Michael Akers’ drama Morgan (2012) deals with a young man named Morgan who used to be an enthusiastic cyclist. He had won a lot of medals and awards but after having had a severe accident Morgan sees himself confronted with paraplegia. His mother, his friend Lane and Dean, his new love(r), become important people on his way back to everyday life.

In this text I investigate stereotypes, the characters’ language in regard to disability and the filmmakers’ decision not to use a disabled actor on the one hand, and the film’s innovative beginning, the fact that there are no flashbacks, its easy-going representation of sexuality in a romantic relationship and, Morgan’s need for help and an adjusted environment on the other.  The main assumption of this text is: the empathetic approach (of the film) and the deliberate research done regarding the main character’s disability makes Aker’s drama Morgan a rare example of a realistic portrayal of a disabled person who can not only live with his sexual orientation but have a romantic relationship, too.

Stereotypes

The film Morgan uses several stereotypes that add additional meanings to disability. These include the triumph over fate or disability, disability as personal tragedy and the super cripple. The triumph over disability and disability as personal tragedy are extremely present in this drama. In fact they go hand in hand because they justify all of Morgan’s behaviour and actions. The desire to be a ‘winner’ again spurs Morgan to be a top athlete as a wheelchair user, too. His training keeps Morgan’s body in shape and keeps up the ideal of a perfectly shaped body even with a disability. Swantje Köbell, professor at the Alice Salomon Hochschule Berlin, University of Applied Science underlines that ‘die mit Behinderung assoziierten Eigenschaften mit einem traditionellen Bild von Männlichkeit weit weniger in Einklang bringen [lassen] als mit dem gängigen Bild von Weiblichkeit’ (it is much more difficult to accommodate the characteristics associated with disability in the traditional image of masculinity than in the traditional image of femininity) (Köbsell 2010: 22).[i] She says:

‘Die Rollenerwartungen an Männer und Frauen werden dabei nicht nur unterschiedlich bewertet, sondern auch hierarchisch gegliedert. Männer gelten auch heute noch als stark, aktiv, unabhängig und mutig; Frauen dagegen als schwach, passiv, abhängig und hilfsbedürftig, wobei die männlichen Eigenschaften positiv und die weiblichen negativ bewertet werden.’ (The role expectations placed on men and women are not only judged differently but also subdivided hierarchically. Men are said to be strong, active, independent and courageous while women [are perceived] as weak, passive, dependent and needy and the male characteristics are considered to be positive the female [ones] negative.’) (Köbsell 2010: 20)

Thomas J. Gerschick, professor of sociology at the Illinois State University, emphasises:

‘Bodies are central to achieving recognition as appropriately gendered beings. Bodies operate socially as canvases on which gender is displayed and kinesthetically as the mechanisms by which it is physically enacted. Thus, the bodies of people with disabilities make them vulnerable to being denied recognition as women and men. The type of disability, its visibility, its severity, and whether it is physical or mental in origin mediate the degree to which the body of a person with a disability is socially compromised.’ (Gerschick 2008: 361).

Nevertheless it is important to keep in mind that there are more definitions of bodies than the binary man/woman and it is equally important how people perceive and define themselves and their (gendered) bodies.[ii] Morgan’s definition of himself as a ‘winner’ is also part of Morgan’s and Dean’s conversation after they had made love for the first time. Dean wants to know if the accident or the disability has changed Morgan. He replies:

„Of course, I was a winner.“

D: „I can see that.“

M: „I look at those things [his trophies, P.A.] and wonder who that guy was. I’d give anything to be him again.“

D: „I think you can still compete.“

M: „It’s not the same.“

D: „Why is that?“

M: „’Cause I’m not the same.“

Credits: United Gay Network

The feeling of having lost everything due to the accident and its consequences becomes obvious at  the beginning of the film when Morgan lies on the sofa, watches TV and drinks beer all day. In the above-mentioned conversation with Dean Morgan finally says: ‘It took everything.’ Later in the film there are several scenes in which Morgan says that he would prefer to be dead than in the wheelchair. At one point he even insults his mother by assuming that she also wishes he would be dead.

The stereotype of the super cripple is questioned in the film. Nevertheless Morgan manages to climb a rock and get back into his wheelchair and makes it home alone even after he had a heavy crash.

In this film music serves primarily to boost the mood of certain scenes as well as to underline the emotions of the characters and to intensify the emotions of the audience.[iii] The combination of sound and vision in the scene that shows Morgan in the wheelchair shortly before he leaves to meet Dean for their first date corresponds with the stereotypes mentioned above. Whilst the song’s line ‘Get up and dance’ symbolizes on the one hand his personal tragedy, because it has become impossible for Morgan to get up and dance, it stands on the other hand for the confidence Morgan feels in this very moment. Despite his own negative attitude towards his paraplegia he is quite sure that he and Dean will have a real date. Morgan’s confidence corresponds with the positive message of David Raleigh’ song Get up and Dance which, however, is only obvious to those in the audience who know all the lyrics.

