ball culture she (Livingston) depicts, the idea of womaness and feminity is totally personified by whiteness. What viewers witness is not black men longing to impersonate or even become like ‘real’ black women but their obsession with an idealized and fetishized vision of femininity that is white.”
(Hooks 148)
This is seen within the film not only through the categories of ball, such as schoolgirl, but also through the wishes and praises of the performers themselves. For example, Octavia St Laurent, a black transgender woman, has posters of mostly white women models are hung on the wall in her room. She points to one of the white models and says “This is my idol – Paulina. Someday I hope to be up there with her. If that could be me, I would be the happiest person in the world, just knowing that I can compare to Paulina” (44:45-45). The fact that Octavia’s idol was a white model showed how much white womanhood was praised and sought after.
Octavia St Laurent performing in Paris is Burning. Image Source: Dazed
Poster of Paulina Porizkova (far right). Image Source: Pinterest
Dorian Carey also comments on this in the film, saying that
“When I grew up, you wanted to look like Marlene Dietrich, Bettie Grable. Fortunately, I didn’t know that I really wanted to look like Lena Horne. When I grew up, of course, black stars were stigmatized. No one wanted to look like Lena Horne. Everybody wanted to look like Marilyn Monroe.”
(Paris is Burning 17-17:24).
Lena Horne (1917-2010). Image Source: al.com
Marlene Dietrich (1901 – 1992). Photo by Don English/John Kobal Foundation/Getty Images.
While Dorian says that this was when they grew up, viewers can see how this ideal of white femininity is still sought after in the present drag culture in the film. The more this came to light to me, the more I realized how the documentary almost became a pat on the back for white people to see that they can give someone else something to strive for, especially in the way that Livingston portrayed it. I found it problematic as to how much white femininity was sought after, and wonder if Livingston (probably) had this perspective emphasized more than it existed in reality.
As for Caldwell, a lot of the criticisms circle around how the performances were more like appropriations of socially constructed gender identity categories and not subversions, and thus heed to the patriarch’s dominant culture. In the film, “realness” is what performers strive for; they take their category and make the performance “real.” In terms of appropriation, I believe that one of the points Caldwell makes is that the categories of the balls themselves, such as schoolgirl or country or military, are based off of “dominant culture’s normalized identities” (Caldwell 79).
Now, to achieve “realness,” the performers must continue to adhere to the stereotypes and expectations of these “normalized identities” in the dominant culture; comments from the film from Dorian Corey and Pepper Labeija support this idea, as Corey says that one has to blend into this dominant culture, and Lebeija says this performance is essentially “going back into the closet” (Caldwell 79). In this sense, the performances can be seen as appropriations, or as Caldwell says, “Given these comments on ‘realness,’ it seems that what counts as ‘real’ for these ball performers is the depiction and mimicking of heterosexuality” (Caldwell 79). In fact, Dorian even says realness is
“to be able to blend…If you can passed the untrained eye, or even trained eye, and not give away the fact that you’re gay, that’s realness”
(Paris is Burning 18:20-1832).
Dorian Corey in Paris is Burning. Image Source: NewNowNext
The performances follow the social norms of gender identities and create a conforming to patriarchal social structures.
To be clear, I am still not 100% sure if Livingston happened to only mainly portray these aspects, or if they really were this prominent in drag culture, or at least if they existed. Obviously, the authorship did have a part to play in this. So, why are these criticisms important? Why shouldn’t drag culture seek after white femininity and socially constructed gender identity, or shouldn’t be portrayed that they do? Because, if we can’t be subversive, we can’t change these norms, and in turn add power to them; we will have to continue to fit into these constructs and ideals to be recognized. If Livingston really did make these ideals in drag culture more exaggerated than in reality, then she unfortunately adhered to this.
The Body Remembers When the World Broke Open directed and written by Elle-Maija Tailfeathers and Kathleen Hepburn follows two indigenous women in Canada and their physical and mental journey throughout a single day. Áila and Rosie meet in an unexpected way; Áila is coming home from her doctor’s appointment – where she had just gotten an IUD – and Rosie had just ran out of her apartment, heavily pregnant and barefoot, where her boyfriend had started beating her. Áila rushes Rosie to her home, and their journey begins.
The two women are complete foils of each other, despite that they are both from similar indigenous backgrounds. Áila is a 31 year-old woman who seems to have her life together; she lives in a nice house, has a steady relationship, and has no plans of having a baby. On the other hand, Rosie is 19 years old and is very pregnant, lives in a small apartment that is actually her boyfriend’s mom’s, and is in an unsteady and abusive relationship. Their personalities differ too; Áila is more gentle, caring and soft spoken, whereas Roise has quite the mouth and fiery personality when she’s not silent. Another important difference is that Áila has lighter skin, and Rosie has darker skin. This foil creates an interesting and important dynamic for the film.
