Francesca Eastwood gives a powerful performance in Natalia Leite's provocative and divisive film M.F.A (2017)
I tend to shy away from rape-revenge films, as I find that they are often overly sexualizing and exploitative, and often too triggering in the way they represent sexual assault. Still, rape survivors have stated that they sometimes find the cathartic nature of revenge explored in these films somewhat liberating. Therefore, I attended the 2017 Fantasia Film Festival screening of Natalia Leite's (2017) version of rape-revenge, M.F.A., with a degree of enthusiasm and trepidation, as I hoped that the combination of women director and writer (Leah McKendrick who plays Skye in the film) would bring a necessary degree of freshness and sensitivity to the subgenre. After sitting on, and mulling over, this film for a few days, I would say that it mostly succeeds, although I still have some reservations. While I try to avoid spoilers in my reviews, I think some might be inevitable here, so be forewarned.
Noelle's assault brings out her burgeoning talents
M.F.A. follows Noelle (Francesa Eastwood), a young artist fulfilling an M.F.A. in fine arts at a ridiculously small arts school in Southern California. She is shy and tightly wound, her art work uninspired and subject to withering critiques by her fellow students. She's invited by the smarmy Luke (Peter Vack) to his house for a party, and when they retreat to his room upstairs, what starts off as a sweet make-out quickly turns into a vicious and brutal rape. This scene is terribly hard to watch, and thankfully is one of only two sexual assaults represented in the film. Nevertheless, both assaults are harrowing, and Leite in the Q & A states that she very carefully tried to focus on her female characters' distress and POV. In some ways, she's in a tough position, trying not to be gratuitous, while simultaneously highlighting the brutality involved in order to make sense of Noelle's rather intense response to the ordeal. I still think that she could have shot these scenes more carefully; I think some guys could totally read them as a turn-on. After Noelle tries the "usual routes" for dealing with such assaults--therapy, reporting to the school, joining a survivor's group--she realizes that these types of experiences are ubiquitous and rarely find proper justice. While I appreciate that the film shows a variety of approaches that different survivors take to their assaults, it really suggests that Noelle's take is the only one that acomplishes anything. Once she decides to take matters into her own hands, the results are both powerful and ultimately destructive.
Noelle enacts her own form of "justice" on rapists and abusers
The ways in which Noelle achieves payback are both brutal and frequently satisfying, and Eastwood's performance makes you root for her throughout her transformation. Yet the intensity of her response, and the specific changes that she undergoes, leave me really unsettled. While the first murder could be seen as "accidental," Noelle starts to really get off on the blood and guts involved. She becomes a much better artist after her assault, which is damn problematic; the philosophical discussions about art being about "truth" are kind of hackneyed and don't really fit. Second, she also becomes a super sexy femme fatale who seduces all the guys she ultimately kills. The fact that she becomes some sexpot that gets off on killing really undermines some of the more serious issues the film is raising. I do not have a problem with her evolution into a vigilante, or the fact that the film rather smartly emphasizes that this type of reaction/behavior has consequences. What I take issue with is the fact that Noelle becomes so overtly sexualized, that the film comes across as more titillating then it should. The laughter of the guys behind me made me squirm (as it did an audience member who admitted that she too was a rape survivor). Sure, people laugh sometimes when they are uncomfortable, but trust me--this film is NOT a comedy.
The television show Sweet Vicious tends to get the balance right between vengeance and humor, and M.F.A. at times reminded me of that series, with its combination of pitch black irony and social conscience. Yet, at other times M.F.A. seemed to share more in common with some of the rape revenge films it is trying to critique (I Spit on Your Grave, Last House on the Left). I still think Leite's film is a remarkable accomplishment and well worth watching, and I regretted seeing it alone because I was eager to discuss it with others, particularly female Fantasia attendees. During the Q & A, the majority of the audience (including me) were really silent, trying our best to digest what we just saw. I'm still chewing on the film, which I think means that it has significant impact, and also suggests that Leite and McKendrick may have some important cinematic stories still to tell. Still, the film has some problems. I recommend M.F.A. with a warning to be prepared to be disturbed and challenged.