The Characters’ Language in Regard to Disability

There are scenes in which the people who talk to Morgan immediately realize that they used expressions which are rather unsuitable because of the situation he is in. His mother suggests, for example, that Morgan should move in with her at least for a while and uses the phrase ‘back on your feet’. In another sequence Lane, a friend of Morgan, rather spontaneously but very clearly refuses to sit in Morgan’s wheelchair because in her opinion that would be ‘bad karma’. But even if there are scenes in which the characters themselves reflect on their speech other dialogues must be criticized from the Disability Studies’ point of view: for example, those in which Morgan adds additional meanings to the expressions ‘winner’ and ‘loser’ or those moments in which he expresses that he wants to die. In these cases the characters’ language in regard to disability helps to establish the stereotypes mentioned above.

No Disabled Actor

The pictures in Morgan’s apartment which show Morgan’s life before the accident preclude an actor who is a wheelchair user in real life from starring as Morgan – which would have accorded to the requests of Disability Studies. But the director/writer of the film, Michael Akers, and the producer/writer Sandon Berg, who had been inspired by an audition with an actor and wheelchair user, have done detailed research into the topic (Cf. United Gay Network 2012). In addition, Leo Minaya, the actor who stars Morgan, spent at least fourteen days in a wheelchair prior to shooting the film (Cf. United Gay Network 2012). In this way both the filmmakers and with the story they tell avoid what Lauri E. Klobas terms a ‘”quick fix” syndrome’ (Klobas 1988: xv). This means that disability in this case does not serve as quick solution for a bad story or a poorly researched story. What is more, filmmakers usually tend to use disability as a prime example of deviation. David Mitchell and Sharon Snyder point out: ‘Disability lends a distinctive idiosyncrasy to any character that differentiates the character from the anonymous background of the “norm.”’ (Mitchell/Snyder 2006: 205). This mechanism is fostered by the fact that disabled people are a very heterogeneous minority. Instead of sharing a common language, culture or sexual identity people with disabilities – apart from deaf people who usually understand deafness as culture – ‘share’ a medical feature or a legal category. That’s why the ‘blind’ person or the ‘wheelchair user’ do not exist. Even an identical diagnosis – as in the case of Morgan’s paraplegia – can, for example, have very different forms and thus different impacts and consequences for each individual. This makes research and accuracy in regard to a character’s disability even more important in my opinion.

Innovative beginning and no flashbacks

The protagonist’s initial situation becomes already obvious during the opening credits.  Surprisingly enough the filmmakers use neither words nor do they shoot Morgan. Rather, they use e.g. a  balloon that says  ‘Get well soon’ on it, and various aids for disabled people indicate that the person living in this private apartment must be disabled.

At the same time there are no flashbacks in the film Morgan. The way the filmmakers do without visualizing the fatal moment that caused Morgan’s disability is quite uncommon for films featuring such a scenario. The film’s audio commentary proves that this was a deliberate decision. By placing emphasis on the here and now Akers and Berg don’t need to change the film’s chronology.[iv] Above all, however, they avoid using flashbacks as a cinematic key to Morgan’s psyche. Instead Morgan’s mood regarding that fatal moment in his life is revealed in his interaction with Dean at the scene of the accident.

Still, Morgan’s bicycle is present not only in his apartment but also as a symbol as, for example, in the scene where the traffic lights for cyclists switch to red a second before Morgan’s doctor withdraws the medical permission for this year’s race (in the wheelchair division).

Easy-going Representation of Sexuality in a Romantic Relationship

The quintessence regarding a disabled person’s sexuality becomes obvious when Morgan talks to his physiotherapist:

M: „I met a guy. So we play [basketball, P.A.] together.“

P: „Friends? Or friends?“

M: „I can’t even imagine. I mean: What can I, you know, do in that department?”

P: „You can do whatever you wanna do.“

M: „I mean: How? Like with my legs… I can’t feel them. Who…“

P: „Maybe you should get him to do some of these exercises with you. That way he can learn how your body works and get used to touching you.“

Credits: United Gay Network

Everything else that happens in connection to sexuality and a relationship can be grouped around this dialogue: Morgan’s futile attempt to masturbate, the first encounter between Morgan and Dean where Dean touches Morgan almost coincidentally, their first date, their conversations about life and their wishes, the question of whether they should show their affection in public or not, their first kiss, the question of whether and how they can meet their sexual needs and desires, the experience of a happy relationship of which physical attraction forms a natural part, as well as the medical aspects and consequences of Morgan’s erectile dysfunction medication.

