Last month we lost a giant of rhythm and blues music, Riley B (B.B.) [Blues Boy] King. So, it seemed bashert when I popped in a DVD this weekend to watch the (unfortunately terrible) John Landis movie, Into the Night. The DVD's sole extra is a long featurette interview with B.B. King. Landis, director of the Blues Brothers, is, no surprise, a huge R&B fan, and the Blues Brothers is no doubt responsible for turning generations of clueless white kids onto the likes of Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin and John Lee Hooker. The problematic racial dynamics of The Blues Brothers is something that's been on my mind for a while and I want to write something longer about whether it's possible to still enjoy the movie if you're, well, if you're me.
Anyhooooooo.... Into the Night. Man, what a bad movie. I don't really understand what the point was. The movie barely has a story, though it does have a very sexy, young Jeff Goldblum and momentarily naked Michelle Pfeiffer (my god, what a gorgeous woman!). But other than that? John Landis plays one of a gang of 'Iranian' thugs and, I'm sorry, I laughed. With a beard he reminds me of my brother, not quite white, not quite something else. I think that Ashkenazi American Jews get a thrill out of pushing the boundaries of their 'whiteness' by imagining scenarios where they pass as Other. I will give Landis credit, this isn't just a case of gratuitous (Iranian-face????). The movie is from the early '80s and explicitly references the then recent events of the expulsion of the Shah and brings us back to a time of the Iranian hostage crisis, and the shift of Iran from a more open, cosmopolitan (in some ways) place to a site of extreme fundamentalism. OK, actually, I don't think it's excusable, and wouldn't fly in 2015, but it is what it is.
What bothered me the most was the promotional video that accompanied the interview with King. It's King, 'backed up' by Dan Ackroyd, Michelle Pfeiffer, Steve Martin, Jeff Goldblum and Eddie Murphy. Murphy seems to be the only one who actually knows how to play the instrument he's miming (drums) while the rest are just... UGH. As I'm sure you know, Ackroyd was one half of the Blue Brothers and this is hardly his first time inserting himself into a genuine performance of African-American musical genius while doing... well, nothing of note. You see what I'm talking about? White people with no (musical) talent somehow packaging black talent and putting their no-talent asses front and center? Like, uhh, why did you think that was ok? Anyway, here's the video.
(My god, Jeff Goldblum is so freaking hot, I can't deal.)
Unfortunately, the black musician backed up by white stars miming was an 80s trope. See Billy Ocean's theme song for Jewel of the Nile.
I guess my question is, can there be a place for white artists with genuine love for, say, black music, to incorporate that music into their work, in a collaborative, non-exploitive way? For example, as I said above, The Blues Brothers, despite its uncomfortable dynamic, is still an incredible showcase for the artists who appear in it. And Landis is a true fan. His interview with King is terrific, and valuable. It's also quite interesting to hear Landis talk about how it was important to him to have King have a substantial role not just in the title and end songs, but in creating a unique score for the film, one that reflected King's unique talents.
I think, for me, the way I can still enjoy stuff like this is to articulate the uncomfortable racial dynamic and understand what is, or isn't, ok, without giving everything a pass just because I enjoyed it when I was 15.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Felix and Meira
(cross-posted from my main blog, Rootless Cosmopolitan)
With its sly nods to Harold and Maude and The Graduate, the new Canadian indie Felix and Meira beats, if weakly, with the heart of a black comedy. Like those two films, Felix and Meira tells the story of mismatched lovers, with a slightly absurd fairytale air. That one half of the couple is Hasidic turns out to be not terribly relevant to the story, even as Felix and Meira is being hailed in some corners as a great movie about the Hasidic experience.
With its sly nods to Harold and Maude and The Graduate, the new Canadian indie Felix and Meira beats, if weakly, with the heart of a black comedy. Like those two films, Felix and Meira tells the story of mismatched lovers, with a slightly absurd fairytale air. That one half of the couple is Hasidic turns out to be not terribly relevant to the story, even as Felix and Meira is being hailed in some corners as a great movie about the Hasidic experience.
Meira (Hadas Yaron) is a beautiful young wife and mother living within the Hasidic community of Montreal's Mile End. (If, like me, you have a soft spot for the slushy beauty of Montreal in winter, Felix and Meira is worth the price of admission just for that.) Meira's husband Shulem (Luzer Twersky) can't understand why she is so distant: locking herself in the bathroom, listening to forbidden records, falling into sudden dead faints.
