Sad Girls Lens: Films That Feel Like A Weighted Blanket During The Pandemic
Still from Tuck Everlasting (2002)
by Abygai Peña.
Yes, I know the times are wild but, I don’t want a constant reminder through the media I digest. I seek refuge in film and television for comfort. I think it’s okay to not be ready to explore your fears through dystopian horror. For me, watching anything too stressful is a hard pill to swallow. What I want to share with you is where I go when I need comfort. Look no further than your own childhood my friends.
As a film writer, I’m frequently asked for my opinions and recommendations. The truth is not all films are created equal and not all films are made for me, a queer womxn of color. What’s more is that even movies that I loved growing up were not totally made for me either. I first watched Tuck Everlasting in my sixth grade english class. We had just finished reading the book Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt and what always struck me was the plot line. The novel and the film center around a young girl coming of age at the turn of the century who spends her time feeling trapped in her polite society. This already is a universal theme of adolescence. What furthers the plotline is when protagonist Winnie Foster runs into a family who live absent from her own luxuries. In Winnie’s eyes the Tucks live simply. Slowly. The Tucks live with magic, as they’ve become immortal after drinking from a stream in the woods. Winnie is forcefully taken in by the family after her meeting with Jesse Tuck while exploring her family’s acres. The relationship between Winnie and Jesse quickly turns romantic and I think it’s absolutely fair to reference the problematic nature of the captured falling for the captor. In a sense, Jesse is the only man other than her Father that she builds a prolonged connection with, Winnie is not allowed to play, let alone with kids her own age. Jesse is the first boy she interacts with that seems age appropriate. Jesse represents a semblance of what Winnie’s wealthy life lacks. Although this romanticization of simple living with simpler means might not amount to much in our current climate where the coronavirus has exposed the dangers and vulnerabilities in our American class system. In Tuck Everlasting’s case we can take what serves us and leave behind what doesn’t.
How do I say this to you, dear reader? I’ve probably rented the film Aquamarine over fifteen times from my local Blockbuster. This was early 2000s stan culture. I rented this film so often that my Dad would actually plead with me to choose something else. I never wavered. I was obsessed with mermaids. What captivated me about mermaids were their sexual magnetism, their power to control men.
Still from Aquamarine (2006)
Like most I was initiated at an early age with the disney classic, The Little Mermaid which sparked much curiosity and amusement. I found myself scoping out the small public library in my hometown for Hans Christian Anderson’s version and even looked for more mythology on the subject. This led me to the mermaid’s sexier cousin, the siren, who lured men with their beautiful voice only to consume them whole. My fascination as I know it now through a more articulated version of film is that mermaids live outside of our own societies making their desire more acceptable and tolerated in folklore and media. In Aquamarine, the mermaid of the same name washes up on shore in an attempt to find true love. Aquamarine’s ability to be forthcoming and direct with her desire is an inspiring form of self possession. What is complicated about loving the mermaid is the assumed european nature of the mythical enchantress. Yes, I love to see a woman in power but why don’t they look like me? LatinX folks seem reserved for playing vampires and witches. Hollywood casts us as darketypes and not light hearted, good natured creatures. Although mermaids do exhibit a free wheeling sexual tenacity this is portrayed with a sense of childlike innocence as mermaids are essentially seeing the world for the first time. In my mind, this is a major reason why only white women play mermaids. Although, Variety has confirmed that African American actress Halle Bailey has been cast in Rob Marshall’s live-action version of The Little Mermaid. This film has yet to be released.
Salma Hayek plays a lustful vampire in this still From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)
Another film I have revisited while at home is Harriet The Spy. This film hit home for me with its central character Harriet M. Welsh who is a writer. That already was enough to make my 10 year old heart sing. Harriet had so much certainty in her talent and ability which really impacted my view of myself. In the film, Harriet writes down everything. Her observations, her thoughts and feelings. A part of her writing involves spying on interesting characters in her community. She frequently goes en route to keep up with the lives of a birdcage designer, a family who owns a grocery store, and an eccentric wealthy woman. Harriet’s observations don’t end there. They are extended to her classmates which is where she really finds herself in trouble. Harriet has a deep relationship with her nanny Gully who has always encouraged her to tell the truth which was not a problem until her notebook was read aloud to her classmates by her nemesis Marion Hawthorn. This is when Harriet’s life changes forever. It is unclear what the moral of the story actually is. Is the message that Harriet is dealing with a world that will undoubtedly attempt to censor her? Or that as a woman your truth, thoughts and feelings are sure to cause trouble. Either way Harriet was able to rewrite her own story and make amends while being authentic to herself.
Still from Harriet the Spy (1996)
Here’s the deal, with the exception of Alexis Bledel who plays Winnie Foster the rest of my favorite childhood films feature starkly white casts and I know that’s the norm when talking about films from the past. Reconciling these feelings is a part of the work. We know we need more films featuring POC narratives, and we know that it is a slow change. My relationship with these films is complicated and that’s okay. It’s going to be a while until Hollywood catches up with our waves of social change and awareness but, until it is reflected in our media, damaging ideas and expectations of marginalized communities will continue to suffer and I want to make sure I address that reality.
The truth is that it these films are an alternate version of reality that I’m turning to for relief much like I did in my youth. But, how can we as Sad Girls take what we need authentically? We have to focus on knowing ourselves. Doing inner work and building up our self esteems though healing and community. How else can we look through a magazine, have an instagram account, or even go to a theater without feeling like we are not enough? As a film writer, I hold myself responsible for being honest about what I find value in, what I think was simply not created for me, and what is down right inappropriate. The value I find in these films from my youth come from the comfort they hold in spades. The nostalgia from the past; a familiar fantasy.
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Abygai Peña is a Manhattan bound feminist filmmaker and writer who contributes to BUST Magazine and Sad Girls Club while serving at the Deputy Editor of arthouse film magazine Cinema Skyline and Managing Newsletter Editor of Bluestockings Bookstore. Abygai Peña’s work lives at the intersections of cinema, gender, activism, and the occult. Abygai Peña is utilizing her expertise to soon launch a new publication called Banshe Magazine which aims deconstructs and decolonizes femme images in media.