The easy-going representation of a disabled person’s sexual desires in a relationship seems to contain a ‘romantic overload’ in this drama: The first encounter of Morgan and Dean leads to their first date and a little later Dean adapts his apartment to Morgan’s needs so Morgan can feel comfortable there and it can become ‘our home’. This corresponds with the fact that in Dean’s eyes Morgan is ‘sexy as hell’ even with his disability. Thus, he is not only experiencing some sexual adventure but also an adorable and attractive partner. Conversely, Morgan may need erectile dysfunction medication for a fulfilled sex life. But above all, thanks to his romantic relationship with Dean Morgan does not depend on sex cinemas, prostitution and sex workers, or technical aids like penis pumps in order to satisfy his sexual desires. The (rare?) fortune of his situation becomes even more obvious when the Canadian short film Hole is taken into account, in which Martin Edralin’s main character Billy has to cope with the fact that he longs for intimacy but does not have a partner.

Aker’s main character is above all concerned with meeting Dean’s possible expectations. His own sexual needs and desires are still secondary at this point. This is the case even though Dean assures Morgan: ‘I wish you could walk and do some of the things I wanna do and I know you wanna do them, too. But you can’t. It’s not your fault.’ Nevertheless Morgan is worried: ‘I’m just afraid that… that I can’t do the things that you want… ’cause I can’t.’

As Aker’s film Morgan allows a disabled character to experience sexual desire and a romantic relationship it employs a traditional storyline: Dean and Morgan meet, have dates, are in a relationship, argue, separate and so on. These dramatic standard situations help turning their relationship into something ‘normal’ or – in Berg’s words – ‘universal’, too.[v] If in the end Morgan’s struggle over whether to show or to hide his affection for Dean in public reminds you of Andrew Haigh’s Weekend (2011) this is just another aspect of the universality of Aker’s film: The gay wheelchair user Morgan faces the same conflict as the gay character Russell, who is able-bodied.

Morgan’s need for help and an adjusted environment

Morgan is quite independent. He manages to handle a lot of things on his own. At times it even seems as if he has the superhuman powers of a super cripple. Nevertheless, the film does not conceal the fact that Morgan needs help with housework, for example. It also shows that Dean sometimes needs to help Morgan or that he is willing to help Morgan. Moreover, Dean doesn’t mind having aids for disabled people like Morgan’s shower chair in his apartment. Even if these aids look rather ‘unsexy’ anyway. What really counts for Dean is that Morgan needs them.

Apart from that the film shows how important an adjusted environment with elevators and ramps is for Morgan. In some of these scenes the standard height of the camera which is generally at the height of a walking or standing adult is lowered to the height of the wheelchair user.

Credits: United Gay Network

Conclusion

One of the questions raised by the disabled gay protagonist in Michael Akers’ film Morgan is whether masculinity and a body that has been changed due to a disability go together. Correspondingly, the main conflict of this drama is caused by Morgan’s wish to be a top athlete on the one hand and his new physical limits on the other. He still needs to adjust to his new situation and learn how to treat his body correctly. At the same time Morgan asks himself if and above all how he can enjoy his sexual identity after the accident. As I have mentioned above Morgan talks about this aspect quite openly with his physiotherapist. The easy-going approach of Akers and Berg, who give their character the opportunity to have a romantic relationship, does not minimize the problems the disabled gay character Billy faces in the Canadian short film Hole. The romantic aspect of Morgan simply adds an important aspect to the bigger picture. In addition, many short scenes in Morgan e.g. at the physiotherapist or Morgan’s training together with Dean prove that Akers, Berg and Minaya have done a lot of research to depict Morgan’s disability realistically. In comparison to many other films with disabled characters this may almost make up for the – nearly unavoidable – stereotypes of tragedy and triumph. Especially because many young people – mostly men? – would do everything to be their able-bodied ‘me’ again during their first year after an accident that left them with severe disability.

References

Berg, S. (2016, February 27). Morgan (E-Mail).

Berg, S. (2016, March 3). Morgan (E-Mail).

Gerschick, T. J. Toward a Theory of Disability and Gender. (2008). In K. E. Rosenblum & T.-M. Travis (Eds.), The Meaning of Difference. American Constructions of Race, Sex and Gender. Social Class, Sexual Orientation, and Disability (5th ed., pp. 360–363). New York NY: McGraw-Hill.

Hartmann, B. Rückblende. In T. Koebner (Ed.), Reclams Sachlexikon des Films (pp. 517–519). Stuttgart: Reclam.

Hickethier, K. (2001). Film- und Fernsehanalyse (3., überarbeitete Auflage). Sammlung Metzler: Vol. 277. Stuttgart, Weimar: Metzler.

