“The Demand For An Ideal Woman”

“THE DEMAND FOR AN IDEAL WOMAN”

Recently, the STAR WARS movie, “STAR WARS: EPISODE I – THE PHANTOM MENACE” achieved a milestone. Twenty years has passed since it initial release in theaters in May 1999. However, there have been other recent or upcoming events within the STAR WARS franchise. One of them is the upcoming release of the third Sequel Trilogy movie in December. Another was the recent release of a Young Adults (YA) novel called “Queen’s Shadow”, the first stand alone story about the Prequel Trilogy’s leading lady, Padmé Amidala.

Many fans, especially women, celebrated the release of “Queen’s Shadow”. Written by EK Johnston, the novel focused on a period in Padmé’s life, when her career underwent a transformation from the elected monarch of Naboo to a senator of Naboo. This meant that the novel was set sometime during those ten years between “THE PHANTOM MENACE” and “STAR WARS: EPISODE II – ATTACK OF THE CLONES”. More importantly, this novel featured the first time that Padmé was the main protagonist in any STAR WARS movie, television production or novel. “Queen’s Shadow” also led many fans to contemplate the idea of Padmé surviving the birth of her twin children, Luke and Leia, and becoming a leader for the early manifestation of the Rebel Alliance. More importantly, the novel and the 20th anniversary of “THE PHANTOM MENACE” has revived the fans’ never ending complaint that filmmaker George Lucas should have portrayed Padmé as an ideal character . . . a feminist icon.

As a woman, the idea of a leading woman character as a feminist icon sounds very appealing. But as a lover of films and novels, I tend to harbor a strong wariness toward such characters – regardless of their gender. Recently, some fans have suggested that Padmé should have been the main character of the Prequel Trilogy (1999-2005) and not her husband, Anakin Skywalker. Considering that Anakin eventually became Darth Vader from the Original Trilogy (1977-1983), I found this suggestion a little hard to swallow. Even worse, I find the constant complaints that Lucas had “ruined” Padmé’s character, due to the manner of her death in “STAR WARS: EPISODE III – REVENGE OF THE SITH”, rather tiresome and pedantic. As I have pointed out in a previous article about Padmé, I found nothing wrong with a person succumbing to death due to a “broken heart” or allowing one’s emotions to affect his/her health. Such deaths have actually occurred in real life. And considering that Padmé was in the third trimester of her pregnancy, had endured a series of traumatic events in her professional and personal life, including a recent attack by a jealous Anakin, the circumstances of her death did not surprise me, let alone anger me.

In regard to the idea that Padmé should have been the main protagonist of the Prequel Trilogy Amidala . . . this did not make any sense to me. Like Han Solo and Leia Organa in the Original Trilogy, Padmé was a major supporting character in the Prequel Trilogy. The real focus of the Prequel Trilogy was Anakin Skywalker, which made sense considering he proved to be the catalyst of the Jedi Order’s downfall and rise of the Galactic Empire. And in his own way, Padmé and Anakin’s son, Luke Skywalker, was the Original Trilogy’s main character. Although Ewan McGregor was the leading actor in the second and third films of the Prequel Trilogy, Obi-Wan Kenobi was not the central character. It was still Anakin. And I do not recall any film in STAR WARS franchise being made solely about Obi-Wan. Oh yes, there had been plans for one, but due to the failure of “SOLO: A STAR WARS STORY”, Disney Studios had decided to curtail any Obi-Wan solo film. Yet, many did not complain.

Many had bitched and moaned about how Lucas treated Padmé’s character, because he had conveyed her weaknesses, as well as her strengths. He did the same with many male characters. Apparently, certain people cannot deal with a major female character’s weaknesses being on display, unless she is either the main character or in a drama. What am I saying? Many people still cannot make up their mines on whether they want the Rey character from Disney’s Sequel Trilogy to be ideal or flawed. On the other hand, I once came across an article – it might have come from “The Mary Sue Blog” but I am not sure – claimed that the problem with Padmé was not that she was not allowed to have flaws. This person claimed that the that moviegoers saw her as a problem solver who never gave up in the first two movies. The article also added that Padmé was not someone who would give up the will to live. A few years ago, I had written an ARTICLE that discussed Padmé’s mistakes in all three Prequel Trilogy movies and argued that she was not the “flawless” or “ideal” character that many still regard her as.