Something that caught my attention during the film was that the view of the women in some shots was partially obstructed, and most notably, by a wall or the edge of a wall or door frame. This technique I believe not only reflects the viewer’s position, but the two women’s as well within that scene.
Towards the beginning, after Áila has taken Rosie into her home, Áila goes into her room to try to find some clothes for Rosie since she is soaking from the rain. She rummages through her partner’s clothes visibly upset and distraught, and you can hear her heavy, shaky breathing. This scene is shot from a side angle behind her, where the edge of the doorway is obstructing the shot. After picking out a pair of pants and a shirt, she sits down on the bed and looks at herself in the mirror, then tries to calm down. Here, We see Áila’s face through the mirror, and not directly. The shot is still obstructed by the edge of the doorway (00:17:42-19).
Here, you can see the wall in the right corner. Image source: screenshot of The Body Remembers When the World Broke Open – 00:17:52Image Source: screenshot of The Body Remembers When the World Broke Open – 00:18:55
Here, the obstructed shot visibly reflects how Áila’s life in this moment is being obstructed by Rosie’s dire situation. She is distraught and upset, no longer as calm as she had been portrayed as up until this moment. This technique also reflects how Áila is hiding her emotions from Rosie; she is hiding behind a wall, then calms herself before she goes to the other side. I think that this shows a lot about how kind Áila is, and ironically, how motherly she is as well. Parents, including mothers, don’t want to show that they’re sad or stressed in a dire situation so that their kids can stay positive. In a way, Áila is doing that here. Additionally, by using the edge of a doorway, in this moment it can be seen as her entry into this journey of helping Rosie. Not only can she be calming down in this moment, but preparing to enter that doorway, that journey, where she can’t come back from. By having the edge of the doorway hover within the shot, it almost reflects how much the choice of whether helping Rosie or not is weighing on her mind as she gets clothes for her.
After Rosie has changed into the new clothes, her and Áila sit in a small living room space and begin to have a conversation. This medium long shot, which shows the back of Áila and Rosie facing her, also has an obstructed view, with the edge of a wall on the left side being in it (00:28:42-32:50). During the beginning of the conversation, Áila tries to get Rosie to open up about herself and her life to try to help her. She asks if anyone is looking out for her, and what she wants to do. Rosie gets defensive and skeptical, and continues to dodge her questions.
The wall is obstructing the left part of the shot. Image source: screenshot of The Body Remembers When the World Broke Open – 00:29:35
The obstructed shot here with the edge of the wall parallels the wall between Rosie and Áila not only in this scene, but their lives in general; their foil. Rosie also puts up a wall so that Áila may not enter her thoughts, feelings, or life. We see this wall with her refusing to answer personal questions and being very skeptical of Áila and her motives of helping her. In fact, the wall becomes more apparent when it seems to start coming down (metaphorically and physically). After a while, Rosie tells Áila that she has bled through her pants; she then goes to change, and when she comes back, the shot is not longer filmed with the wall obstructing the frame. In fact, after Áila comes back, Rosie starts to become less reluctant and open up to her older counterpart by answering some questions. Here, the wall is physically out of the shot, which parallels how Rosie has started to take her own down.
In terms of subjects for this film, or marginalized indigenous women, I believe that this technique connects with them in a way that it shows respect for them. The obstructed shot gives the women privacy in other moments, such as when Áila is using the restroom in the safe house towards the end of the movie. This prevents the movie from objectifying her body by not showing it through a male gaze. In the shots mentioned above, it also reminds the viewer where their place is within this story: as an observer. I think this gives the subjects some respect in the way that it reminds the viewers that they’re observing something that is real; something that actually happens, and needs to be recognized. But, we can no longer be the observer; we must take action. This shot almost criticizes the world, and audience, for just being an observer of marginalized women and their struggles, and hiding behind a wall pretending like we can’t see it.
Here, the wall on the right is obstructing the shot of Áila. Image source: screenshot of The Body Remembers When the World Broke Open – 1:12:35
The authorship of this film is also very unique. Although I have not seen any of the other films of the two directors, I believe if they closely follow the film style of this one, they could be considered “film auteurs.” In Film Feminisms: A Global Introduction, Kristen Lené Hole and Dijana Jelača write that “Auteur Theory particularly privileges those directors who are seen as shaping movies according to their unique aesthetic vision and worldview, rather than ‘merely’ restaging existing paradigms of film language” (Hole and Jelača 7). Not only do these obstructed views contribute to the film’s aesthetic, but other shots as well. The camera parallels the walking and movement of the characters for almost the entire time, mimicking their bobbing of the head, walks, shaking runs, and frantic movements. For me, at least, this was something that I thought was very unique to these directors; while this camera technique is used in some specific scenes in other films, it isn’t used for the majority of the time like in this one. Their worldview as well is significantly particular and different from most other film makers, as they focus on marginalized indigenous women in Canada, and one seemingly small day to reflect societal culture’s ostracization, internal problems, and treatment of indigenous women as a whole. The overall theme of the movie as well as the filming style creates an overall personality for the directors, I think.
