There are No True Knights: Brienne of Tarth

There are true knights, Sansa Stark thinks, as she flees from the Hound. All the stories can’t be lies.

And Sansa might be right. She has one true knight searching for her, on the old story quest to rescue the fair maid and return her to her family. Brienne of Tarth is the only living character who values honor above all else, who is determined to keep all her vows, who respects life and wants to protect the weak.

She is also, of course, an unattractive woman, despised and mocked by almost everyone she encounters. She is not technically a knight. She has all the inner qualities of the storybook hero and none of the external qualities, in a world where appearances and superficialities are all that seem to count. She is a woman who does not seem to fit anywhere in her world.

The Manic Pixie Dreamgirl

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about “Mary Sue” and how it’s become a problematic, catch-all term for any female character who seems “too good.”

But in the last year, I’ve seen another term going around to describe and dismiss female characters: Manic Pixie Dreamgirl.

The Manic Pixie Dreamgirl, like the Mary Sue, had a genuine critical origin. The term was originally used to describe zany, freespirited female characters who exist solely to teach the depressed, overworked male protagonist how to see the brighter side of life. (Feminist Frequency goes into more depth here).

I say originally, because the term has mutated to the point that it is used even if a female character is well-developed and the center of her own story. It’s used to immediately dismiss any female character who is not completely mature and sensible, who is a bit hipster and unconventional, who has a sense of fun, as “not good enough.”

A Song of Ice and Fire: misogynistic or feminist?

Every now and again, new articles appear criticizing George RR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire for being misogynistic. Sometimes, these articles raise valid, thought-provoking points. More often, however, they criticize the series because its women are often powerless, because they are often abused, and because the world they live in does not value them or their opinion. Westeros is a misogynistic society, and therefore, they conclude, the text itself is also misogynistic.

In my opinion, this analysis is seriously misguided. A series is not misogynistic simply because it presents and explores a highly misogynistic world. Far from it. In fact, although it has its issues, I would argue that A Song of Ice and Fire is a mostly feminist text, featuring fascinating, dynamic female characters in a variety of situations. The fact that these girls and women live in a deeply misogynistic world only adds to the realism of their struggles and ultimately  to the strength of their achievements.

A Look Back at HBO’s Girls

Lena Dunham’s freshman show Girls finished its first season on Sunday. Despite all the drama that’s been going around about it, I thought it was a good show. Not a great show, but a good one.

Great shows, in my opinion, allow you to sympathize with characters and find a connection with them, even if they or their life situations are completely different from your own. As a good show, Girls allowed me to connect and sympathize with characters because, at many points in the show, their lives reminded me of my own.

People have criticized Girls for attempting to be the “voice of our generation.” I don’t think it’s a voice of any generation, and neither do I think Lena Dunham intended it to be so. She told a story that reflected her own experiences as a young twenty-something wannabe artist, and something about that voice resonated with me, whether I’d like to admit it or not. Girls presents a cynical, painful look at life in New York as a recent college graduate, dealing with friends and relationships and insecurities and career ambitions that never quite work out. It’s not a particularly flattering portrayal, and it does not provoke laughs, despite being labelled a “comedy,” but its bleak episodes present one form of the post-college life in an unflinchingly real way.

The protagonist, Hannah, often comes off as arrogant or selfish, but this unintentional attitude covers up the fact that she is deeply, paralysingly insecure. She hates herself more than anybody else could hate her, and she worries constantly that her writing is insignificant, that she is going to be a failure, and that she deserves nothing else. She has a broken, needy relationship with a boy who initially does not seem to respect her, a fraying relationship with her best friend Marnie, and has bounced from unpaid internship to unpaid internship before finding a not-so-fulfilling job in a coffee shop. She’s definitely not always likeable, but she feels so real, in a painful, I’m-not-sure-I-want-to-look kind of way.

Her best friend Marnie, meanwhile, is determined to be grown up and sophisticated, for everything to fall into its neat little place, and cannot cope when it doesn’t. Despite everything being exactly as she would like at the beginning of the show, she’s deeply dissatisfied, although not fully ready to admit it. Finally, their friend Shoshanna suffers from total word-vomit, is completely neurotic and anxious, and finally gets pissed at the end of the season that no-one seems to respect her or take her seriously. I love her character, because it’s a far more realistic look at the “comedy ditzy girl,” where she is shy and insecure and socially awkward, to the point of often being unbearable, but she’s still a person with goals and desires who feels crippled by her own insecurity.

There’s also Jessa, a “free-spirit” adventuring type, but her story was the only one that didn’t feel authentic to me. Perhaps her character is realistic to other people, but unlike the others, I have never met anyone quite so selfish and ungrounded and impetuous as she is, so her plotline (and particularly the way it ended) didn’t resonate with me.

I don’t think that Girls is a show that you can either “get” or “not get,” or that it’s hipster-cool to like it, or that everyone should enjoy this admittedly uncomfortable and bleak show. I also don’t think it’s a perfect show; far from it. But despite the fact that every character is unlikeable on some level, I see elements of them and their lives all around me, and I am looking forward to that exploration continuing next season.