I had also pointed out that in “STAR WARS: EPISODE III – REVENGE OF THE SITH”, Padmé had experienced the loss of the Galactic Republic, the rise of the Galactic Empire, the loss of her husband to Palpatine and the Sith, and his physical attack on her in a brief space of time – within two days or less. As someone who had recently experienced personal loss, I understood why she had given in to emotional despair. I had only experienced one loss. Padmé did not. Just because she was able to not give up and overcome a situation in the past, did not mean that she would always be able to do this.

I still recall the “BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER” Season Five episode called (5.21) “The Weight of the World” in which the main protagonist, Buffy Summers, had went into a catatonic state after she failing to prevent her younger sister Dawn from being abducted by the season’s Big Bad, a hell demon called Glory. Buffy had failed to overcome her state of catatonic depression on her own. She needed help and she eventually got it in the form of one of her closest friends, Willow Rosenberg. There was no Willow to help Padmé deal with her emotional state during the downfall of the Republic and the Jedi Order. Padmé had no Willow to deal with the emotional trauma of Anakin’s transformation into a Sith Lord or his attack upon her. Instead, she had to deal with going into premature labor and giving birth to twins. I hate to say this, but neither Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda or Bail Organa were as emotionally close to Padmé as Willow Rosenberg was close to Buffy Summers. And instead of providing emotional support to her, the two Jedi Masters and the senator were more focused on her going into labor and giving birth.

There is something about today’s feminism that truly irritates me. Women (both in real life and in fiction) are not allowed to be flawed. Actually, I think today’s feminists and sexist men have that trait in common. Both groups demand that women be ideal in a way THEY believe the latter should be ideal. For feminists, women should be some all knowing saint, who can kick ass and have a successful career outside of the home. For sexist men (or men in general), women should be attractive or beautiful bed warmers, home carers and emotional crutches. Women are expected to revolve their lives around the men in their lives. Women in real life are not allowed to be flawed – especially if they are famous. And fictional women – especially those who are major characters in an action story – are definitely NOT ALLOWED to be flawed. Especially someone like Padmé Amidala.

I do not believe that Lucas had subjected Padmé’s character with weak writing. I think too many fans were too prejudiced to allow her to be a complex woman with both strengths and weaknesses. They had wanted . . . no, they had demanded she be some feminist icon. While complaining about Padmé’s character, they would always compare her with her daughter, Princess Leia Organa aka Skywalker. The ironic thing is that Leia was no more of a feminist icon than her mother. Leia had her own set of flaws. Yes, she was an intelligent and capable political leader, who was also knowledgeable about military tactics and defending herself. Leia also possessed a tough demeanor and a sharp wit. On the other hand, Leia harbored a hot temper, impatience and a penchant for being both judgmental and an emotional coward. Nor was she the type to be forgiving (except with certain people). Two of Leia’s flaws – her temper and being judgmental – were on full display in the 1980 movie, “STAR WARS: EPISODE V – THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK”. In that film, she had supported Chewbacca’s angry and murderous attack upon Lando Calrissian, after the latter was forced to betray them to Darth Vader and the Empire. During that scene, both Leia and Chewbacca’s anger got the best of them at a time when it should not have. Neither had pondered over how the Empire had arrived on Bespin before them. Nor did they ever considered that Vader had coerced Lando into choosing between betraying Han and them or watching the Empire destroy Bespin and its citizens.

Many fans have also complained that George Lucas had failed to explore Padmé’s backstory . . . especially in “THE PHANTOM MENACE” and “ATTACK OF THE CLONES”. I found this complaint rather hypocritical. Lucas had never bothered to explore Leia or her future husband Han Solo’s backstory in the Original Trilogy films. Yet, no one or very few people have complained about this. When Disney Studios finally green-lighted a movie about Han’s backstory, many film goers and media outlets like “The Mary Sue Blog” bitched and moaned about how it was not necessary. I suspect they had made this complaint, because it was easier than criticizing how Disney Studios/Lucasfilm had handled the movie’s production and theatrical release. Is it any wonder that I found this complaint that a movie about Han’s backstory was not necessary, but Padmé’s was? And to this day, no one has complained about a lack of Leia’s backstory in the 1977-1983 films.

