A Young Sisterhood
Though Em is the leading character of the film, D’Alessandro Hatt has crafted the narration to be told from the perspective of her new friends, a tool which the audience admired. Beginning as a seemingly classic mini-teen-drama, consisting of sleepovers, book clubs and struts down the school hallway, the film shortly twists into a fantasy mask for the family issues occuring in Em’s life. Her new-found friends reveal the bravery within Em and the driver for her independent characteristics. Brave Little Army proudly displays the gravitas of placing yourself in other’s shoes. Em becomes a symbol for personalised freedom and self-expression. Brave Little Army screened amidst seven other powerful short films. With an intimate audience and films with heavy, albeit important, feminist messages, Brave Little Army provided a somewhat comic relief. All films in the “Coming of Age” category addressed significant loss, women’s roles in the home (across the world) and patriarchal dominance. D’Alessandro Hatt’s direction employed the joy of friendship to not only re-divert elements of pain in Em’s life but to illustrate the importance of sisterhood from a young age. All films demonstrated a diversity in the strength of women, even in moments of defeat. D’Alessandro Hatt displayed this beautifully by the characterisation of Em’s mother, signifying the necessity of standing up for oneself in situations of weakness. Brave Little Army reflected the same message which was present in all of the BFFW short films; women are still bravely fighting elements of oppression, feminism is active across the globe, and the conversation must begin when one is coming of age. Brave Little Army is part one of a trilogy of short films to come. Follow Michelle D’Alessandro Hatt on Instagram @michelledhatt or follow @blacklabfilmco for updates. You can also follow Jessica Philbrick on Instragram and Facebook @jphilbrickartist or check out her website j-philbrickartist.com.
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by Ana-Marija Bilandzija There's a little blood and a lot of bitch fight in Yorgos Lanthimos’ period drama The Favourite. It's his least cryptic film yet, which earned him ten Academy Award nominations (the Oscars are tonight), and still stands out between easily-consumable movies like A Star is Born or Bohemian Rhapsody. Here's why you should watch it.  It's the early 18th century, England is at war with France. Queen Anne (Olivia Colman) lacks a clear strategy, but she does have a childhood friend who basically runs the business for her: Lady Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough (Rachel Weisz), always in control and so irreplaceable that she can do whatever she pleases. At least until the arrival of Abigail Hill (Emma Stone). A cousin of Sarah's who has fallen into poverty for family reasons, Abigail quickly succeeds in charming Sarah and in particular Anne, who soon grows extremely attached to Abigail, not only for cuddling her rabbits and telling her stories, but also as her object of desire. And here it starts getting messy – and amazingly interesting. Women, as they are portrayed in Lanthimos' bizarre comedy, enact power very differently than men: soft in a way, with more empathy and less machismo, but also full of intrigue. Queen Anne being the weakest, but de facto most powerful woman of England, suffers gouty arthritis and terrible mood swings, if not a depression/borderline disorder. She goes from sweet and jiggling dancer to a pile of tears in just minutes, always relying on Sarah and Abigail for comfort, and obviously hating herself for it. She can't stand the choir's singing on a sunny day, screaming at them across the yard. She faints during a strategy announcement in front of her ministers and entourage. Anne is a mess. Olivia Colman offers a brilliant version of this mess. Her weepy voice, poor posture, the neediness oozing out of each of her pores. In an interview with German news magazine Der Spiegel, Colman said it “gives her great pleasure to bathe in feelings, if a role offers to do so.” It’s much harder for her, she continues, “to hide feelings.” She instantly fell in love with Yorgos Lanthimos' script: “It’s dirty, garish, a disrespectful approach. (...) I’d be crazy, had I rejected playing the part.” She put on some weight in order to resemble the Queen. It was worth it. Queen Anne is hardly bearable at times, and still, both Sarah and Abigail fall for her. Or just for the power she holds? There's a lot of myth surrounding Queen Anne's love life, like having affairs with several women, as portrayed in this dreamy ménage-à-trois. What's factual, on the other hand, is her loss of 17 children. Lanthimos, who loves including animal references in his movies, placed 17 rabbits in golden cages right next to the Queen's four-poster-bed symbolizing each one of her tragic losses. In The Lobster (2015), his dark vision of love in times of expected togetherness, singles must choose which animal they will transform into if they don't find a mate in two weeks’ time. Dogtooth (2009) is a story of the horrors of family. The parents isolate their two teenage daughters from the outside world, teaching them cats are deadly creatures and that anything outside their yard is dangerous, driving emotional abuse to the extreme. Social aberrations, mindless rituals and the loss of humanity run through all of Lanthimos' movies. He couldn't have chosen a better backdrop for this than the 18th-century-monarchy, it appears. Yet his first costume drama lacks some of the innocent pondering he dared to do in Alps or The Lobster. It's still dark, but the acting is more accessible, less Brecht and more Lynch.
