Bitchfest Movie Marathon! - "All About Eve"

Bitchfest movies are all about women being awful to one another. I've chosen five films that I consider to be the best of the genre. Following the fourth installment (2010's "Black Swan"), I now present ~

All About Eve 1950 / Dir: Joseph L. Mankiewicz



SYNOPSIS Though still the toast of the New York theater scene, veteran stage legend Margo Channing (Bette Davis) is insecure about her age. Her playwright friend Lloyd (Hugh Marlowe) and director/boyfriend Bill (Gary Merrill) insist that her "ageless" talent and beauty make her fit to portray twentysomething women, but Margo isn't so sure. As Bill heads to Hollywood for a movie directing gig, she secretly worries about losing him to a younger woman. Her concerns are temporarily allayed when Lloyd's wife Karen (Celeste Holm) introduces her to Eve (Anne Baxter), an adoring superfan who has seen every performance of Margo's current Broadway hit "Aged in Wood". Flattered by Eve's idolatry and impressed with her excellent, unassuming manners, Margo takes the young lady under her wing and adopts her as a live-in personal assistant. When Margo learns that Eve has been casually corresponding with Bill in anticipation of his "Welcome Home" party, her fears resurface, especially when her wisecracking maid Birdie (Thelma Ritter) admits to finding Eve creepy. Margo's infamous diva-like temper explodes at the party, and she manages to humiliate Bill, Lloyd, Karen and Eve all at once - much to the amusement of acerbic theater critic Addison DeWitt (George Sanders). As Margo becomes increasingly suspicious of Eve in the days following the party, her obsessive paranoia further alienates her from the people she loves, leading to disastrous results.

I'm not sure if I've watched "All About Eve" more than any other movie, but I can't think of another film I've studied more intensely. I think it's brilliant and so it's a bit difficult for me to keep from writing about it hyper-analytically, even academically.* But that sort of piece could be interesting only to those who've already seen it, and one of my main reasons for engaging in this Bitchfest series is to make readers want to watch these great movies. So, if you've seen "All About Eve" and you're curious about my theory of the backstage crate that says "Handle With Care," let me know; otherwise, I will stick to answering the question, what makes this Bitchfest film so special?

Let's begin with writer/director Joseph L. Mankiewicz's unconventional script. Commonly known as The Bitchiest Film Ever Made, "All About Eve" is undoubtedly the gem of this genre and yet it upends all of the character types that we recognize in films like "The Women", "Mean Girls", "Chicago" and "Black Swan". Margo, our protagonist, is the common definition of a bitch. She's pushy, temperamental, inconsiderate and sometimes downright mean. The antagonist is polite and endlessly gracious. Without revealing too much, I'll concede that Eve isn't what she initially seems. And granted, the seemingly-good-but-secretly-bad girl is not a new sort of character, even in 1950. But unlike most Bitchfest films, in which the protagonist adopts the antagonists' tendencies in an effort to defeat her, Margo remains true to herself, while Eve does the aping in an attempt to overcome her adversary. Karen, who we would assume to be Margo's more sensible sidekick (and in most films, would serve to teach her ill-behaved pal a stern but positive lesson), is a self-unaware fool who does immeasurable harm by unwittingly unleashing Eve upon her friends. And perhaps most unusual is that the biggest bitch of all is Addison, a man.

But as Addison himself so snidely observes in the film's opening scene, the function of the writer and director is "merely to construct a tower so that the world can applaud a light which flashes on top of it." Witty as Mankiewicz's script is, only a seasoned and sympathetic pro like Bette Davis could be capable of delivering his heroine's words so deftly; this is arguably her signature film. Despite her bitchiness, we root for Margo, for the same reason we root for those no-good "Chicago" girls - she's entertaining, hurling bitter, hilarious barbs at both the innocent and the deserving with equal finesse. Take, for instance, when a justifiably incensed Bill complains that she's going to make him miss his flight to L.A. and his meeting with Darryl Zanuck (real-life Twentieth Century Fox exec and producer of "All About Eve" - so meta!). Margo merely replies in mocking sing-song fashion, "Zanuck, Zanuck, Zanuck. What are you two - lovers?"

