Iron Man and the Monstrous Female

I took my family to the movies this afternoon, and spent several entertaining hours experiencing the cinematic magic of Iron Man 3. For those of you who don't know me well, I suppose I must admit that I am a closet fan of the superhero movie--I have participated in the consumerist frenzy spurred by the recent outpouring of films based on Marvel comics with unabashed delight.

Of course, it seems that my training in feminist rhetorics is now an inescapable fact of life: no matter how I try to turn it off, there is always a part of my brain busily analyzing everything I see and experience through one or more of those lenses.

Today was no different. As I laughed, sighed and nervously bit my nails, I was struck by the filmmakers' choice to evoke the Trope of the Monstrous Female at particular moments to up the impact just that much more. The Monstrous Female is a common figure in modern cinema--she is found in movies like Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (think blonde model-meets-alien-lizard-thingy), Men in Black II (same thing, except brunette), and even the Twilight saga, except in this case the power of the monstrous vampire female is mediated by her overpowering motherhood impulses. Just like the motherhood-mediates-vampire-strength situation, the powerful female characters are so often situated within controlling social devices that they have become standard (read: invisible) to the masses. Think about it: she's either incredibly evil and, as a result, is killed off before the end of the film, or she is "tamed" by a man/falling in love with a man and safely married or in a relationship before the credits roll. The Monstrous Female simply cannot remain a monster--convention demands that she be shifted back into safe and familiar hetero-normative conformity before we can all go on with our own happily conforming lives.

Pepper Potts: superhero or monster?

So now comes Pepper Potts, and her shining moment as a volcanic, iron-suit-wearing hero. In her violent yet superbly choreographed climax, Ms. Potts defeats the villain, saves her beloved Tony, and becomes, for the briefest moment possible, the most powerful individual in the film. Her eyes glowing orange, her skin translucent, her long hair loose and wild, she surveys the wreckage around her and says..."Wow, that was really violent." In this moment, the audience is shown that not only is the powerful female something the audience should fear, but that the woman is actually afraid of herself, of her new strength and ability. And that, dear readers, is clearly just an insupportable situation! (Mind the sarcasm, now.) It is only after Tony Stark reassures her that he will "fix" her that she relaxes, smiles, and then they are free to engage in soothing romantic banter and an affectionate embrace.

If you detect a note of bitterness, dear reader, it is unintentional. This is, for better or worse, merely recognition of The Way Things Are. As long as films continue to reproduce damaging tropes about power, about women, and about powerful women, there is an ongoing need for critics and scholars to continue calling Hollywood (and their audiences) to account for their part in the melee. This is why, despite popular belief, feminism's work is far from over.

For an alternative (but excellent) analysis, see also Scott Mendelson's article "'Brave,' 'Iron Man 3,' and the Faux Feminism of Armed Women."