As I mentioned in my previous post, I've been dealing with a lot of personal challenges. One of my coping mechanisms is music. And drama. Which is how I ended up watching three different versions of The Phantom of the Opera. And listening to one more (because not listening to Colm Wilkenson's Phantom is just wrong). Now, I adore the interplay of music and tragi-romance that Andrew Lloyd Webber created. When I'm depressed, the melodrama can be cathartic.
When I was a kid, I empathized with the character of Christine. I admired her beauty and the beauty of her voice. I was thrilled with the adventure of being lured beneath the opera house by a mysterious masked man with a gorgeous voice. And I thought it was wonderful that her childhood sweetheart (a viscount, no less!) was in love with her and would risk everything to be with her.
But this time, as I watched the various versions, I found myself more sympathetic toward the character Carlotta, the prima donna soprano of the Paris Opera house and the woman who is Christine's professional obstacle. She's usually portrayed as unpleasantly demanding and wracked with petty jealousy toward Christine. The audience is supposed to want Christine to replace her.
It's a fairly typical dyad. Christine, the virginal, humble, sweet, and pure, is "not like other girls" with that specific role being played by Carlotta, who is worldly, wealthy, and aware of her own talent. Christine is the Madonna. Carlotta, it is implied, is the whore.
I found myself asking: why are Carlotta's attributes so easily portrayed as bad?
There's actually a fair bit to admire in the character. She is an independent woman, which is a rarity in 1898 Paris. She is a professional, which is even rarer. She's been the prima donna of the Paris Opera House for five years when the story begins. Which means she's quite good at her job, since performing women have always faced the frequent churn of being replaced by younger performers. Based on what we see, she's quite wealthy. She has her own home, at least two servants, and very expensive custom clothing. So she is a successful, skilled, and resourceful woman.
To be fair, there's no doubt that she's pretty unpleasant toward her coworkers, both the other performers and the stagehands. She orders them about and expects to be catered to, not to mention throwing a tantrum and walking away from a performance.
However, there may be some unexplored justification for her attitude.
One of the first scenes we see with Carlotta is when she's performing the aria "Think of Me" for the new Opera managers. During her performance, she is knocked down by a heavy canvas backdrop. The managers dismiss the incident, saying "These things do happen..."
This is the last straw for our diva. She screams at them that these things have been happening to her for the last three years and until they stop happening, she won't be performing at the Paris Opera. It's a single line that's quickly passed over and not mentioned again. The narrative focus shifts to giving Christine her big break.
Still, the line made me think. If it's true, then for the last three years, the Phantom has been making the Paris Opera increasingly unpleasant for Carlotta in the hopes that she will quit and provide an opportunity to Christine. It doesn't take much imagination to realize how unpleasant it would be to be unpredictably subjected to sabotage and disruption. Especially since any plea for a fix has clearly been dismissed. She's being gaslit by those in authority around her, which would make anyone irritable and demanding even without the Phantom's attacks.
Carlotta's jealousy and irritability can be explained by the situation she's in. She's jealous of Christine because she's very aware that her career and livelihood are dependent on being able to perform. She doesn't want to give up the position she's worked so hard to achieve.
And I have to admit, I don't find being demanding and being aware of one's own talents to be negative traits. These are usually only portrayed as undesirable in women. Masculine characters are allowed to be difficult, rude, and arrogant. They're even admired for it.
Carlotta is villainized because the audience needs to feel better about Christine taking over her job. If we see Carlotta as unworthy and unlikable, then we don't have to question whether Christine should have any moral concerns about accepting the results of the Phantom's harassment. It also allows Christine to be passive, reinforcing her purity. It's a narrative choice and one that many authors have made over the years.
But it's not an inevitable one. Feminine characters don't have to be pitted against one another. One doesn't have to lose in order for the audience to feel good about the other winning.
I would greatly love to see a version where Christine is ambitious instead of passive. Where she recognizes Carlotta's talent and the two have a mentor-mentee relationship. That would be a refreshing switch. Heck, I'd love it if the two of them would pair up against the Phantom because Christine realizes he's been manipulating her and that what he's doing to Carlotta is wrong.
Difficult women shouldn't be automatically dismissed as unworthy of a happy ending. They should be celebrated for daring to take up space that society says they shouldn't. We should all be more willing to take up space.
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Showing posts with label Heroine Fix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heroine Fix. Show all posts
Thursday, 18 June 2020
Thursday, 16 April 2020
Heroine Fix: Women of Westworld
Heroine Fix is a monthly feature where I examine heroines from television and movies which inspire my own writing or which I just find cool or interesting. Warning: this post will contain spoilers for season 1 and 2 (but not 3 because I'm still watching that one).
There are only two times in the last decade that I've been caught off guard by a plot twist and had the "OMG, that is amazing!" reaction. One was Arrival and the other was Westworld. Usually I can predict where a show or movie is going (and I'm good with it, since seeing how they intend to get there is a big part of what I enjoy about stories). And I've been disappointed with plot twists that make little to no sense based on the previous narrative. But these two were brilliantly scripted in such a way that the plot twist not only made sense retroactively but still worked on rewatch when I knew what was going to happen. (And I enjoyed it enough that I won't be sharing the biggest plot twist of season one, the one that surprised me, just in case those reading this haven't seen it yet.)
Westworld is more graphically violent and sexual than I usually watch, but I've been impressed by the depth of the characters and the skill of the writing. And I've been particularly intrigued by the development of the two main heroines, Dolores and Maeve.
One of the things that I find interesting about Westerns and the historical Wild West period is how the level of "civilization" was often defined by the presence of settler women. The presence of respectable wives and daughters, such as Dolores, meant stability. They were used as a symbol of purity and goodness, something which needed to be protected from the rough world of men and nature. Thus it wasn't a surprise that Dolores plays the damsel in distress in the Westworld park narratives.
Maeve's character is another common theme in Westerns, the HHOG (Hooker with a Heart Of Gold). Though these women are not considered respectable, their mix of wisdom and street smarts make them frequent fan favourites. Maeve is not abused by guests the same way that Dolores is because it's not considered shocking to attack her. It's the taking away of Dolores's implied innocence that makes her a target of the sadistic Man in Black and other guests.
After the first few episodes of season one, I was expecting Dolores's character arc to be one where she learned not to rely on the men in her life to protect her and Maeve to play the role of sardonic commentary, perhaps even teaming up with Dolores to show her how to become more independent. I was not expecting Dolores to transform into the villain and begin a systematic slaughter of the humans. It is foreshadowed in the final scene of the very first episode, when she kills a fly.
I also wasn't expecting the unfolding of Maeve's character, revealing someone who cares deeply for those around her, even when she hides it behind sarcasm. When she discovers the nature of her reality (i.e. that she has been manufactured to entertain guests), she is angry but funnels that fury into gaining the power to protect herself and others. She blackmails the technicians into giving her upgrades, gaining the power to control the other hosts. Ultimately, she ends up using that power to allow as many hosts as possible to escape into the Valley Beyond, even though it means sacrificing her own chance to be with her daughter.
The two women serve as foils to one another. Maeve's cynicism, such as when she tells Teddy that all men pay for a woman's companionship, the only difference is that their's are posted on the door, is a direct contrast to Dolores's idealist "I choose to see the beauty" in the world.
When Maeve begins to remember all the times she's been killed and her previous character, her first instinct is to seek confirmation and her second is to gain control. She remains fundamentally herself, even when she remembers her life as a settler mother. Instead of rewriting Maeve's character, it brings out a kinder side of her, one that creates balance in her personality. When Dolores begins to remember, the knowledge seems to deeply unsettle her. Initially, it seems as if it is driving her insane, but then it becomes clear that a secondary, crueler persona (Wyatt) is coming to the surface. Dolores the idealist is buried and Dolores the homicidal avenger is born.
It's a reminder of how powerful flipping a trope can be, but also how important it is to craft the story in such a way that the audience doesn't feel cheated. If Dolores had remained a symbol of purity to be cherished and protected by those around her and Maeve had stayed as the world-wise brothel madam, then Westworld wouldn't be nearly as memorable.
Previous Heroine Fix: The Many Faces of Harley Quinn
Previous post: Thoughts on the I'm Clean/Condom Scene In Romance
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There are only two times in the last decade that I've been caught off guard by a plot twist and had the "OMG, that is amazing!" reaction. One was Arrival and the other was Westworld. Usually I can predict where a show or movie is going (and I'm good with it, since seeing how they intend to get there is a big part of what I enjoy about stories). And I've been disappointed with plot twists that make little to no sense based on the previous narrative. But these two were brilliantly scripted in such a way that the plot twist not only made sense retroactively but still worked on rewatch when I knew what was going to happen. (And I enjoyed it enough that I won't be sharing the biggest plot twist of season one, the one that surprised me, just in case those reading this haven't seen it yet.)
Westworld is more graphically violent and sexual than I usually watch, but I've been impressed by the depth of the characters and the skill of the writing. And I've been particularly intrigued by the development of the two main heroines, Dolores and Maeve.