Even though it's all about female power, making The Favourite was not per se a feminist act, the Greek director said in an interview with The Guardian: “I can’t pretend that I thought we need more women represented in a certain way, it was just an instinctive thing. I was interested in that which I hadn’t seen very often.” The Favourite thrives off its strong female cast and witty dialogue. All characters experience a development, the only constant being Anne's unstableness. Thus the viewer's sympathies shift as the story moves on. Abigail doesn't turn out to be the innocent, well-educated and well-mannered girl in a maid's dress we meet in the beginning. Lady Sarah surprises by exhibiting humanly traits and sisterly love; her first impression as a cold and dominant quasi-regent in a striking black-and-white-gown thoroughly obscures this side of her. It's not without reason this gem is nominated for Best Cinematography, Costume Design and Set Design, just to name three of the ten categories. Sandy Powell’s costumes hilariously mock court society:en wear gigantic wigs and pink rouge, the Queen and Lady Sarah discuss whether one could fix Anne's "badger" make up. She ends up crying – again. The choice of music deserves to be mentioned, too. The Classical music Lanthimos chose unfolds a horror no drones could ever create. Luc Ferrari’s Didascalies, for example, is a haunting heartbeat through the big halls of a lonely Queen – only one of the reasons why The Favourite should be watched in the theater. The other reason is Robbie Ryan's cinematography. It gives us plenty opportunity to dive into the scenery – his use of natural light, extreme-close-ups and moving camera – just to throw us back into the seat as spectators by using fisheye lenses, making it obvious that we're observing these bizarre happenings as flies on the wall. Or rabbits in a cage. The Favorite has been nominated in ten categories at the Academy Awards 2019:
Best Original Screenplay Best Achievement in Production Design Best Achievement in Costume Design Best Motion Picture of the Year Best Achievement in Directing Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role Best Achievement in Cinematography Best Achievement in Film Editing Special Double Review of Recha Jungmann's RenateBy Christina Schultz and Romina Leiding It’s been a few months since the fabulous Frankfurter Frauen Film Tage and I don’t know about you, but I certainly miss attending the film screenings, listening to the inspiring talks, meeting the incredible organizers, guests and attendees and, perhaps most importantly, being included in a supportive community of film scholars, feminists and human rights activists. So I thought it only right to post a review of one of the films I saw at the festival that made a lasting impression on me; but this time, in the true spirit of the feminist movement - solidarity, empowerment, encouragement - this is not only my review, but a double review with one of the festival assistants, Romina Leiding, who I had the pleasure of getting to know during the festival. We watched the film together in the theater, discussed it quite passionately after the screening, expressed interest in writing a double review and voilà! Before reading our reviews, meet Romina...  Romina Leiding is a board member of Kinophil [Cinephile], an organization dedicated to promoting and preserving film culture. Her main interests are the history of film and the societal aspect of film. Since receiving her degree in Germanic Studies and History at the University of Duisburg-Essen, she has been working freelance as an assistant director, for various film festivals (like Remake. Frankfurter Frauen Film Tage) and educational trips. We would like to warmly welcome her to our FemFilmFam!
A Review of Sarah Vianney's Queens of BotswanaBy Christina Schultz  Sarah Vianney (center) and her crew members Stefan Kleinalstede and Frank Becht on location in Botswana with Queen Florah When you think of Botswana, you probably wouldn’t associate the Southern African country with Heavy Metal music or rocker Kings and Queens clad in black leather. You might instead think of its independence from Britain in 1966, its vast desert landscapes (around 70% of Botswana is desert) and its peaceful stability compared to other African countries. Yet female filmmaker Sarah Vianney took a crew to Botswana in 2017 to follow a group of such Heavy Metal rockers, known as the “Marok” in Setswana, for a week on their way to a festival in Gaborone near the border to South Africa. As we join them on their journey, we meet Queen Ludo, Queen Florah and Queen Gloria, as they call themselves in the scene, three hard working, amiable women, who happen to like the “wrong” kind of music and dress in a “non-Christian” way. It is important to note that in the mostly Christian country of Botswana, black leather is linked to Satanism. Hearing this, you might think the Marok are a rowdy bunch of boozing, devil worshipping, trouble makers, but they are far from it. The group of young men and women tries to raise its profile in their community. They might headbang and listen to loud, unholy music but they also pick up garbage around town, they make their own creative outfits and some of them live with their parents and help out at home. So how bad can they really be? As it turns out, not at all. In Queens of Botswana, Vianney reveals a beautiful story of women searching for freedom, liberation, excitement and even empowerment. However, it doesn’t get to their heads (as it might in the Western World, I might add). The Queens have found a tight-knit group of people who understand them and allow them an escape from their daily routines. The festival in Gaborone is the highlight of the Queens’ year and the 52-minute documentary closes with this happy occasion. We can’t help but smile as we watch the women enjoy themselves, but perhaps we also realize that we take such enjoyments for granted. It goes without saying that in a culture like the one in Botswana, women do not enjoy the same freedoms as we do, which is why Vianney telling this story is of the utmost importance. Not only could the positive exposure in Queens of Botswana potentially help the Marok’s reputation, the documentary reveals an ultimately feminist narrative. It is more than just an interesting story of heavy metal culture in an unlikely place, it is a story of women who love the music so much it becomes a driving force in their lives, which in turn empowers them to break out of their shells in a conservative culture and society.
