Gwendoline Christie on Being Liberated by Playing Captain Phasma in ‘Star Wars’

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Since the second teaser trailer for Star Wars: The Force Awakens, out of all the characters new and well-beloved, fans have been particularly fascinated by the Stormtrooper Captain Phasma. Not least because, in an occurrence bordering on fantastical, a fictional woman in armour doesn’t have the fact that she has breasts pointed out by her attire. But Gwendoline Christie, who plays Phasma, has had the good fortune to portray another warrior for whom pulling off a battle bikini is nowhere near her list of concerns, as Brienne of Tarth in Game of Thrones. Speaking to Variety about her latest role, she shared some of the more personal links between inhabiting these two characters:

“I don’t think many female actors get the opportunity to play a part where they’re not having to think about the way their face looks, but I found exactly the same thing with Brienne of Tarth, and that was very liberating,” she said. “It was great as an actor to work on your skills—that it isn’t about holding your head so you look beautiful. It’s about what you’re transmitting, and to be in service of an idea greater than yourself, whether it’s the character’s overriding objective or, beyond that, hopefully something more sociopolitical.”  Referencing her role as Commander Lyme in The Hunger Games, she went on to say “We have seen an image of [Phasma] and again, it’s an unconventional kind of woman exhibiting a kind of strength, but in a very different way to my other two characters.”

It’s this which is essential as cinema moves forward in its representation of women. Having a ‘strong female character’ is all well and good, but when they’re just hyper-masculine rehashings packaged in legs and cleavage, it doesn’t count as empowerment, and it got boring a long time ago. It gets to the point where villains make up the majority of the female characters you can relate to. Heroines aren’t allowed to have flaws; at least the bad girls can be themselves. The recent backlash against this laziness is exactly why Furiosa and Phasma—though she is, strictly speaking, a villain—are exciting. We want more characters like these, who have individual strengths and are still vulnerable, so we can identify with them as people in the same way male audiences have been with male characters all this time. With Brienne, it was as simple as her being bullied about her looks and developing anxieties, but not letting them define her life or her successes, and becoming stronger for it.

On director J. J. Abrams’ orders, unlike the original Star Wars trilogy where David Prowse was in Vader’s suit while James Earl Jones provided the voice (and that serious mouth-breathing), Christie gave Phasma both her physical presence and voice while filming. And this will likely be essential to Phasma’s credibility, as Christie snapped up the task of presenting her in her entirety, for the sake of the character feeling whole on screen.

“It was very important to J. J. that I was there acting a part,” she said. “I found it to be a really interesting acting challenge, not just because of what I felt this character was representing—and it was just what I felt, and we talked about it a little bit, but it was never like a manifesto, ‘this is what it must be’—and it was exciting to me to have that weight of responsibility taken away, of having to be a certain way as a woman, to have to be mindful in a way that isn’t always useful. To have that stripped away was very liberating, and it meant that as an actor I had to focus on other things. I had to focus on what my body was communicating and what exactly my voice is communicating.

“It becomes about the way in which you hold your hand, the way in which you walk, where your weight lies and what you want that to mean, and I wanted to give the character identity. I thought it was interesting to make something about the character identifiably female in a non-superficial way, and I hope that comes across.”

The idea of such a high-profile character appearing to be androgynous, but still recognisably female, seems to tap into the reason why Phasma is so intriguing. Still, as ever, a few seem resistant to the idea of equal representation. But where one criticised Phasma’s armour by saying “Not to be sexist but” (yes, really) “it’s really hard to tell that’s female armour”, the Star Wars official Facebook page swiftly shut them down by saying “It’s armour. On a woman. It doesn’t have to look feminine.” Seeing such a direct response in support of the character’s appearance gives you hope for more in the future, and it was the same for Christie. “It was beautiful because it was informative, which is what we all need in order to tackle prejudice of any kind in our world…to be fed information,” she said. “That’s just my opinion, that education combats fear, and fear leads to prejudice—so if we all become more educated…our mainstream media continues to expand and show a more realistic representation of women and of men.”

With the December 18th release of Star Wars: The Force Awakens coming around at top speed, seeing this striking character on screen still can’t happen soon enough. And here’s to more female characters who are powerful not just for their strength, but their flaws and vulnerabilities too.