Look, I am happy that a novel about Padmé Amidala has been written. And I find it interesting that STAR WARS fans will get a chance to peek into those years between “THE PHANTOM MENACE” and “ATTACK OF THE CLONES”. But I must admit that I found myself getting irritated that so many have used the novel’s upcoming release to criticize George Lucas’ portrayal of her character. It seems obvious to me that a great deal of their criticism is wrapped around a lot of hypocrisy, an inability to understand human nature and a definite lack of attention toward what actually happened to Padmé in the Prequel Trilogy. I cannot help but feel that some people need to realize that in contemplating feminism, they also need to factor in the concept of human nature . . . and good writing. Good writing or a strong character is not one who can do no wrong or be strong, 24/7. A strong character, for me, is someone who possesses both strengths and weaknesses . . . or virtues and flaws. As far as I am concerned, George Lucas had included all in his creation of Padmé Amidala.

 

Adapting “WARLEGGAN”

ADAPTING “WARLEGGAN”

Do many fans of the current adaptation of Winston Graham’s “POLDARK” saga have an unnatural hatred of the character known as Elizabeth Chynoweth Poldark Warleggan? Or do they merely dislike her? Did this “dislike” lead producer Debbie Horsfield and the BBC to sanction a major change in the relationship between Elizabeth and the saga’s protagonist, Ross Poldark during the current series’ Season Two? A change that I personally found disturbing? Or was it something else? 

Last summer, I encountered rumors that “POLDARK” producer Debbie Horsfield and the BBC had decided to make a major change to the series’s adaptation of the 1953 novel, “Warleggan: A Novel of Cornwall, 1792-1793” – a change that eventually reflected in Episode Eight (Episode Seven in the U.S.) of the series’ second season. Horsfield and the BBC decided to deliberately change the nature of an encounter between Ross Poldark and Elizabeth Poldark in an effort to preserve Ross’ “heroic” image. Nearly a month after learning this decision, I learned that both leading man Aidan Turner and co-star Heida Reed (who portrays Elizabeth Poldark) had met with Horsfield. Turner claimed, along with Horsfield and Graham’s son, Andrew Graham, that the May 9, 1793 encounter between Ross and Elizabeth had been consensual sex and not rape, when the protagonist appeared at his cousin-in-law’s home (the Trenwith estate) to convince her not to marry his on-going nemesis, banker George Warleggan. Judging from what I had read in the 1953 novel, I find this opinion hard to accept:

“‘I can’t help this either.’ He kissed her. She turned her face away but could not get it far enough round to avoid him.

When he lifted his head, her eyes were lit with anger. He’d never seen her like it before, and he found pleasure in it.

‘This is – contemptible! I shouldn’t have believed it of you! To force yourself . . . To insult me when – when I have no one . . .

‘I don’t like this marriage to George, Elizabeth. I don’t like it! I should be glad of your assurance that you’ll not go through with it.’

‘I’d be surprised if you believed me if I gave it you! You called me a liar! Well, at least I do not go back on my promises! I love George to distraction and shall marry him next week-‘

He caught her again, and this time began to kiss her with intense passion to which anger had given an extra relish, before anger was lost. Her hair began to fall in plaited tangles. She got her hand up to his mouth, but he brushed it away. Then she smacked his face, so he pinioned her arm . . .

She suddenly found herself for a brief second nearly free. ‘You treat me -like a slut-‘

‘It’s time you were so treated-‘

‘Let me go, Ross! You’re hateful — horrible! If George –’

‘Shall you marry him?’

‘Don’t! I’ll scream! Oh, God, Ross … Please . . .’

‘Whatever you say, I don’t think I can believe you now. Isn’t that so?’

‘Tomorrow-‘

‘There’s no tomorrow,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t come. Life is an illusion. Didn’t you know? Let us make the most of the shadows.’

‘Ross, you can’t intend . . . Stop! Stop, I tell you.’

But he took no further notice of the words she spoke. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.”

This is how Graham had ended both the chapter and the scene . . . with Ross forcing Elizabeth on her bed . . . against her will. It did not end with any hint that they were about to embark upon consensual sex.

Many fans of the series, especially young female fans had reacted with joy over the news. What they had failed to realize was that in making this change, Horsfield threatened to undermine the lesson of Ross and Elizabeth’s story arc and what it really meant. Winston Graham – a male writer – had the balls to show that even the “heroic” Ross Poldark was capable of a monstrous act. He had the courage to reveal that Ross was not some romance novel hero, but a complex and ambiguous man, capable of not only decent acts, but monstrous ones as well. Like any other human being on the face of this Earth. More importantly, his assault of Elizabeth revealed the consequences that rape victims tend to pay in a patriarchal society – past or present – in the novels that followed. It seemed Debbie Horsfield and the BBC were only willing to portray Ross as an adulterer. Is it possible they believed it would be easier for viewers to accept Ross simply as an adulterer, instead of an adulterer/rapist? Some individuals, including Turner, claimed that Ross was incapable of rape. Bullshit! Although a fictional character, Ross Poldark is also a human being. And humans are basically capable of anything. Hell, Agatha Christie had the good sense to realize this. Why is it that so many other humans are incapable of doing the same?

