Women in Art: Part 2 — film roles

In our continuing series about Women in Art, we’re focusing on the roles women have taken in the art of film. Since time began, women’s roles in movies were almost always secondary — a love interest, the damsel in distress waiting to be rescued or slightly more interesting, the alluring femme fatale. Much like how women have been viewed in most of mankind’s history and culture of male dominance, women more often than not took the backseat even if they sometimes get to sit up front as a convenient passenger. Even today despite the advances in social justice, great roles for women are rare. But it is getting better; there are more women in movies, increased promotion of female stars and higher salaries. There’s even films produced, written and directed by women. That said, if Hollywood only supports already-approved versions of half-naked and gorgeous-faced females, then it’s not worth getting too excited about. More progress needs to be made and that can only come from a greater appreciation in the diversity of roles, stories and impressions we have of women.

Here, we’ll showcase a sample of films not just starring women but about women — roles that tell their stories, ones worth getting excited about and to be inspired by.

37 Seconds (Directed by Hikari)

I really enjoyed what Hikari (a female writer and director) does here with 37 Seconds — it’s got that feeling of a true story even if it isn’t one. But what is true, is that it stars a new actress who actually has cerebral palsy. Born disabled Yuma (Mei Kayama) is an unknown 23 year-old manga artist who’s trying to make sense of her life, her relationships and her sense of independence. A very fresh take on a coming of age story, Mei’s performance, because her physicality is real, gives the film weight. Her innocent wanderings against her mother’s watchful eye, feel both liberating and yet dangerous. The outside world is both exciting and cruel, especially so for someone in her condition. And the more Yuma explores the universe, the more joy and pain she suffers, but she can’t help but want more of it. She finds truth, both beautiful and ugly. I wish not to give any thing away here, but the film concludes in a fashion that surprises. It’s beyond mere sentiment — one is caught experiencing real courage and generosity that moves the heart in a deep and meaningful way. 37 Seconds is an inspiring film for anyone, but especially so for young woman.

Lost in Translation (Directed by Sofia Coppola)

Sofia Coppola’s gem Lost in Translation is a celebration of youthful wander and wonder. The story begins with a young newly married American Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) who moves to Tokyo with her photographer husband. There she finds herself completely alone, her partner far too busy to spend any time with here as his celebrity-driven career consumes him as it does many in his field. At the hotel-residence she’s staying she finds unexpected friendship in Bob (Bill Murray), an older American actor who’s in Japan shooting an ad for a whiskey company — this is common for past-their-prime Hollywood actors whose celebrity status enables them to secure an income and lifestyle they’ve been accustomed to. Charlotte’s character is both young and innocent, yet sad and lost. We can feel her moments of joy as our own, as well as her melancholy and loneliness. Complemented by Bill Murray’s restrained humour and grace, the two stars make wonderful visual music. Lost in Translation never fails to make me laugh or smile. There’s an exquisitely-controlled sense of the romantic; it’s fun, tender and strangely sincere despite operating in the surreal, neon-coloured atmosphere of Japanese nightlife.

Million Dollar Baby (Directed by Clint Eastwood)

What a film Million Dollar Baby is. A small story about a small town girl too poor, too lost, and too old to become anything in a world as cruel and lonely as the one she inhabits. She, of course, is Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank) a single 30 plus year old woman with literally nothing except a dream, to become a boxer. She searches out and finds herself in the boxing gym of Frankie Dunn (Clint Eastwood), a veteran Los Angeles boxing trainer who doesn’t really have much more than she does other than the reputation for being a great trainer. After much pleading Maggie coerces the reluctant Dunn to train her, and with the encouragement and help of Eddie Dupris (Morgan Freeman), a former contender who also hasn’t much except his friendship with Dunn, she becomes a world class contender. But the journey to stardom, as compelling as it is, isn’t nearly as powerful as what the journey does to these three characters. As a film, the direction is tight and genuinely emotional and both Eastwood and Freeman do amazing work in supporting roles but the real star is Hilary Swank who wins her second Oscar. Her portrayal is so sincere, so heartfelt, that it makes the ending almost unbearable. But years later, watching the Million Dollar Baby again, one realizes the real message of the film and it’s hidden optimism; Maggie’s story is actually a triumphant one. She was dealt a bad hand at the start and a bad hand at the end, but what she did in the middle — in that short time in a boxing gym — she lived her dream and became happier than she ever thought she could be. It’s a reminder that it’s not the hand you’re dealt that matters but how you play it and in so doing, transform your own life and the lives of those around you.

