Showing posts with label Sexism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sexism. Show all posts

Monday, January 23, 2012

Movie Review: The Iron Lady

Meryl Streep stars as British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, with Jim Broadbent as her husband Denis and Olivia Colman as her devoted if much less ambitious daughter Carol (I was really happy that this role went to Colman, who is great as Sophie Chapman in the existential British sitcom “Peep Show,” and she also appeared in an episode of “The Office (U.K.)” as a reporter who interviews and photographs a just-fired David Brent.) The film is structured as a day in the life of the present-day Thatcher as she battles the onset of a dementia that features hallucinations of her now-dead husband that lead into flashbacks into her own life story. By the end of the movie she finally breaks through to reality again and packs up all of his clothes for donation to Oxfam.

Thatcher is portrayed as someone who just never, ever gets discouraged and who has zero patience for those who do. No wonder: she is always the lone woman in a roomful of skeptical men and learns from an early age that she has to fight hard for their respect. She is shown adoring her grocer father, who was active in Conservative Party politics in their constituency of Grantham and who strongly encouraged his daughter’s political instincts. Her mother is portrayed as a frightened non-entity. The teenaged Margaret Roberts is laughed at by the other girls because she has to work in her dad’s shop and because she is so serious. When she meets husband-to-be Denis Thatcher at a gathering of local Conservative bigwigs he is attracted to her because she acts like it never occurs to her that she cannot or should not hold her own talking politics with the men. The film shows Denis getting frustrated with her ambition only once; otherwise he is a typical political spouse: supportive, encouraging, a confidant, and close adviser. (Whether he ever has a job of his own, and if so, what it is, is left out of the story completely.) Their relationship is shown to be one of mutual respect and tenderness.


Another important male booster in Thatcher’s life is a fellow Conservative MP in the party leadership who convinces her to run for party leader and gets her to change her style a bit in ways that are apparently successful. After launching Thatcher’s rise but before she becomes Prime Minister he is killed by an IRA car bomb, which provides some context for her no-compromise-with-terrorists-or-Argentinian-juntas resolve. (Nice detail: in a private meeting with her advisers about the Falklands she pronounces “junta” with a hard j; I’m not sure if that was a typical British lack of effort with foreign words, ignorance on Thatcher’s part (very unlikely), or simply her way of indicating disdain.)

Her political views are covered a bit, but not extensively. The Conservative program is portrayed in the best possible light: Hard work should pay off for the yeoman shopkeeper. Of course she can make that theme work because that was in fact her background, and she does chafe against the more high-born men of the Conservative Party. But the harsh austerity policies she enacted after she became Prime Minister in 1979 aren’t really covered in great depth. The Labour side of things is represented via chaotic documentary footage of the Brixton riots and the raging from the Opposition in the Commons, which of course just looks like a roomful of angry men yelling at a woman.

Thatcher is never shown to waver and is always the most forceful and in-command person in the room. The male courtiers surrounding her are often shown to be callow and weak, too ready to compromise. There is a key scene during the most intense part of the Falklands War where she has to decide whether or not to sink an Argentine cruiser. The military men say yes, the political men say no. She takes a moment, sets her jaw, and firmly says, “Sink it.”

I suppose the movie qualifies as a hagiography because Thatcher is really never shown to make a public misstep of any kind. In 1990 she is deposed by her own lieutenants. The film posits that this is because in a post-Cold-War world, her imperious management style has run its course and begins to border on the abusive.

“The Iron Lady” is by no means an historical document, but it is a compelling more-or-less true story of a woman who overcomes sexism to rise to perhaps the third most powerful office in the world, an office she uses to utterly transform the British welfare state and, along the way, authoritatively direct a relatively splendid little war. It is also an affecting love story and a sensitive portrayal of the toll that aging takes on even the most competent person. A good video rental; not at all necessary to see it on the big screen.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

What's It Like To Be a White Male? Nice and Quiet.

Ed Yong at Not Exactly Rocket Science highlights a new study about what happens when women feel like men are checking out their bodies:
As [researcher Tamar] Saguy explains, "When a woman believes that a man is focusing on her body, she narrows her presence... by spending less time talking." There are a few possible reasons for this. Saguy suspects that objectification prompts women to align their behaviour with what's expected of them - silent things devoid of other interesting traits. Treat someone like an object, and they'll behave like one. Alternatively, worries about their appearance might simply distract them from the task at hand.
At a recent dinner party an acquaintance of mine, an African-American woman, wondered aloud what it would be like to be a white man. I thought about it for a bit and suggested that with no one's eyes on her, no one following her around, noticing her, staring at her, talking to her uninvited, judging her appearance, it would probably feel like she was floating in a sensory deprivation tank: quiet, calm, easy to think.

Thanks to Carrie Snell for the pointer.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

I Think I Get it Now

I have enjoyed reading the varied discussions around the internets on the new Dove ads -- the ones with supposedly real-sized women standing in their underwear to sell some thigh cream or other.

One of them, not sure which one, mentioned that if you see a man who is posed in an advertisement in the same way that women often are, it looks pretty silly.

I'm kind of new to this subject, but I gather that this is because women are frequently posed in ads as sex objects, and backing up the ad is patriarchy, i.e. the fact that most people believe that this is the way women ought to look. Meanwhile, men are rarely if ever posed in ads as sex objects, and even if they are, (almost) no one thinks that this is really the way men ought to look.

And I got that concept in a sort of vague sense, recalling the Jay Leno joke (from long ago) about looking at a Playgirl magazine photo spread and understanding what Playboy might look like to women: "Here's Bob, working on his car...nude! Watch out for that hot exhaust manifold, Bob!"

But it wasn't until I saw this street ad from Nautica that I really got it:

Mid-way through the donning of his pants, the man pauses for a moment, distracted by something...

When my male friend and I saw this ad on the street near Fenway Park the other day, we mocked it immediately, speaking in a fake English accent as if we were the guy in the ad: "Oh dear! My pants have fallen to my knees! Whatever am I to do?" etc. But then we went on our merry way, certain that no one, least of all ourselves, would expect us to ever look like that guy. I believe this is what is known as male privilege.

So...how about a photo caption contest? What is the guy in this ad thinking right now?

Here's my entry:

"Here I am on the beach, pulling up my pants, hope no one sees me. Wait a second now -- did I forget to turn off the stove?"
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