Oceans is not a breakthrough
This week the trailer for Oceans 8, the forthcoming instalment in the Oceans 11 series starring an allfemale cast, made its online debut to mostly ecstatic approval.
Apart from the occasional sexist jerk complaining that “girls ruin everything,” and “first they stole Ghostbusters, now this?” a lot of people appeared genuinely pleased to see a handful of A-list actresses in the roles of mastermind thieves; i.e., roles previously reserved for men. Vanity Fair called the trailer a “Bechdel test dream” and the reliably enthusiastic writers at Buzzfeed summed up their giddiness like this: “So. Many. Powerful. Babes.”
And it’s true. There are. Oceans 8 will star Sandra Bullock as ex-con and heist project leader Debbie Ocean (the sister of Danny Ocean, a.k.a. George Clooney in the franchise’s recent films) who recruits a diverse group of criminally minded women to help her steal a necklace worth $150 million from the neck of a celebrity named Daphne Kluger (Anne Hathaway) at an upcoming Met gala. Cate Blanchett will play Bullock’s sidekick, Mindy Kaling will star as a knock-off jewelry designer, Rihanna is a computer hacker named “8 Ball,” and Sarah Paulson’s a frazzled suburban mom with a criminal past coerced into doing one last job. The rapper, Awkwafina, will play an N.Y.C. pickpocket, and Helena Bonham Carter is a fashion designer whose purpose in the heist I can’t quite deduce from the trailer.
Running in the background of said trailer is, of course, Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots are Made for Walking,” which leads me to believe that Oceans 8 will be, if not a good movie, then a really good time, an excellent film to talk through with a group of girlfriends on a Friday night or drift in and out of on an overseas flight.
But a breakthrough feminist ach- ievement? I don’t think so. Unfortunately this is where I have to rain on the Oceans 8 fan girl parade, because though I can certainly endorse excitement about a fun summer movie (and believe me, I will be there opening night) I have a harder time accepting that this “Bechdel test dream” of a film represents a sea change in a sexist industry.
We should push for a greater variety of individual leading roles for middle-aged women and films that tell a story about a single complex female character, as opposed to eight superficial ones.
I think what it represents, rather, is an emerging trend in recycling macho franchises with female casts. Yes, I’m referring to last year’s allfemale Ghostbusters and this year’s Rough Night (a darker, all-girls spin on a bachelor party buddy comedy like The Hangover).
I understand that it’s nice for little girls to grow up in a world with female action heroes, and female goofball heroes, but it’s a big stretch to view these women ensemble films as revolutionary when leading roles for individual actresses in non-ensemble films still pale in comparison to leading roles for men.
Unfortunately, Hollywood doesn’t appear interested in films centred on one woman. (If you don’t believe me, read the descriptions of films premiering in 2018.) So as a consolation prize for us feminists, they’ve put all the women into a single basket — sort of like different channels in a cable package. Call it “actress bundling.”
(Next year I’m sure we’ll be watching the trailer for an all-female Platoon, followed by Saving Private Rachel.)
This lack of leading lady opportunity hits particularly hard among actresses close to or past meno- pause. A recent example: the other day I watched 59-year-old Andie MacDowell play a kindly barmaid in a seriously awful Netflix Original romantic comedy called Christmas Inheritance. Great actresses older than 50 who can carry a film on their own are always popping up in these small shoulder-to-cry-on roles, while the Clooneys, Liam Neesons, and even Adam Sandler (now 51) are able to grow old as serious leading men; a reality parodied in Amy Schumer’s brilliant “Last F--kable Day” sketch. In the upcoming Aquaman movie, Nicole Kidman will play the mother of leading man Jason Momoa, even though she’s only 12 years older than him.
Perhaps rather than celebrate big ensemble blockbusters starring women (which, let’s face it, like most remakes, aren’t very good) we should push for a greater variety of individual leading roles for middleaged women and films that tell a story about a single complex female character, as opposed to eight superficial ones.
“So. Many. Powerful. Babes” is cool. But so is one.