By chance, Meira meets Felix (Martin Dubreuil), a slightly older, slightly rakish Francophone hispter. If Meira is trapped by a lack of resources and opportunities, Felix struggles with too much. He must make peace with his dying father, and the wealth his father represents. What can Meira do with so little? Why has Felix done so little with so much?
We learn why Felix is the way he is, but no explanation is ever really given for Meira's unrest. Yes, Meira is an artist. We know because we see her sketching when she catches the eye of Felix. But the contemporary OTD (Off the Derekh, meaning those who leave the Hasidic/Haredi community) memoirs (like Deborah Feldman’s Unorthodox and Shulem Deen’s All Who Go Do Not Return) hinge on the cracks that form between individual and community, whether listening to a forbidden radio, reading blogs or simply enduring an intolerable dynamic of communal abuse.
On screen, however, Meira's angst is taken as self-evident. Her husband is confused, but loving. She has only one child, not five. What has brought Meira to such a desperate point where she is willing to jeopardize her entire life, perhaps even sacrifice her child? We never really discover what makes Meira tick, we never see her struggle against the totalizing worldview that comes with growing up in a fundamentalist community.
And yet, I cried through much of Felix and Meira. Not because I was touched by Meira's characterization (thin as it was), but because having read about, met, and befriended a number of people who have left the Hasidic world, I could fill in the details myself. Seeing Meira and her sketchbook, I thought of Frieda Vizel, a dryly brilliant cartoonist who left Kiryas Joel, went to Sarah Lawrence and now runs tours of Hasidic Williamsburg. Seeing two young people trapped in a marriage not of their making, I thought of any number of people I know who found themselves married off at eighteen to total strangers.
In that sense, Felix and Meira didn't have to do much to move me as an audience member. These are not stories lacking in drama. For me, the humorless Yiddishist, all Felix and Meira had to do was get the Yiddish right. And that it did. With one jarring exception, the language and setting were beautifully rendered, a major achievement in itself, reflecting the input of ex-Hasid turned actor Twersky.
Yaron and Twersky give beautiful, understated performances, gracefully moving between Yiddish, French and English. It would have been easy to drift toward melodrama given the storyline, yet the writers stay away from big gestures or lurking trauma. Most importantly Twersky's Shulem, Meira's husband, with his soulful eyes, is no monster, but, like Meira, a young person coping the best he can with limited education in matters of the heart. I found Shulem so sympathetic that when he finally confronts Felix canoodling with Meira, I found myself wishing he had really clocked him, instead of taking Felix down in a comical hail of slaps. The dramatic tension simmers at low, even at the moments when most is at stake.
And that's the quirky, fairytale quality of Felix and Meira. In real life, brutal custody battles are the norm for those leaving the community. Wayward souls like Meira are rarely dealt with in such a gentle manner. Most of those who leave have paid dearly, some have paid the highest cost, either with their children, or their lives. There are few fairytale endings in the real world.
Like Harold and Maude and The Graduate, Felix and Meira relies heavily on a pop music soundtrack to amplify the story. I teared up as forlorn Meira peered through strange windows, watching a couple make love, all while Leonard Cohen’s Famous Blue Raincoat came on, handed me a tissue, and told me it was ok to let it all out. A good cry is one of the fundamental pleasures of cinema, isn't it?
Unlike Harold and Maude and The Graduate, however, Felix and Meira lacks the nerve for black comedy. Some critics have dinged it for being excessively gloomy. A great black comedy embraces the gloom with glee, wringing comedy out of angst. When Felix dresses in full Hasidic garb in a desperate effort to see Meira, it just comes off as cringeworthy, a throwback to the silliness of a movie like The Mad Adventures of Rabbi Jacob, a French comedy in which a bigot is forced to hide out in Hasidic garb, passing as a ‘Rabbi’ with much hijinks ensuing. But Felix and Meira is too hesitant to really exploit the absurdity inherent in cross-cultural romance.
Indeed, Felix and Meira positions itself as a straight OTD narrative, but with little exploration of what it means to be a woman trapped in that community or what Meira really longs for, besides forbidden music. (How Meira would come to have a record player and rather esoteric taste in records is another matter.)