I try to convey to my students, and firmly believe that, one can be a passionate feminist and still enjoy things that are not necessarily feminist. Really, if feminists ONLY supported feminist things, feminists would spend most of their time avoiding most of U.S. and U.K. popular culture. First of all, "feminism"--as a movement, a political stance, a set of ideas, an identity, or an attitude--is not a fixed category. "Feminism" is constantly changing and mutating, and most feminists recognize that as the world changes, so do ideas. Feminism's commitment to intersectionality and engagement with new technologies are just two important shifts in thought that have occurred over the last twenty years.
Still, not all things are feminist, and just because you are a feminist and like something, does not make "object X" feminist. This flawed logic has been used by plenty of feminists and postfeminists to justify the celebration of a whole variety of texts. I understand the desire to maintain one's principles and consistency in one's beliefs, but cultural critics and consumers need to thoughtfully understand and examine their own contradictions. I'm not saying that some pleasures should be guilt-free either, but guilt can be a useful tool when examined more closely. The conflicts that feminists feel about their own pleasures can be extremely productive.
For instance, here's an example of a pop cultural mash-up that I recently enjoyed, and I STILL feel terrible about enjoying it, and have yet to stop talking about the problems this particular representation raises. In episode 3 of this season's Mad Men, entitled "Tea Leaves," viewers finally got a glimpse of the unfairly reviled Better Francis (formerly Draper), and the icy blonde January Jones is shown wearing a fat suit. Her weight is an issue in this episode, since during a doctor's visit to acquire diet pills, Betty finds out that she has a lump near her thyroid and that she might have cancer. This episode explores issues of aging femininity and beauty culture while simultaneously positioning Jones's body as no longer ideal and pathological. Like Pete, over the last four seasons Betty has been situated as a villain, albeit a more nuanced one, and the reaction to her changed appearance in the blogosphere was fairly venomous at times. At first, I avoided the Fat Betty video that was making the rounds, worried that it reeked of fat hatred. Then I watched it. Then I showed the video to my partner, with much contextualizing and caveats. Let's just say that every once in a while, one of us will utter a "bam-a-lam" and then laugh guiltily. Here I'm disseminating it:
I still have problems with this video, and I think that my discomfort is a good thing. Examining the pleasures and pains that this video brings to me is important for my continuing evolution as a feminist. After this week's episode where Meghan gobbles up some orange sherbet (in "Far Away Places"), I'm certain that more ice cream eating is on the video horizon.
Now to address Game of Thrones and that intense picture of fan art that heads up the post (of Lady Melisandre of Asshai, a priestess of R'hllor in service to Stannis Baratheon from George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire). I am really enjoying this HBO series this season (two). I thought it had its moments last season, but this season the show's women seem to be taking a more central role to balance out all the annoying male posturing and power plays common to the "fantasy" genre. Characters such as Daenerys, Melisandre, Brienne, Arya, Cersei, and Sansa are often strong and powerful. Yet having a "strong woman" in a popular cultural product DOES NOT make it feminist, especially when that strength is coupled with victimization or dependent on sexual power. I'm not a fan of the sword and sandal/chain mail fantasy genre, mostly because I'm not interested in a bunch a guys running around fighting each other over a universe-ending piece of jewelry.
GOT can be really surprising, and those moments, when they pop up, make the show really worthwhile. (SPOILERS as I ruin those surprises). When that evil little incest twerp, Joffrey, orders Ned Stark's head chopping, or when Daenerys Targaryen walks into her husband's fiery funeral pyre, and emerges from the ashes the next day, unscathed, with 3 baby dragons on her person, I thought WOW. These images are iconic and thought-provoking. Still, with all the beheadings, incest, and sexual hijinks, I was still utterly unprepared for GOT's last five minutes of "Garden of Bones." Watching the suddenly pregnant Melisandre give birth to a crazy smoke monster in that dark cave was a classic WTF moment, and one I'm not likely to forget for a while.
