Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

Or, Badass Women in Corsets

The first time I saw the trailer for Director Burr Steers’ 2016 film Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, I had two thoughts: 1) that it was a joke and/or a spoof film, and 2) that there was no way I would be going to see it. Never a fan of the spoof genre, I am however a big fan of Jane Austen books and, in large part, film adaptations of her books. I am also a fan of (some) zombie media, mostly AMC’s The Walking Dead. Of course, these two fandoms usually keep themselves rather far apart; never before in my experience had the two crossed paths, and I figured, for good reason. How would the gentle wit and dialogue of an Austen book mesh with the well-developed conventions of the zombie-horror film? Foreseeing a cinematic train wreck in the making, I wrote the film off as absurd long before it was released.

But then a group of graduate students from my institution’s literature department and my university’s own resident Austen expert, Professor Devoney Looser, arranged a special screening and discussion of the film for themselves, an event many (including the department itself) posted about on social media afterward. I was startled by this scholarly attention, and began wondering if I’d missed something. I mean, if they were going to treat the film seriously, maybe I should at least go see it and have an informed opinion of the thing.

Leaving the movie theater, I couldn’t decide if I had made a good decision or not. I now knew what all the fuss was about: it was definitely not meant to be a spoof film, at least not on purpose. But my concerns about the combination of Austonian dialogue and zombie battles proved valid; her gentle lines of dialogue were crammed in awkwardly between (and sometimes during) action scenes filled with gore and swordplay, coming off rushed and stilted.

Now, the flip side of this critique is the admirable bad-assery that was accomplished by turning the Bennett girls into trained martial artists and then setting them loose to save themselves and their aristocratic families from the ubiquitous death-by-zombie in a post-apocalyptic world. While I still haven’t quite worked out just how a woman could realistically fight in hand-to-hand combat while tightly laced into a corset and weighed down by innumerable petticoats, through movie magic, Elizabeth Bennett and her sisters do just that. These are no fragile aristocratic socialites: although they still giggle about handsome single men and discuss the merits of marriage, when the zombie hordes descend, they are ready to fight.

In many ways, this Elizabeth Bennett reminded me of another Elizabeth, the indomitable Miss Swan from Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean film series. Although working hard to meet the expectations of her father and upper-class society, Elizabeth Swan is, at her core, a badass. The change in her character over the course of the series is dynamic: she goes from suffering a near-fatal fainting spell in the first movie (cause by a too-tight corset) and the constant abductee of pirates, to a strong and independent woman determined to take matters into her own hands: by movie number 3, At World’s End, she becomes a pirate captain, is elected the King of Pirates, declares war and goes on swashbuckling with gusto right alongside the best (and the worst) of them.

What Pirates accomplished and P&P&Z does not, however, is a certain narrative cohesiveness between action scenes, dialogue, wit and elements of horror. The seam lines between Austen charm and zombie flick are clearly visible all the way through, leaving an overall impression of amateurishness and hokeyness that I would guess the filmmakers were actually trying to avoid. Many of the effects were done well, the fight scenes were engaging, and I simply adore lead actor Lily James, a bias that for me makes up for any number of cinematic sins.

Beyond that, my feminist sensibilities would have me claim this film as another step toward better and more empowered female protagonists in film, despite its many flaws. The Bennett girls have as few choices in this film as they do in the original Austen books, if you think about it: they are still creatures of their day and circumstances. The strictures of high society have simply been replaced with the rigors of a post-apocalyptic world. I do like that the overwhelming Austonian focus on marriage as a woman’s ultimate accomplishment was toned down a bit, even though the film nauseatingly but not unexpectedly succumbed to the inexorable gravitational pull of Austonian wedding bells in the end. It seems that not even a zombie apocalypse can change everything.

Toxicity

I was cursed at birth. At least, it feels that way. People sometimes compare being born into a particular family to the lottery. Sometimes you get lucky. And sometimes you don’t. Not a great metaphor, to be sure, but an interesting one. Have you ever asked yourself who you’d be, how you might be different, if you had had a different set of parents, a different family? If you grew up relatively happy, you probably haven’t. Happy people seldom feel compelled to question the circumstances that have so undeservedly blessed them.

