Female-led film franchises are few and far between, especially in the traditionally masculine genres of science fiction and fantasy. There are, of course, exceptions to this ‘rule’ which I shall discuss in a moment – but, firstly, I would like to point out that I am not implying that so-called ‘boy’s genres’ – science fiction, horror, fantasy, thrillers, etc – and ‘girls’ genres – ‘chick flicks,’ romantic comedies, soap operas, love stories – are anything more than social constructions that replicate the gender politics that continue to pollute the socio-cultural landscape in significant ways. Despite the litany of post-feminist discourses that permeate the cultural sphere with the tenuous claims that equality has now been achieved and women can ‘have it all,’ there remains large-scale inequality in popular culture and, by extension, society at large. 
Film, television and other cultural forms remain gendered spaces that are bifurcated into male and female pockets.But upon closer inspection, these binary distinctions do not hold weight and collapse altogether when scrutinized. Traditionally masculine spaces, such as the San-Diego Comic-Con, are now attended by many women who engage in Cos-Play and wear their fandom on their sleeves – quite literally in some cases. Moreover, the annual Girl Geek Con gives female fans a space of their own to demonstrate their passion for so-called geek-related culture. A recent article featured in the UK broadsheet newspaper, The Guardian, ran with the headline, ‘The Rise of the Female Geek.’ I hesitate to say that this represents a significant shift, but more that women feel that they can now experience and explore spaces hitherto closed off from them. Historically, perhaps, female fans have always existed, but have been deterred from crossing the ostensible gender boundaries that remain an intrinsic feature of the cultural landscape? Are we witnessing a sea-change here? And does popular culture somehow reflect these shifts?
The Hunger Games or ‘How to Overthrow the Government’
Based on a trilogy of YA (young adult) novels, The Hunger Games features a female protagonist who not only challenges the male-dominated sphere of science fiction and fantasy, but, within the diegesis itself, represents rebellion and revolution on a grand scale. Katniss Everdeen acts as the catalyst that fosters an alliance of the working classes who unite beneath the Mockingjay symbol in order to overthrow the patriarchal order who force participants from each district to fight to the death in an annual-event – the titular Hunger Games – as penance for a previous uprising. From this perspective, The Hunger Games trilogy is political manifesto disguised as a multi-million dollar franchise.
What is interesting in the way in which Katniss Everdeen has been interpreted in the mainstream media as a feminist character. By struggling against the status quo – that is, capitalist and patriarchal – Everdeen’s biology is often put forth as evidence of a feminist agenda. Yet the problem with this viewpoint is that Everdeen does not fight for women’s rights: she fights for everyone. Katniss Everdeen is the Proletariat and, as such, can be read as both Feminist and Marxist which challenges the contemporary ideology. She is a metonym for the 99% – the working classes, whether man, woman or child – and serves as an ideological symbol to unite the exploited, disenfranchised and oppressed people of District 12 (Panem). The message of the story is that ‘there are many more of us than there are of you’ and by coalescing into a faction, the 1% – or bourgeoisie, to use Marxist terminology – which stand at the apex of the economic pyramid, do not stand a chance. As Marx himself put it, the inequalities inherent within the capitalist mode of production will facilitate an uprising when the Proletariat recognizes h/er subjugation and unites to challenge the status quo. ‘What the bourgeoisie therefore produces above all,’ writes Marx, ‘are its own gravediggers.’ In The Hunger Games trilogy, Katniss Everdeen becomes such a gravedigger.
Katniss is one of the most complex characters in popular fiction, at least in recent years, and straddles a fulcrum of femininity and masculinity – she exists in both pockets and thus deconstructs the socially-constructed gender binary. She is, to borrow the words of Alan Sinfield, a ‘faultline’ that destabilises both myth – à la Barthes – and common-sense perceptions – ideologies that have become ‘naturalised’ in discourse.
