In this podcast, Rachel Berryman and I discuss the representation of girlhood and teenagehood in the Netflix series 13 Reasons Why (2017). In particular, we discuss issues related to representations of girls’ relationships with social media and technology; how Hannah’s point of view is focalised through the prism of Clay’s emotions and perspective; and the critical response to the series – plus much more! We hope you enjoy it x
In this podcast, Dr Jodi McAlister and I discuss the Netflix series Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life (2016). We discuss in detail: the characters, the pop culture references, narrative development, the show’s triumphs and downfalls, and that ending. Let us know your thoughts on Facebook or Twitter! Also obviously: spoiler alert for those who haven’t watched the revival yet!
In this episode of the Teen Screen Feminism podcast, Emily Chandler and I discuss the representation of girls in horror films. Spoiler alert for the following films: Byzantium, The Craft, Ginger Snaps, When Animals Dream, the Carrie films, and Teeth.
CW: for discussions of rape and violence.
Download via iTunes for free: https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/halloween-special-monstrous/id1011011620?i=1000377345650&mt=2
Or listen here on the WordPress site:
In this podcast, Rachel Berryman and I discuss the many problems and pleasures of Outlander season two. Topics include: adaptation, the romance genre, and narrative; the female gaze and spectatorship; and the shifting construction of Jamie as an object of desire. We hope you enjoy it and thank you for listening!
CONTENT NOTE: This podcast includes a discussion of rape tropes and rape narratives in Outlander.
Download the podcast for free via iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/outlander-season-2-problems/id1011011620?i=1000372351497&mt=2
Or listen here on the WordPress site:
Follow Rachel Berryman on Twitter
In the latest Teen Screen Feminism podcast, I spoke with PhD candidate Emily Chandler about the representation of queer girls in popular media. We discussed some of the central tropes used to represent queer girls; queer subtext; resistant and transformative spectatorship practices; and some of the developments in representing queer girls in the media over the last few decades. Many thanks to wonderful Emily for her expertise and incredible insight into the topic!
Download via iTunes for free: https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/queer-girls-onscreen-conversation/id1011011620?i=1000371373128&mt=2
Or stream here on the WordPress site:
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Today Dr Jodi McAlister and I recorded a podcast about fan fiction, imagining alternative worlds, and what would happen if Aidan Turner and Sam Heughan made an amazing buddy cop movie together? Tune in for the fun, fandom, and slightly academic (if you squint) chat:
Download for free on iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/imagining-alternative-worlds/id1011011620?i=366268074&mt=2
Or listen right here on WordPress:
In this podcast, Carmel Cedro and I discuss the female gaze. Topics include: the difference between a male gaze and a female gaze; the importance of this gaze in popular cultural texts; the potential for a fluid female gaze; and the representation of sex, desire and eroticism in contemporary screen media. This podcast ended up being a double episode because we just had so much to discuss! We hope you enjoy it x
Download via iTunes for free: https://itunes.apple.com/au/podcast/female-gaze-podcast-discussion/id1011011620?i=360573766&mt=2
Or listen right here on WordPress:
Several months ago, I wrote a brief blog post on tumblr about the female gaze, and recent television series that allow that gaze to look at male bodies as objects of desire. I wrote about how this gaze is not necessarily the inverse of the male gaze, which is predicated on domination and reduction of the female figure, but rather exploratory, looking for a subjective position to take in relation to the male body. I wrote that how throughout history, media made about men, by men and for men has denied a place for women to hold a subjective, agentic gaze because it primarily caters to male agendas and desires. I noted that in instances where a female gaze is stitched into the structure of the text, the looked-at male characters do not suffer the kind of humiliation, passivisation or domination associated with the male gaze. Many women responded thoughtfully with some challenging questions and comments, and that was really wonderful.
Fast forward many, many months later. I started receiving notifications about this old post; comments from angry, self-proclaimed conservative men. I realised they would have had to scour tumblr for feminist tags in order to find my post – on Christmas Eve, of all days, which was sort of sad. They were angry for a few reasons: firstly, that my title was ‘Doctor’ and not ‘dumb bitch’ – they did not like my authority on this matter or that my field of expertise even existed; one man was angry that I was even allowed to continue to breathe.