Had the filmmakers committed to either comedy or topical drama, Felix and Meira might have ended up a minor classic. For my money, the best portrayal of the OTD narrative is still the much less slick, but more psychologically insightful, Mendy: A Question of Faith. (2003). As it is, Felix and Meira is an entertaining but slight Yiddish flavored fairytale.
Why Jews Love American Werewolf in London
I'm working on a blogpost about The Blues Brothers*, another great John Landis film. But in the meantime, I thought I'd share this lovely appreciation of the Jewishness of American Werewolf in London. Author Jon Spira recounts being an awkward 9 year old with little idea of Jewish culture when his dad happens to tape AWiL off the telly.
The story of a man equipped only by his wit (if not his wits) in a country that neither understands nor particularly wants him. A man who is dazed by his recent bloody and brutal ordeal who does his very best to get along, despite being racked by the guilt and self-hatred of knowing what he is inside. I’m not arguing that director John Landis set out to make a hairy Jewish allegory, I’m just saying that there was an incidental subtext that continues to speak to and comfort me almost 30 years later.
And that’s why I love it. An American Werewolf in London is the film that connected me to my Jewish culture. It taught me that one doesn’t need to be religious or dogmatic (it’s a pun, but it’s a good pun) to be Jewish. It gave cathartic release to certain primal fears. It gave me my first proper taste of that delicious New York Jewish humour… And it had WEREWOLVES in it!
One note: A couple years back I was lucky to attend a screening of American Werewolf in London here at Lincoln Center, with John Landis in attendance and taking questions after!!!!!
Yes, it was amazing fun. And, yes, you better fucking believe I asked a question. Specifically, what was with the Jewishness of this werewolf movie?
Landis made it pretty clear that the protagonists, Jack and David, were based on him and his best friend. Of course Jack and David were Jewish. It wasn't a big deal, it just was what it was.
And this is why I adore John Landis. Today I was reading this article from early '50s Commentary magazine. Even then, Jewish self-erasure was a decades old phenomenon in Hollywood. Rare were the times when authors and directors were able to include identifiable Jews just being Jews, without censure, from within or without. I've got a lot more thoughts on this particular topic, and the immense psychic harm it does to all of us, but I will just say it makes me love filmmakers like Landis even more, just for being authentic.
I also have a lot of thoughts on how to make a proper Jewish themed horror/supernatural movie. This is a start...
*The piece is going to be about how deeply problematic the film is and yet how I can still love it. Maybe. Maybe I won't after I finish writing it. I'm not sure.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Milk Duds and Smoked Fish
Sometimes life does imitate 'art.'
This week I went to see the lovely new romantic fairy tale 'Felix and Meira' at the Lincoln Plaza cinema. (Review coming soon, I"yh). In the lobby of Lincoln Plaza you can get the usual popcorn, soda and milk duds. And in an only in New York moment, next to the candy case is a whole smoked lox, available by the slice, for your movie noshing pleasure.
Unfortunately, I was too shocked by the sight to get a picture, but I thought of it again as I watched the mostly stupid gangster spoof Johnny Dangerously. Johnny's mom, Ma Kelly, goes to the concession stand for some candy:
I guess she skipped dinner before the movies, because she also goes for the whitefish. It's no longer satire (or funny) when it's true:
This week I went to see the lovely new romantic fairy tale 'Felix and Meira' at the Lincoln Plaza cinema. (Review coming soon, I"yh). In the lobby of Lincoln Plaza you can get the usual popcorn, soda and milk duds. And in an only in New York moment, next to the candy case is a whole smoked lox, available by the slice, for your movie noshing pleasure.
Unfortunately, I was too shocked by the sight to get a picture, but I thought of it again as I watched the mostly stupid gangster spoof Johnny Dangerously. Johnny's mom, Ma Kelly, goes to the concession stand for some candy:
I guess she skipped dinner before the movies, because she also goes for the whitefish. It's no longer satire (or funny) when it's true:
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Holiday Movies: Rokhl Approved
I have a somewhat atypical relationship to holiday movies. Well, we say 'holiday', but in America, 'holiday' means Christmas with some vague penumbra of collateral jollity (Thanksgiving, Khanike, Kwanzaa) to be read in.