In an early scene, for example, she is represented as maternal as she ‘mothers’ her sister which dovetails with stereotypical representations of the female figure as ‘nurturer.’ There is, of course, nothing intrinsically wrong about women as maternal – gender is both biological and societal. But to represent women as only mothers is incredibly problematic and succeeds in replicating gender stereotypes that exist – and persist – in contemporary culture and society. Following the scene where she acts as mother to her sister, Katniss takes to the outlying woodlands where we see her line up her bow and arrow to shoot a deer for food. Although she is interrupted by Dale, her male counterpart and friend, we can see Katniss as both hunter and gatherer or, perhaps more pointedly, mother and father. She is an ideological faultine that subverts gender normativity and problematises a succinct separation into binary camps. Moreover, in The Hunger Games, the traditional role of woman as ‘damsel-in-distress’ is subverted and it is her male companion from District 12, Peeta, who requires rescuing.
Of course, themes of resistance in film franchises are not brand-new per se. The Matrix trilogy deals with similar issues and can also be read as a Marxist critique of capitalism, ideology and alienation. The 1970s sci-fi thriller, Rollerball, explores subjugation and resistance to the status quo. Duncan Jones’ Moon is a metaphor for class alienation and oppression. More recently, Neill Blomkamp’s Elysium acts as a thinly-veiled metaphor for the Occupy Wall Street generation and the inequities and inequalities implicit within capitalism and the (unequal) distribution of wealth. All these ideological battles, however, are fought primarily by men. In The Matrix, for example, Neo is ‘The One,’ a patriarch of the resistance. The fact that Katniss Everdeen is both woman and ‘The One’ in The Hunger Games trilogy is a potently charged political statement and one which is very welcome indeed. By operating within a traditionally masculine narrative and generic space while also telling a story about working class resistance to elite rule, the franchise challenges the ‘rules’ in significant ways.
(To Be Continued).
In another fine blog post, David Bordwell contrasts two kinds of 1990s action scene, one apparently representative of James Bond films and the other of Hong Kong—in this case, Jackie Chan—films. As always, this entry pushes us to appreciate the art of filmmaking in new ways, asking us to consider the skill in Chan’s action scenes and the lack thereof in Bond’s.
But, as a Bond lover, I feel obligated to offer an objection or two, and to attempt to counter Bordwell’s analysis with one of my own. The point of engaging in this action-scene debate is not to argue that 1990s Bond trumps 1990s Hong Kong action. All I aim to show is how a defense of the artistry of Bond-style action might go—to defend an aspect of Bond that critics other than Bordwell now rather hastily caricature.
The premise of Bordwell’s analysis is that the action scene he’s selected from Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) is ho-hum and unclear in terms of the action depicted. I don’t have space to contest the first claim, but this much can be shown: the scene is perfectly clear, even efficient, in its action and storytelling.
The action appears unclear only if the scene is viewed in an acoustic vacuum. And that is not the assumption of the filmmakers. Sound is as much a part of their storytelling and action-sequence toolbox as cutting and staging. Here, director Roger Spottiswoode and his sound editors, Peter Bond and Peter Baldock, use sound efficiently to replace what would have been superfluous matter on the visual track. When the first security guard tackles Bond on the catwalk and chokes him on the edge, Bond retaliates with one slug…
… and then another.
A close-up shows that Bond is shocked that his nemesis hasn’t succumbed.
Still in the same shot, Bond winds up—we hear Brosnan’s voice ggrrmmm as he builds up strength—
…and he punches the henchman for a third time. Cut to the guard, who, as he lets go of Bond, is sent for a spin and drops below the frame.
Bordwell seems to suggest that when this happens, we lose our bearings on the action, because we don’t see the guard fall to the floor and roll out of sight. But we do hear him. The smack of the guard crumbling onto the catwalk is carefully cued just as he drops below the frame. This, combined with a shot of Bond looking down at his defeated opponent (with the second guard leaping into the scene from behind), confirms for us that henchman number one is down and out.
So, no real doubt remains about whether he’ll make a comeback.