It was a violent reaction to a woman claiming a space for her own erotic contemplation. They all started yelling ‘OP THINKS WOMEN SHOULD BE ABLE TO HARASS AND MOLEST MEN IN THE STREET! MISANDRIST!’ I was stunned. Nowhere in my piece had I suggested women should do this and of course I would never say this; in fact, my post was explicitly focused on cinematic visual conventions of representation (shot structures, editing, camerawork etc.). It interests me greatly that a discussion of the female gaze led these men to immediately jump to assume this is what I meant; is this because this is what they do with their own gaze? Is this the violence they want to do when they look at women? Is this why they assumed I would want to do this as well when I claimed an active position in relation to a desiring gaze? Women do not, will not, sexually harass or molest a man in the street, because we do not have the kind of structural power that would allow us to get away with that (you know, the kind of power that men have). Furthermore, we don’t see men as simple objects that we can manipulate and touch whenever we want. That would be the male gaze. The female gaze is something else entirely.
One poster asked ‘what the fuck do women know about “male gaze” and all that fucking rubbish you wrote? You aren’t a man. You have no fucking clue what men want or need.’ I know what it’s like to be terrified and ashamed as an eleven-year-old girl who gets catcalled by a car full of middle-aged men wagging their tongues and calling me a ‘pretty little slut.’ I know what it’s like to watch films and television shows where women are not only actively excluded from the subjective field but also treated like objects to be violated, fucked, and brutalised without a second thought. I know what it’s like to be terrified of male violence all day every day, being told that this is an overreaction, and then when something does happen, being told it was because I wasn’t careful or fearful enough. I know what it’s like to be a woman on the Internet who, when she writes about her own gaze, is sent threats and incessantly harassed. So yeah, I know the male gaze. I know it intimately. I live with it every day, just like every other woman. Our whole lives have been structured around catering to what men ‘need and want.’
These men also took issue with my argument that dominant media produces images of women that are pure objectification – I cited the paucity of speaking roles for women who are presented as objects for the male characters throughout film history. To this, Angry Men of Tumblr responded that in fact it is feminists who reduce these women to objects, that we don’t allow them to be more than to-be-looked-at spectacles. The statistics were ‘Made Up’. I’m unclear as to how feminists control the presentation of these female characters’ bodies, their stories or the amount of dialogue given to them.
But at the heart of it, I could see their incredible discomfort at the thought of women claiming a subjective desiring position that might shake the foundations of the conventional representations they get off to. That women might refuse to be simple objects for consumption, demanding a place in the scene of desire that is active and in control, demanding pleasure rather than being placidly pleasurable. I could see their fear at the thought of the gaze, that they have wielded with such authority, violence and entitlement, being turned back on them. They felt threatened. They felt like a thing they are ‘entitled’ to could be challenged or taken away from them – silent women, passive women, women who only desire when/what/how they are told to desire. We have a rise in media that is slowly shifting this representational field; furthermore, we have a lot of women actively discussing this shift in representation and what it means for their own structures of desire – they are blogging, tweeting, writing, speaking, fangirling about it. Women are getting louder about what they want, and how they want it; they are demanding more from the media they consume. And this is a threat to the dominant culture that wants to keep us quiet, uncritical and compliant.
About seven minutes into this magnificent film, Channing Tatum’s character, ‘Magic’ Mike, starts dancing to the song ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine. He’s in his workshop, sawing and melding while sparks fly out around his body, glittering across his exposed, greased-up, and obscenely muscular arms. Mike dances and grinds for several minutes, directly performing to the camera, before suggestively and languorously smiling at the spectator as he writhes and reclines on a table. It’s all very phallic and performative. My sister turns to me and exclaims ‘oh my god he’s so hot, I can’t handle it.’ This early scene sets the tone for the entire film – it is pure and often outrageous spectacle, performed to glorious excess. And this performance is gleefully engineered for the female gaze. It is a celebration of that gaze, its importance and its potential power. I spent the entire film grinning and laughing with absolute delight at its extreme pleasures, its nonsense, its intensity of affective engagement.