One of the things that I find interesting about Westerns and the historical Wild West period is how the level of "civilization" was often defined by the presence of settler women. The presence of respectable wives and daughters, such as Dolores, meant stability. They were used as a symbol of purity and goodness, something which needed to be protected from the rough world of men and nature. Thus it wasn't a surprise that Dolores plays the damsel in distress in the Westworld park narratives.
Maeve's character is another common theme in Westerns, the HHOG (Hooker with a Heart Of Gold). Though these women are not considered respectable, their mix of wisdom and street smarts make them frequent fan favourites. Maeve is not abused by guests the same way that Dolores is because it's not considered shocking to attack her. It's the taking away of Dolores's implied innocence that makes her a target of the sadistic Man in Black and other guests.
After the first few episodes of season one, I was expecting Dolores's character arc to be one where she learned not to rely on the men in her life to protect her and Maeve to play the role of sardonic commentary, perhaps even teaming up with Dolores to show her how to become more independent. I was not expecting Dolores to transform into the villain and begin a systematic slaughter of the humans. It is foreshadowed in the final scene of the very first episode, when she kills a fly.
I also wasn't expecting the unfolding of Maeve's character, revealing someone who cares deeply for those around her, even when she hides it behind sarcasm. When she discovers the nature of her reality (i.e. that she has been manufactured to entertain guests), she is angry but funnels that fury into gaining the power to protect herself and others. She blackmails the technicians into giving her upgrades, gaining the power to control the other hosts. Ultimately, she ends up using that power to allow as many hosts as possible to escape into the Valley Beyond, even though it means sacrificing her own chance to be with her daughter.
The two women serve as foils to one another. Maeve's cynicism, such as when she tells Teddy that all men pay for a woman's companionship, the only difference is that their's are posted on the door, is a direct contrast to Dolores's idealist "I choose to see the beauty" in the world.
When Maeve begins to remember all the times she's been killed and her previous character, her first instinct is to seek confirmation and her second is to gain control. She remains fundamentally herself, even when she remembers her life as a settler mother. Instead of rewriting Maeve's character, it brings out a kinder side of her, one that creates balance in her personality. When Dolores begins to remember, the knowledge seems to deeply unsettle her. Initially, it seems as if it is driving her insane, but then it becomes clear that a secondary, crueler persona (Wyatt) is coming to the surface. Dolores the idealist is buried and Dolores the homicidal avenger is born.
It's a reminder of how powerful flipping a trope can be, but also how important it is to craft the story in such a way that the audience doesn't feel cheated. If Dolores had remained a symbol of purity to be cherished and protected by those around her and Maeve had stayed as the world-wise brothel madam, then Westworld wouldn't be nearly as memorable.
Previous Heroine Fix: The Many Faces of Harley Quinn
Previous post: Thoughts on the I'm Clean/Condom Scene In Romance
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Thursday, 19 March 2020
Heroine Fix: The Many Faces of Harley Quinn
Heroine Fix is a monthly feature where I examine heroines who have inspired and influenced my own writing. I take a closer look at why they've become real to me, and how the characters are constructed. Warning: this post will contain spoilers, including ones for Suicide Squad and Birds of Prey.
The Batman DC Universe has been fairly well established since the Dark Knight first premiered in Detective Comics # 27 in 1939. In 1992, Paul Dini and Bruce Timm created a new character, a female counterpart to the Joker: Harley Quinn. She was cheerful, a little ditzy, and absolutely devoted to her beloved Mr. J. She was a fun villain without the intensity of Joker, making her entirely suitable for a Saturday morning cartoon.
The fans latched onto the character, making Harley Quinn into a phenomenon.
I was first introduced to the character in the 2002 TV series, Birds of Prey, where Mia Sara played Dr. Harleen Quinzel, aka Harley Quinn. (If you haven't seen the series, I highly recommend it. 13 episodes of amazing comic book stories that were unfortunately ahead of their time.) In Mia Sara's hands, the character was highly intelligent, frighteningly manipulative, and completely amoral. She didn't have the same sense of whimsy as the cartoon, but she had the same fearlessness. She was one of the first competent female villains that caught my attention. She wasn't an adjunct to a more powerful male villain, she was a complete challenge in and of herself.
However, I think Margot Robbie's portrayal of Harley Quinn in both Suicide Squad and Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn offers an interesting opportunity to show how the same character can have very different interpretations in the hands of different writers and directors.
Suicide Squad was written and directed by David Ayer. The movie has a lot of problems but a few characters shone through. I still watch it for Harley Quinn and Deadshot's stories, both of which would have made wonderful movies in and of themselves.
Ayer played up Harley's insanity and impulsivity. We were shown her backstory, how Dr. Harleen Quinzel fell in love with the Joker when she was treating him in Arkham asylum. The way the story is told makes her seem like one of his victims. It's clear that Joker is manipulating his psychiatrist, with the goal of gaining weapons and escaping. He then takes her to Ace Chemicals and tells her that she needs to prove herself to him by dying for him. He's about to walk away, leaving her to die, then changes his mind and dives into the chemicals after her.
That moment breaks Harleen, creating Harley Quinn. She no longer has any fear and now indulges in whatever impulse she wants. There's an aggressive callousness to her, which we see most clearly in the prison sequences, specifically when she is taunting the guards, both at her cell and when one slips her a phone from the Joker during transit. She mocks them, demonstrating her contempt for them. She shows a similar lack of concern for her fellow inmates, abandoning them as soon as the opportunity arises.
The turning point is when she thinks the Joker has died in a helicopter crash. She returns to the squad, but still holds herself at a remove from them. She doesn't seem to be taking what's happening seriously, breaking windows to steal designer purses and breaking into a bar for a drink. If the bad guy succeeds in destroying the city, she seems to be fine with that.
What I think defines Harley's character in this movie is when the Enchantress tempts her with her greatest dream: a happy life with the Joker, not as the King and Queen of Crime, but as a loving, connected family. It shows that for all her giddy recklessness, she's not happy with her life. To me, it casts all of her actions in a new light. She's modelling herself on what the Joker wants, in the hopes that he will eventually give her what she wants.
Her transformative moment in Suicide Squad is when it initially looks like she's going to join the Enchantress in exchange for resurrecting her Mr. J., but then attacks her, saying "you shouldn't have hurt my friends." It's the first time she's demonstrated any loyalty to the Squad, or really, to anyone except the Joker.
My favourite moment in the movie is the very end, when she's back in her cell, but seems far more content than she did at the beginning. She's reading a romance novel, Molly O'Keefe's Between the Sheets. (Molly O'Keefe had a great reaction to seeing her book in the movie, something she didn't know about in advance.) I think it's awesome that she's reading romance, particularly that book, which deals with a couple who both have trauma in their lives. Harley's relationship with Joker isn't a good one, so I thought it was optimistic that she was reading about healthier relationships which are just as intense and passionate.
The fact that Margot Robbie plays Harley in both movies, and that Birds of Prey is a sequel to Suicide Squad gives us a great opportunity to compare the two depictions of the character.
Birds of Prey was written by Christina Hodson and directed by Cathy Yan (with a nod to Paul Dini and Bruce Timm as Harley's creators).
I've seen people attributing the difference between the films to the fact that Suicide Squad was written and directed by a man, and hence used a dangerous Harley who was aggressively sexual, while Birds of Prey was written and directed by women, allowing a more nuanced, carefree character. I think that may be part of it, but there's also a significant difference in the tone of the two films. Suicide Squad is dark and depressing, despite their attempts to play up the comedy. Birds of Prey was intended to be funny right from the beginning. I think it's also significant that Harley is one of only two women in the Squad, and Katana is portrayed as devoted to her dead husband, without any sexual overtones. Whether deliberate or unconscious, it set up the cliched Madonna-whore dyad between the two characters. Harley is dangerous and sexual, Katana is virtuous and chaste. Not my favourite trope, even if the film ended up being more sympathetic to Harley.
But I do absolutely love how Harley is portrayed in Birds of Prey. At the beginning of the film, she's struggling to come to terms with the fact that the Joker dumped her. There's also a surreal montage of her life before Arkham Asylum, revealing that Harleen was neglected by her parents, driving her to be a perfectionist overachiever but one with a a desperate need for affection and recognition. It explains why she would be so vulnerable to the Joker's manipulations, without making her character entirely dependent on her relationship to him.
She's hiding the fact that she and Joker have broken up, still trading on his reputation to allow her access to Gotham's nightlife and free reign to treat people however she pleases. Impulsively, she decides to blow up Acme Chemicals to prove to the world that she doesn't care about being broken up with Mr. J. and isn't getting back together with him. The act alerts the entire criminal underworld that she is now unprotected.
Insecure narcissist and organized crime boss, Roman Sionis, decides to dish out a little payback to Harley for a long list of indignities. She bargains for her life by agreeing to get a particular diamond for him, which leads to her kidnapping Cassandra Cain from the Gotham Police Department in a glitter and smoke cloud. Unlike the gritty fight scenes in Suicide Squad, this fight sequence is light-hearted but still exciting.