I grew up alternating between doubting my parents even were my biological parents and wishing that they weren’t. I felt so different from the rest of them. I liked things they didn’t, thought about things they never seemed to notice. But perhaps worst of all, I was wide awake: I could see right through the injustice, the violence, the abuse and manipulation that went on. And they knew it. They knew it, and it made them angry, which just fed the dark things and hatched a lifetime of bitter resentment and hatred. They knew that, too. They tried to force obedience, and respect, and even love. Ever been forced to hug and kiss someone who might attack you with a broom handle later? It warps you, twists and stretches you, until you don’t even recognize the pain as pain anymore.

Perhaps that’s the worst part of all: I launched myself, desperate and broken, into the world, looking for and expecting pain. If something wasn’t painful, it was wrong. God was pain. Family was pain. Love was pain. Life was pain.

My first attempts at romantic relationships were, ultimately, pain-filled and disastrous. What else could they be? I hardly understood anything else, wouldn’t recognize it if I tripped over it in the dark. The boys and, later, men with whom I became something else, someone else, recognized the hunger for pain that lurked behind my innocent face, my lack of experience. They were only happy to oblige. The poison of our being together spread like cancer to other parts of our lives; it seeped inside the cracks in me, in my dreams for the future, blackening and staining everything it touched.

After cycling through marriage after marriage to one sociopath after another, I recognized what was broken in me and, at the same time, how that brokenness had materialized and played out in my personal relationships. Those relationships were toxic, in part, because I was toxic: that beautiful, fragile and light-filled soul that had animated my body at birth had grown dark and poisonous in the shade, in the wickedness of violence and pain. Seeking the light, I fought back as dark things know, instinctively, how to do. The contradiction was never lost on me. I used the darkness within to power me upward, propel me into a place of acceptance and healing.

Looking upon the traces of my past from this new vantage, I was shocked to see the effects of my upbringing in their diverse forms, manifesting in each sibling and their children in ways unique to them. Some were paralyzed by anxiety and depression; others played the part on the outside, lying to themselves and to everyone else in their pathological denial of a past they were determined to ignore and, in the process, experiencing mysterious physical ailments with psychological roots. Still others cut off all contact in their anger and resentment; in failing to find satisfaction, they chose to try to run as fast and as far as they could. I agree: this toxic stew is best kept at a distance.

But distance is not always possible. Sometimes, the pathologically disturbed refuse to stay quietly in their boxes and come after you in zealot-inspired search-and-destroy missions. The really scary ones use extremist religion to justify their hatred and violence, and then manage to blame you for all of it afterward.

Isn’t family great?

Unfortunately, once they’ve gone over the edge, there’s not much anyone can do. That particular self-destruct mode is irreversible. My job, I've learned, is to minimize the damage, and to do so without causing more damage in the process. Not an easy task. 

Still, after much reading and consideration, I think I’ve decided upon a way to deal with the toxic people in my life that is doubly great: 1) it drives them crazy, and 2) it keeps me out of trouble.

These days, I focus on my spiritual journey by recognizing the crazy that toxic people spread and, contrary to my training, releasing it to a higher power. I refuse to take responsibility for toxicity, even from close family members, ever again. This is the worst possible thing that you can do to toxic people: their control over you evaporates like fog in the sun when you refuse to play along. That is not to say that refusing to engage does not take effort and practice: it is one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do. It is far easier to engage, to fire back and feel that (temporary) surge of powerful anger convincing me that I am in the right and the other person is wholly in the wrong. Let’s be honest: who doesn’t like that feeling? But once that feeling fades, what is left? Usually, in my case, just an overwhelming sense of disappointment in myself. I am better than that. I am determined to be better than that.

Perhaps, in the short term, such an approach will result in very little immediate change. And I am still not sure how well I can protect myself from a position of defense. But my ultimate goal, to quote one of my favorite fictional martial arts masters, Mr. Miyagi, is that when the angry and the violent attack, the best defense is to simply not be there. When they swing, I want them to hit only air. No injury to me, no injury to themselves. And if I can’t get out of the way fast enough? Well, I’m still working on that one.

