Gloria Steinem’s written up a piece criticizing the use of the ‘chick flick’ label, arguing that its role is an exclusionary one, if not also derogatory. Basically, it’s a blanket term used to dismiss a great many films (similar to, if on a greater level, than the currently vogue ‘torture porn’ label). It’s a weighted term that purports to say something about the films it describes, but mostly says something, accurate or not, about their audience, consequently doing more to preemptively reduce the works’ potential audience than other genre labels. Which is all a fine point, and but one example of the many so-called genres that do more to remove films from the public eye than expose them. But as Daniel Dennet once said, “there’s nothing I like less than bad arguments for a view that I hold dear.”
. . . to the Young Man on the Plane from Los Angeles to Seattle Who Said of the Movie That Most Passengers—Male and Female—Voted to Watch, “I don’t watch chick flicks!”
So what exactly is a “chick flick?” I think you and I could probably agree that it has more dialogue than special effects, more relationships than violence, and relies for its suspense on how people live instead of how they die.
I’m not challenging your choice; I’m just questioning the term that encourages it. After all, if you think back to your school days, much of what you were assigned as great literature could have been dismissed as “chick lit.” Indeed, the books you read probably only survived because they were written by famous guys.
Think about it: If Anna Karenina had been written by Leah Tolstoy, or The Scarlet Letter by Nancy Hawthorne, or Madame Bovary by Greta Flaubert, or A Doll’s House by Henrietta Ibsen, or The Glass Menagerie by (a female) Tennessee Williams, would they have been hailed as universal? Suppose Shakespeare had really been The Dark Lady some people supposed. I bet most of her plays and all of her sonnets would have been dismissed as some Elizabethan version of ye olde “chick lit,” only to be resurrected centuries later by stubborn feminist scholars.
I have to say, this is quite the strawman. Whether or not the genders of those classic novels’ authors played a factor in their lasting relevance, the comparison holds no weight when it comes to ‘chick flicks’. Why? Because most ‘chick flicks’, and all films for that matter, are directed by men. I’m beginning to get the idea that Ms. Steinem is talking about subjects she may not be too knowledgeable in.
Indeed, as long men are taken seriously when they write about the female half of the world—and women aren’t taken seriously when writing about themselves much less about men or male affairs—the list of Great Authors will be more about power than about talent.
Once again, a majority of these so-called ‘chick flicks’ extremely male-driven on the behind-the-scenes front.
Just as there are “novelists” and then “women novelists,” there are “movies” and then “chick flicks.” Whoever is in power takes over the noun—and the norm—while the less powerful get an adjective. Thus, we read about “African American doctors” but not “European American doctors,” “Hispanic leaders” but not “Anglo leaders,” “gay soldiers” but not “heterosexual soldiers,” and so on.
That’s also why you’re left with only half a guide. As usual, bias punishes everyone. Therefore I propose, as the opposite of “chick flick” and an adjective of your very own, “prick flick.” Not only will it serve film critics well, but its variants will add to the literary lexicon. For example, “prick lit” could characterize a lot of fiction, from Philip Roth to Bret Easton Ellis and beyond. “True prick” could guide readers to their preferred non-fiction, from the classics of Freud to the populist works of socio-biologists and even Rush Limbaugh.
Okay, at this point she’s just taking the piss. Such terminology is immediately ridiculous, and only serves to illustrate how silly the ‘chick flick’ term is in turn. Let’s continue anyway.
Most of all, the simple label “prick flick” could lead you easily and quickly through the thicket of televised, downloaded and theatrical releases to such attractions as:
All the movies that glorify World War II. From classics with John Wayne and Ronald Reagan, those master actors who conveyed heroism without ever leaving the back lot, to Spielberg’s “Band of Brothers,” in which the hero would rather die than be rescued, Hollywood has probably spent more on making movies about the war than this country spent on fighting it. After all, World War II was the last war in which this country was clearly right. Without frequent exposure to it, how are we to believe we still are?
Firstly, I’m 99% sure she’s confused Band of Brothers for Saving Private Ryan. At least, that’s the only way I can make sense of that statement. Secondly, note the inclusion of political commentary…
All the movies that glorify Vietnam, bloody regional wars, and the war on terrorism. These may not be as much fun to watch—you probably are aware that we aren’t the winners here—but they allow you to enjoy mass mayhem in, say, South Asia or Africa or the Middle East that justifies whatever this country might do
Again, more political commentary, and in this case, at least partially misguided. I can safely say she’s greatly mistaken in the perceived uniformity of all films tackling those subjects dabbling in any kind of “glor[ification]“. Criticism of American involvement and moral grey areas are the common tropes of many of those films.
All the movies that portray violence against women, preferably beautiful, sexy, half-naked women. These feature chainsaws and house parties for teenage guys, serial killers and sadistic rapists for ordinary male adults, plus cleverly plotted humiliations and deaths of powerful women for the well-educated misogynist.
No argument here. The ways in which horror and slasher films operate have been comprehensively explored over the last couple decades.
All the movies that insist female human beings are the only animals on earth that seek out and even enjoy their own pain. From glamorized versions of prostitution to such complex plots as “Boxing Helena,” a man’s dream of amputating all a rebellious woman’s limbs—and then she falls in love with him—these provide self-justification and how-to manuals for sadists.
I can’t tell here if Ms. Steinem’s aware that Boxing Helena was scripted and directed by a woman. Is she knowingly subverting her premise, slyly commenting on patriarchal fantasies expressing themselves through corrupted women, or simply revealing a lack of expertise in this field?
As you can see, one simple label could guide you through diversity, and help other viewers to practice avoidance.
But if you really think about it, I’m hope-a-holic enough to think you might like to watch a chick flick after all.
And just in case you didn’t get it before, she reminds you that she’s joking about the ‘prick flick’ label.
I also can’t help notice that her examples of ‘prick flicks’, or I suppose the inverse of ‘chick flicks’, all include explicit political positions, while her loose definition of ‘chick flicks’ contains only implicit political positions at best. I sense an agenda… perhaps one in which ‘chick flicks’ maintain an inherent moral high ground… She may have a problem with these sorts of labels, but not making broad assumptions and generalizations.
With that, let’s return to her question, what is a ‘chick flick’? Her answer was that we “could probably agree that it has more dialogue than special effects, more relationships than violence, and relies for its suspense on how people live instead of how they die.” (At this point, I have to express dismay that she never bothers to mention a single so-called ‘chick flick’ for anyone to bother to compare to her definition.) If that’s what ‘chick flicks’ are, I suppose we’re meant to assume the opposite for whatever’s left over.
Now who’s using weighted language to unfairly describe whole swathes of film history?
Trivia time: Gloria Steinem protested the release of the novel American Psycho along with its later film adaptation, and reportedly even talked Leonardo DiCaprio out of taking the Patrick Bateman role, allowing director Mary Harron’s first choice, Christian Bale, to retake the role. Five months after the film’s release, Steinem married Bale’s father.
Additionally, does it amuse anyone else that Steinem protested the film release of American Psycho – and near as my research can tell, has never publicly admitted to even seeing it – in relation to its female director and female screenwriter? By her logic (as found in the first quoted portion above), it should have been dismissed as a ‘chick flick’, right?
I’ll be returning to this subject shortly.
