Why Weak Male Characters Are Bad For Women

(The following post should be read in conjunction with Shana Mlawski’s oft-linked article, “Why Strong Female Characters Are Bad For Women.”)

If you’ve had any access to online or conventional media in the continental U.S. for the past 60 days, you’ve seen an ad for the upcoming bro movie She’s Out Of My League:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvYmZ5IA1hM

On the surface, a forgettable sex comedy. Adorable schlub lands major-league hottie; usual series of pratfalls and embarrassing incidents; he rises to the occasion and proves himself worthy of her love. No bankable stars and plenty of references (the TSA, iPhones) that will hopefully seem dated in ten years. The tone’s a little more crass than usual, but no worse than anything we’d see in the Eighties. Or Nineties. Or Aughts.

Of course, I liked it much better the first time I saw it, when it was called (500) Days of Summer.

“Whoa, hold the iPhone,” you’re doubtless saying. “(500) Days of Summer was an indie romantic comedy much beloved by hep movie critics. She’s Out Of My League is a derivative pile of gags. How can you even compare the two?”

(Warning: SPOILERS FOLLOW for (500) Days of Summer, although if you’re that worried about a romantic comedy being spoiled you might want to change your expectations of the genre. I may also unwittingly spoil some of She’s Out of My League, but, not having seen it, that says more about the corrugation of the plot than my skills as a critic)

Follow me here:

A., male, age 23-59, meets B., a female, age 21 to 28. A. lives a routine life which the audience is encouraged to find sad. B. is gorgeous, warm and free-spirited. B’s love and encouragement help A. to get out of his shell. Eventually, B. departs A’s life, leaving him happier and wiser.

Not only is that She’s Out of My League and (500) Days of Summer, but it’s also Autumn in New York, Sweet November, A Walk to Remember, Force of Nature and Love Story. It’s also Annie Hall and Bringing Up Baby. The AV Club identified this type as the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but she doesn’t even need to be particularly manic or pixieish. You could argue that Maribel Verdu’s character in Y Tu Mama Tambien fills the same role.

So the ending of (500) Days of Summer (which is revealed in the first reel, by the way – not foreshadowed but explicitly stated) does not defy the conventions of romantic comedy. The Manic Pixie Dream Girl leaves as often as she stays – often due to death (Autumn in New York, Sweet November, Love Story), but not always.

In any case, (500) Days of Summer and She’s Out of My League both came steaming from the same mold: the Woman As Liberator. The woman enters the man’s life, shakes up his perceptions, usually has sex with him and just as usually vanishes. (500) Days of Summer is a particularly artful example of the trope. It’s well-written, with clever dialogue, good music, memorable characters and the neat narrative device of a non-linear storyline. And it stars two indie screen darlings, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel. She’s Out of My League stars an obvious sexual fantasy and a guy you might remember from Knocked Up. Characters are mean for no obvious reason and every joke calls ahead before arriving.

(In fact, can I take a moment to comment on the love interest’s dark-haired sarcastic friend? In the trailer, we hear her yell at a man for very politely asking that the blonde not use her phone on the plane. Two things: (1) he’s right; phones aren’t good for planes; that interference you hear sometimes when your cell phone is too close to a speaker?; imagine hearing that in your headset while you’re trying to get directions from the FAA on which of LaGuardia’s two notoriously crowded runways to use; and (2) what kind of response is “what are you, a plane doctor?” even Joss Whedon would turn his nose up at that one)

She’s Out of My League is a worse film in every criterion that matters. But it’s effectively the same story.

If you look at the plot breakdown and you examine the films impartially, you’ll see the similarity. That’s not revolutionary. But I’m harping on their connection in order to focus your attention. It’s easy for people to see how She’s Out of My League is unrealistic, bordering on offensive. Molly (the blonde love interest) is walking wish fulfillment. She’s not a real character. Portraying this as an ideal, or even laudable relationship, is at the very least false, if not outright harmful.

But (500) Days of Summer is perhaps worse, because it’s a really good movie.

Let’s consider (500) Days of Summer:

Who does Joseph Gordon-Levitt play? JGL plays Tom Hansen, a music fanatic who designs greeting card slogans. He always wanted to be an architect, but never stuck out the application / submission process long enough. He’s a hopeless romantic.

Who does Zooey Deschanel play? Deschanel plays Summer Finn, the new executive assistant at Hansen’s office. She doesn’t feel the same way he does about love.

… that’s it. End of line.

What movies did Summer obsess over as a child, in the way that Tom apparently obsessed over The Graduate? No idea. What did Summer want to do in college that she never followed through on? No idea. What songs make her cry? No idea. Who does she turn to when her heart’s broken? No idea. What existence does she have, outside of a waxing and waning desire for Tom Hansen? None.

As far as the movie cares, when she goes home at the end of each day she stands patiently just inside her door until the next morning, when she has to go to work again and twirl her hair.