Anyway, though I grew up within pretty mainstream American culture, I generally avoided watching 'Holiday' movies. I hated the Charlie Brown holiday special. Never saw It's a Wonderful Life or A Christmas Story. Not because my parents forbade it or frowned particularly on non-Jewish content.... I just wasn't that interested in Christmas. One thing I knew for sure, it didn't include me.
Last year I decided to see a couple Holiday movies. For example, I watched Scrooged based on many recommendations. I re-watched The Nightmare Before Christmas which was just as disappointing as I remembered it. I watched the Mr. Magoo Christmas movie which just, no.
Anyway, I have a list of three 'Holiday' movies I approve of, for 100% idiosyncratic reasons.
1. Scrooged. It's the perfect piece of '80s nostalgia and a just right satire on the entertainment industry. Bill Murray, David Johansen, Carol Kane, the whole cast is perfect. A great compromise movie to put on when the whole family is awkwardly sitting around and can't think of anything else to talk about.
2. Sint. If you catch this Dutch movie on Netflix you'll find that it's been dubbed into English. That may be a plus or a minus in your book, but it didn't bother me too much. Sint (Saint) is probably the most timely of these movies, as St. Nicolas day is December 5. The night before, Dutch kids traditionally leave out a boot to be filled with toys by Sinterklaas and his not at all racist helper, Black Pete. Black Pete may or may not be based on Spanish Moors and/or may or may not be based on chimney sweeps with blackened faces.
You may have seen pictures of contemporary Dutch Black Petes here or there in recent discussions about cultural appropriation and racist costumes. It was worth it to watch the movie just to understand the context for Black Pete. Doesn't make it ok, but it's good to understand what's actually being discussed.
Anyway, the premise for the movie (which by the way, is quite gory) is that Sinterklaas is a murderer who visits mayhem every time St. Nicolas day eve falls on a full moon. Since I can't say when the last time was I watched a Dutch movie, I thought that alone was worth the price of admission. (Which, to be honest, was $0. Available for streaming on Netflix)
3. Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale. io9 calls Rare Exports "the most disturbingly awesome Christmas movie ever." And even though (or maybe because) I haven't seen that many Christmas movies, I have to agree. I watched this with my family without knowing anything about it, which made the experience much more enjoyable. It's also Finnish, which obviously makes it even better. Don't read too much about it, just watch.
Those are my picks, what are yours?
Anyway, though I grew up within pretty mainstream American culture, I generally avoided watching 'Holiday' movies. I hated the Charlie Brown holiday special. Never saw It's a Wonderful Life or A Christmas Story. Not because my parents forbade it or frowned particularly on non-Jewish content.... I just wasn't that interested in Christmas. One thing I knew for sure, it didn't include me.
Last year I decided to see a couple Holiday movies. For example, I watched Scrooged based on many recommendations. I re-watched The Nightmare Before Christmas which was just as disappointing as I remembered it. I watched the Mr. Magoo Christmas movie which just, no.
Anyway, I have a list of three 'Holiday' movies I approve of, for 100% idiosyncratic reasons.
1. Scrooged. It's the perfect piece of '80s nostalgia and a just right satire on the entertainment industry. Bill Murray, David Johansen, Carol Kane, the whole cast is perfect. A great compromise movie to put on when the whole family is awkwardly sitting around and can't think of anything else to talk about.
2. Sint. If you catch this Dutch movie on Netflix you'll find that it's been dubbed into English. That may be a plus or a minus in your book, but it didn't bother me too much. Sint (Saint) is probably the most timely of these movies, as St. Nicolas day is December 5. The night before, Dutch kids traditionally leave out a boot to be filled with toys by Sinterklaas and his not at all racist helper, Black Pete. Black Pete may or may not be based on Spanish Moors and/or may or may not be based on chimney sweeps with blackened faces.
You may have seen pictures of contemporary Dutch Black Petes here or there in recent discussions about cultural appropriation and racist costumes. It was worth it to watch the movie just to understand the context for Black Pete. Doesn't make it ok, but it's good to understand what's actually being discussed.
Anyway, the premise for the movie (which by the way, is quite gory) is that Sinterklaas is a murderer who visits mayhem every time St. Nicolas day eve falls on a full moon. Since I can't say when the last time was I watched a Dutch movie, I thought that alone was worth the price of admission. (Which, to be honest, was $0. Available for streaming on Netflix)
3. Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale. io9 calls Rare Exports "the most disturbingly awesome Christmas movie ever." And even though (or maybe because) I haven't seen that many Christmas movies, I have to agree. I watched this with my family without knowing anything about it, which made the experience much more enjoyable. It's also Finnish, which obviously makes it even better. Don't read too much about it, just watch.
