To the National Library of Medicine Internet Film
Series;
in conjunction with the Exhibition "The Once and Future Web: worlds woven by the Telegraph and the Internet," Bethesda,
Maryland, 15 May 2002
Katie King
Women's Studies, University of Maryland, College Park
As a feminist I tend
to notice two sorts of films:
1. one
kind is the sort that tends to be rather ruined if you examine it too closely.
much of the pleasure in this kind of film depends on taking it at face value.
if you look too closely at it as a feminist, the only thing you can do is
debunk it: that is, turn its values upside down and inside out.
2. the
second kind of film is the sort that becomes more and more fascinating as you
examine it closely. that doesn't mean that you aren't critical of it: rather
the contrary. but the film doesn't fall apart when you examine it critically.
Instead all its layers become clearer and clearer. you don't have to debunk
this sort of film: it is complicated enough that no simple reversal of values
is possible and examination doesn't spoil all your pleasure in it. it might
even add other intellectual pleasures.
So, I suggest that you wonder about this film today, and ask
yourself which of these two kinds of films it is. It is possible that as
various sorts of audiences we might disagree about how this film stands up to
feminist examination. I hope any such disagreements will only enliven our
discussion afterwards.
I have been teaching
students to watch films for about twenty years now. One of the points they
always find rather disorienting when we first start looking at films together
is this emphasis by feminist film analysts on the idea of "pleasure."
Enjoying a film seems only too obvious: either you enjoy it and therefore it is
a good film, or you don't, and therefore it's probably not very good, at least
not for you in particular.
But feminist film folks ask another rather different
question: what does the pleasure of the film cost you? This assumes that
pleasure is the point of most films: at least most commercial mainstream films.
But it examines this pleasure: takes a step back and looks at how it is
produced, who gets to experience it, and what they have to pay, not just in
money, to receive it.
One sort of film is the comedy in the classic, Shakespearean
sense: it ends in a marriage of opposites. As consumers of drama we've been
taught to experience the resolution of tensions in this kind of marriage as
closure, and as deeply pleasurable. In Shakespearean comedy we are also taught
to experience this marriage as if it creates the partners as newly equal in
some important way, even when social arrangements still maintain other kinds of
inequalities. The erasure of these other forms of inequality that remain is one
of the prices we pay for the pleasure of this form of comedy. The very laughter
we perform and rightly love makes us collaborators in this erasure.
This particular film, You've
Got Mail, has been called a romantic comedy. It was directed and written by
a woman, Nora Ephron, and produced by another woman, Lauren Shuler Donner.
While you watch this film consider to what extent you think that having women
produce this film alters the way classic comedy operates. How much of a
difference do you think it makes, if any? What sort of difference is it? What
do you think you do or don't "pay for" the pleasures of this film?
Another element
feminist film folks follow has to do with these arrangements of production,
especially the money elements. Who pays the bills for a film and why? What do
they expect in return? Do they get what they thought they were buying?
I watched this film in a DVD version recently, and one of
the extra elements was a running commentary by Ephron and Donner about the
making of the film. Mostly it was funny stories, and some of it was about the
internet and about the wonderful techy beginning of the film. Some of it was
about the transformations of this film from previous screen versions of the
story, in the films Shop around the
Corner, and The Good Old Summertime.
The new element added had to do with how big multinational media corporations
and their big blockbuster bookstores were doing-in the local neighborhood
bookstores of the past. This economic struggle is now integral to this version of
the movie. And you can go to a web site for the film and learn more about the
economic consequences of such competition, and also learn about the effects on
children's books and bookstores in particular. Ephron and Donner are very proud
of this element of off-screen connection to the film. The internet only figures
in their commentary as an element of contemporary daily life.
So, while you watch the film you may want to ask yourself
what difference does their attention to such economic struggle make to this
kind of romantic comedy? Does it change the structure of the comedy? Do we take
sides in this economic struggle watching the film? And when it ends, are we on
the same side? have the sides altered? how and why? How is the internet
implicated in this kind of economic struggle? What is made visible and
invisible about the relationships between "You've Got Mail" and such
large economic structures?
Think of the phrase "You've Got Mail." Where does
this phrase come from? What associations do you have with it? When we follow
this phrase, do we follow the money that made this film? Did they get what they
thought they were buying?