I’m being a tad unfair here. (500) Days of Summer is meant to be Tom’s movie, not Summer’s. The movie’s called that because Summer only exists for Tom for 500 days. Before that he was ignorant of her charms; after that, he falls in love with someone else. If the movie were about her, not Tom, it would be called (9131) Days of Summer.

I bring all this up only to stress how unrealistic a character Summer Finn is. She’s a hipster’s secret fantasy – not a blonde lifeguard with a D-cup, but a cute brunette who’ll listen to you rave about The Arcade Fire all afternoon. Her artful tastes do not make her any less a fantasy.

But, as I said, it’s not Summer’s movie, it’s Tom’s. So let’s consider Tom.

What do we learn about Tom prior to when he and Summer start dating?

1. When he’s in real trouble, he turns to his younger sister for relationship counseling.
2. He makes snap judgments about attractive women.
3. He has no idea of how to capture a woman’s attention.
4. When asked, point-blank, by the object of his affection if he likes her, he lies.

What’s the net result of all this comical behavior? Summer corners him in the copy room and kisses him. Problem solved!

We have to restrain ourselves from calling Tom’s behavior “pathetic.” It’s too recognizable to be pathetic. We’ve all been hopelessly in love before, our tongues cleaving to the roofs of our mouths and our brains thick with fog. Love makes us stupid. And Joseph Gordon-Levitt does a good job of making that stupidity seem sympathetic.

But most movies depict lovestruck youth doing something desperate and creepy to win the hearts of their loved ones. Whether it’s holding a boombox over your head, lip-syncing and gyrating to “Try A Little Tenderness,” or hiring Will Smith to teach you how to impress a model, there’s at least action. The man has to take a step forward. He has to show some vulnerability in order to attract the woman.

What does Tom do to attract Summer? Nothing.

Nothing genuine, anyway. He sings a pretty good karaoke song, karaoke being the very hallmark of post-80s artificiality. He flirts with her in a way that feels forced even to him. And when she asks him if he likes her – when she opens herself up to him – he lies and says no.

All Tom does is want. And, in this movie, wanting is enough. All Tom needs to do is pine away in his apartment, listening to Magnetic Fields and sketching I.M. Pei knockoffs and wishing that he had a girl as perfect as Summer. And then he gets her! Bam! Through no effort of his own. He just stares at her, slack-jawed, until she falls for him.

At the risk of belaboring the obvious, this is not realistic. Nor is it unrealistic in an encouraging way. The moral of (500) Days of Summer is that all you have to do is want a girl and she’ll be yours. Maybe not forever, but for long enough to be memorable. You don’t have to be smart, or compassionate, or a good provider, or a reliable partner, or drop dead sexy. You just need to wish really, really hard.

This is worse than the rules according to Dane Cook. In Employee of the Month and Good Luck Chuck, the female leads had no sense of agency. They were not the ones choosing a relationship; rather, as soon as the guy completed the correct ritual (became employee of the month, asked a girl out after sleeping with Dane Cook), he got the woman of his dreams. But at least in those stories there’s a ritual! At least the guy has to make an effort! At least there’s a can-he-or-can’t-he tension! In (500) Days of Summer there’s none of that. Tom Hansen doesn’t need to scheme to get Summer to fall for him. All he has to do is wish. And it works.

It’s tempting to say that Summer’s a positive female role because she chooses to initiate the relationship, not Tom. But we already established that Summer is not a complete character. She’s not a human with feelings, except insofar as she has feelings that make life harder for Tom. She’s a blow-up doll with an iPod. To think of anything she does as “choosing” misses the point. It’s like saying the asteroid “chooses” to kill Bruce Willis in Armageddon.

Weak male characters are bad for women because, like Dane Cook romantic comedies, they deny the women any sense of agency. What the woman wants doesn’t matter. All the man needs to do is lie in his bedroom and wish fervently that the woman will tumble into his arms.

The statuesque blonde calls the TSA nebbish out of the blue, thanks him for finding her iPhone and invites him to a hockey game (he loves hockey!). The perky hipster girl corners the nervous copywriter in the supply room and kisses him warmly. The cheerleader slides onto the cafeteria bench next to you and asks if you’ll take her to prom.

It’s wish fulfillment. It’s fantasy. And it’s not good for gender relations.

(Does this mean you should feel bad for liking (500) Days of Summer? Of course not. For one, you might not care about feminism. Or maybe you care about feminism but you think I’m wrong. Or maybe you just like the movie. None of (500) Days of Summer‘s recidivist gender mechanics takes away from its good dialogue, interesting characters or innovative pacing. It’s a good movie. A movie’s aesthetic quality and its moral content are two entirely different traits.

But you can’t watch a movie where the hero lies about his feelings to the ingenue and gets her anyway without wondering, “Should this work?”)