In another equally insane and spectacular sequence, Richie enters a gas station and breaks into a spontaneous performance. Cheetos hail down upon him (yes, really) and ice water streams down his body as he strips for a rather surprised female gas station attendant.
As you can probably tell from these brief summaries, this is not a film heavy on plot or about narrative action; rather, it is about the performative excess of male bodies presenting themselves for a variety of desiring gazes. These perfectly sculpted men, slicked with sweat and often covered in glitter, and clad in diamante-encrusted g-strings, present their bodies for masses of appreciative women in various settings (the expected strip clubs, but also women’s homes, the gas station, workshops etc.). Furthermore, they perform for all sorts of women – women of different shapes, ages, and colours – and we see this wonderful variety of women’s bodies experiencing pleasure, being thoughtfully attended to, and respected. I love this. It says: you don’t have to conform to this strict set of rules of ‘ideal’ femininity (i.e., white, slender, dressed in ultrafeminine accoutrements) in order to be granted permission to assume a desiring position. You can be whoever you are and our performance is for you and your pleasure, however you take it.
These women are referred to as ‘Queens’ throughout the film, and the characters constantly remind us of their aim to ‘worship’ women. Mike even exclaims, ‘yes, my god is a she!’ Ken advises one woman that ‘if [your husband] isn’t gonna worship you, there are plenty of guys out there who will.’ The men reiterate that women are to be ‘worshipped’ and ‘exalted.’ I 100% question this whole discourse of women needing to ‘be reminded how beautiful they are’ (direct quote) as some kind of magical antidote for dealing with living in a woman-hating culture, but in the moment of my viewing, I have to admit that found it refreshing. Perhaps this is because we are so overwhelmingly bombarded with messages about everything that is wrong with our bodies, what we must tame, manage, cover up, get rid of/supplement etc. in order to be ‘acceptable’ or ‘desirable’ or even worthy of simply being represented, acknowledged, and seen. Andre remarks that he thinks about how the women he performs for ‘have to deal with men in their lives who, every day, don’t listen to them. They don’t ask them what they want. All we gotta do is ask them what they want and when they tell you, it’s a beautiful thing, man. We’re like healers or something.’ These men take it upon themselves to listen to and then perform for women’s fantasy and pleasure. While the film calls us to light-heartedly laugh at this hyperbolic claim of being ‘healers,’ there is nevertheless a sense that this fantasy and spectacle at least temporarily alleviates the sense that we live in a culture that is actively disinterested in our desires and what we take pleasure in.
Furthermore, and very obviously, they present themselves for a desiring female gaze. The mise-en-scene and cinematography engineer the possibility of this gaze: hot pink spotlights shine on their figures, drawing attention to them; the framing is often in close-up or extreme close-up, encouraging a close intimate mode of looking; and the camerawork deploys a lot of panning shots back and forth across their figures, which I think promotes a caressing, tactile form of viewership. I also think it’s important to note that the film doesn’t really turn that gaze back on the women characters: there are no lingering, eroticising shots of women’s bodies. These are reserved solely for the ‘male entertainers.’ While the male characters certainly remark upon the attractiveness of some of the women they encounter, it is never really taken much further than that. Zoe, the character positioned as Mike’s potential love interest, is bisexual and ‘not really going through a guy phase.’ I was so pleased to see that the film did not try to recuperate her orientation for a heteronormative outcome by having her end up in Mike’s arms at the conclusion of the film; she certainly enjoys his obscenely erotic display in the final dance number of the film, but this is as far as it goes. This was so surprising and refreshing, because we usually see mainstream media either fetishising, chastising, or ‘redeeming’ women characters who do not conform to heteronormativity. Even more love for this excellent film as a result. This is a sublime work of visual excess that turns many sexist tropes of erotic display on their head to create something very pleasurable and very entertaining, and in many ways, very refreshing in terms of its sexual politics.
PS Channing Tatum is a cinnamon roll and I love him.
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