Unlike "Chicago's" Roxie or Velma, Margo is also vulnerable, and Davis conveys this tenderness so convincingly that you almost believe she's playing herself. In one of her best scenes, she wearily confesses to Karen, "Funny business, a woman's career. The things you drop on your way up the ladder, so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you go back to being a woman." Davis could have just as easily been describing her various failed marriages in light of her own lengthy career. In the course of this monologue, her character also reveals a keen self-awareness that sets her apart from most of the other principal players, especially when she admits, "Infants behave the way I do, you know. They carry on and misbehave - they'd get drunk if they knew how - when they can't have what they want. When they feel unwanted and insecure - or unloved." Ultimately, this cognizance is more important to Margo's personal success than either her assertiveness or her occasional willingness to be kind. Again, this is not the typical characterization of a "good girl".

Anne Baxter's portrayal of "bad girl" Eve is certainly less nuanced, just as her character bears fewer layers than our protagonist. Yet, Baxter does a great job of making us queasy about Eve long before she reveals her true nature. From her melodramatically delivered introductory monologue (a young widow's sob story that would suit reality TV perfectly) to her stoic poise in the face of Margo's most brutal tantrum, Baxter's portrayal throughout the first half of the film is a series of subtly unsettling alarms. Though her acting in the latter half verges on campy, it is certainly amusing, even rewarding. After all, we don't really want Eve to be as virtuous as she seems.

The other true star of the film - portraying a character who is a far more formidable force than Eve - is George Sanders. If Margo is correct in her initial observation that Eve considers the theater "all the religions in the world rolled into one, and we're Gods and Goddesses," then Sanders's Addison is certainly the Devil. Like Billy Flynn from "Chicago," he's the manipulator who can't be baited by any Bitchfest lady. But unlike Flynn, nothing so worldly as money interests Addison. His only love is the theater and his only desire is to control it by somehow possessing its stars. His love/hate relationship with Margo (which is all hate on her end) is a powerful dramatic undercurrent that becomes more apparent throughout the film, though Sanders is constantly foreshadowing. The opening scene (set months after the bulk of the action), in which he presents all of the major character via voice over narration, is the film's greatest gift to a repeat viewer and it gets better with every successive screening. As his eyes dart from a heavy-hearted Karen to a glowering Margo, Sanders's sneering expression says everything that his narrative refuses to divulge. But it's Sanders's outstanding, dulcet-toned delivery that perfectly complements Mankiewicz's biting dialog, especially in this scene with a very young Marilyn Monroe -



Though Bette Davis unfortunately lost the Best Actress Oscar (to a very deserving Judy Holliday for "Born Yesterday"; since Baxter was also nominated, it is commonly believed that she and Davis cancelled each other out), Sanders was rightly awarded Best Supporting Actor, his only nomination from the Academy.

In the spirit of recognizing great acting, I must give a shout-out to Thelma Ritter, whom you saw descending the staircase with the enormous sable in hand. Ritter was one of Hollywood's best character actors, the perennial wise-ass servant (you may recall her as Jimmy Stewart's macabre nurse in "Rear Window"). With her thick New York accent and salty manner, she brought the silver screen down to earth and helped millions of viewers suspend their disbelief. Her Birdie, the "fifth rate vaudevillian" turned maid, is no less important to this film. She connects us to the improbable world of "the thee-uh-TUHH" and, as the most prescient observer of Eve, she helps us accept that people this crazy can and do exist.

On a completely different note, "All About Eve" stands out amongst other Bitchfest films as an insightful study of jealousy. Margo's billowing resentment toward her rival is an irresistible train wreck. Her extreme, outward hostility only feeds Eve's popularity, which in turn fosters a more potent, self-defeating envy. I think that just about any woman (or man) who has engaged in catty behavior can relate to that experience. But while so many Bitchfest narratives reward jealous heroines by returning to them the "thing" (a guy, usually) that the bad girl somehow stole, that isn't Margo's path to redemption. As infantile as she can be, Margo is a grown-up and like real-life grown-ups, she eventually figures out that her jealousy is a manifestation of her insecurity. It doesn't matter if she's right or wrong about Eve. She must find her peace in the only place it could possibly be found - within herself.



*Honestly, the only thing I miss about college is writing ridiculously detailed, five page shot analyses for highfalutin theory classes.

