Blame the Feminist Lens.

I’ve recently forced myself to re-watch a film that, regrettably, I paid 10 dollars to see in a Salem, OR movie theatre last winter. I had willfully hidden the experience underneath the countless other shameful and rotten things found in the depths of my mind, hoping that there within lay the film’s final resting place. Much like Pandora, I swore to never re-open this box of cinematic travesty for fear of murdering the respect I have for (arguably) innocent members of the opposite sex. My one-sided, individually justified mindset worked quite well as a disdain neutralizer until just recently, when my own mother began to praise the film’s message. I couldn’t believe my ears. A member of my own family has fallen victim to such blatant and disgusting socially generalized propaganda, and now I refuse to sit around in silence.

At the risk of sounding completely biased, I must admit that my initial analysis of this film resulted in a perhaps overly vocal diagnosis to my peers. Focused almost exclusively on the blatant objectification and naivety of the female characters, I was convinced that the creator of the film and author of the book must be nothing short of wholly and unapologetically misogynistic. After all, the female character set includes actresses like Scarlett Johansson (big boobs, no talent) and Jennifer Connolly (notably beautiful, but terribly frigid) at the forefront. Personally, I would have liked to have seen at least some mildly unfortunate looking actresses headlining this piece. If the point of the thing was to appeal to the enormous masses of women who are facing similar relationship crises every day of their life, the least Hollywood could have done for us poor, unfortunate souls is to have, say, Tilda Swinton playing Connolly’s role.

As I’ve said, I initially diagnosed the film (and the thesis entirely, for that matter) as a piece of trash that emotionally preys on the vulnerable, idealistic spirits of today’s (also arguably) modern, progressive woman. No doubt that the media itself is the source responsible for such an outrageous mindset; where Sleeping Beauty must wait for a hundred years for True Love’s Kiss before she is free from the Witch’s spell and able to live Happily Ever After. Yes, HJNTIY completely reinforces the idea that women are helpless, unhappy, desperate, and naïve until they meet the man of their dreams. Not only do we, as damsels, search desperately for our own personal Prince Charming to slay the dragons of life, we are programmed to expect more than just the gifts of security and affection. We are searching for completion, and in all the wrong places.

The thing that irritated me most about the film is the five archetypes that exist embodied within the main female characters. The way that we seem to be so conveniently forced into such helpless, two dimensional marionettes is almost sickening to me.

1. The obnoxious, forward, naïve woman who reads way too far into any encounter she has with the opposite sex, subsequently either driving them away or putting all of her eggs into one unreliable basket. If you are desperate enough, they will come.

2. The cold, distant wife who is “not giving her husband any,” causing him to move onto a younger, more attractive woman who will. This one is more focused on planning her friend’s Destination Wedding after a single date than paying attention to the downward spiral that her marriage is beginning to take.

3. The “other woman,” (did you guess Scarlett?) who may actually be emotionally invested in the married man she is involved with. However, she completely disregards the sanctity of another couple’s marriage for the sake of her own selfish intention.

4. The “nag”, who is in a long term committed relationship and living with a man who continually says that he loves her, but does not believe in marriage. The lesson here is, “if you nag him enough, he WILL propose.”

5. The “internet-dater” who uses her Myspace profile to meet the next prospect. She spends each day with almost exclusively homosexual men who constantly call her “Girlfriend.”

I suppose that the point of these limited profiles could be to say that no one is perfect. We all have our own individual issues, and even those of us who feel as though there isn’t a chance in a Blue Moon that we’ll find what we’re looking for have a shot at it. I know that’s probably the point. But quite honestly, all I can do is look at these profiles and say “Alright, these woman are the “every man”, so which of their profiles best defines me?"

And, to be fair, I do also realize that the film didn’t present completely reasonable depictions of men, either. I’m quite sure that not all men cheat on their wives, keep a count of how many encounters he can have with a woman before she becomes expendable, etc.

While the film itself may portray messages to the audience that might be true, such as, “If he’s not calling you, it’s because he doesn’t want to call you,” I believe that the method of example was ineffective and, from a distance, unfairly gender biased. Sure, it’s probably true that if someone wanted to call you, they’d figure out a way to pick up the phone. But quite frankly, staring mindlessly at an hour and a half soap opera of exaggerated trial and sexual error didn’t do much in the way of opening my eyes to the ‘correct’ way of roping in a man.

I guess I should take better notes next time.