Klobas, L. E. (1988). Disablity Drama in Television and film. Jefferson: McFarland.

Köbsell, S. (2010). Gendering Disability: Behinderung, Geschlecht und Körper. In J. Jacob, S. Köbsell, & E. Wollrad (Eds.), Gendering Disability. Intersektionale Aspekte von Behinderung und Geschlecht (pp. 17–33). Bielfeld: trascript Verlag.

Koebner, T. Dramaturgie. In T. Koebner (Ed.), Reclams Sachlexikon des Films (pp. 130–132). Stuttgart: Reclam.

Mitchell, D., & Snyder, S. (2006). Narrative Prothesis and the Materiality of Metaphor. In L. J. Davis (Ed.), The Disabiliy Studies Reader (2nd ed., pp. 205–216). New York: Routledge.

United Gay Network. (2012). Morgan: A Michael Akers Film. Press Kit. Retrieved from http://www.unitedgaynetwork.com/morgan/press_kit_downloads/MORGAN_PK_100112.pdf

[i] Translations from German texts are mine.

[ii] Cf. also Berg’s email on 03^rd March 2016

[iii] Regarding the functions of music in films cf. Hickethier 2001: 98-102.

[iv] Regarding the flashbacks in films cf. Hartmann 2002: 517.

[v] In regard to cinematic standard situations cf. Koebner 2002: 130f., in regard to Michael Akers’ and Sandon Berg’s concept of universality cf. Berg’s email on 27^th February 2016.

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Dr. phil. Petra Anders writes and talks about the representation of disability as well as about otherness, identity and films of all kinds in various contexts. Her dissertation dealing with the representation of disability and mental health in contemporary German film is entitled BEHINDERUNG UND PSYCHISCHE KRANKHEIT IM ZEITGENÖSSISCHEN DEUTSCHEN SPIELFILM. EINE VERGLEICHENDE FILMANALYSE and was published with Köngishausen & Neumann in December 2014. In 2016 her chapter ‘More than the “Other”?: On Four Tendencies Regarding the Representation of Disability in Contemporary German Film since 2005′ will be published in CULTURES OF REPRESENTATION: DISABILITY IN WORLD FILM CONTEXTS, edited by Benjamin Fraser.

In the mainstream cinema industry, polyamory is rarely a central story plot, but when it is employed as an intimate arrangement between characters, it is usually irrelevant to the storyline; in some cases it is glorified as an “unconventional lifestyle”, in some latently disapproved and in some just created without any backstory.

The glorification of polyamory as merely an “artistic whim” occurs in films Henry and June (1990), Head in the Clouds (2004) and Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008), where polyamory sinks into more important film narratives of human creativity (Henry and June), war (Head in the Clouds) or a woman’s indecisiveness (Vicky Cristina Barcelona – here it is, the bi-stigma of a bisexual’s inherent inability to pick sides).

Credits: Mediapro

The latent discursive disapproval of polyamory is depicted in Threesome (1994) and Savages (2012), where protagonists are being ridiculed by other students (Threesome) or are primarily labelled as savages – their “savageness” emerges from their criminal activities – they are drug smugglers (i.e. undisciplined citizens) or polyamory (i.e. “uncivilized” intimacy).

Credits: Relativity Media

In the monogamous society (and to some extent films do reflect general societal values), poly relationships or characters in films are prone to an inevitable ending or death; relationships dissolve, some characters die. The message is clear: poly relationships are not supposed to exist in our society because of their abjection (polyamory creates displeasure in others, but also stimulates curiosity) and potential disruption of the existing social, sexual, moral and emotional orders.

However, in the German film Three (Drei, 2010), directed by Tom Tykwer, it is quite the opposite; it is the monogamous relationship that is futile and headed for death just to be resurrected as a polyamorous relationship. Three is revolved around a high-profile upper class childfree couple (Hanna and Simon), based in Berlin, who are in their early 40s, when each of them gets sexually and emotionally involved with the same man (Adam), not being aware of each other’s involvements.

Credits: Tom Tykwer

What separates Three from other, aforementioned polyamorous films?

Firstly, it is the transformation of a relationship from dyadic to triadic, a film’s central premise, which happens very organically and poetically. The futility of Hanna and Simon’s monogamous relationship is quickly explained in the first sequence of the film – they are not having sex anymore and quarrel a lot which signals that their relationship of 20 years will either dissolve or mold into something else. If this was a monogamous narrative, they would engage in adultery, an “acceptable” solution that would keep the relationship artificially alive. However, both of them will later engage in “an affair” with Adam, but none of them is being labelled a “cheater” nor is the mood of the film condemning those actions.

