Go, Susan, Go!

Ok, I haven't seen this flick yet, and I'll admit I wanted to see it before even reading any reviews. But Slate's review today pretty much cemented my excitement. DreamWork's Monsters vs. Aliens looks like a tremendous amount of fun. Why did the Slate article catch my eye over the NYT?

An excerpt from the first paragraph:

"Not to let any unnecessary ideology creep into a review of a fun animated movie, but let's get this out of the way up front: Monsters vs. Aliens (DreamWorks Animation) is a film for children with a female lead. She is not the love interest, or the helpmate, or the mom. Nor is she a princess, or princesslike. She does not marry a prince or a prince-manqué. She does not marry at all. She tries to get married, but she is struck by a meteor on her wedding day (typical!), which transforms her into an unmarriageable, world-saving, 49-foot-11-inch superfreak and—thank you, O bountiful movie gods—a Strong Female Protagonist. (Or, as my more skeptical viewing companion put it, "a strong female protagonist who just happens to be ultra-skinny with big boobs and a pneumatic butt, and who sometimes wears a catsuit." Touché.)"

So, not only are there animated monsters and aliens, but a strong female lead! I'm ready to buy some popcorn. (I suppose it's worth noting that Princess Fiona in the Shrek movies is equally capable of kicking butt, though, she also has the sparkly "princess" title attached.)

Ewww.

A literal vagina dentata.




I squirmed all the way through the trailer, and haven't found much other information on the film other than a short review on IMDB describing it as a "gore-comedy" and claiming "If you appreciate cult, camp, or horror with a feminist edge, this is for you!"

Note the lead character's surname. O'Keefe. Hehe.

Until I see this (if I can bring myself to see it, so creepy! Oh yeah: release date is May '08), I'm not really sure what else I can say. Too little to go on. (Though: I bet that OB/GYN scene wouldn't have been the same if it was a female doctor she was seeing-- can only work w/ a dude.)

On a semi-related note, check out Rapex, an anti-rape female condom moving into production
in South Africa. How does it work? Well, it's like a tampon. Insert it in the vagina, and the plastic hollow tube has detachable barbs that lash onto any offending objects entering. The creator, Sonette Ehlers, calls it a "medieval device for a medieval deed." Yikes.

Sorry Jerry, you shouldn't have a stinger.

Interesting article on the NYT today, discussing the realities of life in the hive. Poor Jerry's bee seems to be a bit confused. Male bees don't have stingers (only female worker bees do). Aside from the fact that Seinfeld couldn't star in a female-driven movie, I wonder why they opted to make such a drastic change. Even then, couldn't it have worked w/ a male drone bee? Aside from fertilizing eggs, it's not like they do much around the hive. They still could have had a slacker bee character yearning for more.

Where's our Harriet Potter?

My mother works at a library upstate. We talk frequently about books we've read, books we like, books we want to read. I was talking with her on the phone tonight, and she mentioned a conversation she had w/ a co-worker. When thinking of children's books with strong female characters, especially action-oriented books, it was tough to come up with a list. This is coming from LIBRARIANS, so if they're stumped, I don't know what it says about the state of publishing and the heroine.

Plenty of books had girls as protagonists, but most were set in inward-facing roles, coming of age stories, or humorous stories of day to day life/growing up. Lois Lowry's Anastasia books, Ellen Conford's Jenny Archer series, Megan McDonald's Judy Moody are all great. Believe me, I loved them! But where's the girl's equivlant of Harry Potter? (Hermoine- we love you. But you're a straight-laced goody goody. Who do we turn to when we want to manage some mischief?)

Lyra Silvertongue of the "His Dark Materials" trilogy is definitely our answer there. (Besides her, I can only come up with Harriet the Spy, The Blue Sword's Harry [a girl, thank you], and the indefatigable Sammy Keyes. Please please, add to this list.) She's intelligent, courageous, and incredibly quick-witted. Sure, she doesn't have a He Who Must Not Be Named to take on, but she makes do. Her antagonist? Just Metatron and a bunch of rebel angels.

One of the best additions to literature in the past decade, The Golden Compass, the first in author Phillip Pullman's trilogy, is coming to theatres this winter. If you liked Harry Potter, give Lyra a shot. She won't disappoint.


PS: The book is teaming with religious metaphor and philosophy, questioning the differences between personal spirituality and organized religion. Through the course of the trilogy, Lyra comes to symbolize a lot more than a plucky girl from Oxford. While appropriate for a YA audience, the book has plenty to chew on for adults, in a meatier way than a certain boy wizard. If that's not a ringing endorsement, let me put it this way: I willingly read it on a long car trip, knowing I was setting myself up for nausea and a splitting headache. Just couldn't put it down.

RIT's Women's Film Project

Stumbled across RIT's Women's Film Project today while web surfing. I know a lot of other sites list important contributions to cinema made by women, but this list also allows you to rate the titles and add comments. I was delighted to learn that two of my earliest influences (National Velvet, 1944, and The Black Stallion, 1979) both had scripts written by women.

If you have a few moments, check out the list and rate some films. (In the interests of both disclosure and scholastic pride, I'm happy to note that the site is run by one of my former professors, Naomi Orwin.)

And while searching for a good pic for this post, I found this fascinating essay about Elizabeth Taylor and her character in National Velvet. Watching the movie as young as I was, I probably missed all of the mother/daughter themes mentioned. I definitely noticed and celebrated the challenges it presented to various gender roles-- only my height (and lack of actual horse) killed my burgeoning dream to be a jockey.