Left: Sarah Vianney and her crew interviewing Queen Gloria. Right: Sarah Vianney talking to her crew. I'd like to extend special thanks to Sarah Vianney for reaching out to us at Femfilmfans (we hope other filmmakers will do the same!) and for graciously sending us the images seen above.
RBG: Feminism, Activism and Jurisprudence Theatrical one-sheet for RBG, a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures/CNN Films. By Christian Berger While The National Board of Review has chosen RBG as the Best Documentary Film of 2018, Ruth Bader Ginsburg proved once again that she actually is a real life hero. From her hospital bed, she participated in a recent U.S. Supreme Court 5-4 decision to prevent the Trump Administration from immediately enforcing its new policy of denying asylum to immigrants who illegally cross the Mexican border. The Justice is expected to make a full recovery and return to the bench “full steam.” The documentary film RBG, directed and produced by Betsy West and Julie Cohen, portrays Bader Ginsburg not only as a pop icon, but also as an iconic feminist legal scholar and activist. In a partisan yet – like Ginsburg herself – rather serious and dignified manner, the film tells Bader Ginsburg’s story through a collection of interviews, audio and archival material and recordings of public appearances, highlighting her quiet temperament, intellectual ambition and devotion to the law. It presents the ethos and idealism of first and second generation of Jewish immigrants, the many difficulties of being taken seriously as a woman in the academic and legal sphere and some of her more precious relationships. Especially to her late husband Martin Ginsburg, a tax lawyer who was the first boy she dated who cared that she “had a brain”; he supported and promoted her all her life. Despite her public perception as a judge, the film not only chronicles her notorious dissents regarding voting, workers and reproductive rights, it also traces landmark cases like United States v. Virginia, where Ginsburg’s majority opinion struck down the last male-only admission policy of a university in the United States. Moreover, it throws light upon the legal reality of the 20th century, which reflected that men were meant to be breadwinners and were women meant to be caregivers. For example, women were not assigned to jury duty or not allowed to administer an estate and widowers who were caring for minors were denied special survivor benefits. In six such U.S. Supreme Court cases in the 1970s, Ginsburg successfully argued that the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution applies to the status and rights of women (and men) and protects them from discrimination in situations where there is no rational basis for discrimination. The basic idea was that women are equal citizens. She won five of these six cases and laid the foundation for gender equality legislation. For feminist activists, especially legal activists and feminist lawyers, RBG, as a tribute to Ginsberg’s life, shows that it does not have to be a contradiction to be politically engaged and a legal professional. Quite the opposite: the subsumption of social situations and facts under legal norms is always a political activity, because norms cannot be interpreted from an ahistorical and neutral point of view simply because there is no such thing as an ahistorical and neutral point of view. There will always be a critical need for self-reflection, well-argued partisanship in jurisprudence. The more dynamic and concrete one interprets and applies constitutional principles such as equality, the more probable it becomes that social relations, which are based on inequalities - sexism, racism, economic dependencies, etc. - will be influenced by the law and related exclusions must be changed. To this extent, even the law can be an instrument for social change.  A scene from RBG, a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures/CNN Films.  Justice Ginsburg mid workout routine in RBG, a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures/CNN Films. by Marina Brafa It’s winter time again: the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air, the decorating of gingerbread houses and Christmas movies hitting theaters in a jingle-bell-like staccato. Ready for some nauseatingly kitschy Christmas staples? Or something new? For the fourth and final installment of our Cringe series, we are featuring the documentary The Black Candle. The Black Candle (2008) Are there any true film equivalents of Christmas in other religions? This was the question that was driving me when I was looking into Christmas movies recently. Most of those genre movies focus on the Christian and Western version of the holiday season featuring snow, pine trees, reindeers, a manger and religious songs. I wanted to find out whether there were any similarly important secular or religious holidays that inspired an entire movie genre. The only thing I could come up with was Hanukkah, which was celebrated from December 2 to 10 this year, by Jews all over the world, and upon searching I found some Hanukkah movies (An American Tail, The Hebrew Hammer). I moved deeper into the holiday movie jungle and stumbled over the trailer to the 2008 documentary called The Black Candle, a self-labeled “first feature film on Kwanzaa.” I had never heard this word before and I had to know: What is Kwanzaa?  36-year-old director M.K. Asante teaches English and Film at Morgan State University (photo: throwacoup) For those of you unfamiliar with Kwanzaa, here are the basics: it is a 7-day secular celebration observed from December 26 to January 1. So date-wise it covers the Christian Christmas time and New Years, but its roots are very different. It is less a religious than a political and cultural holiday. And thanks to the documentary The Black Candle, which is available on Youtube, Vimeo I learned so much more about Kwanzaa. The Black Candle was made by M.K. Asante, a Zimbabwe-born American author, hip hop artist, professor and filmmaker whose autobiographical novel Buck gained him praise and attention in literary circles and beyond. His documentary uses, as Asante states in an interview with NPR, “Kwanzaa as a vehicle to celebrate the African-American experience.” It shows how and why Kwanzaa emerged, what it is about and where it is headed. Asante does this by documenting the holiday celebrations in pictures and sound. This provides an informative starting point to get to know Kwanzaa. Kwanzaa started as a Black holiday which means it came out of and is celebrated by Black communities, especially in the U.S. It was literally invented by Maluana Karenga as a response to the search of the Black Movement in the 1960s for a genuine Black holiday which would celebrate Black culture and reconnect Black communities to their African roots. Hence, Kwanzaa was a politically and culturally motivated invention that was to provide an anchor for the African heritage that Black communities in the 1960s felt the urge to appreciate, and it was to help form an identity for POC in the U.S. Every community has some kind of Christmas, so why not the Black community as well?
