That was not exactly my first article. This was:
Sex Sells?
Tabloids littered with yet another scandal about a footballer and a prostitute, teen movies showing boys indulging perversely in ‘warm apple pies’ and various female ‘heroines’ prancing around in their underwear…Sound familiar?
Sex has been used to entice us since advertising began. From the first ‘American Pie’ film, to the giant billboard of David Beckham in his underwear covering Selfridges, these marketing ploys are guaranteed to get us talking.
But I want to touch on that formidable word…Feminism. What with sex being used willy-nilly to grab our attention, where are we women expected to find a suitable role model? I hear you groan. However, it seems to me that there is a growing trend of contemporary ‘feminist’ films on the market. Perhaps the movement is changing and its no longer sex as gratuitous nudity, desire and teenage angst that sells, but more a call for strong and influential role models of either sex that we are looking for.
‘The Full Monty’, arguably the most risqué film of the 90’s, can show us some strong feminist themes. The tragic unemployed steel workers in Sheffield: stripped of their masculinity in losing their labouring jobs, they are forced to take off their clothes to entertain women. For centuries stripping has been a female profession, and yet these men are given no choice but to humiliate themselves for the gratification of women. Tragic, but does it leave us with a sense of empowerment that men are finally being exploited in the way women have had to be?
Women love a chick flick, a romcom: gutsy woman meets wealthy eligible, but often rude, man. They squabble; they make up (and perhaps make love) and live happily ever after. ‘When Harry Met Sally’, ‘The Holiday’, ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’, the list is endless. The genre can be traced back to Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. And yet feminist critics have argued time and time again: why did Lizzie marry Darcy? He was a self-righteous, arrogant imbecile, she was plucky and intelligent and unimpressed by his attitude. But she took one look at his enormous estate, and accepted his marriage proposal. Yes it’s a happy ending, yes we probably would marry Colin Firth with his floppy hair, wet shirt and large country estate, but why has this prompted so much debate? Where is our perfect feminist?
Sex and the City, perhaps the ultimate chick flick, would appear to supply us with a whole host of suitable feminist candidates. Carrie Bradshaw, the successful and independent journalist? Samantha Jones, PR whizz and sexual connoisseur? Miranda Hobbes, Law partner and single mother? And Charlotte York. Perhaps not her. Essentially these women are obsessed with sex, shoes and finding the perfect man. Not really the epitome of feminist ideals, or the role model I’m looking for.
Gemma Arterton plays a young journalist in her latest role for ‘Tamara Drewe’ (based on Hardy’s ‘Far From the Madding Crowd’) and yet the recurring theme in each review of the film is how sexy Arterton looks in her tiny denim hot pants. How can we search for our feminist when the neither the director, the stylist or the critics allow us to take these characters seriously?
Directors such as Nigel Cole in both his new film ‘Made in Dagenham’ (about a bunch of Essex factory girls in the 60’s demanding equal pay to men) and ‘Calendar Girls’ (the middle-aged Yorkshire women getting their baps out for a charity WI calendar) are beginning to prove that there is a new demand for films about sex. But not the sex we are used to, more an affirmation of our own sex: an identity to relate to, and an individuality to aspire to.
Remains unpublished....
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