The Persistence of Memory

I've decided to take a break from my Bitchfest Movie series of postings to touch on a subject that's been gnawing at my brain - my better-than-average memory. Alright, I will abandon the false modesty. I have an excellent memory, not for facts and figures so much as for things that I have witnessed during the course of my life. For instance, I know that a year ago today, I had a nasty cold and had to miss my friend L's dance performance. Granted, that memory wasn't so tough to recall, because she was dancing at a show that happens the day after Valentine's Day. But I also remember that I wrote a Facebook status update in which I cursed the virus and wished her well (when she stumbled across that later, she thought it was nice). I was happy that I could see her next recital on March 26th, the day my friends' twin babies were born, and I remember thinking how lucky I was to receive that phone call only moments after her performance. That was also the day that I finished reading "Great Expectations". It was a sunny, crisp, early Spring afternoon. Dan and I ate Vietnamese food before the recital.

You cannot imagine how much time I spend mentally wandering through these associated recollections*. The most obscure minutiae trigger all sorts of flashbacks. Here's an example: yesterday, I used the word "elan" in a puzzle. Every time I think of that word, I think about a very clever and charming former housemate whose figure skating team name contained the word "elan" (mind you, I knew this woman years after she had left the team). When I think of "elan", it brings up all sorts of sentiments - how my feelings toward her vacillated between frustration (like when she would try to flirt with my boyfriend in front of me) and sympathy (we experienced a common tragedy, which made us oddly close for a few months). "Elan" reminds me of all the stories she told about her old job at a cafe that I never visited, and the kind of cigarettes she smoked. I could go on, but that isn't my point. My point is that, based on these memories, I could write a little bio about a woman I have seen just once in the past decade. Obviously, I don't know her whole story, but I still know so many details.

I used to be proud of this trait. It can be an entertaining parlor trick and sometimes it's delightful to surprise an old friend with a funny "Remember when?" that they had completely forgotten. But mostly, I consider this ability a curse. As with the word "elan", it brings up at least as many unpleasant memories as happy ones. And even when recalling memories of pleasant moments spent with loved ones, I know there's an excellent chance that I'm the only one who remembers. That loneliness might be the worst thing about having this good memory.



*My blood-related family can probably understand. I think this ability is definitely a genetic inheritance.

Bitchfest Movie Marathon! - "Black Swan"

Bitchfest movies are all about women being awful to one another. I've chosen five films that I consider to be the best of the genre. Following last week's third installment (2002's "Chicago"), I now present ~

Black Swan 2010 / Dir: Darren Aronofsky


SYNOPSIS: Demure and technically flawless ballerina Nina (Natalie Portman) wins the lead role in her company's production of "Swan Lake". Though she is a perfect fit for the virtuous White Swan, her director (Vincent Cassell) doubts that she can pull off the other half of the role, the seductive Black Swan. Nina begins to feel threatened by Lily (Mila Kunis), a less talented but more alluring dancer who embodies Black Swan qualities. Further stymied by her controlling mother, Erica (Barbara Hershey), Nina feverishly taps into her dark side and begins losing her mind in the process.

When we were kids, my sister K identified certain elements that guarantee a super creepy story. This included evil twins who pretend to be nice, dead evil twins who come back to life, and mirror images that smirk or otherwise behave differently than the person looking in the mirror. All of these pertain to doubles and good/evil dualities. And it's true that no matter how often I encounter such devices, I always get freaked out in the best possible way. "Black Swan" works so well because it's packed with this kind of basic, no-fail horror. Plus, it takes place in the already weird world of ballet.

Bitchfest conflicts are essentially evil twin stories - a good girl and a bad girl, bonded by a common goal (if not an identical physical appearance), are thrust into battle. As I explained in my initial post, the righteous Bitchfest heroine sometimes adopts the antagonist's negative traits in order to defeat her. The process by which the Nina tries to mimic Lily's carefree sexuality is the film's central focus. Going into it, I had misgivings about the marketing label "psychosexual thriller," as if open and unapologetic female sexuality is somehow inherently sinister. Fortunately, that isn't the point at all. The real issue is, what does sex mean to a twenty-something woman who still sleeps in a bed festooned with stuffed animals? The good girl in this scenario is a timebomb of smothered sensuality. She can't even masturbate without worrying that her mother might barge through her lock-less bedroom door. Regardless of how you or I or Lily feel, sex is a murky, uncharted realm for Nina. You quickly realize that this twin conflict is at least as much internal as external, and that the protagonist's unrealized urges are defining the battlefield.