 Famous American poet and activist Maya Angelou is the narrator of the documentary (photo: Adria Richards) The rituals of celebrating Kwanzaa - food, music, dance, readings - draw on a mix of what the founders defined as African and Afro-American traditions. There is also a candle holder called a Kinara with seven candles (sidenote #2: an idea borrowed from Judaism with its menorah?), one lit each day of Kwanzaa for the seven principles. It begins with a black candle in the middle, which symbolizes the African people. Then comes three red candles representing the struggles they have faced and finally three green candles for their future. The documentary merges archival footage with interviews and scenes at families’ homes in the U.S. and mostly African countries shot by M.K. Asante. Among the interviewees, we find famous artists/activists like rapper Chuck D, the founder of Kwanzaa Maulana Karenga and former NFL star player Jim Brown, as well as researchers, Black Movement activists and everyday people from the streets. For the film’s narration, M.K. Asante teamed up with poet/activist and “Hollywood’s first female black director” Maya Angelou, an icon of Afro-American literature and culture. Hence, the formal aspects of the film, the montage of its footage and choice of protagonists, clearly underline its afro-centric focus tracing lines from the U.S. and African countries back and forth. Of course, this review is by no means comprehensive. There is much more to know about the context of Kwanzaa’s emergence in the 1960s, about the influence it had back then and it has now. I personally would be interested in learning more about its importance in the U.S., and even more in other (African) countries, and finding out who exactly celebrates Kwanzaa nowadays. Also, I find it remarkable that the film is available on three main online video platforms for free. Therefore, I would appreciate a critical approach (in film, book, or other) towards Kwanzaa’s concepts, e.g. of “Africa,” and the figures behind its invention, which the movie is lacking. Which Black communities do not celebrate it and why? Is it still “just” for POC or can other ethnic groups participate in it as well? What’s the relation between other (religious) traditions and beliefs and Kwanzaa (since it seems to borrow symbols from them)?
Informative reads Information in German by the Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung. Critical article by the Center of Pan African Thought: The Case for Kwanzaa. A Pan African attempt to guide us back to ancient African roots. By Vistra Greenaway-Harvey, published on December 23, 2016. Mayes, Keith A.: Kwanzaa. Black Power and the Making of the African-American Holiday Tradition. New York 2009: Routledge. Find a review of the Maye’s book here (in German). Elizabeth Pleck: Kwanzaa: The Making of a Black Nationalist Tradition, 1966-1990. In: Journal of American Ethnic History. Vol. 20, No. 4 (Summer, 2001), pp. 3-28. The self-labeled “Official Kwanzaa Website” run by the founder’s organization “Us”. by Marina Brafa It’s winter time again: the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air, the decorating of gingerbread houses and Christmas movies hitting theaters in a jingle-bell-like staccato. Ready for some nauseatingly kitschy Christmas staples? Or something new? For the second third installment of our Cringe series, we are featuring the film Happy Christmas. Happy Christmas (2014)  Happy Christmas cast (photo: courtesy of Magnolia Pictures)  Kelly (Melanie Lynskey) and her sister-in-law Jenny (Anna Kendrick) (photo: courtesy of Magnolia Pictures) Why does the film’s title use the word “happy” instead of the more common “merry”? Considering the amount of alcohol flowing around, “merry” would certainly have been an appropriate choice. But this movie is less concerned with what makes a “merry” Christmas time and instead focuses on the emotional state of being “happy” and what this means especially for women nowadays. The story begins in December so the holiday is right around the corner; a colorfully decorated Christmas tree dominates the living room, under it a pile of presents. It is set up in the house of Kelly (Melanie Lynskey) and Jeff (Joe Swanberg) who live in a quiet Chicago neighborhood with their son Jude. Kelly is a stay-at-home-mom while her husband is works in the film production business. A few days before Christmas, Jeff’s 27-year-old sister Jenny (Anna Kendrick) shows up. She has just broken up with her boyfriend and soon it becomes apparent that she has a hard time being responsible and not being selfish. One night after getting wasted (again) she forgets a pizza in the oven and nearly burns down the house. In Hollywood-style movies, this scene would have been blown up and dramatized. Fortunately (and realistically) there are fire detectors and the house does NOT burn down to the ground. Problem solved. What is more interesting is Jenny’s reaction when confronted with her irresponsible behavior. She doesn’t want to bear the blame but rather accuses her relatives of overreacting. Director and scriptwriter Joe Swanberg (who plays Jeff) could have focused on and exploited the fire/burning-house-aspect of the scene like a Hollywood-style movie probably would have done (imagine brave firefighters, all family members die but one etc). Instead he uses the scene to highlight the interpersonal conflict that comes with it, namely between Kelly, Jeff and Jenny. This might be less exciting for your eyes but more so for your brain. The fire incident is one of the reasons why Kelly has a hard time leaving her son with her sister-in-law. Viewers slowly realize that Jeff had not revealed Jenny’s problematic character to his wife prior to Jenny’s arrival. The other reason for Kelly’s mistrust is more self-centered: She became used to being a