This scene is a tidy example of efficiency of staging, editing and sound design in action cinema. French auteur Robert Bresson once shocked cinephiles by lauding the 1981 Bond film, For Your Eyes Only, as an example of le cinématographe. For Bresson, le cinématographe is a form of writing with the medium of film that is antithetical to the theatrical arts from which filmmakers tend to borrow, like staging. Bresson, an advocate of stylistic restraint, argued that if cinema is to distinguish itself as a unique art form, it must govern its theatrical excesses. One way to do this is to use the soundtrack to its full potential. He famously wrote in his 1975 book, Notes sur le cinématographe:
One does not create by adding, but by taking away.
Also:
The eye (in general) superficial, the ear profound and inventive. A locomotive’s whistle imprints in us a whole railroad station.
Finally:
When a sound can replace an image, cut the image or neutralize it. The ear goes more toward the within, the eye towards the outer.
Perhaps Bresson would have appreciated the visual economy on display in Roger Spottiswoode’s handling of action. The Tomorrow Never Dies director showed only what he needed to show, and where he could, he astutely replaced the visual depiction of an action—the guard hitting the floor—with a sound effect, thus trusting that the viewer would “complete” the action in her mind. He cleverly omitted a shot that, in retrospect, seems utterly unnecessary to create a clear sense of the ongoing action.
Not all action directors adhere to the school of thought that says that stimulating action consists of widely framed displays of virtuosic gymnastics. For some, tight, intense framings and strategically timed sound cues are more important.
For them, less is more.
It’s well known by film industry professionals and scholars that domestic box office numbers are over-emphasized by the news media. Although the winners and losers of the previous weekend’s horserace are widely reported by websites, newspapers, and evening newscasts, domestic box office numbers represent only a fraction of the total revenue generated by a film. The promise of money from foreign markets, home video, and television sales has no doubt comforted many producers and executives who have seen their films underperform in American theaters.
At the same time, at least one recent release reminds us not to underestimate the importance of the North American box office. Two weeks ago, Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time opened below industry predictions, its box office numbers recalling Sahara or Hidalgo rather than The Mummy, Indiana Jones, or Pirates of the Caribbean. However, Prince has performed quite well internationally, with $97.7 million in its first two weeks overseas (and $156 million overall) vs. $59 million from its first two weeks in North America.
Based on a popular video game series, Prince of Persia was clearly intended to kick-start a new action franchise. Yet it will likely end up as another franchise film that fails to inspire sequels despite comparatively strong international numbers, joining films like Van Helsing, Eragon, Constantine, and most notoriously, The Golden Compass. (As well as, most likely, Jumper, The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor, and Terminator: Salvation.) Meanwhile, films like The Blind Side, Paul Blart: Mall Cop, and Julie & Julia are considered hits despite little interest from international audiences.
So, do Hollywood executives have a cultural bias toward domestic audiences? This might be true of the American news media – after reporting the disappointing domestic box office of films like Troy, The Matrix Revolutions, and The Last Samurai, does your local TV news follow up weeks later with news of their extraordinary success internationally? But with the film industry, the explanation, as usual, is financial. The cost of producing, marketing, and distributing a franchise blockbuster is so tremendous that a film must perform well both domestically and internationally in order to be considered a hit. Even if audiences across the globe would eagerly welcome a sequel to The Golden Compass, the indifference of North American audiences to the original film sealed the franchise’s fate. And, of course, poor theatrical performance translates into poor ancillary sales: box office bombs are worth less to television (if they are not presold), and only rarely is a theatrical disappointment resurrected as a video hit.
The international box office does not break a film’s fortunes the way the domestic box office can because films that perform poorly overseas are usually comedian comedies (shockingly, the entire world is not as enchanted with Will Farrell and Eddie Murphy as American audiences) or other films with limited international appeal (films aimed at African-Americans tend to perform poorly abroad, for instance – Lionsgate does not even bother releasing Tyler Perry’s films internationally.) Studios recognize that these films appeal primarily to Americans, and keep their budgets suitably low (another reason why the costly comedies Land of the Lost and Little Nicky were such egregious missteps.) They also limit their distribution abroad; whereas Clash of the Titans plays on 10,000 foreign screens, The Bounty Hunter shows on only 2,700 in roughly the same number of territories. In this way studios can still generate some foreign revenue from comedies without springing for the promotional and distribution barrage associated with blockbusters.