The moment I had learned that she had decided to turn Ross’ rape into an act of consensual sex between him and Elizabeth, I suspected that fans would end up slut shaming the latter. I suspected that even though many fans would be “disappointed” in Ross, they would eventually forgive him. However, I also suspected that these same fans would end up branding Elizabeth as a whore until the end of this series. It is soooo typical of this sexist society. The woman is always to blame. Even in the eyes of other women.

So, what actually happened between Ross and Elizabeth in the BBC’s recent adaptation of “Warleggan”? In Episode 8 (Episode 7 in the U.S.), Ross returned home to Nampara, his personal estate, and discovered a letter from Elizabeth in which she announced her engagement to George Warleggan. Despite his wife Demelza’s protests, Ross decided to go to Trenwith and try to convince or perhaps coerce Elizabeth into breaking the engagement. He showed up at Trenwith, barged into both the house and Elizabeth’s bedroom. An argument commenced between the two in which Ross tried to shame Elizabeth into breaking the engagement. She refused to comply, making it clear that her actions stemmed from saving her immediate family at Trenwith from further financial problems and ensuring her son (and Ross’ cousin) Geoffrey Charles’ future.

And . . . what happened next? Ross began to force himself upon Elizabeth. She tried to put up a fight, while insisting that he leave. He eventually forced her on the bed. And just as he was about to rape her, Elizabeth capitulated at the last minute. This last moment of consent was Horsfield and the BBC’s way of stating that the entire scene between Ross and Elizabeth was basically consensual sex. Can you believe it? Considering the manner in which Elizabeth tried and failed to fight off Ross before she “consented”, the entire scene might as well have been rape. After all, Elizabeth fought Ross until he had her pinned on the bed. If she had not “consented”, chances are he would have raped her anyway. Worse, the culmination of the entire scene projected the negative image of a “rape fantasy”. I am sure that many of you know what I mean. When a woman or a man says “no”, he or she really means “yes”.

You may be wondering why I would include a potential male victim in this scenario. Simple . . . many people harbor the illusion that men do not mind being the victim of a woman’s rape. Also, I saw this same scenario play out in a “BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER” Season Six episode called (6.11) “Gone”. In this episode, the series’ protagonist had been rendered invisible by some ray gun (go with me here) invented by a trio of geeky scientists. Using her invisibility to indulge in her own desires, Buffy decided to pay a call to chipped vampire Spike (with whom she had begun an affair earlier in the season) at his crypt. She barged into the latter, shoved a frightened Spike against the wall and started to rip off his clothes. He only consented to have sex at the last minute when an uncontrolled giggle from Buffy revealed her identity. What made this scene rather sickening to watch was that it was written as comedy relief. I have the oddest feeling that producer Debbie Horsfield may have seen this particular episode and decided to write her own version of the situation in order to spare Ross Poldark from being labeled a rapist.

Someone had pointed out that the 1975 adaptation produced by Morris Barry and Anthony Coburn had adapted this sequence with more honesty. After a recent viewing of this series, I am afraid that I cannot agree. What happened? Well … one scene featured a conversation between Elizabeth and her sister-in-law, Verity Poldark Blamey, in which she made it clear that her reason for marrying George Warleggan was for money and more social clout. To make matters worse, the scene had Verity instructing Elizabeth to explain to Ross that the latter was considering the family’s salvation from a future filled with poverty and Geoffrey Charles’ future. But Elizabeth made it clear – in a rather bitchy and unsympathetic manner conveyed by actress Jill Townsend – that her reasons for George was all about a new life for her – with a wealthy husband. And she set out to include this in her letter to Ross. Even worse, the screenwriter had drastically changed Elizabeth’s personality once the series had commenced upon adapting “Warleggan” in Episode Thirteen. She suddenly began behaving as “The Bitch of the Century”.