Works Cited
The Body Remembers When the World Broke Open. Directed by Elle-Maija Tailfeathers and Kathleen Hepburn, performances by Violet Nelson, Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers, Charlie Hannah, and Barbara Eve Harris, Experimental Forest Films, 2019.
“Chapter 1: Women Filmmakers and Feminist Authorship.” Film Feminisms: a Global Introduction, by Hole Kristin Lené and Jelača Dijana, Routledge, 2019, p. 7.
The Celluloid Closet opened my eyes not only to the complicated history of LGBTQ+ representation in film, but how the lack or kinds of representation affected society overall, in particular, people who identified as lesbian, homsexual, bisexual, transgender, etcetera. Many of the speakers in the film, ranging from screenwriters to actors to producers, pulled from their own experience in how they felt about and reacted with movies, providing the audience with memorable quotes and analysis of LGBTQ+ representation.
In one of the opening lines of the documentary, the narrator (Lily Tomlin) says the following:
“Hollywood, the great maker of myths, taught straight people what to think about gay people, and gay people, what to think about themselves. No one escaped its influence.”
(The Celluloid Closet 03:10-03:25).
As one of the first lines spoken, it sets the tone of the documentary. While there are some positive aspects the film covers, it mostly talks about the struggles to represent LGBTQ+ people, whether they are lacking from the films overall, misrepresented, or mistreated. This idea is still very much relevant today; while Hollywood representation has improved in terms of providing (some) more original, less stereotypical representation for the gay community, the films I grew up with heavily dictated what I perceived and expected of gay people.
For example, Damian in Mean Girlsis portrayed as a stereotypical gay male that is only best friends with girls, funny, theatrical, and gossipy. In the movie, he is used as a comical piece, one of the complaints that speakers in the documentary have about gay representation. His flamboyance and catty remarks seem to be all that makes up his character; his best friend, Janis, often comments on his gayness, most notably “almost too gay to function” (Mean Girls 2004).
Image source: Giphy
Damian has very memorable quotes and scenes rooted in comedy, but honestly, that’s about it. And, for the most part, it’s all he’s remembered for. I think people growing up watching this movie kind of expected every homosexual male to be like this: funny and flamboyant. As such an iconic film to my generation, I believe this overgeneralization of homosexual males’ personality still perpetuates people’s perceived notions of gay men today.
Pictured: Damian handing out Christmas grams, cheering on a girl who received 4 (implied that they are all from boys). Source: Giphy
Pictured: Damian gossiping about Gretchen Weiners, one of the popular girls known as “plastics” in the film. Source: Giphy
A second quote that also caught my attention was from the openly gay British director John Schlesinger. He states that:
“Americans are perhaps more scared of their sexuality; they’re prepared to show violence of all kinds, but when it comes to sexuality, I think America is very self-righteous, and tries to bury it as if it didn’t exist, which is silly.”
(The Celluloid Closet 1:20:00-1:20:15).
This can very much be seen in the Marvel Universe’s Avengers series. For example, many fans believe that the characters Bucky Barnes, later known as the Winter Soldier, and Captain America, whose real name is Steve Rogers, are possibly bisexual. Bucky and Steve grew up together, fought in World War II together, and even thought to have lost each other to death in two different moments. They are very close throughout their complicated relationship and timeline in the Avengers series. Many fans took their feelings as more than just a friendship.
Yet, Marvel, despite how much fans point out about the two, is willing to show all sorts of violence, but not their possible bisexual identites. These two manly warriors, fighting brutally and killing on screen, could be undermined by their possible sexuality, so violence is used to mask it, or “bury” it as Schlesinger says. This can be one interpretation. However, some say that their relationship is more of a comradery and bromance between the two that was common during their time period (1930/40s), especially for brothers in arms.
There are many more aspects that the speakers in this documentary touch on. These two quotes were ones that stuck out to me the most, as I have personally experienced and noticed the situations and effects discussed.
Works Cited
The Celluloid Closet. Directed by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman, Sony Pictures Classics, 1995.
Mean Girls. Directed by Mark Waters, performances by Cary White, Mary J. Fort, Lindsay Lohan, Rachel McAdams, Tim Meadows, Amy Poehler, Ana Gasteyer, Lacey Chabert, Lizzy Caplan, Daniel Franzese, Neil Flynn, Jonathan Bennett, Amanda Seyfried, and Rosalind Wiseman. Paramount Pictures , 2004.