Call the Character Police! We’ve got a Mary Sue.

Sometimes, it seems like the worst mistake a female character can make is being too darn good.

She’s not allowed to be weak (goodness, no!), but she’s not allowed to be too strong either. She must wear her imperfections on her sleeve, and be criticized for them, or else she risks earning that most dreaded of labels: Mary Sue.

Once upon a time, Mary Sue was a fanfiction term for an original character who was a wish-fulfilment stand-in for the author. Mary Sue transfers to Hogwarts, is sorted in Gryffindor, becomes the new Seeker, is smarter than Hermione, funnier than the twins, braver than Harry and adored by every male character in the school, from Draco to Snape. She has purple eyes and color-changing hair, and nobody can ever fault her, except perhaps for being annoyingly perfect.

Now the term “Mary Sue” is used to describe female characters in mainstream fiction, when the viewer or reader thinks they don’t have enough flaws, or that their flaws are not commented upon enough. It’s used when a female character appears to be little more than a wish-fulfilment stand-in for (more rarely) the writer or (more commonly) the female viewer. And the comparison to a fanfiction Sue isn’t always unjustified. I’d argue that Twilight‘s Bella Swan fits the description of a classic Mary Sue (albeit an annoying, unlikeable one), because she is little more than a cipher through which the reader can fall in love with Edward Cullen. But once the words “Mary Sue” have been uttered, all productive conversation is shut down. It says that the character is not worth talking about, not worth analyzing, because she’s somehow incomplete. Subpar. She’s not a character but a projection of female fantasy, and therefore innately, indisputably bad. Any character who falls into this category might be somewhat one-dimensional, lacking the depth and flaws needed for a really compelling character, but the term goes beyond that, throwing on implications of worthlessness (at best) and a kind of superior disgust at girlish dreams and ambitions (at worst). Because “Mary Sue” only refers to female characters.

There is a male version — Marty Stu — but it’s rarely ever used. A quick google search brought up 45,000,000 hits for Mary Sue and 2,450,000 for Marty Stu. The “male Mary Sue” isn’t really a common criticism, because male wish fulfilment characters are considered perfectly acceptable, even desirable, additions to a story. They’re the center of many popular franchises. Think James Bond. Indiana Jones. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. Bruce Wayne. Tony Stark. If any of these characters were female, they’d be torn apart as Mary Sues, because they are far more unrealistic constructions than any female character I’ve ever seen given that label. They have adventures, save the day, while all the beautiful women fall at their genius billionaire and/or sexy rebel feet. But god forbid a woman have the same fantasy. God forbid a female character be anything but flawed.

And even though I hear the term “Mary Sue” all the time, I don’t think I’ve ever seen or read about a female James Bond, or a female Indiana Jones, or a female Bruce Wayne. At least not in adult fiction. The idea is almost inconceivable, because female characters are already despised and dismissed for far more realistic flaws, like being too well-liked, too successful or too favored by the narrative. So the Doctor in Doctor Who swans around saving the universe and being loved by everyone he meets, but Rose Tyler is a Mary Sue because the Doctor falls in love with her. No medieval knight is called a Marty Stu, but Alanna in Tamora Pierce’s Tortall series is dismissed because she fights gender conventions to become one. Harry Potter is the youngest seeker in 100 years, not to mention the Chosen One, but Ginny Weasley is a Sue because she’s also talented at Quidditch, has a talent for a particular hex and eventually married her childhood crush. Any time a female character becomes important in the narrative, or loved by an idolized male character, or seems to lack humility and sweetness, someone will disparage her as a Mary Sue. And it creates a painful mixed message about the kind of female characters the world wants to see. They can’t be weak and silly and unimportant, but they can’t be too strong, too important, too appealing as role models and heroes to female viewers. They must remain in a safe, unthreatening middle ground.

Dragon Age 2

A few weeks ago, I posted a rather gushing review about the Bioware game Dragon Age: Origins. Since then, I’ve completed its much maligned younger sibling, Dragon Age 2.

The verdict? An enjoyable game, and worth picking if you like fantasy adventures that are inclusive to female players, and where women actually get to play a significant role. But is it as good as the original? No. Not by a long shot.

Snow White and the Huntsman

Snow White and the Huntsman is a visually stunning film. Watching it is like delving into a sumptuous feast in a dark fantasy land.

Shame that, like the apple that Snow White bites, its glossy sheen covers a rotten core. It is all shine and no substance. The music swells, the colors burst, but beneath, the plot is incoherent, the characters unconvincing, and the emotions flat and lifeless.