The Puzzle (Directed by Marc Turtletaub)

Kelly Macdonald is one of the most underrated, underused gems in the acting world. She’s always been a scene stealer — as the wild-underaged Diane in Danny Boyle’s electric indie film Trainspotting, the innocent hand maiden Mary in Robert Altman’s mystery drama Gosford Park, and the adorable Karla Jean in the Coen brothers’ masterpiece No Country for Old Men. In Marc Turtletaub’s Puzzle she finally gets a starring role and paired with the late Irrfan Khan, Macdonald shines big. She plays Agnes, a 40 year-old married mother of two whose life has become so routine, so boring and meaningless that she knows exactly what’s about to happen every minute of the day (she even predicts with perfect accuracy the seconds it takes for her husband to wake up to the alarm). Her life is one entirely devoted to caring for others. The opening birthday scene with it’s muted lighting and carefully subdued staging says it all — Agnes has no life. But during that same birthday party (which was her own) she receives on one hand, an iphone and on the other, which interests her more, a 1000 piece jig saw puzzle. As it turns out she’s a natural at this puzzle-solving business. Completely hooked, she decides one day to head to the big city to find the store where such “difficult” puzzles are sold. There she finds and responds to an ad for a “puzzle partner” for entering into contests. After meeting Robert (Khan) who’s the current national champion, she gradually awakes from her stupor and the two develop an understated care and love for each other as they continue to practice. But as the experience ignites the life inside her it also places her in direct conflict with her family. The message in the film is quiet but powerful: Puzzles may seem like only games for children but here it serves as a metaphor of our need to find order out of chaos, and sometimes the chains of tradition that many of us, and especially women, continue to be conditioned to accept is the very chaos we must free themselves from. Because at the end, the only order that matters is inner order.

Poetry (Directed by Lee Chang Dong)

I love the work of Lee Chang Dong. And in his poignant and subtly beautiful film Poetry, he takes us into old age. In Asia, many older women find themselves single, either as a widow or the old grandmother, who lingers on in society often as a caretaker to grandchildren whose parents are absent. In Poetry, 66 year-old Mija (Yoon Jeong‑hee) is stuck with raising her lazy grandson who may have taken part of an assault and murder of a young girl at his local high school. On top of the burden awareness of such a situation brings, Mija also begins to suffer Alzheimer’s disease. She was once a beautiful and chic women, and still dresses with elegance and good taste despite her poor financial outlook, and this brings added distress from judgemental neighbours in the small town of Busan. So here we have a single elderly women, diagnosed with a dreadful illness, financially struggling, and trying to save her grandson from going to jail. But Mija carries herself onward despite all that is happening and along her journey she ends up signing on for a poetry class. There she’s finds something inexplicable — herself. Despite being in such a depleted stage in her life she experiences beauty through art, through seeing. Poetry is surprisingly deep for such a small-scale movie with limited location set. But it’s a beautiful meditation on the living and dying that happens in an elderly woman’s life, a story that’s often left untold.

Overcoming Pessimism

Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry’s vision of the future is one of unity and hope. Is such thinking too utopian or actually something worth striving for?

“Every man takes the limits of his own field of vision for the limits of the world.” —  Arthur Schopenhauer, Philosopher

Fear is shadow, not substance. Unfortunately every man, woman or child out there is commonly living with fear, either consciously or unconsciously. Our consumption-based economy (and its accompanying marketing machine) practically relies on it. Real fear — whose root word is horror/danger — is based on our biological sense of physical fear, a genuine thing to be concerned about. When true danger present itself, such as an onrushing vehicle or a sudden flare up of fire, we act appropriately and immediately. This is healthy and normal. There’s no phobia or anxiety. What we’re talking about rather, is psychological fear, the anticipated attack on our well-being, our ideologies and our sense of security that frightens us, even though none of it may be real or will ever come to fruition. It’s the mind and its thoughts that terrorize us. We must be careful not to let it blanket us in darkness.

“There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” — Leonard Cohen, lyrics from the song Anthem

As practicing artists, we have more than our share of psychological fear. Both financial and social insecurity plague nearly everyone of us, almost regularly. Conflicted by the need to survive versus being true to ourselves, we’re always debating how much we must compromise our creativity and ethics in order to maintain security. We take the job/project that’s unappealing or morally questionable. We might also change our art or working methods to accommodate financial gain or even just to satisfy social relationships; going independent, in thought or practice, threatens the security of the being part of a tribe. We all want to belong whether we admit it or not.

Scene from Stanley Kubrick’s masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey. Are we still just monkeys with bigger brains and fancier tools?