In any other film (Unfaithful, for example) the narrative would have been preoccupied with the crucifixion of cheaters and the restoration of monogamy. The semiotics of this film poster maintains the prevalence of monogamy as the only acceptable arrangement of intimacy through carefully positioned symbols. A husband is overlooking the “cheating” situation from above, almost godlike, a lover’s head is cut from this frame – because he is an element that should and will be eliminated, a cheating wife is positioned beneath her husband. The exclusive visibility of hetero monogamous couple is the strategic move that indicates that monogamous marriage will be restored and that the unequal dynamics of a dominant husband and submissive wife will stay intact.

Credits: Regency Enterprises

Three also defies the ageist assumption of who can be polyamorous (not only young and beautiful). Simon, Hanna and Adam are not young, they are in their 40s, and they are not too pretty, but still visually relatable. At the beginning of the film, the couple is childfree and at the end, the now poly family is expecting twins. Not only does this encourage the idea of polyamory as a more fertile relationship, it also resists the ageist notion of a woman being pregnant only if she is young/er.

One of the most important aspects in Three is the representation of bisexuality. It is men (Adam and Simon) who are bisexual and not Hanna. There is a lack of positive representations of male bisexuality that can be contributed to the overall cultural bi-invisibility. Adam as a bisexual man, comfortable with his sexuality, is more than just his sexual orientation; he is a human being with several hobbies (e.g. singing in a choir, playing football, being an avid football fan, successful at his profession, practicing karate) and good social skills. It is rare to see a portrayal of a bisexual man so realistic and positive. However, Simon, who was straight so far, must rethink his sexuality but ignorantly falls into a cultural trap of sexual binarism when he wants to redefine himself; after the second sexual encounter with Adam, he explains to Adam that he is not gay. Unfortunately, this bi-erasure is still a common cultural reaction when it comes to non-heterosexualities.

Intimate encounters with Adam leave both of them (Hanna & Simon) pleasantly confused – Hanna’s love for Simon didn’t fade despite her lust for Adam and Simon must also rethink his new sexual identity. Their fulfilled sex lives revitalised their dying monogamous relationship up to the point that they get married. Adam embodies the new relationship energy in now poly relationship.

There are a lot of symbols that indicate or imply the death of monogamous relationship and an ascendance of polyamorous one.

Death is an omnipresent theme in Three and its metaphors are encoded in the death of Simon’s mother (she had pancreatic cancer), Simon’s testicular cancer (he survives) and Hanna’s miscarriages that can be interpreted as futility of the monogamous relationship.

Credits: Tom Tykwer

Water as a symbol of rebirth is prevalent in Simon’s redesign of himself; he usually goes for a swim in the public swimming pool which is also the place where he meets Adam. Here, water  has a double meaning for Simon – he is “reborn” as a human being (still amongst the living after his cancer) with the new sexual identity (i.e. bisexual).

Credits: Tom Tykwer

There are several implications that 3 is the new form of intimacy; for example, the dance piece at the beginning of the film shows a triad, engaged with each other, “good things come in three”, said Adam when Hanna and he met for the third time and then there is an almost Amelie Poulain sequence that explains the nearly fatalistic importance of the number 3: Simon’s mother had only three months to live, but she died by taking 39 sleeping pills on September 3rd at 3:09, Simon’s sister moved to Stuttgart in 1993 and was aged 39, came to see dying mother by train at 9:30 at moonlight tariff 39 euros …

Credits: Tom Tykwer

Eventually, they do find out that they are in a triadic relationship with each other (Hanna + Simon, Simon + Adam and Hanna + Adam) and after the first shock and breaking up, they get back together, forming a poly relationship. The last scene shows their potential not just for a polyamorous relationship, but also for a poly family.

On the other hand, Three also has its weaknesses. Protagonists are quite privileged, they are white (despite the fact that the film was shot in multi-ethnic Berlin, there are no other ethnicities present but Caucasian or white), highly educated and well off (Simon is into building arts, Adam and Hanna are both Ph.D.’s.), all of them are cisgender, able-bodied and able-minded.

Three may not be a perfect film, but it manages to be a trailblazer for a more realistic and mature approach on how to represent poly relationships and families in the mainstream cinema.

Party Girl (2014, d.: M. Amachoukeli, C. Burger and S. Theis) is a French woman-centric film, focused on Angélique Litzenburger, a sixty-year-old unmarried cabaret dancer, who has decided to get married; however, she does not follow through with her marital plan. The film plot may sound simple, but the story narrative deals with the ‘marriage mandate’ (i.e. a societal urge for a woman to be married at some point) and reveals an implicit societal sexism, ageism and classism.

