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Trouble in Tinseltown What's Hollywood done with all the working women and what's a professional gal gotta do to get a happy ending? By Eleanor Ringel-Cater In Woman of the Year, a tale of opposites attract, a journalist (Katharine Hepburn) humiliates herself trying to make breakfast while her sportswriter boyfriend (Spencer Tracy) looks on. The year is 1942. In Hanging Up, the story of three opposing sisters, a magazine mogul (Diane Keaton) humiliates herself trying to stuff a turkey while her siblings (Meg Ryan and Lisa Kudrow) look on. The year is 2000. You've come a long way, baby? Apparently not. We know them career women nightmares, with their domestic disabilities and utter disdain for family values. The ones with the carefully manicured claws and cosmetically enhanced cleavage who feign decency while plunging knives into the backs of their rivals and underlings. Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. Sigourney Weaver in Working Girl. Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. Even Diane Keaton as an infant-averse workaholic in Baby Boom. Or consider the fate of poor Holly McClane (Bonnie Bedelia), wife to Bruce Willis's action hero in the Die Hard movies. She's vice president of a multinational corporation when terrorists crash the office Christmas party in the first film. In Die Hard 2, she's on a plane circling Dulles International Airport while her hubby battles below. By the third film, she's disappeared completely (something about a separation due to his alcoholism). More likely, it's about the unspoken but rarely broken Hollywood law that says a superstar like Willis (age 40 at that point in his career) must never be paired with a woman his own age. In last summer's Live Free or Die Hard, the fourth installment, Willis's character is a family man once again now paired with his twentysomething daughter (who, to the picture's credit, is feisty, clever and brave), his wife reduced to one passing mention. Yes, Hollywood has female trouble. Still. Want to win an Oscar? If you're an actress, you've got a better chance on your back than behind a desk. When it comes to the Academy Awards, working girls trump working women. Consider this: In almost 80 years of handing out those coveted little golden men, the Academy has given only a handful to so-called career women: Joan Crawford's restaurateur in Mildred Pierce (1945); Olivia de Havilland's cosmetics queen in To Each His Own (1946); Celeste Holm as a fashion magazine editor in Gentleman's Agreement (1947); Mercedes McCambridge as a political campaign manager in All the King's Men (1949); Glenda Jackson as a fashion designer in A Touch of Class (1973); and, of course, the mother of all businesswomen ballbusters, Faye Dunaway's ruthless TV exec in Network (1976). By contrast, almost twice as many Oscars have gone to hookers (more if you count promiscuous wives and bad-girl socialites). In fact, the very first Oscar went to Janet Gaynor for her streetwalker role in Seventh Heaven (1927). Perhaps not surprisingly, the easiest route to an Academy Award is by playing an entertainer of some sort Bette Davis in Dangerous (1935) or Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls (2006). Royalty isn't bad either, though it's not so much a matter of hard work as haughty bloodlines. And the Little Old Lady has worked for everyone from Helen Hayes in Airport (1970) to Geraldine Page in The Trip to Bountiful (1985). Moms, wives and girlfriends of every shape, size and temperament naturally dominate the list. As two-time Oscar winner Jodie Foster once said in an interview with Time, "Women's roles are rarely written as human beings. Instead, they're written as plot adjuncts: sister of, daughter of." A surprising number of winners turn up in a category we call the Blue-Collar Babes: Loretta Young in The Farmer's Daughter (1947), Sally Field in Norma Rae (1979), Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny (1992), Julia Roberts in Erin Brockovich (2000) and even Halle Berry in Monster's Ball (2001). Add to them a smattering of farmers, cops, nurses and waitresses. The message intentional or not is that it's fine to be a strong, resourceful woman as long as you keep it down on the farm (or in the police precinct or the service industry). Renowned feminist film theorist Molly Haskell, whose From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in the Movies (University of Chicago Press, 1987) remains one of the best books ever written on the image of women in film, puts it this way: "If you place a woman on a farm, it's OK for her to be strong. It's also OK for her to be unmarried. Put her in an urban setting and it hits too close to the bone." It makes one long for the days of screwball comedy in the '30s and '40s, when the battle of the sexes was a battle of equals, and women could have jobs of all sorts and still be sexy as hell. These were rambunctious, assertive, confident women who also had a sense of humor. Women like Hepburn, Rosalind Russell and Barbara Stanwyck. In their stead are the aforementioned well-heeled harpies and adorable neurotics. Holly Hunter in Broadcast News (1987) is allowed to be funny, driven and successful. But she's not allowed to get the career and the guy. And let's not forget the ditz, recently embodied by Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde (2001) and its sequel. Here's hoping things are changing (though the women producers we interviewed remain skeptical see "The Producers"). Last fall we saw Cate Blanchett in Elizabeth: The Golden Age, Charlize Theron in In the Valley of Elah and Meryl Streep in Lions for Lambs, while 2008 kicks off with Helena Bonham Carter in Sweeney Todd and Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson in The Other Boleyn Girl. That's a trio of royals, a detective, a journalist and a pie-baking murderess. Not exactly a tidal wave of working women, but it's light years away from 1983's The Hunger, in which, when told to see a doctor by her boyfriend, Susan Sarandon replies, "I am a doctor." By the end of the film she's also a vampire. Progress of a sort, I guess. Babes in Hollywood: The Backslide The state of women in Tinseltown has taken a turn for the worse, according to Martha M. Lauzen, Ph.D. Here are the disappointing results of her report The Celluloid Ceiling: Behind-the-Scenes Employment of Women on the Top 250 Films of 2006.
. . . . . The Producers By Taylor Mallory Hollywood is not exactly a no-woman's land. But the fact is that fewer women have a corner on the film industry's corner office today than in recent years. Women calling the shots include Amy Pascal, chairman of Sony Pictures Entertainment Motion Picture Group, and Stacey Snider, CEO of Dreamworks. But for every The Devil Wears Prada, there are dozens of bombs, boobs and comic-book flicks for teenage boys. PINK talks to four of the most powerful producers in showbiz about why and how things may be changing for the worse. THE CHICKFLICK PRO THE GRITTY GRINDHOUSE GURU THE OSCAR WINNER THE ACTION-HERO AFICIONADA
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