James Cameron famously removed a dream sequence
from Terminator 2 (1992) in
which Kyle Reese visits an institutionalised Saran Connor, convincing
her to escape. The scene is restored to the 'director's cut' version
of the film, but my understanding is that it was removed because it
diminished Connor's autonomy: she only does what she does when
prompted by a man. Cameron wanted her to act on maternal instincts,
to be a strong character in her own right, and this scene didn't show
that. I wouldn't go so far as to call Cameron a feminist, but he's
pushing in the right direction with characters like Connor, his
version of Sigourney Weaver's Ripley and to a lesser extent Zoe
Saldana's Neytiri from Avatar.
Strong, self-motivated and, importantly, not sexualised or
compromised.
Why is this
significant? Consider the vast majority of action cinema. The main
characters are predominantly male: men drive the narrative; men kill
the bad guy; men protect the innocent; men have the autonomy; men
hold together the fabric of society (I'm going somewhere with this,
honest). Consider Die Hard (John McTiernan, 1988) as probably
the best example of modern action cinema. The only real female
character in that film is Holly McClaine (Bonnie Bedelia), who, while
forging a successful career, has allowed her marriage to suffer. The
film punishes her for this (it can be read as a reactionary tale
about reclaiming 'traditional' values, Nakatomi Plaza a microcosm for
America) and she is only redeemed by her returning husband, who
eliminates all of those pesky foreigners and finally reclaims his
wife (and surname) with the symbolic removal of Ellis' Rolex watch
from his wife's left arm. While Bedelia does wonders with this
thankless task, her arc drives home a simple mantra: it's a man's
world.
Fast forward almost 30
years and we're not really much further forward. We've seen Trinity
from The Matrix bend physics but even she ultimately left all
the heroic stuff to Keanu Reeves, even legitimising his status as
'The One' by inexplicably falling in love with him. We've seen Sandra
Bullock get to drive the bus for a while before turning into rescue
fodder and girlfriend for Keanu Reeves (really, ladies?). A woman
seemingly can't feature in an action film without being sexualised or
existing only in relation to a man.
So what exactly is the
function of a female character in any of these films? Certainly not
as hero and barely as protagonist, female characters often serve as
at least one, sometimes all of the following: a source of
information, a love interest, sex appeal (for the audience), a
reminder that the male character is not gay, a magnet for peril, an
anchor to traditional values (i.e. the home and the family) or a
narrative goal (see Lethal Weapon 2 for proof of all of this).
Is this really fair? Does this really represent 21st
century popular culture? Does this really represent over 50%
of the population? No, of course it doesn't. But fortunately things
are changing, albeit ever so slowly.
The
Hunger Games series has been
hugely successful recently and features a more positive female
character. Jennifer Lawrence's Katniss Everdeen is brave, strong,
able, has a defined character arc, is not sexualised (the films play
on this in the ridiculousness of her pageant dresses) and crucially,
not defined by her relationship with a man. In fact, the two male
characters are such wet blankets at times that you feel the
unfortunate love triangle is missing two points. What Katniss does to
start the story off is done by her own decision, not influenced by a
man. So there's some progress in the Young Adult market.
What really
impressed me recently, however, was the representation of female
characters in George Miller's Mad Max: Fury Road.
This is impressive because given the title and history of the
franchise, the sheer weight of expectation, you would not have seen
it coming. One would expect a post-apocalyptic road movie in which a
stoic hero fights for his own survival, perhaps saving a few locals
on the way. Cars will be crashed, stuff will explode, and things will
have weird names.
Well all of this
is present and correct, but what Miller has brilliantly done is taken
his own franchise and turned it into a story about a woman striking
back against a hideously mutated patriarchal world. 'Mad' Max
Rockatansky is a bit part player in his own film, has little story
arc to speak of, barely gets to drive the War Rig, and is at no point
superior to Charlize Theron's wonderful Furiosa. The fact that her
name is echoed in the film's sobriquet Fury Road
is telling. This is her film
and that Miller has snuck a female-led story into a $150m franchise
reboot (sadly) is daring but ultimately contemporary and necessary.
