When it came to my viewing material in 2017, it was a year for feminist icons. I finished Xena Warrior Princess, revisited Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and got started on The X-Files, finally meeting Agent Dana Scully in the process. I was introduced to the likes of Laura Cereta, Ada Lovelace and Katherine Johnson. I watched The Handmaid's Tale and Still Star-Crossed and Big Little Lies.
This year we saw women as Jedi, women as Star Fleet captains, a woman as the Doctor. We got Michael Burnham and Jessica Jones and Rosaline Capulet and Eleven. It was the year of Rose Tico, Phillipa Georgiou (however briefly) and the announcement of a live-action Mulan. A couple of days ago the trailer for an all-woman Ocean's Eight was dropped. We got Amazons and Valkyries and the Dora Milaje. It's like the universe has decided if we can't have a woman for President, we're damn well gonna get women as EVERYTHING ELSE.
Korra and Asami returned from their honeymoon holiday in deep canonical love. I discovered the wonderfully damaged-but-not-broken Dutch on Killjoys. Max not only survived the conclusion of Black Sails, but prospered. Orphan Black stuck the landing and gave its clones a beautiful send-off, filled with happiness and love and each other.
And of course, there's no ignoring the fact that TIME Person of the Year were the Silence Breakers who spoke up about the rampant sexual harassment culture in Hollywood and beyond.
That many of the above are women of colour is a vindication of my prediction at the end of 2016: that storytelling in all its forms would step up to the plate, that now more than ever artists from all over the world would recognise the true need for representation. It's far from perfect, and we can certainly keep doing better, but my inner optimist believes it's a solid step forward.
There were a few hiccups along the way. Two beautiful doctors, Veil from Into the Badlands and Claudine from Versailles fell to the Stuffed in the Fridge trope, killed off pointlessly to agonise and motivate their male counterparts. Kara Danvers on Supergirl found herself orbiting a black hole of a love interest. There were some complicated developments in The Last Jedi (don't worry, I'll get to that in good time). I'm still on the fence about Eleanor Guthrie's fate on Black Sails, but they did so well by almost all the other women on the show that I'm liable to give them a pass.
When you look at the bigger picture, I honestly believe things got better – and will keep getting better. So beyond my twelve women of each month, here are some of the other ladies that made an impression...
Valkyrie from Thor: Ragnarok
There's a stock character that we see everywhere: the grizzled, embittered warrior who's disillusioned by too many lost battles (real or figurative), who seeks solace at the bottom of a glass, only to be inspired by a hopeless cause or a special someone into taking up arms once more. Eddie Valiant, Rick Blaine, Tyrion Lannister, Wolverine, Haymitch, even Jim Hopper in the first season of Stranger Things and Luke Skywalker in The Last Jedi. It's a character type that belongs exclusively to men – until now.
Valkyrie was perhaps this movie's biggest surprise: in the trailers she was portrayed as a typical badass chick, a depiction which completely glossed over her swagger, her cynicism, and her story-arc: that of a warrior who's given up the fight and searching for a reason to go on. She finds it with the arrival of Thor on Sakaar and a flashback to her glory days, becoming an integral part of the battle against Hela in the film's final act.
Oh, and according to the actress: she's bisexual. See you in Infinity War!
Tiana from The Princess and the Frog
Revisiting this film earlier in the year made me realize Tiana is special for a number of reasons: she was the first black Disney Princess, and the last one to be rendered in 2D animation. But for me, her importance lies largely in the fact she was also the first Disney heroine that was written with depth and complexity.
As much as I love the old school princesses – Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora, Ariel, Belle and Jasmine – they weren't exactly examples of deep characterization, each one being a paragon of virtue, beauty and innocence. Tiana on the other hand, was given a very definite flaw: her fixation on hard work prevented her from enjoying day-to-day life.
Of course, this is a very sympathetic flaw, especially since it was born out of a dream to open her own restaurant, but it was a flaw nonetheless and one she had to surmount if she was to attain the necessary growth and understanding that signalled the completion of her character arc.
What's more, she was the first Disney Princess with ambition; creating a goal for herself that was considerably more concrete than a vague wish for freedom ("I wanna be where the people are") or excitement ("I want adventure in the great wide somewhere") or romance ("Someday my prince will come"). Happily the narrative never punishes or ridicules her for this ambition, and she sees it realized by the story's end.
