The Evolution of the Gendered Gaze in Film
The term ‘male gaze’ was coined by feminist theorist and filmmaker Laura Mulvey in 1975, and is characterised by films tendency to objectify or sexualise women, through the perspective of and often catering to an audience of heterosexual men. It perpetuates the narrative that women serve, as their characters are used to move the male protagonists story forward. They don’t exist on their own terms, and so present the world as being ‘run by men, for men.’ The persistent appearance of this trope in ‘traditional’ and mainstream cinema quietly conditions people to adopt the male gaze in other areas of life.
The epitome of the male gaze is the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. She’s a cheerful, bubbly, quirky girl who exists to ‘teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries.’ She’s not a person. She’s a sexually attractive, mysterious ‘weirdo.’ Summer in (500) Days of Summer (2009) and Ramona Flowers in Scott Pilgrim vs The World (2010) epitomise this idea. Neither have their own (personal) motivations or an inner life; they exist for the hapless hero who, despite themselves, falls for the girl who doesn’t believe in commitment or love. They’re an idea, a fantasy, a girl of the male protagonists dreams; quite literally in the case of Ramona, who first appears to Scott within a dream.
(500) Days of Summer (2009)
The point of calling attention to this is not to villainise these characters, or condemn them for their oftentimes relatable personality traits. It’s simply important to be aware of the way they lack any range of the human emotion, and exist as a fantasy exclusively for heterosexual men. By playing heavily into stereotyped gender roles, it further emphasises the existence of the patriarchy and internalised misogyny. The pressure felt to conform to these popularised personas that are just that; personas, only acts to reinforce sexist tropes and ostracise enby people and the trans community for existing out of these cis labels.
Films can be directed and written by men and still be devoid of the male gaze. Waves (2019) lacks unnecessarily provocative shots, and fleshes out characters in layers of depth no matter their gender. Despite it’s low culture cult classic status, this objectified gaze is also absent in She’s the Man (2006), as the subject matter opts away from sexualising comments, bodies and characters. However, the scales are tipped heavily. Alfred Hitchcock, Martin Scorsese, Mike Nichols and a plethora of other household names adopt and shoot through the male gaze. It’s imperative to recognise that if it didn’t saturate visual media, then it mightn’t be a negative thing. Film allows for the adoption of other viewpoints, mentalities and experiences; as if the camera itself is the gaze. It’s such a powerful medium because it allows people of different backgrounds to walk in the protagonists shoes. And a gaze which objectifies femme people or uses them for their own gain would be an interesting and enticing watch… if it was rare. But our list of accessible films is full of them, and so it’s not interesting or exciting or enthralling; it only acts to assist in maintaining an archaic stereotype.
It’s also by no means restricted to existing only in films directed by men. Because white men have created ‘95 percent of cinematic images… seen in American mainstream films,’ the male gaze becomes ingrained and expected in the content people consume. Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation is a perfect example of this. There are multiple shots scattered throughout the film, including the opening pan, which offer nothing to the narrative developmentally or visually other than the sexualisation of Scarlett Johansson’s character. Gender doesn’t impact the ease of which this gaze can be adopted, and much of Coppola’s filmography also offers a counterargument to the idea that a film directed by a woman is always going to be shot through this undefined ‘female gaze.’
Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Celine Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) tells the story of a painter who’s commissioned to paint the portrait of a bride to be in 18th century France, and the ensuing love story between the two women. While it’s slow, painful and beautiful, it’s also a commentary on the sometimes invisible grip of the patriarchy within these historical times. Many critics casually refer to it as being filmed under the female gaze - but what does that mean?
It’s difficult to define what the female gaze is. With Hollywood only in the early stages of funding and creating films directed by women, there’s not enough data to definitively explain what the female gaze could even be. Critics calling Portrait a film shot under the female gaze seem to suggest that it deserves this term because it’s emotional, transcendent and romantic. But why can’t something shot under the female gaze objectify, disrespect or sexualise? Or, as conveyed in Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale (2018), why would it not be defined by unflinching and gratuitous depictions of violence, degradation and discrimination? The idea that a film which depicts a relationship that’s sensual, trusting and lacks a power dynamic would be defined as having a ‘female gaze’ plays into outdated patriarchal gender roles. Portrait of a Lady on Fire feels as if it could be described as having a genderless gaze; an understanding of the intricacies and complications of the human condition, motives and struggles that come with being a person, regardless of gender. However, it’s also important to reiterate that during the historical context of the film, the patriarchy controlled almost all aspects of the various characters' existence; from marriage and love, to autonomy of bodily rights, to career. And unfortunately in many areas of the world, these rights are still being debated. So perhaps anything that depicts an equal relationship, a kind of utopia no matter how short for, or a sensual yet non sexualised dynamic has to be filmed under the female gaze, simply because of definitions of perceived identities and experiences.