‘Marriage mandate’ is something every western woman is seduced by with the help of ideological mechanisms (e.g. media, education system, religion, family, peers) that serve as self-disciplinary tools. Instead of someone directly commanding “You as a woman should get married”, an inside voice within a woman’s head (‘patriarchal other’) is gently whispering ‘Maybe I should be getting married because it is ____‘ (time, everyone else is, I don’t want to be alone …). And this is exactly what is happening to Angélique. She is is getting old(er), despite her single marital status she has four grown-up children, none of which prepared or able to take care of her in the future – emotionally, financially and physically, but the most important fact is that her job as an unregistered cabaret dancer did not enable her pension or retirement benefits. By not being entitled to any kind of pension, she could only collect a welfare support and live on the edge of poverty.

Her decision to marry a man at her age is a survival tactic, used by people of her economic underprivileged group. Although aging alone is a lonely experience, for a woman it is more of an economic risk, especially for low-income women, who also originate in a low socioeconomic class and could not climb upon the social ladder due to their socioeconomic and cultural limitations. This is where old age and inadequate financial power, gained through a person’s lifespan, meet and create an unfavourable living situation. For an uneducated woman, employment options are limited; she can only do jobs that require manual skills – and that also includes sex work.

Credits: Denis Carot & Marie Masmonteil

There is no sex-shaming in what Angélique and other women do on their account; it is a paid job and should be respected as any other one. However, this is not how her life is viewed through the eyes of a handful of young male clients, her children and soon-to-be-husband, who benevolently judges her nomadic lifestyle (“I live where I work”) and her thirst for fun. Her home is more with her women co-workers and the place where she works (public sphere) than a house where a woman of her age should spend her time (domestic sphere). Fun and self-indulgence (e.g. drinking, partying) of an older woman are not a picture society wants to paint. Women should abandon their need to have fun, to be irresponsible, reckless and spontaneous, because they must constantly think about their financial future (wage gap and limited options for work are almost every woman’s reality) and care about the social stigma for not being too sexual.

By marrying a man, she would gain more of the economic stability. But economic powerfulness of her fiancée is tricky – she immediately slips into the role of a housewife, which is a symbolic reminder of her economic dependency. A housewife in a traditional household has no status and no power, when it comes to economic decisions and even personal matters. Here is an example where a man’s economic power spills over into the personal control over a woman. There is a scene where her fiancée scolds her in front of his friends for smoking in the house. Surprisingly, his friends take her side arguing that it is now her house too, so she can do whatever she wants. Her fiancée does not share this view. “It is my house”, he stresses, “She just moved in.” It is clear that economic power overshadowed the romance. But (hetero) romance has always been about power – those who have more economic power, possess more power to command and control the other partner, even in such a trivial matter as someone’s behaviour. In this particular case, gender is amplified with economic privilege, so it constitutes rather traditional dynamics between a woman and a man, where Angélique should obey.

Another angle of their traditional coupling is fiancée’s overall possessiveness over her. Not only does he want to control her economically, he wants to eradicate any signs of her being a sexual being for anyone else but him. He gets upset when she is innocently flirting with a much younger man, although they never defined their relationship as monogamous. His suffocating sexual possessiveness results in her rejecting him sexually – she cannot have sex with him. The lack of emotional connectedness and his patriarchal views on marriage and women detach her from her sexual self and him. Angélique as a cabaret dancer is also stereotyped as a sexual worker – he expects ‘a wild animal’ in the sack, but she is not. She likes to perform seductiveness, not to live it. She enjoys the erotic overture, not the banal manifestation. She caters men’s fantasies, not their carnal fulfilment.

At the end, she does not go through with the marriage and walks away alone in the night. The equation between her being in a traditional marriage and her being a single nomad did not add up in her mind. She would have given up her joyfulness, emotional and mental independence, sexual vigor and … herself.

Credits: Denis Carot & Marie Masmonteil

Party Girl caters the premise of marriage as being emotionally, sexually and personally unbeneficial for a woman. When a woman must abandon parts of herself that do not fit into the simplistic and use-value model of a monogamous wife-sacrificial mother-dutiful housekeeper, then becoming a traditional wife can be compared to a social death of a woman, slowly withering away as a spiritual, sexual, emotional and economic being.

Femininity is something that I, women or persons, who identify as women, do every day by embodying the cultural script of gender(ed) expectations and norms; how to look, behave, feel, think, what to expect from a society and what society expects from us. The cultural script of what femininity is, modifies historically (i.e. through time in the society) and biographically (i.e. through time in an individual life), producing an array of femininities, differing themselves on the basis of intersecting gender expression, sexual identity, skin colour, ethnicity, class (social, economic, cultural capital), religious background, age, body ability etc. An individual femininity is therefore a cumulation of different social positions, for example: androgynous, bisexual second generation Asian woman, living in Germany, originating from lower middle class with M.A. degree.