stay-at-home-mom. In a conversation between Jenny, Carson (her best friend played by Lena Dunham) and Kelly, the latter admits that she wanted to work again after giving birth but that real life was different than expected so she gave up the idea and decided to take care of the child. And, she adds, “I am not complaining, I love Jude so much” - as if she had to apologize for something. The talk between the three women is one of the best scenes in the movie because they explicitly touch upon the question of female self-fulfillment in today’s society in a very concrete way, connected to their individual situations. Jenny is the prototypical 20-something woman floating through life, in and out of relationships and doing what she wants – the character’s development does not get much deeper, unfortunately. Her friend Carson (proto-feminist Lena Dunham, famed for her TV show Girls) is giving the women’s conversations a “feminist spin”. Real-life-Dunham’s vast knowledge and experience in this field is reflected in her role. She is the one asking Kelly if she is happy(!) with the way her life goes. However, and this is important to point out, she never says the word “feminism” or anything related. Kelly immediately answers “I am not not a feminist…” and Carsons replies “I am not...” She does not finish her sentence but we can by imagination: “...saying that you are/are not a feminist”. Kelly’s and Carson’s reactions shows that in 21st century Western societies some women (and men) take a mental shortcut to feminist ideas when they are talking about certain topics like childcare. But feminism is just one point of view (a very important one though) for talking about what women go through at home, in the office, at university, school, on the streets and so on. Feminism ought to be a means of (self-)reflection and not an automated reaction. Kelly is the secret star of the movie. While Jenny’s development is predictable and Carson just pops up when the story needs a good friend or intellectual input, Kelly undergoes a subtle change. After talking to Jenny and Carson she reconsiders writing and gets out of the house physically and mentally. The office becomes a meeting point where the three women come up with ideas for an erotic novel. Like their first conversation about what it means to be a happy woman, the dialogues about what makes a good-selling erotic novel are witty. The three reflect on what women think other women (and society in general) wants them to read in such books: The language should be salacious and simple, the plot gets reduced to the formula submissive woman meets handsome, potent man. A satirical hint on existing books and films might be intended. The end of the Happy Christmas comes abruptly. No big happy ending (although it would fit title-wise perfectly, wouldn’t it?) but more of a “life goes on” kind of end. So, is everyone happy now? Shouldn’t that be the aim of every Christmas movie? Classic ones, yes. However, I like that Happy Christmas is not that simple. It presents the holiday as it is for so many people: a coming together of family members and/or friends, a gift-marathon, an abundance of food and drink and having a good time - and a day on which you have to deal with the flaws and faults of your family and friends. What makes the movie a long stretch to watch though is its wrong focus. It seems like Jenny and her story were supposed to be the core of the film but her development is clichéd and predictable. On the other hand, Kelly’s story would have had potential since her character tries to change but the conditions surrounding her stifle any of her ambitions. There lies “conflicting gold” that could have been dug up by the author. Still, if you are looking for a Christmas treat without an old white-bearded man popping out of the chimney this one will do it. Plus: The movie’s soundtrack is nice (playlist on Youtube)! by Marina Brafa It’s winter time again: the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air, the decorating of gingerbread houses and Christmas movies hitting theaters in a jingle-bell-like staccato. Ready for some nauseatingly kitschy Christmas staples? Or something new? For the second installment of our Cringe series, we are featuring the film Carol.  Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett with director Todd Haynes at Cannes Film Festival (photo: Georges Biard)  Cate Blanchett at Berlinale Film Festival (photo: Thore Siebrans) Most viewers would not think of Carol as a Christmas movie, despite the title. Its unconventional love story breaks the mould of genre conventions. Instead of a girl-meets-boy plot with a happy ending on Christmas Eve, we see two women, Carol Aird (Cate Blanchett) and Therese Belivet (Rooney Mara), falling in love with each other. Christmas, the loveliest time of the year and family fest par excellence, makes their special relationship and the problems that come with it abundantly apparent. A woman is supposed to be with her family on Christmas, but what happens when the family is falling apart? Carol is divorcing her husband Harge (Kyle Chandler) and fighting for the custody of her daughter; Therese has a boyfriend with whom she is not in love. However, both Carol’s husband and Therese’s boyfriend ignore the reality of the situation, grinning and bearing it. For them, Christmas is still the time to be together as a family. Haunted by Christmas conventions and traditions, Carol and Therese escape on a road trip to explore their feelings for each other. The two of them manage to get away from their families, but they cannot flee the times in which they live. It’s 1950s America and love between women is not only a taboo but unheard of (at least to those who won’t listen). Carol and Therese take a break from society’s expectations but they will be waiting for them at home. The two very different female characters uphold the adage that opposites attract. As the title states, we get to know Carol in depth, an ethereal woman with bright blond bombshell hair and garishly red shiny lips. She is in her 40s, married to a sleek businessman, yet she loves women. It’s a secret that everyone knows but no one dares talk about. On a December day, Carol ends up in a department store to find a Christmas gift for her daughter. That’s where she meets Therese. She is younger than Carol, with short brown hair and coy pink lip gloss. Her big innocent eyes follow Carol through the department store, not knowing what to make of this woman who had stared and smiled at her. It’s the beginning of a seductive love – and an unequal relationship between Carol and Therese.  