Words by Elisabeth O’Neill

Image: Disney, Lucasfilm

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A Girl and a Gun: a Review

‘All you need to make
a movie is a girl and a gun’ – Jean-Luc Godard

Last night I went to the opening of Calm Down, Dear, a feminist festival run by Camden People’s Theatre. Calm Down, Dear is in its third year and it’s easy to see why – one look at the incredible four-week line-up and you’ll be wondering how many shows it’s possible to see without neglecting your job and loved ones. From a drag show set in the aftermath of a Tehran uprising, to a battle scene and dance heavy exploration of female friendship and fantasy, there’s something for everyone who likes a bit of gender equality with their theatre.

The Camden People’s Theatre is a hidden gem and one I hadn’t discovered before. Disregarding the broad scope of its shows, the bar area is on the right side of kitsch (yes, mismatched armchairs; no, Cath Kidston) and the theatre itself is incredibly intimate, allowing you to feel very much a part of each performance. This is particularly useful in the play chosen to launch the festival, ‘A Girl and A Gun’.

‘A Girl and A Gun’ is Louise Orwin’s creation and she holds nothing back in involving the audience, forcing them to be complicit in her conclusions. In the small, dark room, Orwin (playing Her, the ‘heroine’ of the play, with an excellent southern accent and the ability to flip your emotions from one extreme to the next) constantly draws your attention back to the fact that we, the audience, are watching her. And she might like being watched. Or she might not. Either way, there is nothing she can do about it, because Her is the classic femme fatale and despite all indicators to the contrary – cherry red lips that spit cherry pips across the stage, a stomping pair of cowboy boots, a gun – she is completely passive and powerless. A beautiful doll, to be used and abused by both the plot and by Him.

Him is played by a different man each night, and the actor chosen goes onstage completely cold. He discovers his lines and stage directions for the very first time via autocue, which we can usually see on a projected screen behind him; and this autocue and his reaction to it add comedy to what is otherwise a surprisingly dark show. Together, Him (played on this occasion by Andrew Barton) and Her go through the motions of a classic action/western/noir film, exploring what it means to be a hero and a heroine in so many of the films we watch, and whether we’re as comfortable with that when watching live as we are with it on our screens. It also looks at the deeply entangled relationship between sex and violence in film, particularly in relation to Her. The layout of the stage is clever – while a centre projected screen shows us the autocue, projected screens either side of that show us what is happening on stage through a camera lens. We can see the action both live, and recorded, and compare how they make us feel.

This is particularly effective in a scene at the start of the show, when Her performs a dance facing the audience. It’s a scene we’ve seen before – David Lynch enjoys a strangely intimate dance scene, as does Quentin Tarentino, among others – and we laugh at the trope of the heroine ‘spontaneously’ breaking into a carefully-prepared, clearly rehearsed sexy dance. Later, she performs the dance a second time, but now facing Him. The camera is perfectly lined up so that we see it on the projected screen behind them at an angle which resembles movies we’ve all seen.  His head is partially visible, at the side of the shot, but she is the focus. Her body, her breasts, are the focus. As she dances, Orwin asks us to reconsider the scene; how voyeuristic, and disturbing, is it to watch Her perform for Him. Is she really performing for us? Are we complicit in the strangely degrading display of submission and desire?

Later, we watch Her die. She dies over and over again in different ways, each more ridiculous than the last (‘[She is blown to smithereens]’, the autocue reads). It’s immediately recognisable how often we’ve watched women like Her die. One final death, a headshot, is straight out of the Bond film Skyfall, when Bond girl Séverine is shot in the head and immediately forgotten. How disposable are the women we watch in films? After Her’s final death, she lies motionless on the floor, as Him walks towards centre stage and begins the next scene. The autocue reads ‘[She gets on her knees]. Him glances at her, but she lays still. He says his line. The autocue reads again, ‘[She gets on her knees]’. Her doesn’t get up. When she finally rises, she is visibly shaken, and we are unsure if what we’re watching is outside or inside the context of the play. She walks to the side of the stage with her back to the audience, drinks some water, re-arranges her dress. Fusses with her hair. Sips some more water. When she is composed, she comes forward to continue the scene. It’s only a few minutes long but is intensely uncomfortable for the audience as we realise that the heroine in films is so regularly abused and it never affects her – if she lives, that is – it only serves to spur Him into action (unless he’s the one who shot her). We may see her slapped by the hero in a fit of passion, but we don’t see her collecting herself afterwards, upset and wondering whether to leave. We don’t see her deal with the aftermath of sexual violence, or torture, or a terrible beating (in True Romance, the heroine is beaten near to death – in the next scene she appears in, about a day later, she is sitting on a sofa at the side of the road, “enjoying the sunrise and wonderful view of the LAX Airport runways”, as the script reads).  She is
always upbeat, always sexy, always loyal to Him no matter what danger he puts her in.