Let's look at the
evidence. From the moment we see her, Furiosa is in control. A
trusted lieutenant of the hideous tyrant Immortan Joe (Hugh
Keays-Byrne), she is driving the prestigious War Rig vehicle on a
mission to 'Gas Town' but quickly moves to see out her own plans.
Yes, this is a female character in a major action movie with
narrative purpose, goals and the means to achieve them without a
man's help. Her goal? The rescue of Immortan's breeding partners,
the Five Wives. Fitted with bladed chastity belts and ironically
dressed in virginal white, sexual slavery is implied. One is
pregnant with his child. That they are largely played by models and
show a fair amount of flesh never feels gratuitous or exploitative
(despite the franchise's roots). It feels like Miller knows exactly
what he's doing, playing with expectation and imagery: while they are
displayed as attractive we are also aware that they are rape victims,
making us sympathetic to Furiosa's cause. We as an audience are
never encouraged to see them as objects of desire. And Furiosa's
motivation for doing this is all her own. The best explanation we
get form her is “redemption”. For what, we don't get to find out
but it's a fair bet that she's making up for being part of Immortan
Joe's immoral world. It's also significant that she's the main
driver of the War Rig, and a much better shot than Max; how often
does that happen in an action film?
The design of
Furiosa's character is important, too: female characters are
typically sexualised or domesticated, and the rejection of this is
reflected in how Furiosa looks. In short, she looks absolutely
bad-ass! Close-cropped hair, face covered in engine grease
make-up/war paint, and missing an arm, she is far from an objectified
and sexualised character. She is cunning and driven and gets the
better of her male counterparts on more than one occasion. Has her
innate femininity been compromised to achieve this? Yes, to an
extent. But more importantly her gender is less important than what
the character does and how she is motivated
Looking at the
gender balance of the whole film, men do not come off well. Aside
from Max whose sole motivation is survival until necessity and
conscience lead him to help Furiosa, only Nux (Nicholas Hoult) has
anything other than an instinct for destruction. As the pregnant
fifth of the Five Wives, The Splendid Angharad (Rosie
Huntington-Whiteley) asks of Nux, “Who killed the world?” She's
asking rhetorically, meaning all men. One of many nice touches of
weirdness in the film is that Joe's army is called the War Boys, but
this is also pertinent. Men, in the world of Fury Road
are nothing but a destructive force, childishly clinging to the Norse
(ironically, since the film is set in a desert) mythology used by Joe
to keep his troops in line. Women, on the other hand, seek the
mythic Green Place, one of the tribe they meet carries seeds and
tries to grow plants, and they overall represent life, togetherness
and hope.
My arguments here
may be trumped by the film arguably reverting to type at the end,
where Furiosa's life is saved by Max. This could be seen as
satisfying that patriarchal urge that drives Hollywood to keep men on
top (steady...). I disagree with this, though. Yes, Max battles the
'end of level boss' giant Rictus Erectus (Nathan Jones, making Bane
look like Ghandi) and it's Nux's act of sacrifice that saves them
all, but I would argue that these are dramatic beats rather than an
ideological about face; after all, Furiosa gets to kill Immortan Joe.
Max saves Furiosa by giving her a blood transfusion, giving part of
him to her (steady...) via an umbilical connection rather than using
his strength or saving her from a fall. This is a loving, almost
motherly act from Max and the film steadfastly refuses to cop out
with a romantic concession. Furiosa gets to a Green Place, saves the
Five Wives and wins, and she probably would have managed it had she
not bumped into Max anyway. Max gets nothing. He keeps wandering.
Fury Road
is not alone. Marvel's latest, Jessica Jones
is female-led and works well because of it; their next few properties
include female heroes in Ant Man and The Wasp
as well as Captain Marvel
while DC are finally taking Wonder Woman
seriously. Alongside this year's The Force Awakens,
which gave us our first female Jedi (background characters aside)
standing up to a powerful male opponent, Fury Road has
tried to put an accepted pattern of gender roles in reverse. It
isn't perfect and there is some way to go to redress a decades-long
imbalance in film as a whole. But Miller has done something very
important in hiding a feminine-led if not wholly feminist story
inside a film where most viewers are probably just enjoying watching
cars explode. Go men!