Rooney Mara plays Therese. Her sister Kate Mara is known for her role as journalist in House of Cards season . Cate Blanchett plays Carol as a woman who took all steps on the path that 1950s society considered normal for women. Now, she is going against “normalcy,” which makes her both vulnerable and strong. In contrast, Rooney Mara gives Therese the aspect of an insecure woman at the very beginning of her social life. She is unsure about marrying her boyfriend and hates her job at the department store, wishing to be a photographer for The New York Times instead. Carol approaches her, Carol invites her for dinner, Carol takes her on a road trip. The whole story is primarily showing how Carol “helps” Therese discover her homosexuality. At one point, Carol leaves Therese. A turning point in their relation? No. Therese does start a new job but her thoughts are with Carol. While staring at the pictures she took of her, she mourns her loss. In the end, Carol reconnects with Therese, confesses her love and - after a short moment of withdrawal - Therese happily returns. In the last scene, we see Therese staring at Carol, the camera moves from Therese’s point of view toward Carol, capturing her half-closed eyes. Just like at the beginning at the department store. The film’s plot line is not really intricate. However, the feelings it tries to convey are, and they need time to develop. Director Todd Haynes (who is known for transcending and questioning conventional gender roles and racial stereotypes in his films) turns the movie’s screenplay by Phyllis Nagy into a two-hour epic. The slow-paced cinematography and reduced dialogue reflect the slow and cautious unfolding of emotions. Gestures and facial expressions – their eyes, their hands, their lips! – are more important than what the characters say. In one scene, Therese is at the cinema with some friends. One of them is “charting the correlation between what the characters say and how they really feel.” That’s Carol in a nutshell. The film should be applauded because it shows lesbian love (and the fight for its acknowledgement) on the big screen. The situation of homosexual women is still complicated in many societies worldwide but awareness is rising. Films such as Carol are part of this development. It is both the result of the mere fact that it could be made and fuel for a rising acceptance of female homosexuality. Because let’s face the truth: Cinemagoers are more used to seeing two men kissing each other than two women. Carol not only shows female friendship (one might think of Thelma and Louise) or subtly hints at something more than friendship, but rather presents female love explicitly. Don’t get me wrong: In 2018, a plethora of films exist about it, but how many of them have found their way into cineplex programs, thus reaching a larger audience beyond queer cinema? Reading suggestion: Carol’s screenplay is based on Patricia Highsmith’s 1952 novel The Price of Salt. by Marina Brafa It’s winter time again: the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air, the decorating of gingerbread houses and Christmas movies hitting theaters in a jingle-bell-like staccato. Ready for some nauseating kitschy Christmas staples? Each Sunday we will post a review with that special FemFilmFans twist for your unholy delight. Today's featured film is Love, Actually.  Love, Actually (2003) On a gray and lonely Sunday at the end of the November, I suddenly feel a deep desire that is tucked away in my brain for most of the year. I go on Youtube and type “All I Want for Christmas + Love Actually” and listen to the song at least three times in a row. The video is the perfect Christmas overkill: a poisonous combination of Mariah Carey’s evergreen hit belted out by 10-year-old Joanna (played by Olivia Olsen) during the Christmas concert scene from director Richard Curtis’s Christmas classic. Since its release in 2003, Love, Actually has quickly made its way into our hearts and into the Christmas movie canon. This year the movie celebrates its 15th anniversary. We take this opportunity to re-watch it with more critical eyes. The film was written and directed by Richard Curtis (the man behind British romcoms such as Notting Hill and Bridget Jones’s Diary) and stars many famous actresses and actors like Keira Knightly, Emma Thompson, the late Alan Rickman and Liam Neeson. The movie title bluntly states what the film is all about: love - the universal value that everyone can agree on, right? Wrong. Especially not after watching Love, Actually. Curtis transforms love into a heteronormative, misogynist ideology. Ten (!) intersected plotlines deal with specific romantic issues, presenting his ideas of love. The outcome is a love potpourri that draws on questionable gender roles. Let’s take a closer look at the movie’s representation of women. Applies to all: Curtis seems like he has never heard of the Bechdel test before. Most of the time women talk about men and/or romantic encounters and related problems. In the end, we are always presented with any of the three options for what I would