Tiana was essential in setting the blueprint for the Disney Princesses that followed: the psychological traumas of Rapunzel and Elsa and the headstrong stubbornness of Merida and Moana simply wouldn't have been realized had Tiana not opened up the possibility of a heroine that struggled with inner foibles, whose story was not wholly defined by finding romance, and who had a clearly defined personal goal.
In light of this, I can't help but be a little irritated that Disney hasn't capitalized on her popularity. Frozen gets a sequel and Tangled gets a television show, but The Princess and the Frog ... nothing? Imagine this: ten minute segments of Tiana's Cooking Classes, in which an animated Tiana guides children through simple recipes they can make on their own. Make it happen, Disney.
Laura Cereta from Da Vinci's Demons
In all honesty, this show was not kind to its female characters. Most of them had to appear naked at one point or another, and a good portion were killed off in ways that ranged from fitting to gratuitous. At least two of them just fell out the story with no indication of what happened to them.
But the final season righted the ship a little, with three female characters that avoided all the above criteria, and one in particular that deserves a place on this post. Laura Cereta is a powerful Venetian merchant who commands a fleet, concocts strategies, makes wartime speeches, and engages in battle; a key figure in the rallying of Italian states to combat the Ottoman invasion.
She's played with what I can only describe as "regal femininity" by Simone Lahbib, and even in a show that highlights the suppression of women, she radiates so much dignity and authority that you don't question everyone's natural acceptance of her presence among war councils and in campaign trails.
She's a rare depiction of female strength/power that isn't compromised by making her more masculine – she's always impeccably groomed in appearance and lady-like in her mannerisms; even wearing a dress into battle! Even better, she's played by a woman in her fifties, who's still considered a desirable love interest for Girolamo Riario. (What makes this more surprising is that the real Laura died at the age of thirty, which gave the showrunners every excuse to hire a much younger actress).
The more you read up on the real-life Laura, the more fascinating she becomes. An early feminist who wrote treatises such as "Curse against the Ornamentation of Women" and "Defence of the Liberal Instruction of Women," educated at a convent and serving as her father's secretary from a very young age, her public writings spoke in favour of educating women and against the abuse of married women. And in response to her critic Bibulus Sepromius, she wrote:
"MY EARS ARE WEARIED BY YOUR CARPING. You brashly and publicly not merely wonder but indeed lament that I am said to possess as fine a mind as nature ever bestowed upon the most learned man. You seem to think that so learned a woman has scarcely before been seen in the world. You are wrong on both counts, Sempronius, and have dearly strayed from the path of truth and disseminate falsehood…."
He's probably still reeling from that burn.
Madi from Black Sails
With this entry I'm breaking my golden rule when it comes to this ongoing project of mine: that I would showcase only one notable female character per show/film/book. But I have to make an exception in the case of Black Sails, despite making Max Woman of the Month in April of last year.
For a show that was about bloodthirsty pirates and life-or-death stakes, Black Sails was remarkably good to its black, female and/or gay characters. Granted, Mr Scott, Miranda and Eleanor didn't make it to the finish line, but at least two bi/gay couples are reunited and/or reconciled, and Max (who in any other show would be punished and killed for the "crime" of being an ambitious prostitute) came out on top. Anne Bonny makes peace with herself and meets Mary Read, Marion Guthrie is revealed as the real power behind the family empire, and even Idelle finds security at Featherstone's side.
And then there was Madi. Introduced in the third season as the daughter of Mr Scott and the Queen of Maroon Island, she immediately caught the eye of John Silver as he and the crew of the Walrus languished in prison.
There was initially a lingering doubt as to whether their rapport was genuine or an opportunistic gamble from both of them, each one seeing the chance to leverage the other's power by entering into a sexual relationship. However, it soon became pretty clear (especially in this beautiful scene) that they were serious about their feelings for one another – which brought about its own set of problems.
When it comes to the war against civilization, Madi's priorities are very clear. In her calm and articulate way, she constantly references the suffering and pain her people have endured under British rule, and declares herself 100% committed to ending the slave trade by whatever means necessary. This is her purpose in life – but Silver (who has always been characterized as a self-serving opportunist) isn't prepared to lose her.
