Women in Film -- We're Not There Yet

On the heels of the Women In Film event last weekend, I had the chance to watch a few red-carpet interviews with attendees and honorees. One thing that stood out to me was that while everyone was quick to point out how far we’ve come, they made sure to mention how far we still have left to go.

The “how far we still have left” is what caught my interest most, because I haven’t been doing this long enough to really understand how much has changed. And the subtle discrimination I have seen in the short time I’ve been working in this business has been enough to harden me into a staunch supporter of women in film.

For one thing, I never thought of myself as a feminist until I came to work in Hollywood. I’m part of a generation and class of women who were reared on the rhetoric that we could grow up to do anything. At no point did gender figure in as a limitation, and the idea that it would for anyone who might judge my capabilities seemed completely ludicrous.

It was confusing when I heard or read about women's complaints of gender discrimination -- didn't we figure all this stuff out in the ‘70s?

That's what I believed. Until I came to work in Hollywood.

It started with generally dismissive treatment on the part of men I worked with, and it grew into a clear sense of being on the losing side of favoritism. So I put some effort into mitigating aspects of my personality that might seem too "nice" or passive and played up my opinionated, ambitious side.

Instead of flirting with male colleagues, we busted each other’s balls. I quickly learned to tune out the usual locker-room chatter that men in this business seem to think is perfectly acceptable in mixed company, rather than chastising, when I felt uncomfortable. But with all the effort to prove I could hang (because I can), and even in situations when I made good points, it seemed that the men I worked with were still reluctant to hear me out.

And strangely, I kept seeing that the benefit of the doubt tended to be afforded automatically to my male peers. Why weren’t they being held to the same burden of proof as I was? (Even the ones who consistently demonstrated the most meager levels of competence.)

I used to think it was me. Maybe I was doing something to deserve men’s disrespect. Or maybe it was part of some kind of industry “hazing,” maybe I was being tested. It makes you wonder. And it’s undeniably awkward to try to recover with the guy who just stopped your conversation to watch, mouth-agape, as Bai Ling walked down the hall, pointing out that he'd like to suck on parts of her anatomy.

Luckily, I finally found a niche where I don’t feel like such an outsider. But I’m still frustrated. The work I put in every day to help set up projects that don’t even have a formal feminist agenda, but just happen to portray mildly empowered, mature women in ways that mainstream movie audiences may not be accustomed to has led me to one conclusion: Women need a better rap.

I’ve heard more than once that this revolution has to start with actresses. And I admit, the argument seems to make sense: If the women who can open a movie would just get it together to stand up and refuse to play any character whom they feel is a one-dimensional farce, or fight to be directed, photographed and written by other women, studios will be forced to cower in their shapely shadows and deliver what they demand.

The reality is that, yes, celebrity actresses are in a position to influence creative elements of the movies they attach themselves to. The reality, though, is also much more complicated.
 
In my experience, the opportunities offered women for anything other than eye candy are limited at best, and self-defeating at worst. If an actress wants a superior role, she often has to bring it to the table herself. So they create production companies in order to exercise more control over the material they get to star in. A step in the right direction, but there’s still lots of red tape to contend with.

For one thing, as any one who has every worked her way up in the industry knows, it takes years to earn the kind of clout necessary to be able to call your own shots (I’m still not there), let alone dictate what someone else should do with their money. A top-earning actress who has put in her time and worked her butt off to earn her place in movie hierarchy is understandably reluctant to flush that down the tubes, and her representation stands to gain more from making it seem that taking a pay cut for the sake of changing her image is more career suicide than career opportunity.

I heard a male agent once say that if the heroine of a script didn’t face higher stakes, he couldn’t see how someone would emotionally invest in her. OK, so the character is never chased to the edge of a cliff or anything, but plenty of successful movies exist with mediocre stakes.

Was anyone ever truly emotionally invested in whether Owen Wilson got it together in “Wedding Crashers”? It could be argued that the stakes of our movie were at least as high as learning to act like a grown man when you are one, so what gives?

Where that movie is held up as a standard for fresh, profitable comedic material in the industry, a similar story about women freaks everyone out.

 

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