Hollywood brings yet another version of A Star is Born to the big screen and, once again, crowds of women flock to the cinema to be captivated by the tale of star-crossed lovers and the woe that the inevitable heartbreak brings.
Actually there is a whole generation who have no idea that this is yet another regurgitated story from the anals of Hollywood’s dusty collection. So while it might be a new story for them, unfortunately the subject matter dates back to a time when women had little control over their own destiny.
Warning – this little rant DOES contain a massive spoiler so if you haven’t seen any of the movies (and there have been four of them) then you might not want to continue reading. Also, if you’re a hopeless romantic that believes in the happy ever after and the fact that love conquers all, you might also want to just stick to the gooey reviews.
I’ve read a couple of reviews of the latest film, comparing it to the others, and I’m fascinated that most of the articles focus on the subject matter in relation to the actresses that played the leading roles and how the films might have reflected their own lives and loves.
I say PAH to all that.
I was a big teenage fan of the original version. I loved watching Hollywood movies when I was a girl, big romances, small romances, any romances. I was spellbound and captured by the romantic notion of girl meets boy, girl marries boy, girl lives happily ever after. It took me about 30 years to realise that I was duped with all the romantic notions of my youth – everything fed to me through the books, films, music in fact.
What A Star is Born tells us (and keeps telling us – for the past couple of decades actually) is that despite women being successful for doing great things in their own right, they probably need to be discovered by a man to make it happen for them, and then the man is probably a loser ( because let’s face it, a lot of men are actually losers) but the woman will live her whole life feeling sad about the fact that he couldn’t pull his socks up and crack on with his life.
And what’s even more galling is that the film implies that he takes his own life for the sake of his love for the leading lady. It’s bullshit that is, isn’t it? And inevitably, she’ll spend the rest of her life not thinking about how successful she is and being proud of her achievements, but instead crying inside because of her lost love and regretting the decisions that he made.
I loved the original film when I was 15 – cried my eyes out when Norman Maine walked into the sea at the end leaving Janet Gaynor devastated. This was 1937 – okay, I’m going to say it was kind of relevant then, in that society, when women really struggled to find their feet in what was quite literally a man’s world. Maybe I’ll give a nod to the remake in 1954 when Judy Garland magnificently made her mark (who doesn’t like a Judy Garland movie?) and James Mason acted his socks off (and then took his socks off to drown himself).
I also love Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristoffersen in the 1976 remake – it was a bit more up to date, women had burned their bras in the 60s (I guess that’s why we didn’t get a version in that decade?). Barbra had attitude and was a bit more feisty – she was also pushing boundaries in the film world. But the message was still the same. No matter how strong you are, no matter how focused you are on being a successful woman, the love thing will do everything it can to make you feel guilty about being you. And society will keep perpetuating the message (sorry, maybe it’s just Hollywood and I’m being too broad brush) that in order to be successful, women will need a man to recognise their talent and kick start their career and love will be the diving board that will launch you, will discover you, will reinvent you (because your hair will need fixing, and you will start to sing songs you don’t believe in, and you’ll need to wear more make up) which is kind of what you get in the 2018 version starring Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga – even though she does an astounding job in the part and you can’t fault her.
I watched the film with brand new eyes. I don’t know, maybe I’ve been brain washed by Twitter and #MeToo. But every single scene made me feel uncomfortable, I didn’t warm to Bradley Cooper (and maybe as the director that was a subliminal move). When he rubbed cake all over her face, I actually squirmed a bit. Because this is what Hollywood is presenting as love. This is how love plays out when things go wrong and men drink excessively and then start to mentally try to control women and make them feel like shit. And we all gasp with the romance of it all.
Really?
And it goes right back to that same old story. Love conquers all, stay in that really bad marriage, duty bound, stay in that really controlling, abusive relationship, because you really love the person and isn’t it all of our responsibilities to save someone from themselves.
I DO think that the films have something very pertinent to say about male suicide – and this is definitely a story that needs to be examined and retold if it’s relevant even today (and it does seem to be more relevant than ever) but I’d really like to see some new stories emerging about successful women and how they can achieve things through their own strength of character, through their own talent and commitment, rather than dragging love behind them like a ball and chain all the way from the 1930s.
Haven’t we moved on at all? Don’t we want to see more interesting role-models, more positive stories about women (don’t get me started on Mama Mia either), don’t we want to see women getting the happy ending that they deserve rather than sitting and watching the same old story, history repeating itself.
The message from a film like this is it’s okay to keep crying for lost love (even when it’s rotten to the core) and you’ll be happy singing the same old sad song for the rest of your days. Won’t you?
And another thing. The Lady Gaga I know would most certainly have walked away after those awards. I’m pretty sure she would have… would you have?
Mags Winthrop Blog 