Director Darren Aronofsky expertly yanks the audience into Nina's eerie, insular world and makes you ride sidecar along her troubled journey. The camera is always in her face or behind her head, stalking her down a shadowy hall, spinning as she pirouettes. You really begin to feel that you're inside her mind, though Portman deserves at least as much credit for conveying Nina's point of view. I will consider her all-but-assured Best Actress Oscar well earned, and not just because she became a ballet dancer for the sake of this role. She actually made me forget that she's Movie Star Natalie Portman, whom I generally find annoying. Not to say that Nina isn't annoying - she really is, with her perpetually frightened little girl voice - but feeling your way through her sheltered life is a truly terrifying experience and you can't help longing for her release.

Kunis's Lily is an interesting subversion of the Bitchfest bad girl archetype. It's possible to read the story in such a way that she isn't really a culpable, manipulative Black Swan type, but rather a genuinely concerned friend. Then again, she may be intentionally messing with our heroine, or at least taking advantage of her instability. In any case, Kunis does an excellent job of anchoring the audience to everydayness - if only temporarily - by interjecting some easygoing humor into this unnervingly taut story. Whether or not Lily is actively trying to push her rival over the edge, she generally appears to be the least fucked-up person in Nina's tiny, asphyxiating world.

Erica is just as much of a debilitating force, a stifling superego to Lily's pleasure-seeking id. Her relationship with Nina reminded me of "Carrie". On the surface, Erica is nowhere near as psychotic as Piper Laurie's Margaret White, but the air of sexual repression in her dimly lit home is just as palpable. Instead of screaming about "dirty pillows", Erica submerges her child in a little girl world of music boxes and pink-frosted cake (which she passive-aggressively forces a sickly Nina to eat in celebration of winning the lead role; I found this scene more disturbing than the plentiful gore that occurs throughout the film). MINOR SPOILER ALERT - you learn that Nina's conception marked the abrupt end of her own ballet career. Erica isn't just a stage mom. She is actively holding her daughter in a state of arrested development and kinda trying to sabotage her at the same time.

Even among positive reviews for "Black Swan", the pejorative term I've encountered most frequently is "trashy". I guess that's fair, considering all the ballet-society stereotypes (from Cassel's cruel and lecherous director to Winona Ryder's aging, raging diva, Beth) and especially Portman and Kunis's straight-up soft porn sex scene. But honestly, I love "Black Swan" because it was exactly as trashy as I wanted it to be. While I appreciate the more highbrow elements - Matthew LiBatique's haunting, exquisite cinematography, the excellent use of sound (just the thought of a certain toenail-clipping noise makes me a bit nauseous), and of course the dancing - it's the pairing of Bitchfest story structure with those classic evil twin gimmicks (the above photo is a fine example) that lured me to the theater and kept my eyes glued to the screen. It isn't a unique combo, I know, but I can't think of another film that does it better.

Tune in for the final installment, 1950's "All About Eve"

Bitchfest Movie Marathon! - "Chicago"

Bitchfest movies are all about women being awful to one another. I've chosen five films that I consider to be the best of the genre. Following last week's second installment (2004's "Mean Girls"), I now present ~

Chicago 2002 / Dir: Rob Marshall


SYNOPSIS: Based on the 1975 Broadway musical, "Chicago" is the story of two prohibition-era murderesses - Velma (Catherine Zeta-Jones), a showgirl who killed her cheating husband and sister, and Roxie (Renee Zellweger), an aspiring entertainer who killed her boyfriend because he lied about getting her a gig. Fearing that they will be hanged for their crimes, the two ladies vie for the attention of Billy Flynn (Richard Gere), a slick and hitherto undefeated defense lawyer who specializes in distressed damsels.

Of all my favorite Bitchfest films, I am most embarrassed about "Chicago". Perhaps it's because it stars people like Zellweger* and Gere, but more so, I think it's because the movie isn't nearly as good on the "small" screen. I believe I watched that hotly anticipated DVD once before I sold it. I caught it on TV another time and flipped back and forth between it and another show. Based on those weak responses, I'd assume that my initial reaction to the film had been tainted by an unusually good mood, but I actually saw it four times in the theater.