John Carpenter’s original 1978 Halloween is one of the most famous slasher films to date. The film is known for many different things, from Michael Myers iconic mask to the trope of the “Final Girl” to its thrilling piano theme. However, one aspect of the film that seems to be less valued is the sound apart from the music. In this blog post, I am going to include dialogue with sound.
Following Myers breaking out of the institution and doctor Loomis trying to track him down, the audience is introduced to another one of the main characters, Laurie. In one shot, she is sitting in the back of the classroom as her teacher seems to ramble on about a random subject off-screen. However, the subject isn’t random at all: it is about fate. As the teacher continues to vehemently talk about fate, the shot zooms in on Laurie, who then looks out the school window to see Myers standing next to his car:
(the text above is the title of this video that the user posted)
The teacher says that “You see, fate caught up with several lives here,” which can be seen as a foreshadowing of the multiple deaths to come in the film (Halloween 15:52-15:57). This tense moment also addresses Laurie, or specifically, her fate to face Myers; “no matter what course of action” Laurie would take, her own “day of reckoning” would come (Halloween 15:58-16:08).
The foreshadowing itself by using the teacher’s off-screen dialogue about fate adds to the unsettling mood of the movie. This scene almost feels like a prologue to one Shakespeare’s tragedies; by having the speaker off-screen, it gives more of a looming “prophecy” tension to the scene, which makes the audience more tense and apprehensive about not only the movie in general, but Laurie’s “fate.” This can especially be seen in the teacher’s last lines, where she describes how “In Samuel’s writing, fate is immovable, like a mountain; it stands when man passes away. Fate never changes” (Halloween 16:45-16:53). These last off-screen lines linger over the viewer’s head, creating an unsettling effect as Laurie looks outside again only to see that Myers has disappeared.
Halloween also exhibits the use of diegetic sound, and in the following scene in particular, diegetic music. Later in the day, Laurie gets picked up by her friend Annie. As they drive along, smoking weed, the song “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” by the band Blue Öyster Cult plays in the background. Laurie swears that she saw a man stalking them on their walk home earlier while Annie teases her about it. Little do they know, Myers is right behind them in a station wagon.
(Watch 00:30-1:18)Image Source: Discogs
There are two potential uses of this song within this scene. One use is that this song was/is a stoner “anthem,” so in the moment, the calm tune contributes to the surface-level stoner atmosphere of the scene. However, if one listens to the lyrics, the relevance to the movie becomes more evident. The song opens up with the following verses:
“All our times have come
Here but now they’re gone
Seasons don’t fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are
Image Source: Compass International Pictures
Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper
Baby take my hand, don’t fear the reaper
We’ll be able to fly, don’t fear the reaper
Baby I’m your man”
The song discusses how death comes for all at one point, so it’s irrational to fear it, or “the reaper.” The verse, “All our times have come,” is explicitly talking about death, and eerily foreshadows the following deaths in the movie. In the meantime, Annie and Laurie’s own reaper, Michael Myers, trails behind them as the song continues. Here, the song not only becomes a tool for foreshadowing, but for heightening the suspenseful tone of the film as well as disturbing mood for the audience.
Image Source: Gifer
The director of the film, John Carpenter, made no mistake in choosing this particular song. In an interview for an article in The New York Times, Carpenter claimed that “I thought the song was unbelievable,” and that “We could have played against what was going on with a happy song, but we chose that one. The thing is cinematic all the way.” Here, Carpenter acknowledges that the song was set to match the deathly and suspenseful tone of the movie. He also notes how the song itself is “cinematic,” adding onto the significant weight it carries within this scene.
Additionally, to continue on more of a literary route, the use of “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” heightens the sense of dramatic irony in the film; by now, the viewer has registered that Myers will try to kill the two girls. While Laurie isn’t wholly oblivious to Myers, in this scene she is, and both girls are unaware of the danger they are in. This song only adds onto this knowledge of the viewer, emphasizing the girls’ doom. In turn, the panic, anxiety or suspense the viewer is experiencing is elevated.
Both uses of sound—off-screen dialogue and diegetic sound/music—contribute to some form of foreshadowing or dramatic irony, which intensifies the mood and emotions viewers experience during a horror movie. This is just one of the reasons why Halloween was (and still is) such a successful horror film that still serves as a foundation and icon for others.
Worked Cited
Halloween. Directed by John Carpenter, performances by Jamie Lee Curtis, Donald Pleasence, Tony Moran, P.J. Soles, and Nancy Kyes. Compass International Pictures, 1978.
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