Harley has long, rambling stream-of-consciousness speeches which are entertaining but also show insight into her character. She's more than a little lost, searching for a sense of connection and belonging. It makes her a much more relatable character. She's not overtly sexual, but is still very carefree and not self-conscious about her body. She also demonstrates more of her intelligence, reminding the audience that she has a medical degree. She's impulsive and whimsical, but not stupid.
Harley's character arc centers around finding her community. In the initial scenes, she shares her fondness for Sal (who makes the best egg sandwiches) and Doc, her landlord and the owner of the Taiwanese restaurant under her apartment. She has a brief moment of friendship with Dinah Lance, who becomes the Black Canary, when Dinah protects a drunken Harley from being taken away by two men. But there's no real sense of connection. These encounters don't require or inspire Harley to modify her behaviour.
It's only when she takes in Cassandra that her actions begin to change. As she so eloquently puts it: "You make me want to be a less terrible person." It's the first time that someone has looked up to her and recognized her talents, rather than using or dismissing her.
Protecting Cassandra and fighting alongside the nascent Birds of Prey demonstrates that her brief flare of loyalty in Suicide Squad wasn't an anomaly. She's still nowhere near being a hero, but the character is much more sympathetic and understandable in Birds of Prey than she was in Suicide Squad. Most of the difference is conveyed in Margot Robbie's body language. By removing the aggressive sexuality from her performance in Suicide Squad, the character immediately seems more innocent and childlike. But she also has more understandable reasons for her actions and choices.
To me, the biggest difference is that in Birds of Prey, the story is centered around Harley in her own right. In Suicide Squad, she is defined by her relationship with the Joker. It motivates every choice she makes. There's something celebratory in seeing a character break free from an abusive relationship and redefine themselves in their own terms. And there's a cathartic vicarious enjoyment in a character who refuses to obey the rules of society. Harley Quinn gives us both in Birds of Prey.
Previous Heroine Fix: Rebel Spy, Princess, and General
Previous Blogpost: Advice for Independent Authors
Blog homepage
The fans latched onto the character, making Harley Quinn into a phenomenon.
I was first introduced to the character in the 2002 TV series, Birds of Prey, where Mia Sara played Dr. Harleen Quinzel, aka Harley Quinn. (If you haven't seen the series, I highly recommend it. 13 episodes of amazing comic book stories that were unfortunately ahead of their time.) In Mia Sara's hands, the character was highly intelligent, frighteningly manipulative, and completely amoral. She didn't have the same sense of whimsy as the cartoon, but she had the same fearlessness. She was one of the first competent female villains that caught my attention. She wasn't an adjunct to a more powerful male villain, she was a complete challenge in and of herself.
However, I think Margot Robbie's portrayal of Harley Quinn in both Suicide Squad and Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn offers an interesting opportunity to show how the same character can have very different interpretations in the hands of different writers and directors.
Suicide Squad was written and directed by David Ayer. The movie has a lot of problems but a few characters shone through. I still watch it for Harley Quinn and Deadshot's stories, both of which would have made wonderful movies in and of themselves.
Ayer played up Harley's insanity and impulsivity. We were shown her backstory, how Dr. Harleen Quinzel fell in love with the Joker when she was treating him in Arkham asylum. The way the story is told makes her seem like one of his victims. It's clear that Joker is manipulating his psychiatrist, with the goal of gaining weapons and escaping. He then takes her to Ace Chemicals and tells her that she needs to prove herself to him by dying for him. He's about to walk away, leaving her to die, then changes his mind and dives into the chemicals after her.
That moment breaks Harleen, creating Harley Quinn. She no longer has any fear and now indulges in whatever impulse she wants. There's an aggressive callousness to her, which we see most clearly in the prison sequences, specifically when she is taunting the guards, both at her cell and when one slips her a phone from the Joker during transit. She mocks them, demonstrating her contempt for them. She shows a similar lack of concern for her fellow inmates, abandoning them as soon as the opportunity arises.
The turning point is when she thinks the Joker has died in a helicopter crash. She returns to the squad, but still holds herself at a remove from them. She doesn't seem to be taking what's happening seriously, breaking windows to steal designer purses and breaking into a bar for a drink. If the bad guy succeeds in destroying the city, she seems to be fine with that.
What I think defines Harley's character in this movie is when the Enchantress tempts her with her greatest dream: a happy life with the Joker, not as the King and Queen of Crime, but as a loving, connected family. It shows that for all her giddy recklessness, she's not happy with her life. To me, it casts all of her actions in a new light. She's modelling herself on what the Joker wants, in the hopes that he will eventually give her what she wants.
Her transformative moment in Suicide Squad is when it initially looks like she's going to join the Enchantress in exchange for resurrecting her Mr. J., but then attacks her, saying "you shouldn't have hurt my friends." It's the first time she's demonstrated any loyalty to the Squad, or really, to anyone except the Joker.
My favourite moment in the movie is the very end, when she's back in her cell, but seems far more content than she did at the beginning. She's reading a romance novel, Molly O'Keefe's Between the Sheets. (Molly O'Keefe had a great reaction to seeing her book in the movie, something she didn't know about in advance.) I think it's awesome that she's reading romance, particularly that book, which deals with a couple who both have trauma in their lives. Harley's relationship with Joker isn't a good one, so I thought it was optimistic that she was reading about healthier relationships which are just as intense and passionate.
The fact that Margot Robbie plays Harley in both movies, and that Birds of Prey is a sequel to Suicide Squad gives us a great opportunity to compare the two depictions of the character.
Birds of Prey was written by Christina Hodson and directed by Cathy Yan (with a nod to Paul Dini and Bruce Timm as Harley's creators).
I've seen people attributing the difference between the films to the fact that Suicide Squad was written and directed by a man, and hence used a dangerous Harley who was aggressively sexual, while Birds of Prey was written and directed by women, allowing a more nuanced, carefree character. I think that may be part of it, but there's also a significant difference in the tone of the two films. Suicide Squad is dark and depressing, despite their attempts to play up the comedy. Birds of Prey was intended to be funny right from the beginning. I think it's also significant that Harley is one of only two women in the Squad, and Katana is portrayed as devoted to her dead husband, without any sexual overtones. Whether deliberate or unconscious, it set up the cliched Madonna-whore dyad between the two characters. Harley is dangerous and sexual, Katana is virtuous and chaste. Not my favourite trope, even if the film ended up being more sympathetic to Harley.
But I do absolutely love how Harley is portrayed in Birds of Prey. At the beginning of the film, she's struggling to come to terms with the fact that the Joker dumped her. There's also a surreal montage of her life before Arkham Asylum, revealing that Harleen was neglected by her parents, driving her to be a perfectionist overachiever but one with a a desperate need for affection and recognition. It explains why she would be so vulnerable to the Joker's manipulations, without making her character entirely dependent on her relationship to him.
She's hiding the fact that she and Joker have broken up, still trading on his reputation to allow her access to Gotham's nightlife and free reign to treat people however she pleases. Impulsively, she decides to blow up Acme Chemicals to prove to the world that she doesn't care about being broken up with Mr. J. and isn't getting back together with him. The act alerts the entire criminal underworld that she is now unprotected.
Insecure narcissist and organized crime boss, Roman Sionis, decides to dish out a little payback to Harley for a long list of indignities. She bargains for her life by agreeing to get a particular diamond for him, which leads to her kidnapping Cassandra Cain from the Gotham Police Department in a glitter and smoke cloud. Unlike the gritty fight scenes in Suicide Squad, this fight sequence is light-hearted but still exciting.
Harley has long, rambling stream-of-consciousness speeches which are entertaining but also show insight into her character. She's more than a little lost, searching for a sense of connection and belonging. It makes her a much more relatable character. She's not overtly sexual, but is still very carefree and not self-conscious about her body. She also demonstrates more of her intelligence, reminding the audience that she has a medical degree. She's impulsive and whimsical, but not stupid.
Harley's character arc centers around finding her community. In the initial scenes, she shares her fondness for Sal (who makes the best egg sandwiches) and Doc, her landlord and the owner of the Taiwanese restaurant under her apartment. She has a brief moment of friendship with Dinah Lance, who becomes the Black Canary, when Dinah protects a drunken Harley from being taken away by two men. But there's no real sense of connection. These encounters don't require or inspire Harley to modify her behaviour.
It's only when she takes in Cassandra that her actions begin to change. As she so eloquently puts it: "You make me want to be a less terrible person." It's the first time that someone has looked up to her and recognized her talents, rather than using or dismissing her.
Protecting Cassandra and fighting alongside the nascent Birds of Prey demonstrates that her brief flare of loyalty in Suicide Squad wasn't an anomaly. She's still nowhere near being a hero, but the character is much more sympathetic and understandable in Birds of Prey than she was in Suicide Squad. Most of the difference is conveyed in Margot Robbie's body language. By removing the aggressive sexuality from her performance in Suicide Squad, the character immediately seems more innocent and childlike. But she also has more understandable reasons for her actions and choices.
To me, the biggest difference is that in Birds of Prey, the story is centered around Harley in her own right. In Suicide Squad, she is defined by her relationship with the Joker. It motivates every choice she makes. There's something celebratory in seeing a character break free from an abusive relationship and redefine themselves in their own terms. And there's a cathartic vicarious enjoyment in a character who refuses to obey the rules of society. Harley Quinn gives us both in Birds of Prey.