call a male-positive ending: [1] the man gets the woman he loves or [2] he has learned a “life lesson” (on the back of a woman) that makes him stronger or [3] a woman is suffering because of a man. Juliet, Peter and Mark or The Classic Love Triangle: Man loves his best friend’s wife, or rather is creepily obsessed with her (during their wedding, he only films her so he can re-watch this footage at home alone). Mark finally confesses his love to Juliet on Christmas Eve, to which she responds with giggles and even bestows him with a kiss (since he has been soooo brave). She then returns to her husband leaving Mark with his unfulfilled desire that he can easily continue to project on her. Jamie and Aurélia or Love Transcends Borders: A sensitive author, Jamie, is left by his bitchy partner because he is too nice (note: men have to be “strong” to be desirable). He withdraws to a French cottage. Luckily, his good-looking Portuguese household help, Aurélia, understands his delicate soul without even being able to talk to him since she cannot speak English. But who cares? Returning to Britain for Christmas Eve, Jamie understands that he loves Aurélia (obviously). He flies to Portugal and publicly proposes to her in broken Portuguese (cute, right?). She accepts, because any other answer would have been mean and injurious to his ego. Harry, Karen and Mia or Save The Nuclear Family: Man is “threatened” at work by a femme fatale - his sexy young employee. Eventually, he gives in because, well, she’s sexy and his wife at home will understand if she finds out. Of course she does find out and of course she takes him back because family is so important. At least she is a bit mad at him. David and Natalie or The Power of Love: We see a variation of the motive “workplace-relationship”. In contrast to the above mentioned Harry, Karen, Mia-story this time the relationship is a totally innocent one though. Natalie falls in love with a man who is her superior. But just being hierarchically higher is not enough: David is prime minister(!) of the UK and Natalie is his intern (any associations to real politicians and interns are naturally unintended…). Government officials are blamed to be cold and unromantic - not so David. He is depicted as heartwarmingly insecure when speaking to Natalie. Oh, so maybe that’s the reason he constantly body-shames her (as do others), turning the focus away from his insecurity onto Natalie’s “chubby body shape”. Merry Christmas… Daniel, Sam, Joanna and Carol or Only Dead Women Are Good Women: A boy has lost his mother. Yet he cries because he is unhappily in love with a girl from his school. How can he make her notice him? Talking to her is no option for the shy guy. His grieving father tries to help him through this manhood-shaping life lesson. And because the father is so nice, his Christmas gift is a hot blonde model (Claudia Fischer in one of her rare roles). Sarah, Karl and Michael or The Ugly Duckling: A shy woman pines away for a coworker’s love. Finally, the office Christmas party provides an opportunity to mingle. The man, who has not expressed a meaningful sentence to this point, readily goes home with her. His name is Karl and even his nerdy glasses cannot make him bad-looking. You might think: Sure, the lead up might have been strange but finally she is getting her fair share of the Christmas pudding! Nope. Another man, her mentally disturbed brother, calls her. Doing the right(?) thing,she leaves and spends Christmas with him. Family, as seen above, is so important. And she continues pining away for Karl. That’s what women are best at anyway. John and Judy or There’s No Sex Without Love: What do we learn while watching two porn actors falling at love on set? That the work place is love spot no. 1! An incredible five out of ten plots are centered on or around work and power relations in the office! Oh, and even commodified sex needs love, at least on Christmas. Colin, Tony and the American girls or Ok, Maybe There’s Sex Without Love As Long As I am a Horny Brit. That’s the whole plotline, actually. Bill and Joe or Maybe Gay: Finally, a quirky relation between two men. But don’t get too excited. They are just friends, although attentive viewers might sense a homosexual subtext. If you dislike the idea you are welcome to stick with friendship. It never becomes explicit, so it is open to interpretation and everyone is happy. Sure enough, we see no female homosexuality. It’s hard to give up habits. I used to like Love, Actually. Maybe I will continue to do so. Meanwhile I am looking for more complex movies. If you have any suggestions comment below or contact us on IG! If you are interested in a more comprehensive (feminist) review of Love, Actually you should check out this article on The Independent. By Marina Brafa  The documentary is mostly based on self-filmed footage by M.I.A. (photo: courtesy of cinereach)  (photo: courtesy of cinereach) Do you need some energy, some inspiration or simply a musical track that kicks in and makes you feel empowered? Then you should watch MATANGI/MAYA/M.I.A., the biopic about singer M.I.A. (best known for her hugely successful hit Paper Planes). We see her as a young girl, Matangi, her hair in braids, wearing a prissy white blouse and skirt, dancing at home with her family. We then see Maya, a flashily dressed young woman dancing in music videos. We finally see a grown woman, M.I.A., dressed as a cheerleader, dancing and singing along with Madonna and Nicki Minaj during the Super Bowl halftime show. She causes a scandal by flipping off the camera for a few seconds. That’s Matangi’s/Maya’s/M.I.A.’s life in a nutshell. Director Steve Loveridge’s documentary MATANGI/MAYA/M.I.A. cracks open that nutshell, however, to showcase the life and work of an artist that now goes by the name of M.I.A. Personally, I only know