I'm not even clear on what is happening in this scene, especially because I have not read any of Martin's books. Sir Davos takes Melisandre to where Stannis's brother, Renly, is camped, in order to assassinate him or cause some general mayhem. Melisandre is some weird witchy priestess who claims that Stannis is divinely chosen to be king of the seven kingdoms because he is supported by the Lord of the Light. (This description is truly ridiculous, but run with it). Melisandre has just had sex with Stannis on his strategic war table (where one plans battles, a la Risk), and now she's giving birth to this crazy smoke monster demon. After my partner and I stopped exclaiming, I commented that these types of acute sexual fears unsurprisingly come from a fantasy genre that is championed by a bunch of nerdy, heterosexual 14 year old boys who have never gotten laid. Granted, my response was a little dismissive, but does connect to a television show rife with gender trouble and scary ladyparts. Here's some more problematic evidence beyond Melisandre:
Daenerys Targaryen is the Mother of Dragons, and this title itself is enough to make everyone afraid of her, and for her to lay claim to the Iron Throne. In season one, Daenerys is used as chattel by her a-hole brother in order to gain the support and muscle of the Dothraki, some nomadic warrior tribe led by the New Conan...er Khal Drogo. Inititally, Khal manhandles the virginal Daenerys, but over time his Khaleesi, with the help of some tribal women, learns how to experience her own sexual pleasure, and she and Drogo grow to love each other in their own odd way. Fast forward to season's end, Khal's dead, and Daenerys survives a devastating fire because she's part dragon, and now has three dragon babies (that are kind of cute). How did this event occur? Who knows? Ladyparts are scary and mysterious.
Cersei Lannister, now the Queen Regent at King's Landing after the death of her stupid, drunk husband Robert (who was gored by a boar, heh), is certainly powerful, but she has a couple of huge weaknesses. Her second biggest problem is her incestuous lust and love for her brother, Jamie. BTW, his nickname is "kingslayer."
In the first episode of season one of GOT, when these two visit the Starks at Winterfell, they sneak off and have sex in some tower room of the castle. Ned Stark's son, Bram, is a bit of a climber, and he shimmies up the side of the castle in order to peek in a window or two, and catches the siblings Lannister in the act. Jamie proceeds to push the kid of the building, crippling and nearly killing him. Nice family. They also manage to produce Cersei's and EVERYONE'S biggest problem:
Joffrey, Cersei's eldest child, and the current King of the Seven Kingdoms--Incest spawn. From day one, this kid has been evil, and he continues to be a sadistic, power-hungry brat who likes to watch and inflict pain. In the latest GOT episode, his uncle, Tyrion, decides to give him a couple of prostitutes in order to acclimate him toward how women are traditionally used on this show. This gift arrives after Tyrion witnesses the beating he gives his fiancee, Sansa Stark, who has shown distinct inklings that she's going to be the one to kill this Joffrey. Fingers crossed. Maybe the jerk needs some educating in the sexual arts. Instead of some rowdy sex, Joffrey forces one prostitute, by crossbow arrow, to beat the other one with a nasty scepter until he's satisfied. Early in season 2, upon hearing the incest rumors surrounding his lineage, Joffrey orders all possible bastards of the former king to be butchered, so there won't be any competition to his claim to the throne. Bloody baby killing commences. All this really bad behavior is allowed because this cretin is king and that's how he rolls. Cersei continues to support him and defend him because he's her son, and she really doesn't have much choice. She should have controlled her ladyparts better.
Now GOT has the potential to create complex female characters who do not gain all their power from what they do with their scary ladyparts. Lady Brienne of Barth is one of the fiercest knights out there, and she fights for Renly Baratheon on and off the battlefield. Similarly, Yara Greyjoy is in command of her father's sailing fleet, with her prodigal brother only getting to captain a lone boat. Meanwhile, Arya Stark, who has been on the run from King's Landing since her father was labeled a traitor and beheaded, is masquerading as a boy, and fighting for her survival. She's also a mean touch with a sword. Hopefully, great events are part of her future, although her outing as a "girl" by head patriarch Tywin Lannister could be a problem. I'll have to wait and see, and I'm willing. Still, the male-written fantasy genre tends to limit women's possibilities (whereas one cannot say the same about Octavia Butler or Ursula Le Guin).
The issue is not whether Game of Thrones is a feminist show. Or Mad Men, Lost Girl, or any of the other shows that I watch or have watched. The fact is, I'm a feminist who is watching, and I'm not letting popular culture off the hook, even if the show has things that I like in it. For now I'm still watching, but always with a slightly raised eyebrow.