When I went to my first viewing, we had to wait in line outside the theater door while the previous screening finished. As the audience members emerged, I noticed a particularly jubilant middle aged man and his wife. Both were beaming, but he had tears rolling down his face. He turned to me and said, "You're gonna love it!" He was not only correct, his physical reaction predicted my own. Aside from "Singin' in the Rain" and "Hedwig and the Angry Inch", I don't think I've ever been more entertained while sitting inside a movie theater. Guess I have a thing for musicals...

And as musicals go, this one has the perfect balance of story, humor and catchy, addictive songs. Immersing oneself in it - which really does require a theater - is an exhilarating experience. And it turns out that a good musical doesn't require complex character development. As Bitchfest stories go, this one is awfully shallow. Every lady is a "bad girl" which implies that "good girls" simply can't make it in show business. What's interesting about this tale from an audience member's point of view is that even though Velma and Roxie aren't particularly likable, you're nevertheless glad to see them win in the end. Part of the reason is that, although they suck as people, the men that they offed were actually worse. This simple ploy to keep you rooting for the heroines is fleshed out in the "Cell Block Tango" number, during which several other murderesses (all clad in black lingerie; it makes sense but I can't explain why) recount how and why they wound up killing their no-good lovers. As the song reaches its inevitable crescendo and key change, the ladies harmonize with the words "The dirty bum, bum, bum!" These irresistible, old-timey touches make you cheer for these vixens just as you'd cheer for a Cagney villain.

It's difficult to choose sides in the Roxie vs. Velma rivalry, but ultimately it doesn't matter as they are equally ruthless and thus equally successful in the end. Surprisingly, Gere's Mr. Flynn might be the most likable character. I don't know why I have such a bad feeling about Gere (I blame "Pretty Woman" more than the gerbil legend), but he redeemed himself with this role. I'm a sucker for the slippery, silver-tongued Irishman stereotype and he hits the mark. He effortlessly bounces between boyish grins and withering glances (the former for the press and the jury, the latter for his dim clients). He plays a classic Bitchfest male role, the manipulator who can't be baited, and he even gets his own number - the all-lies "All I Care About is Love". Dressed in shirtsleeves, suspenders and a newsboy cap, Gere croons with a hint of a brogue, "I don't care about expensive things/ Cashmere coats, or diamond rings / Don't mean a thing / All I care about is love" as the camera cuts to shots of Billy dressed in his usual finery, scoffing at Roxie as she attempts to seduce him in lieu of paying him. His portrayal is reminiscent of Cary Grant's Walter Burns; a callous jerk, yes, but he's no sap.

Other highlights include: John C. Reilly as Roxie's hapless, cuckolded husband and his rendition of "Mr. Cellophane"; Queen Latifah as scheming prison "mom" Matron Morton and her rendition of "When You're Good to Mama"; and most of all, Ms. Zeta-Jones's pace-setting performance of the opening number, "All That Jazz", which has to be one of the five all-time best show tunes. When she belts the penultimate line, "No, I'm no one's wife / But, oh, I love my life!" she not only earned her Oscar but also prompted a male friend of mine to say, "She's hot. I'm gay and I would do her."

Some of my other musical theater friends hated the movie, claiming that its best aspects were mere shadows of much better Broadway productions. I guess that "Chicago" just happens to be based on an already excellent musical with a fun, mean-spirited storyline and cool period costumes. I have no doubt that there have been and will be superior staged versions, but I've never had the cash or means to attend one of those. I will someday. In the meantime, I would gladly pay standard movie theater admission price if I ever got a chance to see this on a big screen again. I know it would be money well spent.

Tune in for the next installment, 2010's "Black Swan"

*Okay, I admit that I kinda love Renee Zellweger, if only for her perfect performance in "Bridget Jones's Diary". She did, however, aid and abet the crime that was "Jerry McGuire"; that "You complete me" garbage was an unforgivable disservice to all non-sociopaths everywhere.