In Search of Suffragettes

When I heard that a film about the women’s suffrage movement was in the works, I was thrilled. As a big fan of women’s history, I can attest that rarely (if ever) do the stories of the bravery, endurance, and (wholly justified) civil disobedience of historical women make it out of the pages of scholarly books. I carry them around with me, a private realm unreflected in popular media and cultural logics, in which women have lobbied, marched, rallied, published, and organized – as well as loved, achieved, served, provided, and proved themselves, over and over and over again, worthy of our respect and veneration.

After long months of waiting, the film’s release in the US arrived. Directed by Sarah Gavron, Suffragettechronicles the story of a group of Suffragettes in England made notorious by their angry and militant tactics: smashing windows, tussling with police, and hunger strikes, to name a few. Starring Carey Mulligan, Anne-Marie Duff, Helena Bonham Carter, and featuring many others, the film promised to tell the story of women who helped effect great change in their society, change that provided immediate benefits for some and eventually, for their nation as a whole.

Filled with anticipation, I searched local theaters for show times. And couldn’t find anything within 50 miles of where I live, despite dozens of theaters in that radius. Puzzled, I searched again, to at last discover one theater – ONE – in my state actively showing this new release film. That’s strange, I thought: must be some kind of mistake. More searching provided no further information, however; checking back days, even weeks later, produced the same result. Eventually, I came to understand that none of the theaters in my area were planning to show the film at all. If I wanted to see it, I’d have to trek over an hour across town. Not the greatest hardship, perhaps, but over two hours of travel time, for me, created insurmountable difficulties.

In the end, it proved too daunting a distance and the theater ended its run of the film before I could arrange to see it.

I did, however, obtain a copy of the film the moment it was released on DVD. I watched it immediately. And found a beautifully crafted, tragic and inspiring interpretation of the suffragette experience that brought a group of brave and determined women to life. As the protagonist, Maud Watts, endured hard labor, the full burden of her familial responsibilities, sexual harassment, and her husband’s betrayal, not to mention incarceration, physical assault by police, and other violations of her rights and person, I felt a deep sense of appreciation and pride settle over me, sentiments of gratitude for the women who fought so hard to make the privileges I enjoy today possible.

Vietnam Women's Memorial, National Mall, Washington, D.C.

And there it is. That feeling, right there, is what I find to be missing from current attitudes about women in the United States. This veneration for the contributions and accomplishments of women exists, but in far too short supply: in our history narratives, textbooks, historical fiction and film – even in our Wikipedia entries and other commonplace digital and analogue information sources, women are prized for their most feminine attributes. 

Michelle Obama, FLOTUS

Who she married, how successful a mother or homemaker she was, too often takes precedence over all else she may have done or achieved in her life. This pervasive doubting of women appears in the questions we ask our politicians, our actors and other celebrities, our business leaders, ourselves. It leads us to downplay, de-value and dismiss the attributes of successful women that are perceived to be less “feminine” – resourcefulness, courage, business acumen, diplomacy, leadership.

Perhaps losing out on a theater-based screening of a film that does tell this story, in this way, about women’s rights activists, seems inconsequential. But from another angle, perhaps the active suppression and dismissal of this film is symptomatic of the way that stories honoring women who fought for their rights are valued in our society in general.

Martha Washington, FLOTUS, and family

Revolutionary heroes in their own right, outspoken women remain labeled as troublemakers, rabble-rousers, and radicals, standing in opposition to everything that makes this country “great.” This blatant double standard, in which men are honored, even worshipped, for rebellion in the name of democracy and women are disdained, undergirds the thinking that informs every facet of contemporary life. This is why, until a widespread paradigm shift is accomplished – until films and books and stories about brave and rebellious women are a treasured part of our everyday social, political and cultural commonplaces – it will be necessary to keep up the “minor” complaints about film availability, about the way women are represented in film, in media, in national historical narratives, historic sites and museums, about the toxic gendering of everything around us, from personal hygiene products to toys, and every other place the present paradigm becomes glaringly visible. 

Female Hero Merch - What's the Big Deal?

So here's the thing -

I am raising a houseful of manga/comic/superhero/cartoon series/zombie/horror film/sci fi fans.