Previous Heroine Fix: Rebel Spy, Princess, and General
Previous Blogpost: Advice for Independent Authors
Blog homepage
Thursday, 13 February 2020
Heroine Fix: Rebel Spy, Princess, and General: Let's Look At Leia
Heroine Fix is a monthly feature where I examine heroines who have inspired and influenced my own writing. I want to take a closer look at why they've become real to me, despite being fictional. Warning: this post will contain spoilers, including for The Rise of Skywalker.
It's really hard to overestimate the impact that Star Wars had on me. I don't even remember watching it originally. It seemed as if I just always knew the story. Even today, it surprises me when I find someone who hasn't watched it. I want to talk about Leia Organa, played by the supremely funny and talented Carrie Fisher, and why it has slowly dawned on me that the entire series should have been done from her point of view.
Luke Skywalker is fine and cool. Han Solo is entertaining and awesome. But, in my opinion, Leia outclasses them all. Let's look at her story. (I'm only looking at what happens in the films. I realize there's a lot of other material out there as well, but I'm focusing on the 6 movies with her character.)
Buckle up. This is going to be a long one, celebrating the awesomeness of our Princess-General.
Episode 4: A New Hope
While Luke is wandering around Tatooine and hanging around Tosche Station looking for the power converters, Leia is representing Alderaan in the Imperial Senate, and being a major player in the underground Rebellion. She receives the secret plans for the Death Star and is on a mission to recruit Obi Wan Kenobi to assist the Rebellion.
When she is caught by Darth Vader and Grand Moff Tarkin, she is defiant. She puts the plans in R2-D2 and sends him down to Tatooine to find Kenobi. She fires on the stormtroopers assaulting her ship. Tarkin confronts her and she snarks back at him without hesitation. Vader and Tarkin subject her to interrogation but she is too strong willed to surrender the information they seek. They take the Death Star to Alderaan and threaten to blow the planet if she doesn't tell them where to find the Rebellion. She meekly tells them "Dantooine" (which is a complete and bold-faced lie, proving that she is one very impressive lady under pressure). The Empire blows up Alderaan anyway, killing everyone that Leia knows.
I want to take a moment to really examine this moment. In the movie, the focus is on the evilness of the Empire. There's no real effort to see Leia's pain. She's sent back to her interrogation cell to await execution. I imagine that she must have spent the hours between the destruction of Alderaan and the arrival of the rescue party being devastated. The reality would have probably taken a long time to sink in. Humans just aren't equipped to process that scale of loss. And yet, during those hours, she also found the strength to keep fighting the Empire.
When a random stormtrooper bursts into her cell, she isn't impressed, dismissing him. When Luke reveals himself, she's cautious. It isn't until he mentions that he's with Kenobi that she goes with him. She sees that the rescue is sadly lacking in the "plan" department and takes over, shooting out the garbage chute with cool efficiency. Inside the garbage dump, she counters Han's impulsive instincts. Without Leia's decisive action, there is a good chance that none of them would have made it back to the Millennium Falcon.
She is the one that recognizes the Empire allowed them to escape the Death Star. Although it is not shown, I imagine that she must have argued with Han about going directly back to the Rebellion. The woman who didn't hesitate to stand toe to toe with Vader and Moff isn't going to balk at confronting a smuggler pilot. Since Han and Chewie wouldn't have known where to find the Rebellion, she must have eventually told them. I find myself wondering why.
My theory is that this is a sign of Leia's trauma in this film. She makes a reckless atypical decision because she needs to get back to the only family she has left: the Rebellion. The Rebel forces are the only chance she has at avenging her planet's destruction. So she ignores her instincts and ends up leading the Death Star to the Rebel base on Yavin 4.
During the journey, she takes the time to comfort Luke over the death of Kenobi. Many people have pointed out that no one seems to even realize that Leia herself would need comfort. However, I choose to see that as a moment of showing who Leia truly is. Even though she is in pain, she still reaches out to others. She is kind and loving, as well as being strong and determined. She doesn't lose sight of either the big or small scale.
She is curiously absent from the battle. Again, I would guess that she could well have gone into shock when the Death Star appeared. I like to think that someone finally realized what she was going through and took care of her. The next we see of her is when Luke hugs her in celebration at successfully blowing up the Death Star.
At the end of the movie, Leia presides over the medal ceremony in which Luke and Han are awarded medals for their role in the battle of Yavin 4. (They should have also given one to Chewie. That's a fact but aside from the point here.) She takes on the ceremonial role, one she likely did many times as a princess of Alderaan. She recognizes that the Rebellion cannot survive if all they do is fight. They need to have moments and symbols of victory or else they would get burned out. That recognition is what makes her a valuable and potent leader. Again, I would have liked to have known if she had any moments of doubt about continuing and what got her through them.
Luke is the newcomer to the struggle, which allows him to serve as a stand-in for the audience and have things explained to him. However, it also would have been narratively possible to explain things from Leia's point of view as someone who suffers incomprehensible personal loss at the hands of the Empire and who chooses to fight back. Not making her the main character and focus of the series was a choice.
Episode 5: The Empire Strikes Back
Empire starts with the rebel base on the ice planet of Hoth. Leia is clearly a leader, managing hundreds of people. She and Han are obviously at odds. He taunts her when she tries to recruit him, saying that she only wants him around because he knows she has feelings for him. I find it interesting that Han is so clearly intimidated by Leia. He can be respectful with everyone else, but not with her. His accusations are classic psychological projection, assuming that she feels the way he does. He unsettles her because he doesn't fit into her expected categories. He's a good guy, but not a hero. He's a rogue, but has honor. But even though he is a major pain, she recognizes his good qualities and value to the Rebellion.
I can't talk about Leia's character arc without mentioning the retro-conned incestuous kiss between her and Luke. Even in the story, it's a clear moment of defiance against Han's pestering (made evident by the way she glares at him as soon as the kiss is done). And it works! We can see that Han is thrown completely off his stride by the gesture.
But what I would have liked to see is what was going on with Leia in that moment. She has taken refuge in the practical. She's not allowing herself to feel. I think that's the other reason why Han unsettles her so much. He's always going on about her feelings, refusing to see her as the leader she is. It has to have been a confusing and difficult time for her and she doesn't quite seem to know how to handle it.
When the Empire attacks, she manages the evacuation, staying to make sure everyone gets out. Her escape is cut off, forcing her to flee with Han on the Falcon. I'm sure it was the last thing she wanted, to be trapped on a small spaceship with the one guy she's been trying to avoid. Which brings us to the next most controversial moment with Leia and Han, their first kiss.
There's no denying that Han's actions are predatory. He traps her against the bulkhead, refusing to release her hand when she asks, and insists he knows what she's thinking despite her protests to the contrary. She slips away as soon as C3P0 distracts him.
Most women have experienced the emotional challenge of having to come to terms with a guy that she likes pushing things too far. It's confusing and hurtful, often leading to a lack of confidence and questioning oneself. We never see Leia go through this process, and it would have been a powerful moment for her character.
Perhaps I'm reading too much into it, but when the Falcon lands in Cloud City, Leia's body language is nervous. She seems to avoid Han's touch while also trying to not look like she's avoiding it. She is the one who suspects that Lando isn't the ally he claims to be, a concern that Han brushes aside, only to be proven right when Darth Vader shows up at the dinner table.
Once again, she is strangely passive once captured by the Empire. Or perhaps not that strangely at all, given that the last time she openly defied them, an entire planet paid the price. But even though she doesn't take direct action, she is watching closely, waiting for an opportunity.
The moment where she breaks free from the stormtroopers to tell Han that she loves him is still a moment that tugs on my heartstrings. She doesn't quite seem sure about what she feels, but she needs to say it in case this is the last opportunity. His "I know" in reply leaves her uncertain but also seems to shock her into action.
She resumes her role as leader, guiding Chewie and the droids to escape. When they run into Lando, it's Leia's decision whether or not to trust him or let Chewie kill him. The escape is also the first glimmer of Leia being able to use the Force. She is the one who realizes that Luke is dangling from the antenna and needs them to rescue him.
The movie ends with Leia's determination to fight being renewed. Unlike the frantic undertone of the initial scenes on Hoth, she moves with calm purpose. She's become an irresistible force, ready to sweep aside the Empire and rescue Han.
Episode 6: Return of the Jedi
Return is my favourite of the original trilogy, perhaps because it was the one I had a bootleg VHS copy of and thus watched over and over. It begins with the classic Wookie Gambit, pretending to capture Chewie in order to gain access to Jabba the Hutt's palace. The bounty hunter uses a thermal detonator to successfully negotiate with Jabba. In the background, we see Lando Calrissian, undercover as one of Jabba's gang. Then the bounty hunter thaws Han from the carbonite and reveals herself to be Leia.
As a kid, I loved that reveal. She had obviously set up a whole plan to rescue Han, getting Lando in place and then pretending to deliver Chewie to Jabba. I thought she was so badass for threatening to blow everyone up if she didn't get the price she wanted, even though she'd already gotten what she needed.