Is it any wonder why most of us are so pessimistic? In a world absolutely consumed with materialism and almost fully preoccupied with the “me and the mine” (which entails continual competition with each other) it’s almost impossible to feel secure and confident as we move towards a fast changing and nearly unpredictable future. How will our skills hold up? Will the job or career we have currently be enough to weather the storm we know is coming given the near logarithmic growth in technology? As artificial intelligence, robotics and bio-engineering become a bigger and bigger part of our everyday lives, most of us, including our governments, have no reliable game plan to face what’s coming. This, of course, sits on top of the background of a world population approaching 8 billion people, record levels of global debt and a climate crisis.

“Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.” ― Soren Kierkegaard, Philosopher

Jean-Francois Millet’s art often captured the hard toil and labour that occupied much of normal peoples lives. But he also captured moments like this, where dignity and grace replace action.

So how do we adapt or live? Can we find the right job, skill or trick to overcome our discomfort and to calm our nerves? Most of us just accept or ignore our predicament by being preoccupied with menial tasks, labour and trivia. Others escape via entertainment, drugs/alcohol or any host of vices. Still others find slightly better means, such as religion, meditation, creative hobbies or sports. In truth, none of it has any sort of real sustaining power to overcome our anxieties. Because, to deny our fear is to make them stronger. And since we continue to endorse the existing systems, our fears will continue to exist or even magnify. This partly explains why we are so divisive; the harder we try to escape and build an ideology to deal with our fears, the more defensive we become. Anyone or any group who threatens our ideologies by disagreeing with us or present facts we don’t want to hear, makes us angry and hateful. This is terribly destructive for the creative soul and terrible for humanity.

“Our longing to transcend death inflames violence toward each other.” ― Sheldon Solomon, The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life

Personally, I suspect the only way to deal with our fears is to stare them down. Just by seeing them, as clearly as we can, observing the reality of it with as little prejudice as possible opens up our minds and frees us. For this to be possible of course, requires absolute humility, the kind of intellectual humility and moral courage that says “I don’t know” or that “I might be wrong.” It’s okay to not know. Since the future is undecided, it means also that there are decisions to be made. And we can’t wait for someone to save us. History has shown the dangers of wishing for the demigod. In fact, wishful thinking, biased towards one’s already conditioned belief system, is at the root of all ideologies. We have to make up our own minds.

“Reality thinking cannot operate without concurrent and supporting fantasies.” — Susan Isaacs, Psychoanalyst

Ultimately the answer to our difficulties comes down to how each one of us thinks and acts individually. We know that hate and fear can spread virally, but so can goodness. Quantum physics is already proving that the world is one gigantic unified field and that local reality is false; in other words, we are all connected and it’s near impossible for us to individually see the complete truth. Therefore its likely too presumptuous to say that man is guaranteed to destroy ourselves and this planet. That very well may happen. The trend doesn’t look good. But trends change. I believe the moment we give up and begin to show hopelessness or indifference to our plight and the plight of others, we increase the odds of failure. Man divided magnifies violence. The history books are filled with tales of oppressors who have exploited fear in the populace. Divide and conquer is an age old war tactic. Hence, we must resist the stickiness of fear’s web of deceit.

There must be faith. We know this when we make our art. As soon as we lose belief in our efforts, the moment we fail to care, then honest effort gives way to lethargy; we fail to plan, don’t bother to practice and execute with no discipline or energy. Everything starts with that first step and every moment is a first step. We know this to be true, and if it’s true with our work, its likely true for everything else we do. Hence we must persist in our resistance to doom and gloom pessimism. Our psychological well-being requires it. A mindset of failure guarantees failure. Never let fearful thoughts weigh on the heart. That’s when it gets to be too hard and too painful to bear. We’re all fragile souls and we need to protect our souls. When the mind is too full of itself with its fears, strategies, and logic — there’s no space for it to operate properly and we lose the ability to see with clarity. In art and animation, we know that it’s the space between shapes, the space between moments of action, that give our work sense and meaning, making it beautiful. Otherwise it’s just a big o’ mess. The mind, too, requires the same kind of well-balanced hospitable environment. Over-rationalizations prevent us from giving our brains a chance to move freely. A mind frozen in its hubris can never see the difference between truth and illusion no matter how hard it looks.

“There is no one more logical than the lunatic, more concerned with the minutia of cause and effect. Mad men are the greatest reasoners we know, and that trait is one of the accompaniments of their doing. All the vital processes are shrunken into the mind.” — Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death