Dear Clapping in Movie Theaters,
NO. STOP IT.
Unless someone involved in the making of the film is present (and the guy who served you popcorn does not count, I do not care how much that “made” your movie-watching experience (and yes, popcorn does a movie-watching experience make, I’m with you, let’s be friends)), NO CLAPPING.
Thanks, I appreciate your cooperation,
MM
Dear Kathryn Bigelow,
CONGRATULATIONS! Youuuu aaare sooo beauuutiful….oh wait. No. Accomplished. Talented. High-achieving. Determined. Hard-working. Intelligent. Go ahead and pick. How would you like to be described?
(Besides, of course, as the first female to win an Oscar for Best Director.)
Who was surprised to hear a woman’s never won Best Director? How about this one– only 4 women have ever been nominated?
How about this— neither should surprise you. Of 2009’s 250 top releases, only 7% were directed by women. With those numbers, no wonder (from NJ. com. I don’t know what this website is but it has statistics so sold).
Now, who was shocked that a woman had to direct a war movie in order to win? (Not me.)
This is weird, but true: war is still a “men’s issue”, love is still a “women’s issue”. “History” is a men’s field (in literature and films=epics) and “family” is a woman’s expertise (in literature and films=indie, romantic comedies, dramas). Ok, so statistics don’t lie: more war movies and books are, in fact, written/directed by men, and more romantic comedies/family dramas by women. Fine. A general trend. But here’s the fun part! There’s a hierarchy here. No way, right?!? This is all part of how Publisher’s Weekly managed to select a “gender-blind” top ten list that consisted solely of men. Because writing is often gendered in subject and style and we (as a society, not you and me, but maybe even us) value “men’s” subjects and style more. Not because it is better. Value is determined by consumers. Value changes– or can change, which means it was once decided upon. It is not a law of nature (turns out there are very few of those).
So Kathryn: CONGRATULATIONS. I SALUTE YOUR ACHIEVEMENT.
Now, let’s get more women into that director’s chair and see if changing the number’s game changes the awards shows.
Cheers (literally, a toast!)
MM
Dear Lady Gaga,
Sister, you are batshit crazy. Your chiropractor must be well-paid, right? This is taking headgear to a whole new level. And your dermatologist? Definitely your podiatrist? Maybe your psychiatrist?
But here’s the thing. I think you, sweet bat wings, are not actually insane. I don’t think you need the gimmicks, because clearly you’re talented, but they are obviously part of a PLAN. Possibly for intergalactic glory. I’ve heard that you’ve admitted to megastardom aspirations. (Like Madonna and Michael Jackson, but possibly combined and thrown in a blender and then multiplied by a billion. Is it true you put every penny you earn back into your shows to make them as mind-blowing as possible?)
I actually watched one of your music videos the other day after it was called to my attention by Tamiko Beyer, blogging at Kenyon Review (yes, that’s a literary journal blog). Tamiko pointed out that the Bad Romance video “is complex, disturbing, self-referential, and sexy.” She also has some interesting analysis of the way you are using costume and performance to make your body a “site/act of creation and destruction at the same time” and how this speaks to our need to move past gender and sexuality–thoughts, Miss Gaga? Care to agree/disagree? I think you’re shockingly pretty and I also am okay with it if you want to hide that behind masks, make-ups, glitters, and plastic. Just because you’re attractive does not mean we have a right to look at you and enjoy that beauty. But the insane layers and papier mache constructions seem uncomfortable. And requires an insane amount of dedication to something and I can’t help but feel that something is well-thought-out and strategic. Also I still think I would wear a nicely tailored cotton dress to meet the Queen of England.
Anyway, I would call “Bad Romance” a “really potent creepy feminist” music video. What can I say? I call it like I see it. Not that it isn’t sexy. Not that it isn’t complex. But it’s also creepy and it’s definitely feminist. You, my dear, are doing some fierce and intellectual and disturbing things here. Whether or not you prance around in lingerie, this is not a Victoria’s Secret ad. This is not playing to fantasies of dominance. It’s taking them apart and twisting their guts and playing with the consequences.
Also, I bet when you’re at home you live in super-cover-up cover sweatpants and fleece and never wear make-up and maybe only flip-flops. Maybe you go barefoot and your whole floor is covered in grass or sand.
Anyway, you’ve got our attention, Lady Gaga. You’ve got the so-called cosmic microphone. Please continue to do something interesting with it.
Blessings,
MM
PS– This one’s old but so worth another watch: Ciara’s “Like a Boy” video. DAMN GIRL. (Anyone want to teach me to dance like that?)
Other favorite (feminist) music videos?
Dear Taylor,
Today, on your birthday, I would like to say: I am glad I know you. This is a relatively new thing, me knowing you, and it’s related to very special circumstances which we will remember the rest of our lives, barring a case of virulent amnesia. We have, in fact, the most special, wonderful, ridiculous reason to know each other, which is that we are in poetry school. Also, now, in a very exclusive poetry motorcycle gang which consists of us wearing leather jackets to poetry readings and poetry classes and sometimes poetry dances (aka Friday nights). Also we are in a cookie making club, which consists of you and I making cookies sometimes before, during, or after watching awesome/lame movies out of the 7-eleven RedBox DVD Rental. Also sometimes we watch Western movies together, but that’s sort of against our will, so we’ll put that aside for now. But all of these things came about because of poetry school.
But it turns out, dear heart, that we’re actually friends because of a lot of other reasons– which is better than just being poetry friends. We are real friends (not just facebook or school friends). We’re friends because we have sisters, and parents, and people we need to talk about to each other– not because we gossip, but because people are interesting and sometimes they need to be talked about with someone, and good days and bad days, and hugs. And senses of humor. And perspective. And sometimes when I just cannot get through class I reach out and poke you and you look at me with wide I KNOW eyes and I sigh super dramatically and then we continue on. So we both ground each other down and float each other up, and that’s a Very Nice Thing Indeed.
You are silly and optimistic and very, very kind to the people around you. You tell funny stories and don’t take things too seriously (like yourself and me) but take some things very, very seriously (like words and fruit) and that is as it should be. You have curly hair and boots and funky jewelry. (Stating those facts count as compliments.) And you read this blog, which is nice, because I know you’ll get this very public letter. Also you’re a jukebox junkie and I like those things you play.
So. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAILOR! I hope it’s a good day and I’m glad I’ll be witness/participant in your coming year.
xoxoxo
MM
From John James Audobon. So you know it's real.
Dear Zoo,
You fill me with joy.
Also, potentially, with tired feet and hopefully, sticky fingers from something disgusting to eat like cotton candy. Maybe rage when the little kids won’t get out of my way to let me see the pandas.
So the thing about the San Diego zoo is they tell you it’s too big to walk around and then make you wait in a giant wooden structure that looks a lot like the playground at my elementary school before they decided that little kids shouldn’t have the opportunity to jump off essentially a three-story building. Then they pack you onto buses and drive you around. And you can’t see anything because you’re on a bus so you can’t get even near a crowded fence.
I am always surprised, however, at how clear the gate is around the flamingos. Their knees! They bend backwards! Is that not the craziest thing you’ve ever heard???
I thought so.
MM