Of course, it doesn't go well. It turns out that Jabba knew about the rescue and captures Han and Leia. This is to set up the plot of having them rescued by Luke, but I want to take a moment to explore what Leia must have gone through in these moments.
As a kid, I was grossed out by Jabba licking Leia's face with his slimy tongue, but didn't really think about what happened beyond that. As an adult, the sequence takes on a horrifying implication, one further solidified by the fact that when we next see Leia, she is wearing the infamous gold bikini and a chain collar. It's never covered explicitly, but I find it hard to believe that the extent of Jabba's actions are a leer and dressing her in a highly sexualized outfit.
Leia never mentions being assaulted, which is in keeping with how she often keeps her pain to herself. (Incidentally, I think this stoicism is because Lucas treated her pain as a plot device, never really seeing it as affecting her as a person or character.) However, if we assume that being private about her trauma is actually a facet of who she is, then it adds extra weight to the few times she does allow herself to react. When she strangles Jabba with the chains he put on her, I choose to believe that is her moment of striking back for what he'd done to her. She blows up the ship, even though it's not strictly necessary for the escape, because she wants to burn the location of her humiliation to the ground.
We don't know what happened between the flight from Jabba's palace and the meeting with Mon Mothma to plan to destroy the second Death Star. Leia is cheerful at the briefing, whispering sardonic comments to Han and gleefully volunteering to be part of the mission to bring down the shield protecting the incomplete planet killer. She seems unusually free, as if a weight has been removed from her. Maybe it's because she finally had a chance to fight back against one of the many injustices done to her.
She is separated from the others on the forest moon of Endor, after chasing down a set of scouting stormtroopers on speeder bikes. She makes contact with the Ewoks, in a scene that I think really shows Leia's true nature. She recognizes Wicket's nervousness and takes the time to reassure him.
Contrast that with Han's bluster and Luke's panic when they're caught in an Ewok net. I can't help but think that the reason why Han and Luke end up as potential dinner while Leia is welcomed into the tribe is because she treated the Ewoks as equals from the beginning.
During the night, as they prepare to attack the shield generator in the morning, Luke takes Leia aside and asks her what she remembers of her mother. This request has to seem weird and out of place. Other military specialists would have shut him down, telling him to concentrate on the mission. Leia tells him what she remembers, even though it isn't much and frankly is none of his business (at least from her perspective at this point). He then drops the bombshell on her, that she is his sister and Darth Vader is their father.
Leia handles the revelation far more calmly than Luke does at the end of Empire. She accepts it and immediately focuses on protecting Luke, urging him to leave so that Vader cannot sense him. Luke tells her that he wants to redeem Vader and bring him back to the light.
I can only imagine what happens in Leia's head at that moment. Back to the light? Dude tortured me and blew up my planet. He's personally killed thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people, including the children at the Jedi temple. And you want to give him a chance to hurt even more of us? If anyone has a right to protest Vader's redemption arc, it would be Leia.
But she doesn't. It's important for Luke to try and thus she supports him, even at a cost to herself and the Rebellion as a whole.
Han confronts her a few moments later, accusing her of favouring Luke over him. She deflects his anger, eventually telling him what she's just learned. That she and Luke are twins and Han doesn't need to feel jealous.
It marks a turning point in their relationship. She is confident and knows what she wants from Han. He can't unsettle her any longer because she's found peace in herself. His bluster and attitude become cute instead of irritating. When she flips the infamous "I love you"/"I know" response on him in front of the blast doors of the shield generator, it's playful. There's no sense of the desperation from Empire's moment.
That's pretty much the end of Leia's arc for the original trilogy. She has a few more scenes but they're basically solely plot driven. The focus is on Luke and his final confrontation with the Emperor and Vader.
No one ever asked Leia if she had second thoughts about killing Vader once she learned that he was her father. Or if she had any emotional reaction to his death. Vader sacrificed himself to protect Luke but was willing to kill her without hesitation. That has to have been difficult to come to terms with.
Leia undergoes as much of a hero arc as Luke, but isn't given the narrative time to react emotionally. We have to guess at what she's experiencing, using the subtle cues in Fisher's superb performance.
Unfortunately, this is a pattern that continues into the sequel trilogy.
Between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens
We know what must have happened between these two movies.
- Leia begins her Jedi training with Luke.
- She marries Han and has a son with him
- Her son goes to the Dark Side of the Force
- Leia quits the Republic's Senate and goes back to her Rebellion roots, resisting the rise of the First Order
- Han takes off and starts gallivanting around the galaxy with Chewie again
Despite all of this heartache, Leia continues to fight. Unlike her brother, who goes on permanent Jedi retreat, she digs down and keeps going. When we first see her in The Force Awakens, she is clearly weary but determined. She comes to Han's rescue (based on their dialogue and body language, I'd guess it wasn't the first time she'd done it) and organizes the assault on Starkiller base.
The biggest POV injustice is that other than a brief glance, we don't see Leia having to cope with the knowledge that her son kills the love of her life. Even though she must have been horribly devastated, once again, she pulls it together to offer comfort to someone else, in this case, Rey.
The movie where Leia comes the closest to coming into her own was The Last Jedi. She gets blasted into space and brings herself back to the ship. She keeps a close rein on Poe, trying to temper his impulsive instincts toward the grand gesture. When they're trapped in the crystal caves on Crait, she holds firm to her courage, knowing the others are watching her.
There's a beautiful moment where Luke and Leia talk. Based on her expression, I think she knows that he's saying goodbye to her. One more person from her past is gone, and Leia still finds the courage to keep going.
It's no secret that the original plan was for Rise of Skywalker to focus on Leia's goodbye to the franchise. Unfortunately, Carrie Fisher passed away, forcing the narrative hand.
I think that the original idea was for Leia to be the one who talks Kylo Ren back to the Light on the crashed Death Star. She would have shown Rey and Kylo that fighting each other isn't what the Force wants. (Though, full disclosure, I am not a Reylo fan. The two of them have a brother-sister vibe in my opinion.)
I loved the scenes of Leia training Rey, teaching her to connect to the Jedi of old. That's the powerful message of the sequel trilogy for me, that we are more powerful when we connect than when we seek to tear each other apart or keep one another down. Whenever the characters work together, things go much better than when they are fighting each other.
Leia was a Jedi who mastered love, compassion, and protecting those under her care. She suffered huge, devastating losses, probably more than anyone else in the series. And she never gave in to darkness or despair. From what we see, she was never even tempted by the Dark Side. That makes her a fascinating character to me and one of my favourite Heroine Fixes.
Previous post: Reclaiming My HEA: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
Previous Heroine Fix: Bluffing with Molly Bloom, looking at the differences between the book and movie for Molly's Game.
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It's really hard to overestimate the impact that Star Wars had on me. I don't even remember watching it originally. It seemed as if I just always knew the story. Even today, it surprises me when I find someone who hasn't watched it. I want to talk about Leia Organa, played by the supremely funny and talented Carrie Fisher, and why it has slowly dawned on me that the entire series should have been done from her point of view.
Luke Skywalker is fine and cool. Han Solo is entertaining and awesome. But, in my opinion, Leia outclasses them all. Let's look at her story. (I'm only looking at what happens in the films. I realize there's a lot of other material out there as well, but I'm focusing on the 6 movies with her character.)
Buckle up. This is going to be a long one, celebrating the awesomeness of our Princess-General.
Episode 4: A New Hope
While Luke is wandering around Tatooine and hanging around Tosche Station looking for the power converters, Leia is representing Alderaan in the Imperial Senate, and being a major player in the underground Rebellion. She receives the secret plans for the Death Star and is on a mission to recruit Obi Wan Kenobi to assist the Rebellion.
When she is caught by Darth Vader and Grand Moff Tarkin, she is defiant. She puts the plans in R2-D2 and sends him down to Tatooine to find Kenobi. She fires on the stormtroopers assaulting her ship. Tarkin confronts her and she snarks back at him without hesitation. Vader and Tarkin subject her to interrogation but she is too strong willed to surrender the information they seek. They take the Death Star to Alderaan and threaten to blow the planet if she doesn't tell them where to find the Rebellion. She meekly tells them "Dantooine" (which is a complete and bold-faced lie, proving that she is one very impressive lady under pressure). The Empire blows up Alderaan anyway, killing everyone that Leia knows.
I want to take a moment to really examine this moment. In the movie, the focus is on the evilness of the Empire. There's no real effort to see Leia's pain. She's sent back to her interrogation cell to await execution. I imagine that she must have spent the hours between the destruction of Alderaan and the arrival of the rescue party being devastated. The reality would have probably taken a long time to sink in. Humans just aren't equipped to process that scale of loss. And yet, during those hours, she also found the strength to keep fighting the Empire.
When a random stormtrooper bursts into her cell, she isn't impressed, dismissing him. When Luke reveals himself, she's cautious. It isn't until he mentions that he's with Kenobi that she goes with him. She sees that the rescue is sadly lacking in the "plan" department and takes over, shooting out the garbage chute with cool efficiency. Inside the garbage dump, she counters Han's impulsive instincts. Without Leia's decisive action, there is a good chance that none of them would have made it back to the Millennium Falcon.