With everyone caught up in the whirlwind of Flint's madness, he knows better than anyone that they're not likely to win any long-term conflict against the British Empire – so he makes the call to end the war before it even begins. Silver prioritized Madi's life over that of her people, and in doing so, loses her (despite her seemingly forgiving him in their final shot together).
As I mentioned in my Da Vinci's Demons review, there has been a shift rather than a change in the way female characters are written. Most writers know they have to be interesting, three-dimensional, flawed human beings ... but they still exist within stories that require them to be victims or damsels or (in this case) one half of a difficult choice made by a male character.
When looking at the narrative function Madi embodies throughout Black Sails, it's not difficult to see that her personal motives and ambitions are subsumed by Silver's. She wants to fight for the freedom of her people; he takes that away from her out of fear that he'll lose her, and she's naturally furious. It wasn't his decision to make, and ultimately her tale is one of purpose denied.
But Madi herself is a wonderful character: so brave, so committed, so regal. She gets some wonderful scenes with Eleanor (the two having been children together) and against Woodes Rogers while he's holding her captive. When a similar choice between love and the cause is offered to her, she chooses the cause without hesitation, which provides a fascinating contrast to the man she loves.
So in a few years I desperately hope the Black Sails showrunners reassemble the surviving cast to film their take of Treasure Island. It's easy to imagine Silver and Madi using their Bristol pub as a front to smuggle escaped slaves to Maroon Island, and Silver deciding to go after Flint's treasure as a way of funding this project – and to make things right with his wife – could be a great spin on the familiar story.
Laura Moon from American Gods
Neil Gaiman is certainly not bad with his female characters – he gave us Coraline after all – but I definitely think he feels more comfortable writing men. (That's not a bad thing, just a thing). And when you look at the depiction of Laura Moon in Gaiman's novel, it's obvious that she exists more as a device in Shadow's story than a fully-formed character in her own right.
She trails him throughout the novel, occasionally saving his life or guiding his footsteps, but always as a symbol of the domesticity he wants (and needs) to leave behind. Being pursued by your undead wife is quite the metaphor.
Bryan Fuller takes the concept of Laura and delves into it in a way that novel simply doesn't. In his hands, Laura becomes an exploration of depression and apathy; a woman who takes life and her husband for granted but who is desperate to regain both once she faces the existential horror of a non-believer's afterlife. The true irony of Laura's story is that she gets a new lease on life – strength and vitality and a purpose – only after she returns to Earth as a zombie.
More interestingly, she serves as a subversion of the Tragic Dead Wife cliché, where the hero is motivated by his loss of a Perfect Sainted Dead Wife, who has no character beyond being sweet, in love with the hero and, most importantly, dead. Laura wasn't remotely perfect or sainted during her lifetime, and her return to earth as an undead zombie is certainly a giant middle finger to Fridged Wives everywhere.
But the best thing about her is that the writers aren't afraid to let her be an unrepentant asshole. In her attempts to shake lose the ennui that defines her life she engages in some rather questionable behaviour, yet never grovels or begs for forgiveness over it. What would be the point? In her mind it happened and there's nothing she can do about it.
It's rare that we get a female character comprised of such messy complexity, and it's clear from fandom's reaction to her that no one quite knew what to make of her. Many settled on outrage and disgust, but hey – it's not like Laura herself would give a shit.
Bill Potts from Doctor Who
In my opinion Doctor Who could stand to go on hiatus for a while, at least until some new storytelling ideas have had a chance to ferment in the minds of the showrunners. Like Star Trek and other long-running franchises, sometimes audiences just need a break from certain shows, to be given a chance to miss them.
Of course, I realize it's not the best time to express this view considering Moffat is on his way out and we're getting our first female incarnation of the Doctor, so rest assured I won't be sharing this anywhere outside my blog.
And the last season of Doctor Who did have one charming addition that helped justified its existence: Bill Potts. I never really warmed to Clara Oswald, since Moffat treated her more like a puzzle than a person and seemed weirdly fixated on making her The Most Important Companion Ever. But Bill was wonderfully and mercifully just a normal person, with all the credentials needed for an excellent travelling companion: curiosity, open-mindedness, bravery and a good heart. She reminded me of Donna Noble, what with her willingness to speak for those the Doctor overlooked, and her strange but transcendent happy ending is well-deserved.