Those are my picks, what are yours?
Saturday, February 8, 2014
They Were Robbed
Did you hear about the kerfuffle around Macklemore's win at the Grammys? Lots of folks, including, apparently, Macklemore himself, felt that one of the other nominees, Kendrick Lamar, deserved the awards (especially in the Rap category) and that the awards were more about race and white privilege than merit.
I'm a little hesitant to opine here, because 1. I'm not familiar with Kendrick Lamar* so I can't say if he was more deserving or not and 2. I loathe the Grammys. The year the Academy awarded Best New Artist to Milli Vanilli was the year I realized there was no Grammy Santa Claus. Whatever a Grammy recognizes, I think it has more to do with the inscrutable quirks of Grammy voters than some measurement of artistic genius.
That said, I'm interested in this particular dynamic, what happens when a talented white person comes face to face with his own privilege while competing against people of color. That recognition of privilege is at the dramatic heart of Saturday Night Fever, one of my favorite movies. The movie is about a lot of things- class mobility, masculinity, race- and you should go and watch it tonight if you've never seen it. John Travolta and his white suit have become a clownish cliche by now, but if you actually want to understand why a performance becomes iconic, you have to watch Travolta as the ambitious Tony Manero.
Tony and his dance partner Stephanie have been practicing for the big dance competition. Here, Tony and Stephanie perform their routine to the BeeGees 'More Than a Woman'. The dance is a little corny and a little stiff- it lacks the electricity of some of the other dancing in the movie. It also reflects the dynamic of Tony and Stephanie, which is also kind of awkward and stiff.
Now, here's the routines of the two other couples, one black and one Puerto Rican. Unfortunately, the only clip I could find of this scene is from a version of the movie dubbed into Spanish. What's important is that Tony is watching them and recognizes that they're better than he is. He knows that he should not win.
But of course he and Stephanie DO win. Tony realizes that the whole thing is rigged to favor people like him. He tries to give the award to the Puerto Rican couple. But that's not how things work in his world. You can't just give back privilege.
It's the beginning of his journey away from Brooklyn, away from that racial economy, and toward a new understanding of life.
Anyway, seriously, see it. And then watch it again. (It takes at least two viewings to understand everything that happens.) You'll thank me.
*Truth is, I actually love Macklemore and have notoriously bad taste in hip-hop. I mean, I love Mickey Avalon. So, you know...
I'm a little hesitant to opine here, because 1. I'm not familiar with Kendrick Lamar* so I can't say if he was more deserving or not and 2. I loathe the Grammys. The year the Academy awarded Best New Artist to Milli Vanilli was the year I realized there was no Grammy Santa Claus. Whatever a Grammy recognizes, I think it has more to do with the inscrutable quirks of Grammy voters than some measurement of artistic genius.
That said, I'm interested in this particular dynamic, what happens when a talented white person comes face to face with his own privilege while competing against people of color. That recognition of privilege is at the dramatic heart of Saturday Night Fever, one of my favorite movies. The movie is about a lot of things- class mobility, masculinity, race- and you should go and watch it tonight if you've never seen it. John Travolta and his white suit have become a clownish cliche by now, but if you actually want to understand why a performance becomes iconic, you have to watch Travolta as the ambitious Tony Manero.
Tony and his dance partner Stephanie have been practicing for the big dance competition. Here, Tony and Stephanie perform their routine to the BeeGees 'More Than a Woman'. The dance is a little corny and a little stiff- it lacks the electricity of some of the other dancing in the movie. It also reflects the dynamic of Tony and Stephanie, which is also kind of awkward and stiff.
Now, here's the routines of the two other couples, one black and one Puerto Rican. Unfortunately, the only clip I could find of this scene is from a version of the movie dubbed into Spanish. What's important is that Tony is watching them and recognizes that they're better than he is. He knows that he should not win.
But of course he and Stephanie DO win. Tony realizes that the whole thing is rigged to favor people like him. He tries to give the award to the Puerto Rican couple. But that's not how things work in his world. You can't just give back privilege.