Quentin Tarentino, the writer of True Romance, bears the brunt of the criticism laid upon these tropes because he embraces them like no-one else does. The soundtrack of the play is heavily taken from his films, and the dialogue feels like it came straight from one of his scripts. I’m a big fan of Tarantino films (I know – they’re problematic in a vast array of ways and I do try to keep my mind critical, even as I’m enjoying another gruesome shoot-out or charismatic pimp) but my eyes have been opened to the absurdity of his monologues, expertly mocked by Orwin in this play, or the extent to which he mixes violence with sex. This too, is focused on in ‘Girl and a Gun’. In one scene, Him teaches Her to shoot; she holds it “tighter and tighter” against her body, almost climaxing as she pulls the trigger. In a later scene, Him tucks his gun into his belt, stroking it obscenely before placing it in Her’s mouth and asking her to describe it. Him and Her speak directly to the audience, asking us how we feel as we watch. Do we like watching? Does Her like us watching? Again, it asks us how to think about our involvement with films which portray male and female protagonists like this. Are we happy to watch without the protective screen between us? Do we think it’s so heroic and romantic when we can reach out and touch the woman with a gun in her mouth? Near the end, Him and Her take turns describing how it felt to be together. She uses language that we’ve heard before, comparing herself to an automaton, a schoolgirl, a slave, a doll. He talks about strangling her, smothering her, dominating her. He talks about feeling like a wealthy boss, an action hero, the star of the show. As he does, Her leaves. The autocue continues and we read her lines silently. She has left because she’s tired, it says.

We are all tired. It is time to put these tired ideas of hero and heroine, or Him and Her, aside and work towards something better. Louise Orwin knows that, and coaxes us to take responsibility, throwing off the passivity that we’re used to seeing in women on-screen.

Words by Jade Moulds

 

Catch ‘A Girl and A Gun’ by Louise Orwin at Calm Down, Dear festival of feminism, which takes place at Camden People’s Theatre between Wed 16 Sep – Sun 11 Oct. For more information, head to www.cptheatre.co.uk. Jade Moulds saw this on a complimentary ticket.

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Feminazi

 

On 7th September, Charlotte Proudman, a 27 year old human rights barrister specialising in violence against women and girls, received a message via LinkedIn.

“I appreciate that this is probably horrendously politically incorrect but that is a stunning picture. [… ] You definitely win the prize for the best LinkedIn picture I have ever seen.”

The message came from Alexander Carter-Silk, a 57 year old married partner at a law firm. Sick of being messaged in this way by senior males over the business networking website, Proudman replied:

“I find your message offensive. I am on LinkedIn for business purposes, not to be approached about my physical appearance or to be objectified by sexist men. The eroticisation of women’s physical appearance is a way of exercising power over women. It silences women’s professional attributes as their physical appearance becomes the subject.

Unacceptable and misogynistic behaviour. Think twice before sending another woman (half your age) such a sexist message.”

She took a screenshot of Carter-Silk’s message and her own, and Tweeted them, adding the caption: How many women @LinkedIn are contacted re physical appearance rather than prof skills? @Jessica_Asato @ObjectUpdate

That should have been the end of it. Carter-Silk’s behaviour was inappropriate (despite his claiming that he was referring to ‘the quality of the picture’ rather than Proudman as the subject of it, the fact he started his email with “I appreciate that this is probably horrendously politically incorrect” shows he was aware of his misbehaviour), sexist (would he send that message to a male colleague?) and one in a long line of similar messages (Proudman has stated she’s received these type of messages before). Being called out on it, and having it exposed on Twitter as an example of poor behaviour, is fair enough. He should have apologised to Proudman, learnt his lesson, and moved on.

But no. Because this is England, and we’re living in some mad, dystopian nightmare, where this makes Proudman a ‘Feminazi’.

Good old Sarah Vine, wife of Michael Gove and equally deplorable human being, was immediately splashed across  the Daily Mail’s front page with her headline, ‘A glam lawyer and the Feminazis who hate men who praise their looks.’

“What do you do if you’re an ambitious young barrister, hungry for success and impatient to get yourself noticed in the super-competitive field of law?

Well, you can knock on doors and fill in endless applications, beg favours, do pro-bono work, earn the respect of your peers and elders, build your reputation slowly but surely.

Or you can short-cut all that nonsense and generate your very own media storm.” said Vine, knowingly creating and fuelling the very media storm she was criticising.

“For hell hath no fury like the feminist mob in full cry. No doubt there will be calls for Mr Carter-Silk to lose his job. He’ll certainly have to issue some sort of grovelling apology, and his poor wife and family will be hounded.”

