Recently, I read a fascinating article by Susan Wloszcyna at RogerEbert.com about Hollywood’s inability to allow females to script and direct their gargantuan box office franchises, especially the ever-popular comic book lore. As a result, this lopsided approach has isolated half of the movie-going demographic (the ones without the Y chromosome). Our nerd culture is being marionetted by male film-makers who, most likely, spent the childhood summers reading comic books rather than scribing love letters.
The box office implosion of The Lone Ranger can be attributed to many reasons — the niche Western genre, Johnny Depp’s tired “weirdness” factor, the eclectic advertising… But, how about the film’s complete lack of romance? Instead, the film — like many summer fare — has been supplanted with the “bromance” factor. It’s a sad state of affairs when the most developed romantic subplot is found in Fast and Furious Part Six, which, incidentally, spends more screen time teasing the homoerotic tension between the Rock and Vin Diesel while hottie Jordanna Brewster idles in the backdrop.
I’m beginning to wonder if Hollywood looks at its precious teenage audience as a series of the Fred Savage character from 1987’s The Princess Bride. “Is this a kissing book”? If you get too lovey-dovey, you must cater to the “Twihards”. Too little and you must invoke mass chaos and destruction. Look at the comic book films, which typically push a sloppy, bare-minimum bit of love intrigue. You can almost feel the relief when Batman’s first would-be girlfriend, Rachael Dowes is killed off in The Dark Knight. In the next flick, Bruce is seduced by a co-worker, Miranda (Mario Cotillard) mainly because the script calls for a big plot development later. You can feel collected chuckles of virginal boys when Batman suddenly feels the urge to enact coitus.
The recent box office champions (Iron Man 3, The Avengers, Dark Knight Trilogy) hinder any claims that romance must be integral to successfully break box office records. However, if you took the figures and factored in inflation, you’d get a different story. According to boxofficemojo.com, the all-time champions remain Gone With The Wind (when admission cost you a quarter back in 1939), Star Wars, The Sound of Music, E.T. and Titanic. Scroll down further and you’d find Doctor Zhivago and even Snow White. Almost all of these films are love stories.
Despite my personal qualms with the L-word these days, I still appreciate a good romantic tale. This explains why I continue to lambast Twilight, praise Pixar (Up!), and forever dream of the day when my Kryptonian powers reach fruition so I can impress my soon-to-be-future-wife with a flight around the Statue of Liberty.
Speaking of such, Man of Steel disappointed for many reasons, one of which is Amy Adam’s Lois Lane, whose role felt more obligatory rather than necessary; her passionate kiss with Cavill’s Superman feels forced and uncomfortable. Like Batman, these comic book characters put in love scenes as an afterthought. Even Robert Downey Jr. seemed to have more fun poking and prodding his male sidekicks rather than engaging in a duel of words with girlfriend, Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) in the latest Iron Man installment.
Like any good nerd, I contemplate on how I would make a Superman film. I always fall back on the story between Clark, Superman, and Lois. When scribe, Tom Mankiewicz was first drafted to rewrite Richard Donner’s 1978 version of the Man of Steel, he stipulated that the love story must work. Therefore, he created a moment in which Supes, Lois and Clark have their respective exchanges, flirtations, and emotional boundaries. By investing in the time and insuring competent casting, the emotional core was built for an inevitable payoff. It remains the only reason why I love the infamous “time-reversal” conclusion. Who wouldn’t risk a time paradox or global chaos if their lady’s life was at stake?
Obviously, a love story is possible with a solid script, no matter the writer’s sex (it worked for men like Shakespeare, Rostand, those two twin brothers who wrote Casablanca…) But the male-oriented flavor remains daunting. The sentiment seems restrained to understanding the male psyche. Rarely do we get to peak into the mind and soul of their women they love.
It’s obvious that Hollywood remains one of the best examples of gender inequality. Females have 20% of the speaking parts, rare receive top billing, possess no political or economical or creative clout within the studio system. If you pull almost any cast and crew credit on IMDB, you notice a severe case of testosterone overkill.
It’s that continuous inequality that’s making Hollywood more and more dull. Even the “chick-flicks” are manufactured by the male writers and directors, such as numerous the Nicholas Sparks and Jennifer Aniston trite that pretends to understand mutual, unconditional love. Even the more female-empowered films (any recent film starring Melissa McCarthy) are being written and directed by males.
If I were to do a Superman flick, the first thing I would do is draft a competent female co-writer, who can instill many of the key feminine sensibilities I simply cannot recreate — or even understand. Man of Steel is a pure example of David S. Goyer, Christopher Nolan, and Zack Snyder rummaging through ideas that have to do with identity, destiny, and lots of explosions, gunshots and punches. And crap, they forgot about Lois Lane!
My favorite film of the past decade remains Lost in Translation, which was written and directed by Sofia Coppola. It was innocent, surreal and genuine; a non-traditional love fable between Bill Murray, a has-been actor facing a mid-life crisis, and Scarlett Johanson, a young, naive newly-wed plagued by doubt. The two form a bond that’s unspoken; reach a mutual understanding that’s conveyed merely by how they read and react to each other. There’s no explosions or severe tension, but it spoke volumes to me on human connections. I don’t know if Coppola’s gender deserves some credit for the film’s success (she’s not reached anything to match this film since). But Coppola clearly has the kind of talent that Zach Snyder misses, whose interests in relationships always involves placing the two leads in front of the camera and proclaiming their mutual affection without actually trying to display it based on sheer magnetism and chemistry. (Speaking of teenage chuckles, does anyone remember the sex scene from Watchmen? Do you remember resisting a cloying urge to explode into laughter?)
When you spend $200 million on a film, it would be worth a few more pennies to hire a few female script doctor to pepper up the love that’s missing in the movies. The ladies will thank you for it. The teenage boys may end up smiling just like Fred Savage once his grandpa finished the love story. “As you wish…”
Love always,
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