It's the beginning of his journey away from Brooklyn, away from that racial economy, and toward a new understanding of life.
Anyway, seriously, see it. And then watch it again. (It takes at least two viewings to understand everything that happens.) You'll thank me.
*Truth is, I actually love Macklemore and have notoriously bad taste in hip-hop. I mean, I love Mickey Avalon. So, you know...
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Why Can't a Woman Be More Like a Man? The Lessons of 'Tootsie'
Long before Tootsie, I think Rex Harrison said it better, "Why can't a woman be more like a man?"
In My Fair Lady, two men battle to remake a woman in their own image. Not to make her a man, of course, but to reassert their rightful control over femininity, for woman's own good.
In Tootsie, a failed (but brilliant) New York City actor becomes a woman in order to become a better man. At least, that's what he says at the end of the movie. Michael Dorsey (the Dustin Hoffman character) isn't exactly a reliable narrator, though. After all, he's selfish and uncompromising with delusions of great sensitivity. He actually kind of reminds me of Brian Griffin on Family Guy. His excruciating standards seem to get in the way of him shutting up and working.
Indeed, Brian may have an analysis of the sexism of the culture he participates in, but when it comes down to it, Brian reproduces all the worst parts of that culture.
Anyway, back to Tootsie. Which I still love. But upon approaching it this time, I had to grapple with my expectations that this was a feminist film. Aderabe. Tootsie is a story of a man who goes slumming for his own benefit (he experiences his only commercial success in drag) and pretends to some transformative insight through his solidarity with women. For example, shopping for lady's clothing, Michael complains to roommate Jeff (a terrific Bill Murray performance) "See this lingerie, you know what it cost? and this makeup? I don't know how a woman can keep herself attractive and not starve these days."
But Michael's entire story undermines solidarity as his dramatic through line. Michael/Dorothy's narrative is one in which, rather than listening to and being in solidarity with women, he becomes a woman in order to lead women to be better, which, in turn, means being more like him.
We see this even before Michael transforms himself into Dorothy. His friend (and soon to be lover, Sandy, played by the wonderful Teri Garr) is anxious about an upcoming audition for a soap opera. Sandy is sure she won't get it. Why not, what's the part? "They want a woman!" Sandy is so incompetent that she can't even play the role she was born for. Michael coaches Sandy for her audition, and Sandy, and the viewer, have to admit that Michael is a better woman than Sandy.
Sandy blows the audition (even with Michael's support) but the dramatic wheels start turning and Michael decides that he should audition for the role of Emily Kimberly, hospital administrator.
We already saw that Michael was a better woman than Sandy, now he gets to prove it to Dabney Coleman's character, the womanizing director of the soap opera. (By the way, Dabney Coleman was the awesome go-to shithead of a certain kind of 80s movie. Love that guy. You must see 9-to-5 if you haven't already.)
Coleman gives Dorothy/Michael a quick up and down and rejects her for the role: "You're a little bit too soft and genteel, you're not threatening enough."
Having escaped 39 years of socialization, Dorothy/Michael is not used to being assessed and dismissed like a damaged girdle at a Lower East Side lingerie shop. He responds like the man he is, not the woman he presents as: "Not threatening enough? How's this? You take your hands off me or I'll knee your balls right through the roof of your mouth. Is that enough of a threat? Yes, I think I know what y'all really want. You want some gross caricature of a woman, to prove some idiotic point, like, like. power makes women masculine, or masculine women are ugly. Well shame on the woman who lets you do that, on any woman that lets you do that. that mean you, dear.... shame on you, you macho shithead." All it's missing is a couple of exit snaps to make this one of the truly epic exits in a movie. You're already cheering for Dorothy against Dabney's vile 'macho shithead.' Yay, women getting theirs. Woo!
Except not.
The key to understanding Tootsie comes in the scene where Michael/Dorothy's soap opera character Emily Kimberly consoles a woman who's been beaten by her abusive husband. As usual, Michael/Dorothy goes off script where he feels appropriate: "Don't lie there cringing and telling me your husband beat you but you can't move out Mrs Valerie, why should you move out? It's your house, too. You know what I'd do if somebody did this to me? Why if they came around again, I'd pick up the biggest thing around I'd take it and I'd [smashes large flower pot against wall] bash their brains right through the top of their skulls before I let them beat me up again."