Poor Carter-Silk! White, middle-aged, wealthy men are always getting picked on.

“In fairness, he must bear some responsibility for the pickle he currently finds himself in. Because if he’d bothered to check Ms Proudman’s Twitter profile, he’d have known she might be trouble.

A fearless feminist is how she describes herself — ‘because rape, prostitution & pornography are problems of male dominance’.”

Well. What a terrible, terrible person Proudman is. Fighting rape, prostitution and pornography – she is clearly the villain in this tale.

The Daily Mail went on to publish a veritable smorgasbord of headlines about Proudman. Their second: ‘How the Feminazi lawyer ogles men online.’ Now, I’ve noticed a common problem across critics of feminists in that they’re completely incapable of understanding nuance. For example, the Daily Mail felt Proudman was hypocritical because on Facebook (a social networking site where you contact friends, not a business networking site where you contact colleagues), she posted comments on two male friends’ photos: “Hot stuff!” and “Ooh lalala!”

I have been known write things far, far more inappropriate on friends’ walls. Because they are friends. I’m certainly not stupid enough to message someone on LinkedIn with “Oi oi, saveloy! Are you going to stop being a twat and finally come out this weekend?” Because I understand the nuances of social behaviours; what is acceptable in one situation is unacceptable in another. Both Carter-Silk and the Daily Mail are unable to grasp this distinction.

The Daily Mail used the word ‘Feminazi’ in regards to Proudman again in a third story:

‘Feminazi’ barrister ‘reduced her own grandmother to tears with Facebook rant over her father leaving his estate to charity.’

Proudman’s grandmother died in 2014. They literally used her dead grandmother to write another insulting article about her, all because she complained on Twitter about a sexist comment.

The Daily Mail’s repeated use of the word ‘Feminazi’ is one which particularly riles me. I think the word is often used, as Proudman herself pointed out, to silence women. I also think it’s a way to dehumanise women and paint them as genuinely ‘evil’ for fighting gender inequality – this allows people to use violence and violent language against them more easily. Proudman has received numerous death and rape threats, the norm for women who speak out these days, and the Daily Mail has actually had the cheek to run a story decrying the abuse she has suffered and listing the many other examples of sexism she has experienced in her career: being asked to supply bikini shots in exchange for legal work experience and having her legs stroked by a senior colleague. How can they not see that they contribute to this environment of sexism and male violence? How can they equate speaking out against it with the killing of eleven million people?

Using the word ‘Feminazi’ is offensive, inaccurate and poor journalism. The paper’s glee in using the term also sharply contrasts with their discomfort whenever someone brings up the fact that they have been far more closely entwined with Nazism than any feminist I know.

Their values – those of vilifying and decrying anyone who doesn’t fit in with their ‘ideal’ reader; white, middle-class, Conservative, cis-gender, able-bodied, heterosexual and happily married – have more in common with Hitler’s than those of feminists. Feminists fight for equal rights and an end to violence against women. The Daily Mail fights for fewer rights and less compassion for immigrants, refugees, single mothers, the disabled and the poor.

It’s not just these hypocrites (see, Daily Mail, nuance! You’re a hypocrite for calling others Nazis while promoting Nazi values, while Proudman wasn’t a hypocrite for complimenting her male friends) who use the term ‘Feminazi’. Since its invention in the 90s, the word has been used as an insult whenever a woman has spoken out against sexist behaviour. It’s not only too strong a word, used to escalate her behaviour to the level of Goebbels, it also insults those affected by the Holocaust. It brings Mengele down to the level of Caitlin Moran. It brings Goering down to the level of Charlotte Proudman. It brings Nazism down to a level where one Tweet is equal to the deaths of millions.

Let’s stop using it.

Words by Jade Moulds

Sources: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Amandla Stenberg is Now Campaigning for Women of Colour Through Comics

As her next step in championing the empowerment of women of colour, Amandla Stenberg is co-writing NIOBE: She is Life, a comic book series starring half-elven, half-human warrior Niobe Ayutami.

With the help of Halle Berry and Garcelle Beauvais, NIOBE’s publisher Stranger Comics has released I Am Mixed along with others in their children’s book series I Am, which touches on topics like divorce and cultural differences. Now they want to bring Stenberg’s voice and experiences to a character that CEO Sebastian A. Jones has envisioned for over two decades, and whose spirit he sees in her: “a hero that has the weight of the world on her winged shoulders, a woman who will bind nations.”