The Doctor himself says it best: "In amongst seven billion, there's someone like you. That's why I put up with the rest of them."
Princess Isabella from Still Star Crossed
The short-lived Still Star Crossed deserved a second season for a number of reasons, predominantly for the sake of its cast. I'll admit it was a struggle to choose between Rosaline Capulet and Princess Isabella to showcase here, but Isabella just edges out the competition due to her story-arc: a very young woman who takes to politics like a fish to water, only to inevitably discover that she won't be taken seriously by her brother or his court.
It sounds pretty straightforward, but the show avoids some of the obvious clichés in such a story, and refrains from wielding the sexism theme like a sledgehammer. Though Isabella has a good head on her shoulders, and isn't afraid to share her strategies and thoughts, she stands behind several "for the greater good" decisions that are harmful to individuals, and finds herself in over her head on a diplomatic trip to Venice.
Her brother might treat her with condescension, but he also loves and protects her, which leaves her utterly unprepared to deal with her lecherous host. But as she comes to terms with her own naivety and vulnerability, it's with other women that she finds solidarity and support for the first time in her life. It was a neat little subplot, and one that sadly won't be continued.
Moira from The Handmaid's Tale
June was undoubtedly the centrepiece of The Handmaid's Tale, but like her book counterpart she remained trapped within her narrative surroundings. Her story is one of survival and endurance; her struggle is to simply get through each day with her sanity intact.
Understandably she's afforded very little agency in a story about how free choice is taken away from women, which is why Moira makes for such an important supporting character: she's given a modicum more wriggle room. Within the fascist state of Gilead, Moira is more of a firebrand than June, reacting to her circumstances with anger and defiance, lending June her strength as the full horror of their situation dawns on them.
They say fortune favours the brave, but Moira's bid for freedom ends with her installed at Jezebels, facing a dismal future of prostitution and disease. It's only when June reappears that she can return the gift Moira once gave her: hope. Moira is subsequently pulled out of her despair and galvanised into making a break for the Canadian border.
But despite all her fire and spit, the most heartrending scene of the show was Moira's shell-shocked reaction to getting processed as a refugee, struck dumb by how she's being treated like a human being and not an object for the first time in years. The moment she collapses into Luke's arms is a watershed moment; the emotional catharsis before the inevitable rescue mission is mounted.
Hang on June, Moira's coming back for you.
Mary Debenham from Murder on the Orient Express
Much like Gaiman, Agatha Christie didn't put too much emphasis on female characters (Miss Marple notwithstanding) though deep characterization was never one of her strong points anyway. Yet Mary Debenham has always intrigued me.
She's in many ways the main character and prime suspect of Murder on the Orient Express, being the only other character to get a brief point-of-view when Poirot boards the train and the first of the passengers to be introduced. Poirot regards her as being: "the kind of young woman who could take care of herself with perfect ease wherever she went."
That she's been played by three acclaimed actresses (Vanessa Redgrave, Jessica Chastain and Daisy Ridley) is either a coincidence or a testament to the character's allure, as she's one of the very few characters to go head-to-head with Poirot and keep her composure (perhaps Christie's answer to Irene Adler).
Once the conspiracy is untangled, a single line pops out that betrays the depth of Mary's involvement in the plot: "Mary planned the details." It's easy to miss, but speaks volumes. Even after the solution is floated, Mary remains cold and inscrutable – and for the record, I always thought Arbuthnot was a complete boor who was entirely wasted on her.
Sarah Connor from The Terminator and Terminator 2
Brace yourself: before this year I'd never seen the Terminator movies (at least the two that matter) in their entirety. James Cameron is currently in hot water for his comments on Wonder Woman, but he also gave the world Sarah Connor, who (along with Ellen Ripley in the same decade) changed the game when it came to female protagonists in Hollywood blockbusters.
Back in the Eighties/Nineties, Sarah Connor's character development was like nothing audiences had ever seen before: a vulnerable girl who becomes a hardened warrior, who goes on to regain some of her humanity after years of living in survivalist mode. It makes for great arc, but also a fundamentally female one.
