1
Ainât about the (uh) Cha-Ching, Cha-Ching
Framing the New Feminist Cinema
Going Outside
From the set of Selma (2014), Ava DuVernay gave Manohla Dargis a powerful insight into the real struggle and practice of contemporary feminist cinema. âItâs not really all about moneyâ, she said, but âabout allowing our imaginations â and giving ourselves permission â to go outsideâ.1 âGo[ing] outsideâ, whether speaking from the Selma courthouse or a blog post, may be the pre-eminent trend in feminist film this century, describing its ambition, reach and outspokenness. In the introduction, Elsa and Anna, Kathleen Hanna, Shannen Koostachin and Angela Y. Davis are all pictured âgo[ing] outsideâ, representing both the new global feminist politics and feminist filmmakersâ engagement therewith.
Permission may not arise from film funding, but the ways in which money is framed (as opposed to money itself) remain a key determinant of âaccess to the means of inscribing oneâs vision and having it reckoned with as important in any wayâ, as Sarah Brouillette phrases it.2 It matters that Selma has passed the $50 million mark at the US box office, and that Women and Hollywood exists to report it, because of the incalculable potential social effects of that reportage.3 Facts and figures on gender in film have been emerging with regularity and urgency since Kathryn Bigelow became the first woman to win Best Director at the Academy Awards and then the BAFTAs in 2010, galvanizing attention to the shameful statistics on unequal participation across the industry.
Martha Lauzenâs work with the Center for the Study of Women in Television and Film, Stacy L. Smithâs work with the MDSC Initiative at the Annenberg Center and See Jane (a programme started and promoted by Geena Davis), the European Womenâs AudioÂvisual Network and many more bodies and individuals are recording and reporting the numbers. This labour-intensive work is generally limited to the top 100 grossing films. While understandable, such a cap doesnât account for the full range of participation of women in the industry, and continues to allow monetary value and the mainstream to define success.
Fig. 5: Ava DuVernay directing a crowd scene in Selma.
Frozen has made $1.3 billion worldwide, the eighth highest-grossing film of all time (as of August 2015), and the only film in the top 50 with a female (co) director, but those figures have had vanishingly little transformative effect.4 As Bruce Handy concludes his analysis of the dramatic success of films with female protagonists at the US box office in 2013, âaccording to math, the studios appear to be leaving money on the table, one sin theyâve rarely if ever been accused ofâ.5 âAinât about the (uh) cha-ching, cha-chingâ, as the a cappella group sing in Pitch Perfect (Jason Moore, 2012, from a screenplay by Kay Cannon), covering Jessie Jâs âPrice Tagâ. Pitch Perfect grossed nearly ten times its medium budget worldwide, its ensemble comedy cuing singalong events and a female-helmed sequel (Elizabeth Banks, 2015), the highest-grossing musical comedy ever, driven by fan culture. Both the box office and fandom are important â yet have done little to challenge the entrenched sexism and racism revealed through the leaked Sony emails in December 2014, as analysed by Lexi Alexander.6
Stacy L. Smith has demonstrated that women may be moving towards parity in US independent cinema, but not the studio system.7 Melissa Silverstein quotes her succinct observation that, âas U.S. studio money comes in, females are pushed outâ.8 In independent and alternative cinemas, representation is more equal, often due to an intersectional commitment from funders and programmers. Danis Goulet observes that, âWithin Indigenous cinema, women are a serious force to be reckoned with⊠approximately 37% of the [imagineNATIVEâs] festival submissions had come from women in [2012], and 62% of official selections were made with Indigenous women in a key creative positionâ.9 Systemic intersectional exclusion expresses itself through economies of scale, so that the higher budget accorded a film, the less likely it is to have a filmmaker or protagonist who is not, in Grayson Perryâs resonant term, a âDefault Manâ.10
The production narrative of Selma offers a keen reflection of systemic exclusion and its tenuous connection to balance sheets. Despite being a prestige biopic of a national hero, a favoured awards genre, the filmâs greenlight depended on star David Oyelowo, who brought not only director DuVernay on board (having worked on her Sundance-winning, self-distributed feature Middle of Nowhere [2012]), but also producer Oprah Winfrey, with whom he had been cast in The Butler (Lee Daniels, 2013). As he told Gary Younge:
Oyelowoâs story bespeaks the complexity of a contemporary media landscape that cannot be summed up in statistics, in which Winfreyâs anomalous position, as a hugely successful African American woman in US media, both does and does not counterbalance the persistence of systemic inequality. For a full picture of feminist cinema, we need to go outside the conventional narratives of film history and reportage.