Why'd she go off script? Michael/Dorothy complains that the advice in script, to move out into a shelter and get therapy is horseshit. But telling an abused woman, who may fear for her life, may be psychologically under the control of her abuser, may not have the financial resources to leave her abuser, yeah, that's not horseshit.
The kicker, though, is that the woman playing the abused wife looks up and says (of Michael/Dorothy's inappropriate script revisions) "I can't act with this." To which Michael/Dorothy replies "Oh shut up."
HAHA- Michael/Dorothy knows better than these dumb women, knows how to respond better to domestic abuse, knows how to write a better female character, knows how to be a better woman. And if it involves silencing actual women, well, ya gotta break a few eggs to make a revolution, right?
We're meant to identify with Dorothy, to cheer her on as an emblem of 80s lady liberation. George the agent complains that his secretary is obsessed with her and creating problems. Julie (the angelic love interest played by Jessica Lange) tells Dorothy how much she's inspired and empowered her in the few weeks they know each other. Dorothy is called into the producer's office and told that though she's a pain in the ass, they're now getting 2,000 letters a week and picked up 3 share points, all because the women of America love Emily Kimberly. This is where the confusion comes in, at least for me, about whether Tootsie is a feminist movie. Just because a lot of women like someone doesn't mean that person is a feminist. Look, millions of women idolize Kim Kardashian. <shudder> Doesn't make her a feminist, or a role model. The question is, how does this person see their actions? What is their analysis? Where do they see themselves in terms of the power dynamic? With whom are they in solidarity?
At one point Michael pitches his agent on a special where he can sing and dance as Dorothy. "I have plenty to say to women, I've been an unemployed actor for twenty years, George, I know what it's like to sit by the phone, waiting for it to ring and when I finally get a job, I have no control, everyone else has the power and I got zip. If I could impart that experience to other women like me...."
Michael/Dorothy has mistaken his temporary, voluntary loss of privilege for actual disenfranchisement. He's chosen to play a woman and can walk away at any moment, an option most women don't have. His obliviousness to the power dynamic is what leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Which is fine, the movie is by men, about a man. And it's about a deeply flawed man, one whose own perfectionism and self-involvement prevents him from artistic actualization. But the filmmakers want it both ways- Michael's vision of a more perfect woman is never really challenged, even as it's acknowledged to be a story about a guy who's kind of a jerk as a man.
Oh, the 80s. At least they tried. Seriously, have you seen 9-to-5?
In My Fair Lady, two men battle to remake a woman in their own image. Not to make her a man, of course, but to reassert their rightful control over femininity, for woman's own good.
In Tootsie, a failed (but brilliant) New York City actor becomes a woman in order to become a better man. At least, that's what he says at the end of the movie. Michael Dorsey (the Dustin Hoffman character) isn't exactly a reliable narrator, though. After all, he's selfish and uncompromising with delusions of great sensitivity. He actually kind of reminds me of Brian Griffin on Family Guy. His excruciating standards seem to get in the way of him shutting up and working.
Indeed, Brian may have an analysis of the sexism of the culture he participates in, but when it comes down to it, Brian reproduces all the worst parts of that culture.
Anyway, back to Tootsie. Which I still love. But upon approaching it this time, I had to grapple with my expectations that this was a feminist film. Aderabe. Tootsie is a story of a man who goes slumming for his own benefit (he experiences his only commercial success in drag) and pretends to some transformative insight through his solidarity with women. For example, shopping for lady's clothing, Michael complains to roommate Jeff (a terrific Bill Murray performance) "See this lingerie, you know what it cost? and this makeup? I don't know how a woman can keep herself attractive and not starve these days."
But Michael's entire story undermines solidarity as his dramatic through line. Michael/Dorothy's narrative is one in which, rather than listening to and being in solidarity with women, he becomes a woman in order to lead women to be better, which, in turn, means being more like him.
We see this even before Michael transforms himself into Dorothy. His friend (and soon to be lover, Sandy, played by the wonderful Teri Garr) is anxious about an upcoming audition for a soap opera. Sandy is sure she won't get it. Why not, what's the part? "They want a woman!" Sandy is so incompetent that she can't even play the role she was born for. Michael coaches Sandy for her audition, and Sandy, and the viewer, have to admit that Michael is a better woman than Sandy.