The movie is brimming with potential. Snow White, for example, should be an interesting and compelling character. She’s beautiful, kindhearted and loving, as Snow White always is, and she’s as physically weak as you would expect an imprisoned waif to be. But she’s also proactive. Determined. Brave. Resourceful. When the Huntsman teaches her how to defend herself, he acknowledge her small size and lack of strength and teaches her moves that might actually work. As far as convincing, bad-ass princesses go, she ticks all the boxes. A strong female character without being a Strong Female Character (TM). Unfortunately, she’s also just plain bland. She looks pretty good as the silent figure, but as soon as she communicates with anyone else, she loses all appeal. Her lines are unconvincing and emotionless. She’s supposed to unite people against the Queen, but she couldn’t realistically inspire anyone if her life depended on it. She’s not boring so much as a bit of a non-entity.

Towards the end, the movie seems to realize this, and throws all of the previous praiseworthy attempts to develop a realistic character aside in favor of the Warrior Princess. Despite being a prisoner for her whole life, Snow White suddenly knows battle strategy, can run in mail with sword and shield in hand, and can handle her sword in a melee. She’s received no training between one scene where she was taught how to strike fast with a dagger, but suddenly, she is a master of battle. Having an actually convincing character didn’t work for the film, so they resorted to kickassness to try and add drama to the finale.

It doesn’t work.

On the other hand, we have the Queen. Again, the groundwork for a great and interesting character is all there. Her motivations are semi-clear. She hates men, because she believes that all men use women and then discard them when their beauty fades. She steals the youth and beauty of others, because she realizes that these are the only powers a woman can possess — powers that are inevitably stolen by time. The movie had a lot to explore here, but in the end, it only paid lip-service to these ideas. The Queen mentions, every now and again, the importance of beauty. But she’s also a melodramatic, pantomime villain. Her character not only lacks pathos but is also simply unbelievable to me. I never once thought she might be a real person, with real struggles and goals. I never even quite understood why she wanted to take the kingdom in the first place.

The lack of convincing characters is what really destroys the film. It’s difficult to follow what’s going on. It’s almost impossible to feel any investment in the characters or their struggles, and so the movie lacks tension and drama as well as heart. There’s some attempt at a love triangle, but after finishing the film, I’m not even sure what it was, who liked who, or how it ended. After two hours of gorgeous visuals, I just feel… nothing.

The promotional stuff for this movie made it seem incredibly promising. An action-packed, dark fantasy version of Snow White! With the perspective of both the princess and the queen! Not to mention a potential romance with that yummy actor who played Thor. But in the end, the film fails to deliver.

Why The Little Mermaid is a Kickass Feminist Movie

When I was younger, The Little Mermaid was my favourite movie. I’d sing Part of Your World at the top of my lungs and try to flip my hair out of the bathwater like Ariel emerging from the sea. I loved playing with my Ariel doll, wanted to dress up as Ariel for Halloween, and was generally obsessed like only a 5 year old girl can be.

So when I got older and began to hear people argue that The Little Mermaid was anti-feminist, I was more than a little upset. The movie is criticized, again and again and again, for being a “love story” about a girl who gives up everything to be with a man who she’s never even spoken to. I heard this argument over over, and my just-getting-into-feminism teenage self started to believe it. I started to distance myself from my love of this movie and its protagonist, because it wasn’t what I was “supposed” to like.

Nonsense, right?

I didn’t (and don’t) love The Little Mermaid as some kind of epic love story. I didn’t long to be a princess who married a handsome prince and lived happily ever after. People who dismiss the movie as an anti-feminist love story are missing important elements of Ariel’s character, her story and her life. The key one, for me? Ariel doesn’t long for romance. Ariel longs to experience a different world.

So here are my top 6 reasons why Ariel is a feminist heroine.

The Problem with Strong Female Characters (TM)

If someone wrote a story about my life, I would not be a Strong Female Character.

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t have any problems with my personality. I’m well-educated, hardworking and ambitious. But I’m also sensitive, a bit of a drama queen, shy, and a total Disney fangirl, and if I were a character on a TV show, I would probably be criticized for being too feminine, for embodying too many negative female stereotypes. For not being Strong with a capital S.

The Strong Female Character has become another way for writers to avoid developing realistic women in their stories, relying instead on tropes and shallow stereotypes wrapped up in the guise of girlpower!feminism. Worse, it’s become a way for readers and viewers to comfortably dismiss flawed or feminine characters as “weak,” while holding onto their not-sexist card by praising the stereotypically masculine (but not too masculine) behavior of the Strong Female Character.

Are “Most Women Stupid” in Game of Thrones: The Prince of Winterfell?

In last week’s Game of Thrones, Arya told Tywin Lannister that “most girls are stupid.” When we heard that line, were we supposed to think, “This is why Arya is awesome”? After watching The Prince of Winterfell, I can’t help but think that the answer is “yes.” While the books series presents a huge range of dynamic and well-developed female characters, the show writers seem determined to edit the story so that all stereotypically feminine women seem weak and worthy of disdain. Girls, like Arya, who fight to throw off femininity and become “one of the boys,” are the only ones who are really strong or worthy of respect.

Although some of the show’s changes to the story have been positive and potentially even improve on the novel, many edits in the last few episodes have reduced the series’ selection of varied, challenging female characters into cliches and walking confirmation of the idea that “most women suck.”