Believing in Plenty
Like statistics, newsworthy âfirstsâ such as DuVernayâs Golden Globe and Academy Award nominations, are both a telling and delimiting way of reporting on feminist film in the twenty-first century. Firsts, such as Jennifer Lee being the first female co-director of a Disney animation feature, often tokenize, obscuring rather than illuminating the coherent and continuous history of innovation and activism by female-identified filmmakers. We need to link all the âfirstsâ together into an alternate film history. Leeâs current success might remind us that, in the 1920s, Lotte Reiniger pioneered silhouette animation, which, she noted, contained âfeminine and masculine elements that play into each otherâs handsâ.12
Reinigerâs impish account is included in Antonia Lant and Ingrid Perizâs collection Red Velvet Seat: Womenâs Writing on the First Fifty Years of Cinema, which brings together innovating filmmakers such as Maya Deren, Germaine Dulac and Alice Guy-BlachĂ© with early film theorists such as the poet H.D. (Hilda Doolittle). With her ex-husband and girlfriend, H.D. founded Close-Up, Britainâs first serious film magazine, and made the experimental mixed-race bisexual romantic drama Borderline (Kenneth Macpherson, 1930). Lant and Perizâs project is part of an ongoing initiative that begins with archival detective work and critical analysis in the 1970s, such as Claire Johnstonâs The Work of Dorothy Arzner: Towards a Feminist Cinema.13 This essential recovery work informed and intertwined with the feminist counter-cinema called for by Laura Mulvey in her 1975 article âVisual Pleasure and Narrative Cinemaâ, and which she practised in her own films.14
Almost two decades later, Hollywood noticed, marking 1993 as âYear of the Womanâ at the Academy Awards, after the success of Thelma and Louise (Ridley Scott, 1991, from a screenplay by Callie Khouri), The Piano (Jane Campion, 1993) and Orlando (Sally Potter, 1992). The subsequent blossoming of global feminist cinemas, as described in the introduction, makes it possible to respond to statistics on the mainstream by ârejecting models of scarcity, believing in plentyâ, as poet Jill McDonough responds to VIDAâs depressing figures on women in literary publishing.15 The committed coverage of blogs such as Women and Hollywood, African Women in Cinema and Wellywood Woman (and the online camaraderie of their authors Melissa Silverstein, Beti Ellerson and Marian Evans),16 as well as journals such as the short-lived Joanâs Digest and hopefully long-lived clĂ©o: a journal of film and feminism,17 further enables my refutation of scarcity.
At the same time, as the editors of Celluloid Ceiling: Women Film Directors Breaking Through observe, for many cisfemale and trans*, intersex and non-binary filmmakers worldwide, access is dependent on economic privilege (often linked to ethnic, class, caste, abled, cis, straight and/or educational privilege), a prior career as a performer (often connected to socially-constructed perceptions of physical beauty), and also to family networks.18 Additionally, there remains a willed ignorance and determined erasure of history.
Clio Barnardâs docudrama The Arbor (2010), like many contemporary feminist films, highlights the swiftness of this erasure, seeking out both personal and professional memories of the comet-like career of playwright Andrea Dunbar. Within our dual transitional phase of digital multi-platforming and global austerity, there are both ever more reasons for films and filmmakers to fall through the cracks, and ever-more inventive guerrilla distribution strategies to prevent further erasure. British feminist distributor Cinenova, formed following the merger of Circles and Cinema of Women, has set up a pay-what-you-can digital cinematheque at the Showroom Gallery in London, to ensure that some viewers can access rarities, from Tracey Moffattâs documentary on Aboriginal Australian feminists, Moodejit Yorgas (Solid Women, 1990) to Bev Zalcock and Sara Chambersâ lo-fi sci-fi âSpace Dog Assassinâ (1998).19
Feminist film scholarship has been critical in maintaining an awareness of inaccessible films, rather than seeking to institute a canon. Patricia White notes that she was wary of producing an âupdated, cosmopolitan edition of what Andrew Sarris notoriously called the âladies auxiliaryâ to his pantheon of great directors [which] could be considered fundamentally at odds with feminist work on authorshipâ.20 Authorship, like box office success, is a...