She is the one that recognizes the Empire allowed them to escape the Death Star. Although it is not shown, I imagine that she must have argued with Han about going directly back to the Rebellion. The woman who didn't hesitate to stand toe to toe with Vader and Moff isn't going to balk at confronting a smuggler pilot. Since Han and Chewie wouldn't have known where to find the Rebellion, she must have eventually told them. I find myself wondering why.
My theory is that this is a sign of Leia's trauma in this film. She makes a reckless atypical decision because she needs to get back to the only family she has left: the Rebellion. The Rebel forces are the only chance she has at avenging her planet's destruction. So she ignores her instincts and ends up leading the Death Star to the Rebel base on Yavin 4.
During the journey, she takes the time to comfort Luke over the death of Kenobi. Many people have pointed out that no one seems to even realize that Leia herself would need comfort. However, I choose to see that as a moment of showing who Leia truly is. Even though she is in pain, she still reaches out to others. She is kind and loving, as well as being strong and determined. She doesn't lose sight of either the big or small scale.
She is curiously absent from the battle. Again, I would guess that she could well have gone into shock when the Death Star appeared. I like to think that someone finally realized what she was going through and took care of her. The next we see of her is when Luke hugs her in celebration at successfully blowing up the Death Star.
At the end of the movie, Leia presides over the medal ceremony in which Luke and Han are awarded medals for their role in the battle of Yavin 4. (They should have also given one to Chewie. That's a fact but aside from the point here.) She takes on the ceremonial role, one she likely did many times as a princess of Alderaan. She recognizes that the Rebellion cannot survive if all they do is fight. They need to have moments and symbols of victory or else they would get burned out. That recognition is what makes her a valuable and potent leader. Again, I would have liked to have known if she had any moments of doubt about continuing and what got her through them.
Luke is the newcomer to the struggle, which allows him to serve as a stand-in for the audience and have things explained to him. However, it also would have been narratively possible to explain things from Leia's point of view as someone who suffers incomprehensible personal loss at the hands of the Empire and who chooses to fight back. Not making her the main character and focus of the series was a choice.
Episode 5: The Empire Strikes Back
Empire starts with the rebel base on the ice planet of Hoth. Leia is clearly a leader, managing hundreds of people. She and Han are obviously at odds. He taunts her when she tries to recruit him, saying that she only wants him around because he knows she has feelings for him. I find it interesting that Han is so clearly intimidated by Leia. He can be respectful with everyone else, but not with her. His accusations are classic psychological projection, assuming that she feels the way he does. He unsettles her because he doesn't fit into her expected categories. He's a good guy, but not a hero. He's a rogue, but has honor. But even though he is a major pain, she recognizes his good qualities and value to the Rebellion.
I can't talk about Leia's character arc without mentioning the retro-conned incestuous kiss between her and Luke. Even in the story, it's a clear moment of defiance against Han's pestering (made evident by the way she glares at him as soon as the kiss is done). And it works! We can see that Han is thrown completely off his stride by the gesture.
But what I would have liked to see is what was going on with Leia in that moment. She has taken refuge in the practical. She's not allowing herself to feel. I think that's the other reason why Han unsettles her so much. He's always going on about her feelings, refusing to see her as the leader she is. It has to have been a confusing and difficult time for her and she doesn't quite seem to know how to handle it.
When the Empire attacks, she manages the evacuation, staying to make sure everyone gets out. Her escape is cut off, forcing her to flee with Han on the Falcon. I'm sure it was the last thing she wanted, to be trapped on a small spaceship with the one guy she's been trying to avoid. Which brings us to the next most controversial moment with Leia and Han, their first kiss.
There's no denying that Han's actions are predatory. He traps her against the bulkhead, refusing to release her hand when she asks, and insists he knows what she's thinking despite her protests to the contrary. She slips away as soon as C3P0 distracts him.
Most women have experienced the emotional challenge of having to come to terms with a guy that she likes pushing things too far. It's confusing and hurtful, often leading to a lack of confidence and questioning oneself. We never see Leia go through this process, and it would have been a powerful moment for her character.
Perhaps I'm reading too much into it, but when the Falcon lands in Cloud City, Leia's body language is nervous. She seems to avoid Han's touch while also trying to not look like she's avoiding it. She is the one who suspects that Lando isn't the ally he claims to be, a concern that Han brushes aside, only to be proven right when Darth Vader shows up at the dinner table.
Once again, she is strangely passive once captured by the Empire. Or perhaps not that strangely at all, given that the last time she openly defied them, an entire planet paid the price. But even though she doesn't take direct action, she is watching closely, waiting for an opportunity.
The moment where she breaks free from the stormtroopers to tell Han that she loves him is still a moment that tugs on my heartstrings. She doesn't quite seem sure about what she feels, but she needs to say it in case this is the last opportunity. His "I know" in reply leaves her uncertain but also seems to shock her into action.She resumes her role as leader, guiding Chewie and the droids to escape. When they run into Lando, it's Leia's decision whether or not to trust him or let Chewie kill him. The escape is also the first glimmer of Leia being able to use the Force. She is the one who realizes that Luke is dangling from the antenna and needs them to rescue him.
The movie ends with Leia's determination to fight being renewed. Unlike the frantic undertone of the initial scenes on Hoth, she moves with calm purpose. She's become an irresistible force, ready to sweep aside the Empire and rescue Han.
Episode 6: Return of the Jedi
Return is my favourite of the original trilogy, perhaps because it was the one I had a bootleg VHS copy of and thus watched over and over. It begins with the classic Wookie Gambit, pretending to capture Chewie in order to gain access to Jabba the Hutt's palace. The bounty hunter uses a thermal detonator to successfully negotiate with Jabba. In the background, we see Lando Calrissian, undercover as one of Jabba's gang. Then the bounty hunter thaws Han from the carbonite and reveals herself to be Leia.
As a kid, I loved that reveal. She had obviously set up a whole plan to rescue Han, getting Lando in place and then pretending to deliver Chewie to Jabba. I thought she was so badass for threatening to blow everyone up if she didn't get the price she wanted, even though she'd already gotten what she needed.
Of course, it doesn't go well. It turns out that Jabba knew about the rescue and captures Han and Leia. This is to set up the plot of having them rescued by Luke, but I want to take a moment to explore what Leia must have gone through in these moments.
As a kid, I was grossed out by Jabba licking Leia's face with his slimy tongue, but didn't really think about what happened beyond that. As an adult, the sequence takes on a horrifying implication, one further solidified by the fact that when we next see Leia, she is wearing the infamous gold bikini and a chain collar. It's never covered explicitly, but I find it hard to believe that the extent of Jabba's actions are a leer and dressing her in a highly sexualized outfit.
Leia never mentions being assaulted, which is in keeping with how she often keeps her pain to herself. (Incidentally, I think this stoicism is because Lucas treated her pain as a plot device, never really seeing it as affecting her as a person or character.) However, if we assume that being private about her trauma is actually a facet of who she is, then it adds extra weight to the few times she does allow herself to react. When she strangles Jabba with the chains he put on her, I choose to believe that is her moment of striking back for what he'd done to her. She blows up the ship, even though it's not strictly necessary for the escape, because she wants to burn the location of her humiliation to the ground.
We don't know what happened between the flight from Jabba's palace and the meeting with Mon Mothma to plan to destroy the second Death Star. Leia is cheerful at the briefing, whispering sardonic comments to Han and gleefully volunteering to be part of the mission to bring down the shield protecting the incomplete planet killer. She seems unusually free, as if a weight has been removed from her. Maybe it's because she finally had a chance to fight back against one of the many injustices done to her.
She is separated from the others on the forest moon of Endor, after chasing down a set of scouting stormtroopers on speeder bikes. She makes contact with the Ewoks, in a scene that I think really shows Leia's true nature. She recognizes Wicket's nervousness and takes the time to reassure him.
Contrast that with Han's bluster and Luke's panic when they're caught in an Ewok net. I can't help but think that the reason why Han and Luke end up as potential dinner while Leia is welcomed into the tribe is because she treated the Ewoks as equals from the beginning.
During the night, as they prepare to attack the shield generator in the morning, Luke takes Leia aside and asks her what she remembers of her mother. This request has to seem weird and out of place. Other military specialists would have shut him down, telling him to concentrate on the mission. Leia tells him what she remembers, even though it isn't much and frankly is none of his business (at least from her perspective at this point). He then drops the bombshell on her, that she is his sister and Darth Vader is their father.
Leia handles the revelation far more calmly than Luke does at the end of Empire. She accepts it and immediately focuses on protecting Luke, urging him to leave so that Vader cannot sense him. Luke tells her that he wants to redeem Vader and bring him back to the light.
I can only imagine what happens in Leia's head at that moment. Back to the light? Dude tortured me and blew up my planet. He's personally killed thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people, including the children at the Jedi temple. And you want to give him a chance to hurt even more of us? If anyone has a right to protest Vader's redemption arc, it would be Leia.
