One of the benefits (or not) of living in the twenty-first century is how politically conscious, hyper -ism aware you are. Even when you are watching cinema as masterful as Ophül’s or Renoir’s, you find yourself uncomfortable with certain scenes. For example, the scene in which the woman resists the man’s advances until he forces himself onto her.
Yesterday, we watched two incredible films — Partie de campagne (Jean Renoir, 1936) which was left incomplete until Becker finished it ‘as the director would have intended it’ and La Ronde (Max Ophüls, 1950). Both are films on love (not its lowbrow cousin, romance). Even with the humour, the love is of an incredibly mature kind, the je t’aime parce que tu me résiste kind. The sort of love that leaves you embarrassed about your own flimsy romantic experiences. If I could describe Ophüls in one word it would be ‘eloquent’. (I’m still struggling with Renoir.)
Partie de campagne, Jean Renoir, 1936
Both films have the same “moments of violence” as I call them, and they are certainly not the only films to have them. In the process of falling in love, or falling into bed, with each other, the characters play a game: the man moves forward, the woman pulls away. The man places a hand on a shoulder or arm, the woman brushes it away. He grabs her waist, she attempts to escape. Finally he forces himself onto her and there is a moment — an obvious pause — which, despite its familiarity, makes you wonder if she will scream rape or succumb. Instead of doing either, she kisses him back with a passion of such intensity one would think it was her idea to make love in the first place.
There are several ways to read this behaviour. From the cruder side of the spectrum is the idea that woman is turned on by man’s violence. But this does not seem to be quite it. I suggest that the whole jeu is a codified sequence, which is the woman’s way of saying, ‘I know you want me. I want you too. But if I wait till you force yourself onto me, I will be absolved of giving in to this forbidden love.’ This is, of course, not to accuse the woman of being a shrew or the man of being a willing pig. Quite simply, it’s a social gesture in cinema that allows for the woman to escape a total social condemnation in the eyes of the viewer of participating in this sexual act. In real life, things aren’t quite so easily orchestrated.
Savita Bhabhi
A similar, yet very different, ‘moment’ is seen in India’s latest semi-underground cultural phenomenon, Savita Bhabhi*. Unfortunately, my ISP has blocked the site and I cannot reference this; I’m resorting to a somewhat murky memory here.
Right from the start of each episode, Savita is flirtatious, almost as if she were on the prowl for her ext sexual adventure. She teases the man into a sexual frenzy (in later episodes, going so far as to give him a blowjob without any qualms), but when it comes down to actual penetration, she resists. Usually, the resistance is observed in a thought bubble. She will think something along the lines of, ‘Oh no, what is he doing? I didn’t mean for it to go this far!’ It’s not a moment of violence in the traditional sense, but it seems to function in the same way as in a lot of French cinema. That little thought of Savita’s is enough for us to say, ‘Ah, at least the woman knows her limits.’ Of course, in the next instant, she realises she might as well get on with it seeing as her underwear is off anyway.
This poorly-labelled ‘moment’ is not quite so consistent in Savita Bhabhi, but it occurs often enough for me to call it a device. In the last episode that I read, Savita dreams that she is being used by her ex-lover, now part of an anti-terrorist squad, to catch the head of a particularly dangerous terrorist organisation. The plan is to seduce and distract him just enough so that the squad can come in and get him. The seduction goes through its ‘moment’ when Savita realises she has to go the whole way if she really wants to save her country. It’s quite fascinating how the creators of SB have managed to turn Savita’s sexual transgressiveness into something of use to the nation! I was impressed.
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*Savita Bhabhi is a pornographic internet cartoon in which Savita is a married woman who dresses in provocative, yet for all purposes, traditional Indian clothing (saris, mainly). For many Indian men, she embodies the fantasy of the loose Indian married woman. Savita hassexcapades with people of all social classes — film actors, house boys (Indian version of pool boy), travelling salesmen, terrorists, teenage boys, and so on, and her husband is none the wiser. The site has recently been banned on several ISPs.
[...] 2, 2009 by Kk This was triggered by this post by Aditi where she speaks of Savita Bhabhi’s ‘moment’ in most of her sexcapades where she [...]
Unless both the screenwriter and director are female, the depiction of male courtship as overly-enthusiastic to the point of insistent shouldn’t be that surprising–especially given the time of the films. Women weren’t seen as equals, and they didn’t even have power over sex. Marital rape wasn’t a concept the vast majority of the populous would understand.
“Quite simply, it’s a social gesture in cinema that allows for the woman to escape a total social condemnation in the eyes of the viewer of participating in this sexual act.”
If the characters are properly developed, then we want them to have sex. There is no condemnation of her actions lying in wait from a bible-thumping audience; it is simply a representation of socially defined gender behaviors: male=aggressive, female=passive.
