Overview
Molly Haskell, one of America's leading film critics, has been delighting readers for decades with her intelligence and insight. Her landmark book, From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in the Movies, praised for its "wit and style" and called "a valuable contribution to film scholarship," is still considered among the most stimulating and important books on the subject of women and film. In Holding My Own in No Man's Land, a series of pieces written in the twenty years since the publication of From Reverence to Rape, Haskell once again explores the relationship between women and men, and between the movies and those who watch them.
Haskell remains a controversial figure in both feminist and film circles, accused of "uncritically celebrating heterosexual romance"—a charge to which Haskell cheerfully pleads guilty. Holding My Own In No Man's Land challenges the conventional feminist wisdom that the classic films of the Thirties, Forties, and Fifties were made by a male-dominated industry which reduced women to objects of the "male gaze." Instead, she says that women were better served by the notoriously tyrannical studio system than they are in the "newer, freer, hipper Hollywood of the present." A fascinating interview with Doris Day points out that, despite her current image as a symbol of all that was repressive about the suburban Fifties, she played a series of roles as—and was herself—a successful career woman who worked because she enjoyed it. In another perceptive portrait, Haskell describes the mesmerizing power the sultry, self-parodying sex symbol Mae West had on screen, and the financial clout she had off screen. And she writes about Howard Hawks's screwball comedies, such as His Girl Friday and Man's Favorite Sport from the Thirties, where assertive women were equal to men, and more than held their own in the battle of the sexes.
Holding My Own in No Man's Land ranges from interviews with Hollywood legends such as Gloria Swanson and John Wayne, to celebrations of the comic verve of Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett, to ruminations on literary figures such as Truman Capote and his Holly Golightly, and Jane Austen's Emma. We learn that the cleaning woman of The Carol Burnett Show logo was a reminder of the days when Burnett and her grandmother, "out of spoons and relief money," worked nights as cleaning women in the Warner executive offices. We see Meryl Streep "hiding in the spotlight" in a refreshingly skeptical analysis of Streep's determination to be an actress rather than a star. Finally, Haskell closes with a wickedly funny section on recent fashion and style, including pieces on "Lipstick Envy" and "Nude With Attitude."
Haskell describes Holding My Own in No Man's Land as "a kind of continuing set of ruminations, encounters, insights, and images of people and characters who have had an influence on our lives." With wit and style she illuminates the hopes and fears we project onto these larger-than-life figures— the grand dames, the stoic heroes, the dueling couples—and the lessons we learned from them about how to fall in love, how to act as adults, and how to live in this complex world.
Editorials
Booknews
A series of pieces written in the twenty years since Haskell's "From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in the Movies". Once again, she explores the relationship between women and men, and between the movies and those who watch them. She challenges the conventional feminist wisdom that the classic films of the 30s, 40s, and 50s were made by a male-dominated industry which reduced women to objects of the male gaze. Instead, she says that women were better served by the notoriously tyrannical studio system than they are the "newer, freer, hipper Hollywood of the present." Annotation c. by Book News, Inc., Portland, Or.Kirkus Reviews
A collection of previously published profiles and essays by the feminist film critic (From Reverence to Rape, 1974, etc.) that offer offbeat, compelling approaches and keen observations but leave the reader yearning for more argument.Of the profiles, the most farseeing is on Doris Day, who, Haskell says, should be regarded more seriously than she has been for her ability to capture 1950s-style ambition and neurosis in films like The Man Who Knew Too Much and Love Me or Leave Me. Examinations of Gloria Swanson and John Wayne are also satisfying, though for some Wayne is less Haskell's "father figure . . . who made the world safe for us so that we could explore it on our own terms" than a more visceral archetype of male sexuality. "Two Protofeminist Heroines" reminds us of the sexual equality that was possible before the sexual revolution, as seen in two Howard Hawks movies (His Girl Friday and Man's Favorite Sport). Nice takes on literary figures and current social/artistic trends—Austen's Emma, the superabundance of film nudity, the uses of makeup (not to deceive but "to create something magnificent") round out the book. Most invigorating is Haskell's introduction, which spins out many ripe observations: the great authority of female stars despite a "tyrannical" studio system; the forces that still impede gender parity (denying and repressing "the matriarchy into which every child is born"); woman's uncertain place in the No-Man's-Land stretching between film studies and feminism. Haskell is appealingly casual and urbane in this section: Freud, Jane Russell, Nietzsche, and others are tossed in the air. Alas, after 15 pages, the rhetorical balls are gathered up and the articles, thorough but less prickly and wide-ranging, begin.
Haskell chooses the "devious" route of essays rather than a polemic because, she asserts, there is no one right "theory" of film, feminism, or culture—a fair argument but one that leaves her work here feeling somewhat lacking.