But she doesn't. It's important for Luke to try and thus she supports him, even at a cost to herself and the Rebellion as a whole.
Han confronts her a few moments later, accusing her of favouring Luke over him. She deflects his anger, eventually telling him what she's just learned. That she and Luke are twins and Han doesn't need to feel jealous.
It marks a turning point in their relationship. She is confident and knows what she wants from Han. He can't unsettle her any longer because she's found peace in herself. His bluster and attitude become cute instead of irritating. When she flips the infamous "I love you"/"I know" response on him in front of the blast doors of the shield generator, it's playful. There's no sense of the desperation from Empire's moment.
That's pretty much the end of Leia's arc for the original trilogy. She has a few more scenes but they're basically solely plot driven. The focus is on Luke and his final confrontation with the Emperor and Vader.
No one ever asked Leia if she had second thoughts about killing Vader once she learned that he was her father. Or if she had any emotional reaction to his death. Vader sacrificed himself to protect Luke but was willing to kill her without hesitation. That has to have been difficult to come to terms with.
Leia undergoes as much of a hero arc as Luke, but isn't given the narrative time to react emotionally. We have to guess at what she's experiencing, using the subtle cues in Fisher's superb performance.
Unfortunately, this is a pattern that continues into the sequel trilogy.
Between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens
We know what must have happened between these two movies.
- Leia begins her Jedi training with Luke.
- She marries Han and has a son with him
- Her son goes to the Dark Side of the Force
- Leia quits the Republic's Senate and goes back to her Rebellion roots, resisting the rise of the First Order
- Han takes off and starts gallivanting around the galaxy with Chewie again
The biggest POV injustice is that other than a brief glance, we don't see Leia having to cope with the knowledge that her son kills the love of her life. Even though she must have been horribly devastated, once again, she pulls it together to offer comfort to someone else, in this case, Rey.
The movie where Leia comes the closest to coming into her own was The Last Jedi. She gets blasted into space and brings herself back to the ship. She keeps a close rein on Poe, trying to temper his impulsive instincts toward the grand gesture. When they're trapped in the crystal caves on Crait, she holds firm to her courage, knowing the others are watching her.
There's a beautiful moment where Luke and Leia talk. Based on her expression, I think she knows that he's saying goodbye to her. One more person from her past is gone, and Leia still finds the courage to keep going.
It's no secret that the original plan was for Rise of Skywalker to focus on Leia's goodbye to the franchise. Unfortunately, Carrie Fisher passed away, forcing the narrative hand.
I think that the original idea was for Leia to be the one who talks Kylo Ren back to the Light on the crashed Death Star. She would have shown Rey and Kylo that fighting each other isn't what the Force wants. (Though, full disclosure, I am not a Reylo fan. The two of them have a brother-sister vibe in my opinion.)
I loved the scenes of Leia training Rey, teaching her to connect to the Jedi of old. That's the powerful message of the sequel trilogy for me, that we are more powerful when we connect than when we seek to tear each other apart or keep one another down. Whenever the characters work together, things go much better than when they are fighting each other.
Leia was a Jedi who mastered love, compassion, and protecting those under her care. She suffered huge, devastating losses, probably more than anyone else in the series. And she never gave in to darkness or despair. From what we see, she was never even tempted by the Dark Side. That makes her a fascinating character to me and one of my favourite Heroine Fixes.
Previous post: Reclaiming My HEA: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
Previous Heroine Fix: Bluffing with Molly Bloom, looking at the differences between the book and movie for Molly's Game.
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Thursday, 9 January 2020
Heroine Fix: Bluffing With Molly Bloom
Heroine Fix is a monthly feature where I look at amazing characters who inspire my own writing or who offer opportunities to improve my writing craft. Warning: this post will contain spoilers.
I debated long and hard about whether or not to choose this particular character for this month's Heroine Fix because the character is based on an autobiographical book and movie, Molly's Game. When a character is based on a real person, it can be hard to separate the fictional creation from the actual person, and make no mistake, even in an autobiography, it is a character, a version of reality rather than the objective truth.
However, having recently picked up the book Molly's Game, I was struck by several key differences in how Molly was presented in the biography versus the film. And I think it provides valuable insight into how small differences in description and emphasis can make a big difference in the impact that a character has.
One of the most important thing in creating a compelling story is to create likeable characters. The audience has to root for the protagonist, even if they are making bad choices or taking actions the audience finds distasteful. This is often why movies and novels have idealized versions of people, even when the story is based on true events.
For the most part, the book Molly's Game and the film of the same name follow the same course of events. Molly Bloom comes to LA and begins working for an obnoxious real estate tycoon who runs an underground poker game. She takes over managing the game, eventually taking it away from him. She is making millions of dollars on tips from players and running a successful entertainment business. However, she runs afoul of a particular celebrity player, who runs her out of the game. She moves to New York and starts again. This time, some of the players in her game have ties to the Russian mafia. She struggles with addiction and the challenge of being the bank of a multi-million dollar game, eventually taking a rake (a percentage of the pot, which is illegal). She is attacked by the Italian mafia, who want a piece of her game. The game is raided by the FBI and Molly is indicted as part of a RICO prosecution. Her money is seized and she is destitute. Eventually, she pleads guilty.
The story isn't exactly one of triumph, at least not on the surface. So the question is, how does one transform this tale?
The first and easiest option is the sheer spectacle of it. There's plenty of glitz and glamour in this story. It's reinforced by Molly's narration, which often focuses on the cost and exclusivity of the trimmings of her lifestyle: the costs of hotel rooms, customized chips and tables, and designer clothing and shoes. It's very clear that she enjoys having expensive things and the allure of regular contact with titans of industry, professional athletes, and celebrities.
But it also demonstrates the first clear difference between the Molly in the book and the Molly in the film. In the film, Molly draws a very clear line in the sand. She will not, under any circumstances, reveal the names or identities of those who played in her game. Not even when such a disclosure would grant her a reduced sentence or give her enough money to deal with her financial troubles. This demonstration of integrity is one of the factors that can bring the audience onto a character's side. We like someone who sticks to their principles even when those principles cost them.
In the book, Molly names a number of people directly, including the narcissistic Player X of the movie, described as a movie star who personally destroys Molly's LA game out of jealousy. She also mentions sharing anecdotes from her tables on several social occasions.
Another difference between the book and movie is Molly's determination to be independent. In the movie, she organizes a coup of the poker game when her obnoxious boss tries to blackmail her into working for free in order to continue to have access to the game. Molly immediately gives fake numbers to the new assistant hired to replace her and starts her own independent glamorous game. In the book, she does continue to work for the obnoxious real estate tycoon, without a salary. Having demonstrated that she could take away the game, she's earns his respect and they continue with a business relationship.
Similarly, in the film, when Player X takes away the game, she immediately folds and moves to New York. In the book, she confesses that she tried to continue the game for weeks, getting repeatedly blown off by the players.
These small changes make a significant difference in how the audience sees Molly. Making clean breaks after betrayal is a sign of strength and confidence. However, it is more realistic that she does take time to flounder and figure out what to do next. People don't naturally take failure in stride without any hint of hurt or self-doubt. But it makes a great story when a character can do so. It gives the audience hope that they might be able to do the same with their own disappointments.
The biggest change is the erasure of Molly's romantic relationships. In the movie, she is portrayed as fiercely independent, uninterested in entangling herself with any of the powerful and wealthy men at her table. In the book, she confesses to several relationships.
Although I'm usually a fan of including a good love story, in this case, I can agree with the decision. It's too easy to define a powerful woman by her love interest and involvement with men. Romantic stories would have been a distraction from Molly's accomplishments.
All of the narrative changes were to increase Molly's independence. They made her stronger, and more competitive. Such as creating a freak accident to end her career as a competitive athlete and escalating the personal conflict between herself and her father.
We've all had moments where we've been caught flat-footed by an unexpected aggression. We've all longed to prove ourselves to the people who dismissed our talents and strengths. We've all wanted to be glamorous and admired. That's what makes the story powerful, because we can identify with Molly's determination to prove herself.
When writing our own stories, it can be easy to be caught up in what feels realistic. But it's important to remember that what draws an audience in is a mixture of realism and larger than life actions. We want our fiction to be better than reality, without making us remember the gap. It needs to feel as if it could all be possible.
Because that's why we keep reading. Or gambling. For the possibilities.
Previous post: Reclaiming My HEA: My reaction to "if I was single, I wouldn't ever want to date again."
Previous Heroine Fix: Samantha/Charlie from The Long Kiss Goodnight
Blog homepage
I debated long and hard about whether or not to choose this particular character for this month's Heroine Fix because the character is based on an autobiographical book and movie, Molly's Game. When a character is based on a real person, it can be hard to separate the fictional creation from the actual person, and make no mistake, even in an autobiography, it is a character, a version of reality rather than the objective truth.
However, having recently picked up the book Molly's Game, I was struck by several key differences in how Molly was presented in the biography versus the film. And I think it provides valuable insight into how small differences in description and emphasis can make a big difference in the impact that a character has.