The most interesting comparison you can make between Sarah Connor and Ellen Ripley is that the latter's gender is irrelevant (at least in the first movie, since the script originally wrote her as a man) whereas Sarah has to be a woman for the story to work: specifically, a mother. She's targeted by the Terminator because she's the future mother of John Connor, leader of the resistance.
From a certain angle, it's a little insulting. She's only important because of who she gives birth to: a male heir. And yet these films are fundamentally about motherhood; not just the warm protective side, but the harsh, painful parts as well. In Terminator 2 Sarah is so fixated on preparing John for the future war that she forgets to nurture him emotionally. There's a striking moment during their reunion (after she escapes the facility) in which John thinks she's reaching out to embrace him, only to realize she's clinically checking him for injuries.
This is the type of mentality she overcomes by the time the credits roll: especially once she realizes that it's John's humanity that will make him such a great leader, not his battle prowess. It's beautifully done – so simple yet so effective, and so intrinsically female. This is a story about motherhood: a fascinating subject and precious thing, and to have it explored in a sci-fi action blockbuster about killer robots from the future is something that had never happened before.
Selene from Underworld
For reasons I can't quite explain, I watched all five movies in the Underworld franchise this year, and came out the other side really wishing they were better than they are. I mean, it's a great premise: a secret war between vampires and werewolves – sorry, lycans – with all the espionage, action scenes, world-building and hilarious outfits that go with it. And best of all, they star Kate Beckinsale!
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the franchise is that Selene is its least interesting character. She's reactive, introverted and one-dimensional – none of which are necessarily bad things, though they stick out when every other character is devouring the scenery like they haven't eaten for days.
So why put her on this list? Look at it this way: there are hundreds of male-led franchises that are equally (or more) terrible, with no comments made as to their quality or longevity. They just exist – and so does Underworld. While other female-led stories still have to continually justify their existence or get cut short in their prime, Selene has been kicking ass in a leather cat-suit for the better part of a decade without much fuss.
Female-led franchises can be successful, and they don't even have to be all that good to be successful. Selene is a celebration of mediocracy; a heroine in a schlocky series of movies that apparently make a lot of money, since they're still churning them out. Yay!
Cassandra from Tangled: The Series
This animated follow-up to the 2010 animated movie is fun, though rather odd in some respects – for every episode that thoughtfully explores Rapunzel's reintegration into society, rebuilding her relationship with her family and adapting to her new role as princess, there's one about a singing ghost hypnotising artistically-gifted citizens into freeing a demonic monster from another dimension by having them paint portraits of a magical tree.
Yeah, it could get weird sometimes. Another point of contention was the inclusion of Cassandra, the daughter of the captain of the guard, who was obviously created to give Rapunzel a female friend (the Tomboy to her Girly Girl). It was not a graceful introduction since she's immediately established having become Rapunzel's best friend somewhere between the end of the movie and the start of the first episode, and someone who frequently butts heads with Eugene.
Was this a wise decision given fandom's high standards of behaviour for female characters? Who cares, Cassandra is great. Very reminiscent of the other Disney Cassandra from the animated Hercules, she's sardonic and prickly, with plenty of her own baggage (adopted with ambitions to be a palace guard instead of a lady-in-waiting) and who sometimes finds Rapunzel's relentless cheer rather grating.
But she's very intelligent (one of my favourite episodes has a look at her softer side when she falls for a guy, only for him to be a thief using her to get close to the castle treasury – but it turns out she knew the whole time and was just playing him), with practical short hair and an owl called Owl. Another nice detail is that she's just as often seen in a lady's dress as her "street clothes", but seems just as comfortable in one as the other.
Pamela Travers from Saving Mr Banks
From scathing condemnation to impassioned defence, plenty has been said about P.L. Travers, creator of Mary Poppins. For the sake of this entry, let's focus not on the real woman, but the depiction of her in the film that explores the myriad of challenges it took to take her story from book to screen.
The P.L. Travers presented here is a deeply unpleasant woman. Arguably she has good reason for it, as demonstrated through lengthy flashbacks of her traumatic childhood, but she's still rude, bossy and abrasive, and remains so from start to finish. The film doesn’t judge her for this, but neither does it judge those around her for getting exasperated and angry with her.