The recent domestic box office slump has led some alarmist journalists to claim that audiences are sick of sequels and franchise films. This seems hasty, but it does underscore the crucial role of the domestic box office to the industry, even in the age of ancillaries and “global Hollywood.”
Summit Entertainment seems to be shifting its marketing strategy for The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, the third film in what is arguably the first major film franchise targeted to teen girls and adult women – it is comparable to other recent large-scale media franchises such as Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Harry Potter. The fledgling Summit has been staking new territory since it decided to develop the female-oriented book series into a full-blown media franchise. While fans have been eagerly awaiting the release of the third film in the series (scheduled for June 30), the official full-length trailer for Eclipse (released on April 23), suggests Summit may be clinging too tightly to the well-established formulas of male-targeted franchises to change the way the industry thinks of media texts that appeal to girls and women.
The first two films in the Twilight Saga, Twilight and New Moon, did extremely well at the box office, due in no small part to the dedicated female fans of the book series. Twilight (released in November 2008) earned $35 million in its opening day, earned $70 million in its first weekend sales, and set a record for a female director. Despite its financial success, Twilight received mostly poor reviews. For example, USA Today reported that Twilight had “questionable casting, wooden acting, laughable dialogue, and truly awful makeup.”
For the franchise’s second film, New Moon, Summit replaced Twilight’s director Catherine Hardwicke (Lords of Dogtown, Thirteen) with Chris Weitz (American Pie, About a Boy), and upped the second film’s production budget to court the male demographic with CGI werewolves. Released in November 2009, the midnight ticket sales from The Twilight Saga: New Moon ($26.3 million) broke the record set by Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince and unseated Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, former record holder of the third biggest opening ever. Unfortunately, New Moon’s reviews were no better than Twilight’s: Roger Ebert argued that it “takes the tepid achievement of ‘Twilight’ (2008), guts it, and leaves if for undead.” The film neglected to draw a male audience as well: 80% of New Moon’s audience was female, a higher percentage than Twilight’s audience. Women loved it; men clearly did not.
One would think Summit would be pleased with their box office returns, despite the lack of critical acclaim the Saga’s films have received, because their success has helped to establish the production studio. But Summit’s desire to draw a larger male audience signals a discrepancy in the way Hollywood values male and female moviegoers. This discrepancy seems odd given that the elements that the mostly female fans love about Twilight share much in common with crucial elements of other film franchises (e.g., Star Wars, Lord of the Rings) that are so beloved by their mostly male audiences: “impossible romance, epic battles that transcend generations, silly costumes, and growing up superpowered.”
So despite the fact that Summit has broken records at the box office and has the opportunity to mark new territory by developing a major female-oriented franchise, it brought on David Slade, director of the 2007 vampire film 30 Days of Night, to direct Eclipse, the Saga’s third film. Summit’s President of Production, Erik Feig, revealed Summit’s perception of the series’ third novel when he described it as a “muscular, rich, vivid book.” The Eclipse novel does takes a turn to the dark side of the supernatural, but what Summit seems to have missed is that Eclipse is such an important book for fans because it deepens the love triangle between Bella Swan, Edward Cullen, and Jacob Black (and spawned fans’ identification as either “Team Edward” or “Team Jacob”). Given this, we felt disappointed when we saw the official Eclipse trailer, which focuses predominantly on a subplot from the book (a fleet of hungry “newborn” vampires come to Forks to destroy Bella Swan and the Cullen coven) and largely passes over the drama of Bella Swan’s need to choose either Edward or Jacob. It seems Summit is doing its best to frame the films, based on a Young Adult romance series, as violent and dark in an effort to make them boyfriend-friendly. What Summit fails to see is that by courting male audiences, they are devaluing Twilight’s devoted female fans and missing an incredible opportunity to develop the terms for future female franchises.
There’s just over a month left for Summit to further demonstrate how they want to frame Eclipse. The principal cast’s appearance on Oprah last week was an important nod to female fans—but we’re curious to see how the publicity for the film plays out. We’d love to be pleasantly surprised.