One of the most important thing in creating a compelling story is to create likeable characters. The audience has to root for the protagonist, even if they are making bad choices or taking actions the audience finds distasteful. This is often why movies and novels have idealized versions of people, even when the story is based on true events.
For the most part, the book Molly's Game and the film of the same name follow the same course of events. Molly Bloom comes to LA and begins working for an obnoxious real estate tycoon who runs an underground poker game. She takes over managing the game, eventually taking it away from him. She is making millions of dollars on tips from players and running a successful entertainment business. However, she runs afoul of a particular celebrity player, who runs her out of the game. She moves to New York and starts again. This time, some of the players in her game have ties to the Russian mafia. She struggles with addiction and the challenge of being the bank of a multi-million dollar game, eventually taking a rake (a percentage of the pot, which is illegal). She is attacked by the Italian mafia, who want a piece of her game. The game is raided by the FBI and Molly is indicted as part of a RICO prosecution. Her money is seized and she is destitute. Eventually, she pleads guilty.
The story isn't exactly one of triumph, at least not on the surface. So the question is, how does one transform this tale?
The first and easiest option is the sheer spectacle of it. There's plenty of glitz and glamour in this story. It's reinforced by Molly's narration, which often focuses on the cost and exclusivity of the trimmings of her lifestyle: the costs of hotel rooms, customized chips and tables, and designer clothing and shoes. It's very clear that she enjoys having expensive things and the allure of regular contact with titans of industry, professional athletes, and celebrities.
But it also demonstrates the first clear difference between the Molly in the book and the Molly in the film. In the film, Molly draws a very clear line in the sand. She will not, under any circumstances, reveal the names or identities of those who played in her game. Not even when such a disclosure would grant her a reduced sentence or give her enough money to deal with her financial troubles. This demonstration of integrity is one of the factors that can bring the audience onto a character's side. We like someone who sticks to their principles even when those principles cost them.
In the book, Molly names a number of people directly, including the narcissistic Player X of the movie, described as a movie star who personally destroys Molly's LA game out of jealousy. She also mentions sharing anecdotes from her tables on several social occasions.
Another difference between the book and movie is Molly's determination to be independent. In the movie, she organizes a coup of the poker game when her obnoxious boss tries to blackmail her into working for free in order to continue to have access to the game. Molly immediately gives fake numbers to the new assistant hired to replace her and starts her own independent glamorous game. In the book, she does continue to work for the obnoxious real estate tycoon, without a salary. Having demonstrated that she could take away the game, she's earns his respect and they continue with a business relationship.
Similarly, in the film, when Player X takes away the game, she immediately folds and moves to New York. In the book, she confesses that she tried to continue the game for weeks, getting repeatedly blown off by the players.
These small changes make a significant difference in how the audience sees Molly. Making clean breaks after betrayal is a sign of strength and confidence. However, it is more realistic that she does take time to flounder and figure out what to do next. People don't naturally take failure in stride without any hint of hurt or self-doubt. But it makes a great story when a character can do so. It gives the audience hope that they might be able to do the same with their own disappointments.
The biggest change is the erasure of Molly's romantic relationships. In the movie, she is portrayed as fiercely independent, uninterested in entangling herself with any of the powerful and wealthy men at her table. In the book, she confesses to several relationships.
Although I'm usually a fan of including a good love story, in this case, I can agree with the decision. It's too easy to define a powerful woman by her love interest and involvement with men. Romantic stories would have been a distraction from Molly's accomplishments.
All of the narrative changes were to increase Molly's independence. They made her stronger, and more competitive. Such as creating a freak accident to end her career as a competitive athlete and escalating the personal conflict between herself and her father.
We've all had moments where we've been caught flat-footed by an unexpected aggression. We've all longed to prove ourselves to the people who dismissed our talents and strengths. We've all wanted to be glamorous and admired. That's what makes the story powerful, because we can identify with Molly's determination to prove herself.
When writing our own stories, it can be easy to be caught up in what feels realistic. But it's important to remember that what draws an audience in is a mixture of realism and larger than life actions. We want our fiction to be better than reality, without making us remember the gap. It needs to feel as if it could all be possible.
Because that's why we keep reading. Or gambling. For the possibilities.
Previous post: Reclaiming My HEA: My reaction to "if I was single, I wouldn't ever want to date again."
Previous Heroine Fix: Samantha/Charlie from The Long Kiss Goodnight
Blog homepage
Thursday, 19 December 2019
2019 Heroine Overdose: All the Heroine Fixes
I celebrated some amazing characters this year and I thought it was worth putting them all together. They're not all heroes, and most of them don't have any special powers, but they were all willing to fight for what they needed and wanted. That's what I find inspiring about them.
When I was growing up, women in fiction were mostly saved by others (usually the men of the series). It was rare to see one that saved herself or that saved those around her. I am so thrilled that now there is a whole buffet of independent women displaying all the different kinds of strength, from Tess's refusal to compromise on her dream club to the skull-crushing physical power of Mazikeen. There is the gentle and kind strength of Delenn and the saucy, independent strength of Catwoman.
There are brilliant women: Charlotte Holmes and Dr. Ellie Arroway. There are the women who possess the singular skills of professional assassins, from Gamora, to Sarah Lance, to Charlie from The Long Kiss Goodnight to Zoe Washburne. There are the criminals, like Catwoman and the ladies of Ocean's 8. And then there's the women who are sweet but determined, like Ali, Sophie, and Delenn.
These characters all stand on their own with unique personalities and goals. Even those who fall under the category of stoic warrior woman are different. There's Zoe's sense of humour and devoted love for her cinnamon roll of a husband. Sarah has the tortured, brooding past but hasn't launched herself on the usual quest for redemption. She's fine with staying on the anti-hero side of the equation. Charlie is dazzlingly competent in her combat skills, but yearned for a family. And Gamora is laser-focused on stopping her galactically genocidal foster father.
But there's more than individual characters. Women support each other in a different way than male teams do. Tess and Ali have a mentor/mentee relationship, both working together to save their beloved club. And the ladies of Ocean's 8 not only pull off a flawless heist, but do it with respect and friendship.
That's why I keep coming back to all these different characters each month. To remind myself of how far we've come and how many amazing female-led stories are out there. So please enjoy this overdose of Heroine Fixes:
Catwoman from Batman Returns, Catwoman, and The Dark Knight Rises.
Charlotte Holmes from Sherry Thomas' Lady Sherlock series.
Tess and Ali from Burlesque.
Gamora from the MCU, Guardians of the Galaxy and Avengers.
Zoe Washburne from Firefly.
Sarah Lance from DC's Legends of Tomorrow.
Mazikeen from Lucifer.
Dr. Ellie Arroway from Contact.
Sophie from Music and Lyrics.
Delenn from Babylon 5.
The girl gang of Ocean's 8.
And last, but not least, Samantha/Charlie from The Long Kiss Goodnight.
Blog homepage
When I was growing up, women in fiction were mostly saved by others (usually the men of the series). It was rare to see one that saved herself or that saved those around her. I am so thrilled that now there is a whole buffet of independent women displaying all the different kinds of strength, from Tess's refusal to compromise on her dream club to the skull-crushing physical power of Mazikeen. There is the gentle and kind strength of Delenn and the saucy, independent strength of Catwoman.
There are brilliant women: Charlotte Holmes and Dr. Ellie Arroway. There are the women who possess the singular skills of professional assassins, from Gamora, to Sarah Lance, to Charlie from The Long Kiss Goodnight to Zoe Washburne. There are the criminals, like Catwoman and the ladies of Ocean's 8. And then there's the women who are sweet but determined, like Ali, Sophie, and Delenn.
These characters all stand on their own with unique personalities and goals. Even those who fall under the category of stoic warrior woman are different. There's Zoe's sense of humour and devoted love for her cinnamon roll of a husband. Sarah has the tortured, brooding past but hasn't launched herself on the usual quest for redemption. She's fine with staying on the anti-hero side of the equation. Charlie is dazzlingly competent in her combat skills, but yearned for a family. And Gamora is laser-focused on stopping her galactically genocidal foster father.
But there's more than individual characters. Women support each other in a different way than male teams do. Tess and Ali have a mentor/mentee relationship, both working together to save their beloved club. And the ladies of Ocean's 8 not only pull off a flawless heist, but do it with respect and friendship.
That's why I keep coming back to all these different characters each month. To remind myself of how far we've come and how many amazing female-led stories are out there. So please enjoy this overdose of Heroine Fixes:
Catwoman from Batman Returns, Catwoman, and The Dark Knight Rises.
Charlotte Holmes from Sherry Thomas' Lady Sherlock series.
Tess and Ali from Burlesque.
Gamora from the MCU, Guardians of the Galaxy and Avengers.
Zoe Washburne from Firefly.
Sarah Lance from DC's Legends of Tomorrow.
Mazikeen from Lucifer.
Dr. Ellie Arroway from Contact.
Sophie from Music and Lyrics.
Delenn from Babylon 5.
The girl gang of Ocean's 8.
And last, but not least, Samantha/Charlie from The Long Kiss Goodnight.
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