With the ongoing presence and weight of massive, global events, I wanted to do something lower-key this week, and weave in an observance of Women's History Month. Of course, this too is a rich, complex topic, because of the many different experiences that it encompasses (h/t Elizabeth Hodges). Still, I wanted to contrast the unfathomably large with the intimate, and I can think of fewer things that realize that latter term better than Céline Sciamma's film, Portrait of a Lady on Fire.
I was initially hesitant about this theme, centering a story (notably, a queer one) from a white director with two white leads, and I see it as emblematic of the many tensions that permeate this work. I think it's crucial to continue to push the boundaries of feminism along the intersections with the most marginalized of identities, and it's also important to see what feminism can look like in a more privileged context (and what it can look like to grapple with some of these quesitons from a position of privilege).
It is with those intentions that I want to raise up Céline Sciamma and her work this month. She is someone who is living the complexities of feminism from a queer white perspective, in the context of the film industry, and beyond. To begin, I want to name the obvious undercurrents of implicit (and explicit) male norms that exist in this industry. Sciamma has spoken at length about her desire to disrupt male-centric notions of storytelling and dramatic construction, and her body of work represents her ongoing vision in this space. At the center of her film are two paintings that reflect this tension, one commissioned by a prospective male suitor, and the other borne of genuine mutual affection:
In a way, the difference between the two paintings illustrates the male gaze versus the female gaze, though it also gestures toward the limitations of those terms: the male gaze has become so internalized as to be almost indistinguishable from “technique.”
She takes the concept further, though, and looks at the underpinnings of drama itself, washing away the artificiality of "neutral" standards to imagine something fundamentally new:
The trouble with drama, says Sciamma, is that it’s invariably built around ideas of conflict. It’s about rivals and enemies; resolution through violence. Whereas she wanted to do something different: to construct a tense, high-stakes drama in which the players are open and broadly on the same page. She says: “If you start a scene where the characters are negotiating and agreeing, I’m suddenly full of attention. Now what’s going to happen? The possibilities are limitless. This scene could go anywhere.”
Even as she is shaping the world, she is letting the world shape her, as well. In an earlier film, Girlhood, Sciamma directed a largely Black cast as she experimented with a story that, read one way, could be empowering, and read another way, as harmful. She later came to view this as deeply problematic, recontextualizing her own relationships with norms that she previously took for granted.
I bring this up because I want to lift up the way that Sciamma embraces her own growth and fallibility (something I personally aspire to, as well). There's something incredibly humbling about interacting with the idea that something you've created is causing harm, and centering the harm, rather than your own reaction. Sciamma's utter lack of retrenchment around her work is beautifully understated.
When asked which of her films looked the most different to her today, she replied without hesitation: “Girlhood.” “It is problematic today,” she said. “Which means it was already problematic at the time.” .... Talking about “Girlhood” now, Sciamma is categorically undefensive: “For me, it’s really simple. If people you consider political allies are telling you, ‘This is not helping the revolution. This is even slowing the revolution,’ then they’re right. That’s it.”
That's it, indeed.
Here are this week's invitations:
Personal: When have you let go of something you've created, because you're a different person than when you created it? What did it feel like?
Communal: How can we create the conditions for collective reinvention and reflection?
Solidarity: Support Remove the Gap Productions and their work to support and uplift the careers of girls, women, nonbinary, femme, trans, and gender-nonconforming filmmakers.
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