There is one golden standard that all cumulated femininities are subjected to; it is so called ‘good’ femininity. Sociologist Raewyn Connell named it ‘compliant’, scholar Mimi Schippers coined a term ‘hegemonic femininity’ but all in all, it is femininity with many privileges, embodied in whiteness, heterosexuality, middle class, body ability and youth, together with the fulfilment of all woman-constituting roles – a mother, wife, caregiver, housewife.

When not occupying these privileged social locations (e.g. skin colour or class), ill-performing or deliberately rejecting women’s roles (e.g. being a single woman), Othering occurs as a milder or stronger sort of the social repercussion.

First among those femininities is Clara‘s femininity (Meryl Streep). She could be the visual and behavioural prototype of the ‘good’ one – she is a mother and wife, has long, blonde hair, white skin, fragile figure, is dressed in a whitish clothes, she is coming from the upper class, her personality is non-conflicting, peaceful, angelic, almost virginal. But Clara has a flaw.

She is clairvoyant (her name can be interpreted as ‘clear’ or ‘clear-eyed’, unpolluted by material/istic society and unattached to her physical body) and telekinetic (she can potentially rearrange things with her mind). This specific personal trait labels her as a liminal being but her spiritual Otherness is protected by her upper class and skin colour; in a less privileged context, she would be vilified as a mad woman or stigmatised as a person with an (invisible) impairment (‘a freak’).

Her clairvoyance and deliberate muteness can be interpreted as an exaggeration of a gendered expectation for a good woman to be ‘pure’, moral, spiritual and silent. And by this, she has intentionally withdrawn herself from the patriarchal order, a system where women’s visions or voices are anyway dismissed as silly or unnecessary.

Ferula and Clara

Ferula (Glenn Close), Esteban‘s (Jeremy Irons) sister and Clara‘s sister in law, is double Othered femininity – for being unmarried and queer (or latent lesbian). If Clara is depicted as the white angel, then is Ferula a dark antagonist; dressed in almost monastic attire, consisted of black, thick clothes, crucifix, hanging around her neck with mousy coloured hair, firmly styled into a prudish bun. Being socially forced to be unmarried due to her gendered caregiving obligations towards her disabled mother and misogynous brother, her singleness is deepened with her closeted lesbianism.

Ferula personifies the stereotypical cinematic trope of a dangerous lesbian who can lure a straight wife (Clara) into lesbianism and disrupt heterosexual marriage. Her queer affection for Clara stretches from her motherly care to purely lustful tendencies (e.g. she explains while in the confession that she wants to climb into Clara‘s bed and feel her warm skin). It is never directly revealed if those two women have a sexual relationship (they definitely share an emotional one, a quasi-Boston marriage perhaps?), however when Esteban catches them in the same bed (fully clothed though), he decides to send Ferula away. Ferula as a double Othered woman is sentenced to a life of poverty and social isolation which is an expected punishment for a queer singlehood in homophobic cinematic narratives. A lesbian is fruitless for the heteronormative patriarchy.

Pancha Garcia (Sarita Choudhury) is one of Esteban‘s Latina woman workers and multiple Othered on grounds of her skin, nationality, class and gender. The cumulated Othering results in the portrayal of her as a nameless (nobody addresses her by her name) and voiceless (she doesn’t speak, only screams in pain when being assaulted) Othered beauty (i.e. dark-haired, brown-skinned, sensual, young) whose powerlessness toughens Esteban‘s (male) entitlement over her body – he brutally rapes her. Pancha is the tragic reminder of the white male history where women of colour were being animalised, dehumanised and objectified.

Pancha Garcia (Credits: Miramax Films)

Less obviously deviant and protected by their privileges (or status shield) femininities (e.g. Clara) are also less Othered than those with cumulated disadvantages (e.g. Ferula and Pancha).

But when women distance themselves by choice or social conditions from the standard of good femininity, the annihilation of trespassers is expected. THOTS, based on the novel by Isabel Allende, just continues the literary discourse of magic realism, a genre where gender roles are rarely challenged and by this, any deviation from the norm is met with the social powerlessness (i.e. muteness, social isolation, poverty, sexual assault).

In a masculine world, nothing a woman is or does “wrong”, goes unpunished.

However, this is not how the story goes in Magic Mike XXL (MM XXL). MM XXL (2015, d.: Gregory Jacobs) is build around male sex work (i.e. stripping), masculinity as a fluid concept and women as central guilt- and shame-free pleasure seekers with spending power.