Also, you just compared a cinematic film from the early 20th century to a pornographic comic from the 21st century. Not quite apples to apples. (I googled the unfamiliar name–Savita Bhabhi–and guess what the first example of the “semi-underground cultural phenomenon” was? Let’s just say, it made my change the word “graphic novel” to “comic”.)
Haha, yes, it’s quite a bizarre comparison. I’ve been thinking about SB much longer than the French films, which I only saw recently. What was the first example? When I google Savita Bhabhi I get various news results and the SB site, which doesn’t open for me. Why graphic novel? Since it’s serialised, it’s more like a comic than a novel, don’t you think?
The active-passive binary is true enough, but I think it works better for a less mature cinema (e.g. Bollywood films). With Ophuls and Renoir, the games are far more complex. My theory is, well, just a theory, and I’m perfectly willing to accept that the game does not have as its purpose the absolution of women. At the same time, it’s not a simple “the woman behaves this way because French men believe them to be passive” explanation either. The women seem very aware of the expectation of their passiveness and modesty, and so they play this game, instead of responding the first time.
It also has a lot of to do with social standing. La Ronde tells the story of various pairs of lovers. It begins with a prostitute soliciting a soldier, the soldier having a night out with a maid, the maid later seducing her employers’ son and so on, going up to the higher classes and back to the low. The prostitute and the actress (who comes later) are both very forward, but there is a married woman seduced by a young man who is very much the ‘I-shall-resist-thee-till-thou-rapest-me” kind. Once they are in bed, however, she’s completely at ease, almost as if she had orchestrated the whole thing.
I had a talk with a good friend just the other day about that sort of behaviour between women and men. Our understanding, gleaned from experience and the wisdom of our betters, is that women want a dude who knows what he wants. A girl draws back like that and pauses not to be rid of the dude, but to be sure he’ll advance. If the dude hesitates, it’s clear to her that he’s not man enough to commit. If she genuinely didn’t want him she’d drop the coy pretence and walk out. If she draws back and the dude advances, draws back and he advances, it’s clear to her that he knows what he wants and is willing to take the steps necessary to secure it. Also she’d know if he’s just some lust crazed asshole because that sort of dude would skip right to forcing himself on her the first time she drew away. Oldest dance in the world.
I’m a proponent of equality but I think sometimes we become overzealous and belittle valid traditions like our roles in sexuality. They can and do exist without misogyny, but I think that makes us nervous. It makes a sensitive guy nervous to lead, and it makes an independent girl nervous to follow. It’s easier to lump those old aggressive / passive roles in with sexism and conduct romance as a transaction between business partners. We throw away thousands of years of biological, psychological and traditional wisdom, with no gain but the task of reinventing the wheel according to blueprints given us by trendy-yet-unchanging magazines and confused sociopolitical movements. Baby with the bathwater, etc.
I’ll have to track down these flicks, the Ophüls especially sound good.
Here’s a site to let you get around the SB block – http://www.hidemyass.com/
Firstly, I don’t think this is purely social or cinematic at all. There is a certain amount of violence involved in sex, as well as the mating dances surrounding it. Of course, it may be expressed in a more sharply defined manner in cinema while being fuzzier in real life but that’s where the difference ends.
P.S. This is probably obvious, but violence does not imply physical violence at all. As a lot of couples would fervently agree, some of the best sex is immediately after a screaming match.
I disagree with Jon just a bit–women tend to assume men want sex. The ‘old-fashioned’ women I know tend to pull away to make sure sex is something they want–a few seconds where they can make sure they know their head or heart, not just their hormones.
Tomato / tomato I think. If a dude is just horned up, like I said, he’ll trample over that “draw away, advance; draw away, advance” rhythm. Mind you that’s all very cinematic, I don’t know how faithful a representation it is of reality. I’ve had a few of those experiences but not enough to think it’s usual for those moments to be so well choreographed. In any case a dude who’s just horned up (which is not always or necessarily opposite to head / heart love) tramples over whatever rhythm, cinematic or not. Trampling is the key indicator, girls. The trampler’s pole is the smooth operator. He makes you come to him. How do you girls perceive these two? I’m curious. Which is less attractive / more dangerous / more likely to succeed?
@ GrimEden
Haha, I only just got your joke about the graphic novel. Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.
@ Jon, Ambar, Audrey
There is no doubt that violence and games are part of sex in real life. These little tugs of war happen all the time, but in many more permutations and combinations, I would think. Cinema is not the opposite of real life, but there often is a gap between the two — a gap that either heightens or softens.
When I said it’s a “social gesture in cinema” I meant this particular game with its inherently dramatic nature. The difference, I think, between what happens in a film and in real life is that it’s far more certain what will happen in the former.
[...] good bit of time reading every Savita Bhabhi episode before the site was banned, and even attempted a tiny bit of analysis. Later I started working on a piece titled ‘Erotica: defining the genre.’ I gave up [...]