The more I have explored this vast and varied world of fandoms, merch, cosplay, fan art, and all the digital accoutrements that accompany them, the more I have come to see merchandise as more than just toys, tees or decor; for fans, these things enrich an already varied imaginative and creative inner life and help them to see themselves and their world in particular ways. Finding appropriate merch, however, can be a real challenge.

NY Comicon

As a parent (and possibly a fan of a few 'doms my self), I can testify to the giant pain in the ass it is to find the things my kids would like to use in their imaginary play. Obsession with obscure manga series aside, what is perhaps an even greater pain is trying to find merch for girls that is not, can we say, too "girlie." News flash: not all girls like pink, sparkles, or frills. This has been true, well, always. But go into any toy store, or any department store, for that matter, and you'll inevitably find "the pink aisle" (i.e., "girl toys) and then multiple aisles devoted to toy cars, action figures, Legos, and so on (i.e., "boy toys"). The strict gendering of such spaces discourages healthy cross-play in children of all genders, and supports destructing patriarchal thinking about what girls and boys like, can or can't do, and so on.

First-world problem? For sure. And I would agree with critics who say that the lack of female-character action figures, t-shirts and display items is probably not the most pressing issue in the world right now. Or perhaps ever.

I would agree, except that the conspicuous absence of female toys and fan merch (particularly in the heavily masculine fandoms, such as Star Wars or any Marvel or DC Comics anything) speaks to and is symptomatic of the way that women are included in popular culture and society in general. It clearly illustrates that film franchises and toy makers don't see the value in creating products that might appeal directly to girls and women as fans; women are, once again, cast in what I'd call a "service consumer" role, in which they purchase far more than men do, but a great deal of this purchasing is done for others. If the institutions of our entertainment industry, advertising, product manufacturers, and so on can't be bothered to value women's input and desires in their role as consumers, why then should any other cultural or social institution do the same?

Photo courtesy Abi Bechtel @abianne

The insidiousness of the "small things" is a constant irritant for those who are sensitive to the rampant gender asymmetries in the U.S.; women continue to be objectified, excluded, or denigrated in all spaces and places, online, on film, on screen, or on the street. What is hopeful about this is the increasing number of individuals and groups determined to call out the toxic sexism and bigotry of our culture, piece by piece. One woman posted pictures she took at a local chain store, in which shorts for girls were absurdly short, tight, and overpriced when compared with the more modest cut and price of shorts for boys in the same store. Others have fought back by speaking out at public events, using humor and candor to shine a light on the destructive contradictions women face, even under the best possible circumstances, every single day. Still others have organized, marched, protested, boycotted, and refused to be silenced. Bit by bit, piece by piece.


This is why when a Facebook friend of mine organized an activist group focused on effecting change in the overtly gendered way that toy makers and merchandisers produce, organize and sell their wares, I was instantly, shall we say, a fan. This group, We Want Female Hero Action Figures, T-Shirts and Toys, asks the question that countless others have asked:

What kind of world do you want the future generations of children to grow up in? A world where women's contributions matter or don't? Action figures and T-shirts may seem like a shallow concern to you, but think about the message toy makers are sending to girls when the girls departments in shops are filled with princess merchandise only, whilst the boys department displays only the male superhero. Please join us in getting the toy makers to see the dangerous (and sad) myths about men and women they are perpetuating.

Determined to take on merchandise giants including Hasbro and Disney, what this group is really attempting to do is shift entrenched cultural norms that devalue women across the board, from ignoring the unpaid labor that many women do in the home to failing to make a Black Widow action figure despite her prominent role in a feature film. And don't even get me started on Disney, Star Wars: The Force Awakens, and Rey: that's a whole other post. Will convincing toy makers to make more and better toys (for girls and boys alike) accomplish this paradigm shift? No. Will convincing merchandisers to quit gendering every friggin' thing they make and produce more and better "gender neutral" collectibles, clothing and other merch fix the inherent disadvantages that women face in our society? Not really.

What it will do, however, is put another crack in the logical fallacies upon which much of popular culture in the U.S. is based. And it just might encourage women and girls to see themselves as valuable contributors to all facets of culture and society, as they always have been. We need to provide strong female role models, rich and varied creative materials, and an equal voice for ourselves and for future generations: if we don't, we risk a future that looks very much like our present and, worse, our past.