In a Western society, some professions are Othered; they are low-positioned in the work hierarchy, lacking social prestige or power and perceived as ‘dirty’. A job is unjustly branded as dirty if a person handles with physical (e.g. garbage, waste, excrement), social (i.e. servility to others) and/or moral (i.e. sex-related work) dirt. Sex work or stripping, to be precise, is one of those Othered professions that are filled with social (serving others by dancing for payment) and moral (sexualised entertainment) aversion. Stripping as a part of sex work nomenclature is primarily a gendered profession, considered as feminine sex entertainment service because dancing, sexual servility and body-as-instrument are elements of women’s work script. Men are not supposed to dance, because dancing invokes uninhibited body moves, affiliated with chaos, freedom and pleasure as opposed to the disciplinary regimes of walking or military marching. When men fully engage on the dancefloor for their own pleasure, they are bending gender rules of an appropriate masculine conduct of moving.

Male strippers, performers, who are using their dancing skills to sexually seduce female audience, are further gender-bending the accepted notions of male stoic heteronormativity that deprive men from being seductive towards women by displaying their bodies. Women are (western) culturally predestined to be seductresses with their ornamented and exposed bodies. It is strange (Othered?) for a man to be half-naked, seducing women and making money out of it.

Magic Mike

MM XXL is one of the rare cinematic representations of male stripping where portrayals of male strippers doesn’t fall into the category of comedic (usually homophobic) giggles or social seriousness. What they do for living, is normal. Despite a constant visibility of male bulked bodies, MM XXL men are not being objectified. The concept of an objectification derives from the fact that a person is reduced to his/her/their body parts and intentionally dehumanized by it. MM XXL men’s ripped bodies are part of their personhood and the work they do, but they are also individuals with their own stories, ambitions, world views and problems. Mike (C. Tatum) is an entreprenur, Ken (M. Bomer) is a spiritual healer, Big Dick Richie (J. Manganiello) struggles with the fire-phobia and oversized penis problem (here it is – the ending of the myth that women want big cocks), Tarzan (K. Nash) is facing with ageism and his own mortality, Tito (A. Rodríguez) is also an entreprenur. MM XXL men are fully aware of their less privileged socio-economic position and that their economic well-being depends on their healthy, fit and young(ish) bodies. Bodies are fickle entities – they tend to get old, a fact that nobody has control over it and this creates a permanent anxiety, present in their day-to-day living. An aging body anxiety affects everybody who are in body-related professions (e.g. sports, fashion, entertainment – acting, dancing) because they must be thoughful about the future which will not include their main means of support – a body.

Stripping demands a visible body (exposed, naked) and for the dominant or hegemonic masculinity (white, heterosexual, middle class, able-bodied, educated) that is an anomaly, the Other. Male is not culturally constructed as Body (or nature), but as the Mind (or culture) and by using their bodies instead of minds,  male strippers are transgressing their gender and approaching towards their ‘antagonist’ – femininity. Furthermore, male performers also subvert the angle of the male gaze – they do not look at other (women), they are looked by other (women). By abdicating their socially given entitlement to ogle women’s bodies, they position themselves as ”objects” of the female gaze. MM XXL men perform for ‘her pleasure’ and they fulfil an array of women’s (hetero)sexual desires from romantic wedding fantasies, cunnilingus (btw. Mike’s head is pretty often located between women’s thighs) to group sex and BDSM episodes. Nothing is othered, everything is welcomed, but too bad that female same-sex desire is absent.

Women’s desire is rarely depicted so deliberately non-judgmental in the cinema; usually, sexually active woman falls into the category of a ‘bad’ woman – mentally unstable, promiscuous, dangerous and in need for ‘correction’ (marriage or death). In MM XXL, the male desire to perform sexually and women’s readiness to consume it creates a realm of sexual equality between parties involved, a little sexual paradise, free from gender roles and forced purity. Female consumers – being presented as actively sexual beings – also embody a spectrum of diverse femininities (e.g. black, brown, white, thin, fat, young, old/er), but furthermore, MM XXL women are self-reliant, confident and … mature: strip club owner Rome (J. Pinkett Smith), middle-aged Southern belle Nancy (A. McDowell), convention organizer Paris (E. Banks) and tomboyish photographer Zoe (A. Heard), all of them sexually literate. To dilute overall female heterosexual climate, there is a queer moment between Rome and Paris, but this is as far as the film goes.

MM XXL men are pioneers of the newer, more fluid masculinity; empathy, communication, companionship, support and respect for each other and Others (women in general: clients, ex-bosses, potential lovers) are their main traits. These men, so comfortable in their bodies and their heterosexuality, are constantly touching each other and yet there isn’t one homophobic, sexist, racist or ageist joke made, because they do not need to validate their masculinity by degrading the Other. In MM XXL, toxic masculinity has been discarded as an unnecessary and outdated waste that has polluted everyone for far too long.

MM XXL is a campy, positive, gender-bending (e.g. their attendance at drag club is for their own dance pleasure and not for making fun out of transgressive identities), but mostly, a pro-sex feminist film where women come (or cum) first.