Deeply sceptical of Walt Disney's desire to bring her beloved heroine to the big screen, Travers demands near-total control over the adaptation process, dangling the unsigned contract over Disney's head like a sword. She believes Mary Poppins prepares children for the harsh realities of life, and is dreading seeing her creation turned into a creature of sentiment and whimsy.
It's a conflict that's not often seen in films – that of creative integrity and the purpose of stories – and one that plays out between two very strong personalities: one of them a woman that the film is unafraid to make unpleasant as well as understandable.
Paige Tico from The Last Jedi
This spot was all primed and ready for Rose Tico, only for her characterization in The Last Jedi to fall rather flat for me (it breaks my heart to write that, it really does). My in-depth review on the whole fiasco is still forthcoming, so for now I'll concentrate on the female character of the film that did make an impression (keep in mind, Rey was featured in 2015's list of honorary female characters, as was Jyn in 2016).
Paige Tico is the epitome of a One Scene Wonder, pulling off a heroic sacrifice that changes the course of the plot and breaks everyone's hearts while she's at it. The audience watches her final moments as she deploys a payload of bombs, lying helpless at the bottom of a shaft and desperately kicking at a ladder to shift the trigger lying at its edge, clutching her half of the necklace she shares with her sister.
With only a few seconds of screen-time and not a single line of dialogue, she makes the viewers feel the full tragedy of her death. She was so brave, so committed – and you can't help but feel her loss in the story that follows. In an extremely divisive film, I think it's safe to say this was a scene that indisputably worked.
Honorary Mentions:
The Clone Club from Orphan Black
Orphan Black and the Clone Club came to an end this year, and although Alison was Woman of the Month back in May 2015, it would be remiss of me not to give the show's female characters one last send-off. Tatiana Maslany's incredible performance carried this show through its ever-more convoluted plot developments, not only managing to create dozens of unique and distinct characters with their own body language, speech patterns, facial expressions and other idiosyncrasies, but generate copious amounts of chemistry with herself in order to create a range of dynamics between the sisters.
Alison, Cosima, Sarah, Helena, Rachel, Beth, Krystal, MK – each one was a tour de force of a performance, each one a musing on nature vs nurture, and each one proving herself invaluable to the whole. I'm gonna miss them.
The Red-Head in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride
The participants of the ongoing culture war found a new ridiculous hill to die on this year: the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. When news got out that Disney engineers were updating the scene of chained women being auctioned off at a pirate sale, there weren't enough pearls to rend. (Actual comment I read online: "is nothing sacred anymore??")
As it happens, I have no strong opinions on the scene in question: I wasn't offended by it, but I don't particularly care that it's been done away with either. But when you look at what they've done with the famous red-head that has always been the centrepiece of the scene (and who I'm astonished has never been featured in one of the Pirates of the Caribbean films), how can you not be thrilled? She's gone from a helpless hostage to a pirate queen, standing over a haul of loot with a loaded pistol. I'm sorry, but that's just awesome.
Ada Lovelace from Victoria
Although I knew the name, I wasn't fully aware of Ada Lovelace's significance until she popped up on Victoria in a small role. Feeling embarrassed that I knew so little about her, I went in search of more information, discovering that she was a mathematician and writer, most famous for her work on one of history's first computers: the Analytical Engine.
According to Wikipedia: She was the first to recognise that the machine had applications beyond pure calculation, and published the first algorithm intended to be carried out by such a machine. As a result, she is often regarded as the first to recognise the full potential of a "computing machine" and the first computer programmer.
This is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to her fascinating life: she was also a countess, a mother, a gambler, and the daughter of Lord Byron whose lessons in maths as a child were designed to stave off any heredity insanity from her father. She died at just thirty-six and yet accomplished so much in her life – and it took a small cameo role in another woman's show for me to realize it.
***
So it was quite a year for the ladies. We got to see warriors, mathematicians, leaders, authors, survivors; women of all shapes, sizes, ages and walks of life, women who were allowed to be tough and feminine, intelligent and vulnerable, stand-offish and kind-hearted. And that's the key to writing successful female characters: to let them be more of everything, and to have more of them being everything.
And no, I haven't forgotten Katherine Johnson or Phryne Fisher – don't worry, I'll have more to say about them next year!
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