Bitchfest Movie Marathon! - "Mean Girls"

Bitchfest movies are all about women being awful to one another. I've chosen five films that I consider to be the best of the genre. Following last week's first installment (1939's "The Women"), I now present ~

Mean Girls 2004 / Dir: Mark Waters


SYNOPSIS: Having just relocated from rural Africa to the midwestern 'burbs, formerly home-schooled teenager Cady (Lindsay Lohan) begins attending a public high school. As she navigates this unfamiliar social territory, she quickly befriends a pair of outcasts - goth Janis (Lizzy Caplan) and "too gay to function" Damian (Daniel Franzese) - while simultaneously gaining the attention of The Plastics, a crew of snooty popular girls. Janis and Damian encourage Cady to infiltrate the Plastics and get some dirt on vicious ringleader Regina (Rachel McAdams). Cady initially takes the Plastics' offer of friendship at face value, so she's devastated when Regina moves in on her dreamy crush, Aaron (Jonathan Bennett). Cady decides to take revenge on her rival while pretending to be her best friend. In doing so, she transforms into the same sort of mean girl that she's trying to defeat.

One of my favorite pseudo-intellectual activities is helping my exhausted grad student instructor friends pick film clips to screen during their Friday classes. This was how I was able to convince my husband to show a scene from "Mean Girls" to his sociology students (it is now regularly featured in his Intro to Soc course). The film offers excellent examples of group assimilation in the context of a very clever and entertaining story.

I would expect nothing less from screenwriter Tina Fey, whose piercing, often hilarious social observations help make "30 Rock" the funniest sitcom in the history of television. Her screenplay is based on Rosalind Wiseman's nonfiction bestseller Queen Bees and Wannabes: Helping Your Daughter Survive Cliques, Gossip, Boyfriends and the New Realities of Girl World. Fey uses Cady's fish-out-of-water perspective to render a darkly humorous examination of girl world politics, from duplicitous three-way phone calls to unspoken rules about sex and dating. But what makes "Mean Girls" most interesting is that it transcends the typical Bitchfest good-girl-wins/bad-girl-loses scenario by demonstrating that all of us have the potential to be both types at the same time.

Lohan's gradual transition from subtly attractive math nerd to vapid hottie is both believable and sympathetic, particularly when she observes that, "it was better being in the Plastics, hating life, than to not be in at all. Because being with the Plastics was like being famous." Though Cady makes several bad decisions along her girl world journey, it's hard to imagine oneself behaving differently, especially when handicapped with her inexperience.* McAdams's Regina is refreshingly complex as a villain who is more angry than evil; you spend most of the film longing for her comeuppance, and when it's finally delivered (in the style of a too-bad-to-be-true violent fantasy), you realize that it's disproportionate to her sins. Amy Poehler's appearance as Regina's embarrassing, youth-obsessed, "cool" mom (the kind who is quick to offer alcohol to teens because, "if you're going to drink I'd rather you do it in the house") provides some of the film's biggest laughs, as well as some insight into the origin of her daughter's bitterness.

In one of the best scenes, math teacher Ms. Norbury (played by Fey) hosts an emergency all-girl assembly after the school wide distribution of the Plastics' slam book incites a riot. Ms. Norbury forces her young charges to calmly confront each other about what's really bothering them. The scene is brilliant, not only because it contains the film's best line - "Somebody wrote in that book that I'm lying about being a virgin because I use super-jumbo tampons. But I can't help it if I've got a heavy flow and a wide-set vagina!" - but also because it makes two key points; 1) that cattiness isn't a victimless crime and 2) that nearly all victims are also perpetrators, and vice versa.

Tune in for the next installment, 2002's "Chicago"

*Which reminds me, Lohan's critics (many of whom seem to think that she owes them a personal apology) might benefit from a second viewing of this film. She's a good actress who got very famous at a young age while being saddled with horrible parents. Could you do any better in her place?

Bitchfest Movie Marathon!

H. L. Mencken once said that a misogynist is "a man who hates women as much as they hate one another." Terrible, isn't it? Yet I admit that's one of my favorite quotes. After all, we ladies do have a nasty reputation for picking on each other. It's the one pissing contest in which we've always been eligible to compete. While I personally abhor girl-on-girl cattiness and try to exclude it (and its enthusiasts) from my social interactions as much as possible, I'd be lying if I were to claim that I've never engaged in it. I suspect this is a common struggle amongst us self-proclaimed feminists. After so many generations of women abusing women, I sometimes wonder if this spitefulness we've inherited is something we all just need to get out of our systems.

