Women in the director's chair

After Helen Mirren's comments at the Empire Jameson Awards, what does the future hold for women in the movie business?

In the 84 years since the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences began its annual award bonanza, only 4 of over 400 Best Director nominations have been women. Could there be change on the horizon? And, if so, what does it mean for modern leading ladies?                              

On Sunday night at the Empire Jameson Awards, Dame Helen Mirren expressed her disdain for the massively disproportionate representation of female talent in the film industry, following an acceptance speech by Skyfall director Sam Mendes in which he cited male influences such as Martin Scorsese and Paul Thomas Anderson.   

"I just hope, I pray, I know that in five or ten years’ time, when the next Sam gets up and makes his or hopefully her speech, there will be two or three or four women's names in there."

As female directors have slowly begun to be allowed passage into the commercial and critical pantheons that bloom in awards season, some thought must be given to the ultimate effect this will have on the portrayal of women on-screen. It is a commonplace stereotype that harks back to the archetypal characters of Carl Denham and Ann Darrow in the original King Kong: a headstrong, macho filmmaker takes a vulnerable but beautiful actress under his wing with the promise of a better life, instead leading her to a land of monsters.

This scenario is one that has played out time and again in the real world: from Tippi Hedren’s rejection of Alfred Hitchcock’s alleged sexual advances, to the highly publicised affair between Kristen Stewart and her director Rupert Sanders, a man twice her age, much to the chagrin of tweeny-boppers everywhere.

But with the emergence of new female directing talent, could these roles be tranformed?

The tabloids revelled in the emergence of a romantic relationship between Sam Taylor-Wood, director of the John Lennon biopic Nowhere Boy, and her "toyboy" leading man Aaron Johnson. The two began dating following their work together on the film, a piece which focused primarily on Lennon’s childhood experiences with his mother and aunt. Significantly, Nowhere Boy leaves the all-boy antics of founding the biggest rock’n’roll group of all time as a meagre bookend, focusing almost exclusively on the maternal influence these women had on his life and work. Could this be the first step away from the overplayed damsel, moving towards a postmodern "dude-in-distress"?

Although Kathryn Bigelow was overlooked for this year’s Best Director award for Zero Dark Thirty, it was her success with The Hurt Locker in 2010 that saw her crowned the first woman to win the award. Hopefully it won’t be too long before this injustice is accordingly levelled out.

Lynne Ramsay is another female director, hailing from Glasgow, who has drawn her fair share of both acclaim and attacks. Her feature film We Need To Talk About Kevin, the story of a mother dealing with the aftershock of her psychopathic son’s violent attacks in a local high school, was met with universal acclaim. Ramsay hit the headlines recently after refusing to turn up to the first day of shooting on Jane Got a Gun, reportedly due to budgetary and script issues. One of the film’s producers, Scott Steindorff, described her departure as "insane" and "irresponsible", yet when leading man Jude Law dropped out just a few days later, no such statements were made. Could this be a knee-jerk reaction to a woman getting out of line?

According to industry insider Women Make Movies, women comprise just 18 per cent of all directors, producers, writers, cinematographers and editors working on the top 250 grossing films of the day. After Mirren’s comments, maybe studios will consider taking greater risks on female talent, as they should.

Kathryn Bigelow at the Academy Awards in 2010. Photo: Getty Images.
Don't Tell the Bride YouTube screengrab
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How did Don’t Tell the Bride lose its spark?

Falling out of the love with reality TV’s wedding planning hit.

Steph, 23, from Nottinghamshire, is standing in a drizzly field wearing a wedding dress. Her betrothed, Billy, is running around in a tweed flat cap trying to make some pigs walk in “a continuous parade”. A man from Guinness World Records is watching with a clipboard, shaking his head. Bridesmaids gaze sorrowfully into the middle distance, each in a damp pig onesie.

Thus ends the second wedding in E4’s new series of Don’t Tell the Bride – and the programme’s integrity with it.

When the classic programme, which follows grooms attempting to plan their wedding (punchline: human males doing some organising), began a decade ago on BBC Three, it had the raw spark of unpredictability. For eight years, the show did nothing fancy with the format, and stuck with pretty ordinary couples who had few eccentric aspirations for their wedding day.

This usually resulted in run-of-the-mill, mildly disappointing weddings where the worst thing that happened would be a reception at the nearest motorway pub, or an ill-fitting New Look low heel.

It sounds dull, but anyone who has religiously watched it knows that the more low-key weddings expose what is truly intriguing about this programme: the unconditional commitment – or doomed nature – of a relationship. As one of the show’s superfans told the Radio Times a couple of years ago:

“It’s perfect, and not in an ironic or post-ironic or snarky way. The format has the solemn weight of a ceremony . . . Don’t Tell the Bride is not about ruined weddings, it’s about hope. Every wedding is a demonstration of how our ambitions curve away from our abilities. It’s a show about striving to deserve love and how that’s rarely enough.”

It also meant that when there were bombshells, they were stand-out episodes. High drama like Series 4’s notorious Las Vegas wedding almost resulting in a no-show bride. Or heart-warming surprises like the geezer Luke in Series 3 playing Fifa and guzzling a tinny on his wedding morning, who incongruously pulls off a stonking wedding day (complete with special permission from the Catholic Church).

For its eight years on BBC Three, a few wildcard weddings were thrown into the mix of each series. Then the show had a brief affair with BBC One, a flirt with Sky, and is now on its tenth year, 13th series and in a brand new relationship – with the more outrageous E4.

During its journey from BBC Three, the show has been losing its way. Tedious relationship preamble has been used to beef up each episode. Some of the grooms are cruel rather than clueless, or seem more pathetic and vulnerable than naïve. And wackier weddings have become the norm.

The programme has now fully split from its understated roots. Since it kicked off at the end of July, every wedding has been a publicity stunt. The pig farm nuptials are sandwiched between a Costa del Sol-based parasail monstrosity and an Eighties Neighbours-themed ceremony, for example. All facilitated by producers clearly handing the groom and best men karaoke booth-style props (sombreros! Inflatable guitars! Wigs!) to soup up the living room planning process.

Such hamminess doesn’t give us the same fly-on-the-wall flavour of a relationship as the older episodes. But maybe this level of artifice is appropriate. As one groom revealed to enraged fans in The Sun this week, the ceremonies filmed are not actually legally binding. “It makes a bit of a mockery of the process that the bride and groom go through this huge ordeal for a ceremony which isn’t even legal,” he said. Perhaps we should’ve predicted it would all eventually end in divorce – from reality.

Don’t Tell the Bride is on E4 at 9pm

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.