And Stenberg was just as keen to write Niobe’s tale. “Her story is my story,” she told the Huffington Post. “She is on a path to a destiny that will test her faith and her will, something we can all relate to.” But regardless of this simple truth, there are precious few characters of colour taking centre stage in comics, and even fewer creators of colour having their stories told, uncompromised, through their characters.

“That is one of the reasons I started Stranger Comics and why I actively pursue a diverse range of creators,“ Jones said. “I may be mixed, but I am not a young, black, teenaged woman, so it would have been idiotic and morally insensitive of me to not team up with someone who could really engage with Niobe’s soul and state of being.” He also took on a black illustrator, Ashley A. Woods, for whom NIOBE is her first foray into professional comic art. “Niobe is Amandla,” she agreed, “and I am honored to see them grow together into someone quite special. Someone I can follow. A hero for our time.”

Issue #1 is due for release on November 4th, and while I’m getting hyped up imagining visuals in the vein of Saga and diverse gender-political romps à la Rat Queens, one thing seems certain. We’ve never seen a character quite like Niobe. And if the series needed a tagline to reflect the state of things now, Stenberg, as ever, is spot on: “We need more badass girls!”

Words by Elisabeth O’Neill

Source: [x]

Image: BWR PR

Trans Erasure in Hollywood Trailers Part II – Eddie Redmayne Portrays Trans Woman in ‘The Danish Girl’

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Our latest in what is becoming a series on Hollywood trans erasure comes courtesy of The King’s Speech director Tom Hooper, and his latest film The Danish Girl. The biopic tells of artist Einar Wegener, who underwent one of the first known gender reassignment surgeries from 1930-31, by then identifying as Lili Elbe. The pivotal role of a trans woman couldn’t possibly be ignored in this film as Marsha P. Johnson’s and Sylvia Rivera’s have been in Roland Emmerich’s Stonewall, but rather than having a trans actor portray Elbe, Hooper has also cast a cisgender man, namely Eddie Redmayne, in the lead role.

 

Transgender activists have criticised the casting, but Hooper’s defended his decision by insisting to Screen Daily “I was a great believer in [Redmayne] as an actor. I think also there’s a certain gender fluidity that I sensed in him, that I found intriguing and it led me to think he might be a really interesting person to cast in this role.”He also described seeing something in the actor that was “drawn to the feminine.” The film has suffered many setbacks, and there were always women cast as Elbe—with Charlize Theron being linked to the role and Nicole Kidman also set to produce at one point—previously to Hooper coming on board. But he seems of the opinion that casting a “feminine” man as a trans woman makes more sense than casting a woman, or someone who’s actually undergone the transition. Redmayne isn’t even unusual in his gender fluidity, something the actor’s agreed on by saying in an interview for Out magazine that “you see femininities and masculinities in everyone.” Hooper’s casting decision upholds the archaic idea of gender being predominately binary, and gives the impression of an insulting outlook on trans women; that they are still men, and just ‘acting out’ being a woman.

Redmayne himself has admitted that he knew very little about transgender issues until Hooper gave him the script for The Danish Girl in 2011, telling Out that he “knew nothing about it, going in” but felt “it was a piece about authenticity and love and the courage it takes to be yourself.” Though he was initially ignorant of gender and sexuality being independent of one another, he’s said “that’s one of the key things I want to hammer home to the world: You can be gay or straight, trans man or woman, and those two things are not necessarily aligned.” In the film, Elbe is in a love triangle with her wife, Gerda Wegener, and childhood friend Hans Axgil, played by Alicia Vikander and Matthias choenaerts, so there should at least be plenty of opportunity for Redmayne to display this through his role. He’s also been asking for guidance from trans women, including director Lana Wachowski, former Vogue model April Ashley, and writer and trans activist Paris Lees. Lees said that when she met with him, “I asked him what he thought of people criticising him for playing a trans woman. He said, ‘Look, I’ve just played a man in his 50s with motor neuron disease. I’m acting.’ I found that hard to argue with, and it really
helped with my thinking on the subject.”

Still, despite Lees reconsidering her standpoint, she has said “As a trans woman, I don’t think that if and when they make a biopic of my life I would want a cisgender man playing me.” There are those who say there’s no middle ground where trans issues presented by trans people can also reach the masses, but who is Caitlyn Jenner if not the proof this is untrue? And though anyone should be able to play anyone in the film industry, there’s still no getting around the fact that we will never reach that ideal without trans people first being cast as trans people in mainstream cinema.

Words by Elisabeth O’Neill

Sources: [x][x]

Image: Focus Features