the 43-year-old artist by that name. As I am writing this, I can hear her catchy lyrics in my head: “All I wanna do is [bang] [bang] [bang] And [click] [ka-ching] And take your money…” That would be the song Paper Planes, of course; her most successful hit to date and a perfect example of M.I.A.’s work. She combines various musical genres - rap, hip hop, electronic music - with her in your face style to get her political message across, which is that of equality and freedom. Sure those are two BIG words, but M.I.A. lives up to them through her art. How? Because she is telling her story the way she wants. Mathangi Arulpragasam, Maya to her friends, was born in London on July 17, 1975 and is of Tamil origin. At the age of six months, she and her family moved to Jaffna in Northern Sri Lanka. Tamils are an oppressed minority in the island country and have been facing violence for decades, which has gone mostly unnoticed by international media (sidenote: the civil war came to an “official” end in 2009 when state forces defeated the Tamil militia). Maya’s father was one of the founders of a revolutionary Tamil force that fought for independence. In 1986, after her father left and her family’s situation worsened due to the Sri Lankan civil war, Maya moved back to Britain. She lived in a poor neighborhood in West London where she would listen to mainstream radio and her neighbor’s hip hop music collection through the walls of their apartment. Even though M.I.A. readily embraced British culture, life as a Tamil refugee in 1980s Britain proved difficult. M.I.A. had left the violence in Sri Lanka, only to face discrimination and to be confronted with her Tamil roots. She was supposed to remain in the shadows, to silently accept her marginalization. This is when she decided to raise her voice and create political art. As a 21-year-old, M.I.A. went back to Sri Lanka to visit her family and to meet other 21-year-old women there. It was a way to regain and tell a story that could have been hers had she stayed in Sri Lanka. In Britain she worked with the British band Elastica and featured her graffiti art in exhibitions. In 2004 she started producing music and clips as means of political activist art. Throughout these years she was filming. Herself. Her family. Tamil relatives. Strangers.  The offical poster references M.I.A.'s graffiti aesthetics she uses in her art production. (photo: courtesy of cinerach) The documentary is mostly based on this video footage that M.I.A. gave Loveridge in 2011, which he cut together with M.I.A.’s music videos and interviews. Viewers are thrown back and forth in time, crossing the borders between Britain, Sri Lanka and the U.S. and hear almost exclusively M.I.A.’s voice. There’s no voice-over commentary and new material shot by Loveridge. The finished product therefore shows young Maya’s transformation to M.I.A, which provides viewers with an immediate close-up of her life but is limited to her points of view. We witness her struggling with fame: Can an artist be politically relevant and commercially successful at the same time? Or is she just staging herself in a radical-chic manner (as NYT’s reporter Lynn Hirschberg claims in her 2010 profile of the artist)? Let’s review the Super Bowl scandal to answer that question.
During the Halftime Show it comes to a head. We see M.I.A. conflicted backstage. She followed her manager’s advice of teaming up with a more famous artist so she can gain exposure for her art. That’s how the music biz works, baby. Now she is about to perform in one of the most commercial events ever alongside her idol Madonna. As if that isn’t enough, M.I.A. shows her middle finger to the camera. Fox News cries. NFL sues her. M.I.A. (kind of) managed to stick to her activist principles. However, the following debates were about the act itself rather than its political impetus. Maybe at a certain point the question is no longer if a commercially successful artist can be politically relevant but how s/he can turn public attention away from the person to its message again. M.I.A. has since done a 180°. She has returned to producing her own music and videos, such as the self-directed music clip Borders that thematizes the “refugee crisis.” Additionally, she is now engaging in activism outside the art sphere. She is active on social media using it as a channel to explain her opinions about what is going wrong in society. In a 2013 video statement responding to the NFL suit, she points out that she was only the scapegoat in a larger context: “What is offensive in America: Is my finger offensive or an underaged black girl with her legs wide open?” The scandalous “thing” was not her middle finger but that the NFL had a group of black under-16-year-old girls in tight dresses dance provocatively in the background. “Basically, the NFL want me to say that it's OK for me to promote being sexually exploited as a female, than to display empowerment, female empowerment, through being punk rock. That's what it boils down to, and I'm being sued for it.” “Freedom I’d meet ‘em, once you read ‘em This one needs a brand new rhythm We done the key.” Compared to her former success she is not reaching as many people as she used to. But Matangi/Maya/M.I.A. has something to say and to advocate for. She is a refugee, a member of a jeopardized minority, a woman of color as well as an outspoken, talented and intelligent artist. The 97-minute full on M.I.A immersion is the ultimate tribute to her life so far. The biopic is also a huge middle finger to all of her critics and a way to say: Look where I came from and where I am now. You can do the same. Just focus what matters to you and stay true to it. The film was shown at the Sundance Film Festival 2018 and at the Berlinale International Film Festival 2018. |
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