I may have stumbled upon an outlet. In lieu of attacking other ladies, I seek a healthy dose of bitchiness in my entertainment.* My favorite unsung film genre is something that I like to call "The Bitchfest". These are the stories about women being awful to each other. The plot usually involves a "good" girl and a "bad" girl fighting over a guy (though it may be a job or a thing). Oftentimes the good girl adopts bad girl tendencies to win her man/thing. Sometimes this method succeeds, sometimes it is the heroine's undoing. This hackneyed scenario remains surprisingly entertaining despite its shallowness, which is why I've watched movies like "The Devil Wears Prada" when I probably had something better to do.

So in the spirit of wintry, pent-up aggression, I present this selection of much better films, along with an explanation of what makes each one so great. I consider these five movies to be the Best of the Best of the Bitchfest.

NOTE: I originally intended to include all five films in one post, but it was getting crazy long, even for me. Instead, I will publish several installments over the coming days. Beginning in reverse alphabetical order (which just happens to lead to the gem of the genre) ~

The Women 1939 / Dir: George Cukor


SYNOPSIS: Sickeningly contented society matron Mary (Norma Shearer) has no idea that her beloved spouse Stephen has been stepping out with scheming shop girl Crystal (Joan Crawford), until her obnoxious friends set her up to be informed by a gossipy manicurist. Clinging to her waning sense of dignity, Mary rejects her repentant husband and heads to Reno for a "quickie" divorce. She encounters several other wannabe divorcees on the westbound train, including her two-faced pal Sylvia (Rosalind Russell), who is all too eager to see Mary's marriage crumble. Seeing these various women enter and exit marriages that are based on money and status, Mary realizes that she may have made a mistake in leaving a man that she actually loved.

There's a gimmick behind this story, which is based on the play by Clare Boothe Luce - no men appear at any point during the film. So even though the characterizations, the storyline, and especially the resolution can be disheartening (I don't much care for the way that Mary "wins" in the end), this angle allows plenty of room for wonderful acting by women.

Shearer brings both glamor and a true intelligence to her very privileged heroine, which makes her more likable than you'd initially expect. She gets off to a rough start in some early "calm before the storm" scenes with her annoying daughter, Little Mary (portrayed by cringe-worthy child actor Virginia Weidler, who is fortunately absent from the bulk of the film). The two are so blissfully self-satisfied that you may want to vomit. But once the cracks in Mary's seemingly perfect marriage are revealed, Shearer plays her various stages of grief with convincing grace. She really is the sort of mature, upright, self-respecting friend that you would identify as an especially good person.

Crawford's Crystal is exactly what you'd expect - a cunning and icy vamp. Her character bears the fewest dimensions, but she plays that bad-girl-you-love-to-hate brilliantly. She absolutely nails lines like, "There is a name for you, ladies, but it isn't used in high society... outside of a kennel." Now that Crawford is doomed to be forever associated with wire hangers, it's difficult for a modern viewer to imagine an actress who would have been better suited for the role.

The various supporting characters - especially Paulette Goddard's charming homewrecker Miriam and Mary Boland's flighty and much-married Countess De Lave - help round out the drama with plenty of sparkling humor, but Russell is flat out the funniest. Her Sylvia is the perfect cat, toying with the other ladies for nothing more than her own amusement. Consistently crass and occasionally histrionic, Russell makes a very amusing ass of herself; her unflattering antics were truly remarkable for the era.** In one of her best scenes, she bares her teeth in the mirror, just to be sure there's nothing stuck up in there. It's only a moment, but the film is replete with these little impressions of how women behave when men aren't around. That's something that we rarely see in any movies ever, which is why this 72 year old film remains refreshing today.

Tune in for the next installment, 2004's "Mean Girls"




*Of course, if lady-on-lady meanness ceased to be a recognizable thing, this sort of entertainment wouldn't exist. Luckily, I'm not really here to solve social problems, thank goodness!

**Russell's comedic performance attracted future husband Frederick Brisson, who became obsessed with her when he saw repeat screenings of "The Women" as he was sailing to the US. He convinced his friend Cary Grant to introduce him to her during the filming of "His Girl Friday" and the two married shortly after that.