When Ross had finally confronted her in Episode Fifteen, Elizabeth still insisted that a marriage to George was a way for her to have a new life. What I found distasteful about the whole thing is that this was NOT Elizabeth’s true reason for marrying George Warleggan in the 1953 novel. She truly made the decision to marry George in order to spare her family – especially Geoffrey Charles – a long future trapped in poverty, as was conveyed in the 2016 series. But I ended up acquiring the ugly feeling that Barry, Coburn and screenwriter Jack Russell had decided to change Elizabeth’s reason for marrying George in order to justify Ross’ rape of her.

And yes . . . Ross did rape Elizabeth in the 1975 series. Unlike the 2016 version, there was no last minute consent on Elizabeth’s part. But I found the entire scene rather rushed. Once Ross and Elizabeth barely had time to discuss or argue over the matter, the former quickly tackled the latter to the bed and began to rape her, as the scene faded to black. However, both versions set out to regain Ross’ reputation with the viewers by the end of their respective adaptations of “Warleggan”. How did they achieve this? Screenwriter Jack Russell included a scene in the last episode of the 1975 series in which George Warleggan had enclosed the Trenwith land from the tenants, forcing them to transform from small peasant proprietors and serfs into agricultural wage-laborers. This action led to a riot in which the former tenant farmers stormed the Trenwith manor house and burn it to the ground. During the riot, Ross and Demelza arrived to save the recently married Elizabeth and George from mob violence. This also gave the series’ producers and Russell to have Elizabeth ask Ross why he had decided to save George from the mob. What the hell? The enclosures happened in the novel. But not the riot. What was the purpose of this? To give Ross an opportunity to give Elizabeth a “you are beneath me” glare?

Debbie Horsfield decided to resort to a similar scenario in the 2016 version. However, before she could subject television audiences to this idiocy, she included a scene in which an angry Demelza Poldark got a chance to slut shame Elizabeth during an encounter between the pair on a deserted road. This scene, by the way, never happened in the novel. And quite frankly, I never understood Horsfield’s purpose by including this scene. What did she expect from the audience? Viewers pumping their fists in the air while crying, “Demelza, you go girl?” Perhaps there were fans that actually did this or something similar. I did not. In fact, I merely shook my head in disbelief. Pardon me, but I found it difficult to cheer on Demelza’s behalf, when I just recently watched her husband force himself on Elizabeth. Unlike the 1975 version, the Trenwith riot sequence did not end with the house burned to the ground. Instead, it ended with Nampara servant Jud Paynter, whipping up a mob to march on Trenwith and Ross preventing Demelza (who had gone to Trenwith to warn Elizabeth and George about the impending riot) from being shot by one of the rioters. The scene even included Ross riding through the crowd on a horse and sweeping Demelza up onto the saddle. It seemed like a scene straight from a Harlequin Romance novel. And I had to struggle to force down the bile that threatened to rise up my throat.

From the moment Elizabeth Poldark had decided to inform Ross of her upcoming marriage to George Warleggan to the latter’s confrontation with Ross over the Trenwith enclosures, the adaptations of Winston Graham’s 1953 novel for both the 1975 and 2016 series . . . well, for me they have been major disappointments. I am certain that many would continue to insist that Ross did not rape Elizabeth. Despite Debbie Horsfield and Andrew Graham, Winston Graham had verified what happened in this passage from his last “Poldark” novel, 2002’s Bella Poldark: A Novel of Cornwall, 1818-1820″:

“They took Ross to Trenwith, the nearest of the big houses and about equidistant from the nearest cottage of St Ann’s. They made an improvised stretcher of an old door, and he lay on a blanket and covered by a blanket. Amadora, confronted by the emergency, in all ignorance put him in the very bedroom where he had taken Elizabeth against her will twenty-seven or more years ago, and so had started all this trouble, which had gone on so relentlessly and for so long. Dwight caught up with the procession just as it reached Trenwith, so followed the four men carrying the door upstairs.”

Were producers Morris Barry, Anthony Coburn and Debbie Horsfield unwilling to allow television audiences to face the truth about Ross’ violent act against his soon-to-be former cousin-in-law? Was that why all three television producers had insisted upon changing the circumstances that surrounded Ross and Elizabeth’s encounter on that May 1793 night? Or were they pressured by the BBC to make these changes, who may have feared that television audiences could not openly face or accept Ross as a rapist? Or perhaps the three producers, along with the BBC, knew that many viewers could accept Ross as an adulterer, but not as a rapist? Who knows? I know one thing. I hope and pray that one day, some television producer would be able to adapt “Warleggan” without resorting to excessive changes.