Sandy blows the audition (even with Michael's support) but the dramatic wheels start turning and Michael decides that he should audition for the role of Emily Kimberly, hospital administrator.
We already saw that Michael was a better woman than Sandy, now he gets to prove it to Dabney Coleman's character, the womanizing director of the soap opera. (By the way, Dabney Coleman was the awesome go-to shithead of a certain kind of 80s movie. Love that guy. You must see 9-to-5 if you haven't already.)
Coleman gives Dorothy/Michael a quick up and down and rejects her for the role: "You're a little bit too soft and genteel, you're not threatening enough."
Having escaped 39 years of socialization, Dorothy/Michael is not used to being assessed and dismissed like a damaged girdle at a Lower East Side lingerie shop. He responds like the man he is, not the woman he presents as: "Not threatening enough? How's this? You take your hands off me or I'll knee your balls right through the roof of your mouth. Is that enough of a threat? Yes, I think I know what y'all really want. You want some gross caricature of a woman, to prove some idiotic point, like, like. power makes women masculine, or masculine women are ugly. Well shame on the woman who lets you do that, on any woman that lets you do that. that mean you, dear.... shame on you, you macho shithead." All it's missing is a couple of exit snaps to make this one of the truly epic exits in a movie. You're already cheering for Dorothy against Dabney's vile 'macho shithead.' Yay, women getting theirs. Woo!
Except not.
The key to understanding Tootsie comes in the scene where Michael/Dorothy's soap opera character Emily Kimberly consoles a woman who's been beaten by her abusive husband. As usual, Michael/Dorothy goes off script where he feels appropriate: "Don't lie there cringing and telling me your husband beat you but you can't move out Mrs Valerie, why should you move out? It's your house, too. You know what I'd do if somebody did this to me? Why if they came around again, I'd pick up the biggest thing around I'd take it and I'd [smashes large flower pot against wall] bash their brains right through the top of their skulls before I let them beat me up again."
Why'd she go off script? Michael/Dorothy complains that the advice in script, to move out into a shelter and get therapy is horseshit. But telling an abused woman, who may fear for her life, may be psychologically under the control of her abuser, may not have the financial resources to leave her abuser, yeah, that's not horseshit.
The kicker, though, is that the woman playing the abused wife looks up and says (of Michael/Dorothy's inappropriate script revisions) "I can't act with this." To which Michael/Dorothy replies "Oh shut up."
HAHA- Michael/Dorothy knows better than these dumb women, knows how to respond better to domestic abuse, knows how to write a better female character, knows how to be a better woman. And if it involves silencing actual women, well, ya gotta break a few eggs to make a revolution, right?
We're meant to identify with Dorothy, to cheer her on as an emblem of 80s lady liberation. George the agent complains that his secretary is obsessed with her and creating problems. Julie (the angelic love interest played by Jessica Lange) tells Dorothy how much she's inspired and empowered her in the few weeks they know each other. Dorothy is called into the producer's office and told that though she's a pain in the ass, they're now getting 2,000 letters a week and picked up 3 share points, all because the women of America love Emily Kimberly. This is where the confusion comes in, at least for me, about whether Tootsie is a feminist movie. Just because a lot of women like someone doesn't mean that person is a feminist. Look, millions of women idolize Kim Kardashian. <shudder> Doesn't make her a feminist, or a role model. The question is, how does this person see their actions? What is their analysis? Where do they see themselves in terms of the power dynamic? With whom are they in solidarity?
At one point Michael pitches his agent on a special where he can sing and dance as Dorothy. "I have plenty to say to women, I've been an unemployed actor for twenty years, George, I know what it's like to sit by the phone, waiting for it to ring and when I finally get a job, I have no control, everyone else has the power and I got zip. If I could impart that experience to other women like me...."
Michael/Dorothy has mistaken his temporary, voluntary loss of privilege for actual disenfranchisement. He's chosen to play a woman and can walk away at any moment, an option most women don't have. His obliviousness to the power dynamic is what leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Which is fine, the movie is by men, about a man. And it's about a deeply flawed man, one whose own perfectionism and self-involvement prevents him from artistic actualization. But the filmmakers want it both ways- Michael's vision of a more perfect woman is never really challenged, even as it's acknowledged to be a story about a guy who's kind of a jerk as a man.
Oh, the 80s. At least they tried. Seriously, have you seen 9-to-5?
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