The "F" Word

I'm not sure exactly when the enjoyment of food became a competitive sport, but I'm way past wanting to be a contender. Working at Foodie Deluxe in Ann Arbor was oddly reminiscent of my 1998 trip to Ireland - just as that humbling experience taught me that I'm not really Irish (I'm American), this more recent experience taught me that I cannot call myself a "foodie" (I'm just a person who likes eating - there are literally billions of us). Of course, I also refrain from describing myself with the "f" word because it's terrible and I don't like the flavor of my own vomit. But even if I were to choose a slightly less obnoxious word like "connoisseur", I would still feel like a fraud because I know too many people who have far more sophisticated knowledge, taste and skill when it comes to making and eating food.

Nevertheless, I do love cooking and feasting. When I left my job in Ann Arbor and moved to Chattanooga, I was looking forward to embracing my new kitchen (with its restaurant-style stainless steel counters) in a more modest and less food-obsessed town. I've been having fun, especially now that I have some cool new toys, like my crock pot and immersion blender. But I didn't anticipate that my relationship with food would be so different from what it was when I lived and worked in Michigan.

The biggest food-related change came with my new fitness regimen. Now that I workout more than I ever have in my life (I actually run miles!.. without stopping!.. of my own volition!), I worry less about restricting this or that type of food. The only dietary advice that my trainer T gave me was this - get three servings of fruit and three servings of vegetables every day. This albeit simple rule is actually the goddamned revolution. For one thing, it's brilliant to give food advice in the form of a "do" instead of a "don't" - "don't" just isn't that motivating in the long term. I follow this "do" slavishly and I inevitably eat more healthfully. The only way I can make the 3/3 diet work is by snacking on bananas and raw carrots, which means I'm not often snacking on potato chips and cheesy things. I definitely have more energy, I'm less reliant on caffeine and I don't crave greasy food as much.

That being said, I have learned that my addiction to dairy fat cannot be denied. If I go a couple days without cheese or sour cream or half and half in my coffee, I get really crabby and start wondering why this miserable world has to be populated with so many IDIOTIC JERKS. I'm not my best self without lactose.

This new food routine is fine, but figuring out how to get three fruits, three vegetables and a little dairy fat in my body every day takes a lot of concentration. That means I have less energy for planning elaborate entrees or trying new recipes, which brings me to the second biggest change in my relationship with food. I'm no longer as interested in cooking. This is why I love my crock pot. With minimal prep, I make a big ass heap of food that I can turn into several meals. Overnight grits become breakfast, then grits casserole, then grits muffins, etc. It isn't a very sexy approach to culinary arts, but it is efficient.

I think the other major difference in the way I approach food concerns my favorite pastime, going out to eat. Chattanooga is not prime for this activity, though not for lack of fancy restaurants. This town has plenty of places where you can buy an expensive steak, but there isn't much variety when you examine the spectrum of choices. I couldn't have anticipated how much I would miss metro Detroit's sundry culinary options (a reflection of its mixed population), including Mexican, Middle Eastern, Greek, Indian, Polish, Chinese, Thai; I'm confident that you can find excellent versions of each one of these cuisines in the D. Chattanooga, unsurprisingly, is more culturally homogeneous. I thought this town would boast some great barbecue, but I've had trouble finding places that really smoke the hell out of some meat. I haven't yet found that "native" cuisine that's special to this place, and I'm beginning to wonder if it exists. I keep going to the same few dependable restaurants but longing for more adventure.

Yet, within footsteps of my home, I can purchase fresh-roasted coffee, handmade sausage and artisan bread. This winter, Dan and I purchased an 18-week lettuce CSA and now we get to eat fresh greens every day. These small local farms and businesses are where you find the best flavors in Chattanooga. I'm glad that so many of these vendors are represented in our city's restaurants, but for the sake of thrift and control, I prefer to eliminate the middle man and just deal with these businesses directly. Living here, I just don't have as much motivation to go out to eat.

Despite my waning interest in living a food-focused life, it turns out that I'm really good at selling the stuff. My only goal at work is to get people to put whatever item I'm pushing in their basket and I'm a little shocked at how often they do. We aim for a 400% increase in sales of that item. Two weeks ago, I was demoing an obscure salami that I was sure no one would buy; we saw a 1500% lift in its sales. I'd call it a fluke, but my coworkers are always shocked when I run out of whatever I'm sampling. I must admit that I find this success very satisfying. I'm excited about this new facet in my ever-changing relationship with food. Food and I may not be best friends anymore, but we make great business partners.