Let me tell you about something I recently saw: Antonia's Line.
It's a delightful feminist fairytale film that won the Academy Award's Best Foreign Film in 1995. It's all about women--how great they are, how independent from men they are, how utterly capable, lovely and sometimes lesbian they are.
The central figure is Antonia, a woman in her late 30's who returns to her small Dutch farming community shortly after WWII with only her teenage daughter, Danielle. Antonia is played by a lovely and sturdy Dutch actress who just oozes wholesome goodness and health.
All the men in the sleepy town turn their heads toward Antonia when she walks by, like flowers to the sun, and she finds favor in everyone's eyes. A gentle widowed farmer asks for her hand in marriage and she slaps him down, saying she doesn't need men to take care of her. This nice man becomes her friend and eventually she says, "I won't give you my hand, but you can have everything else." Ah, feminist geezer love (just like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell!).
Danielle eventually grows up and decides she wants a baby, but without a husband. Antonia doesn't bat an eye, and takes Danielle into the big city to find the early prototype of an anonymous sperm donor--he ends up being a James Dean look alike complete with leather jacket and motorcycle.
Danielle finishes the deed while her mom waits in the hotel lobby and then they return to their sleepy town. Nine months later Danielle gives birth to a baby girl who turns out to be a child prodigy and is sent to a special school to get extra tutoring from a female teacher. Danielle falls in love with her daughter's female teacher and it is reciprocated. Ah, lesbian love.
Eventually, Danielle's daughter grows up and has a daughter of her own (of course! We can't have any boy babies in this feminist fairytale!) They all live together on this giant farm/commune and life is peaceful and idyllic and matriarchal.
The men in the film are portrayed, at best, as unecessary but pleasant appendages to have around (but no neediness!). At worst, they are rapists. There are only two "bad" and tragic things that happen in this fairytale (well maybe three).
First, there is death. Some characters die, but not anyone we really care about except Antonia. But her death is not really sad, it's just matter-of-fact.
And second, there are rapes. Two to be exact.
And that is all the tragedy that exists in this fairytale. No thwarted lovers, no jealousy, no famine or disease. Just the ugliness of male intrusion into the lovely female sphere.
There is a side tragedy though: the restraints of religious doctrine. Oh that favorite bogeyman and strait-jacket of the modern world. Throw off those wretched doctrinal fetters that bind you!
This anthem is epitomized by the dour middle-aged priest who decides to quit the priesthood. On the day of his "liberation" we see him ringing the church bells with glee to announce his resignation and him frantically tearing off his clerical robes as if they were laced with acid, just burning a hole through his skin.
He's free, he's free! He instantly marries, has a new child each year (remarkably by the same woman) and eventually when his wife dies, devotes his life to social welfare work! Ah, the social gospel.
This kind of ideological fantasy world is hilariously out-of-date now as philosophers on their treadmill of deconstruction have already turned the page on this and moved on. Now it's theism and absolutism that the philosophic academia respects.
But even so, the hoi paloi are still singing this idealistic chorus: Women don't need men, reproductive choices are purely individualistic, and doctrine is death. Fa la la la la. Antonia's Line is the orchestral celebration of this song--full-bodied, lush, and delightfully witty.
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