From the Waist Up: The Male Gaze vs the Female Gaze
CW: Brief mention of sexual violence, still from the aftermath of sexual assault in a film
I was raised on movies. My mom introduced me to Star Wars when I was seven. We saw every Marvel movie in theaters starting with Iron Man. I loved the Narnia and Lord of the Rings movies arguably more than the books. Movies, especially science fiction and fantasy ones, were and are a central part of my life.
That said, many of them are shot in the male gaze.
So what is the male gaze?
According to The Conversation, in film, the male gaze “invokes the sexual politics of the gaze and suggests a sexualized way of looking that empowers men and objectifies women…(the) woman is visually positioned as an ‘object’ of heterosexual male desire.”
This positioning is metaphorical and literal.
The metaphorical aspect goes back to the idea that women are meant to be seen, not heard. They are love interests, eye candy, and sometimes — in my least favorite trope ever — sacrificial lambs meant to further the character development of the male protagonist. If they’re lucky, they’re the sexy badass who surprises everybody with their ability to fire a gun with their bazongas in the way.
The literal part has to do with the framing of the shots and how they sexualize women. This is something present in many films, but it is especially on display in science fiction, fantasy, and superhero movies.
Take a look at these posters for The Winter Soldier (2014) and Black Widow (2021) featuring the same character, Natasha Romanoff.
On the surface, they might not seem too different. They both show Nat advancing on the viewer. They both show her full body in her iconic suit. But closer examination reveals the male gaze on full display in the Winter Soldier poster.
First, check out her actual gaze. In the Winter Solider poster, Nat stares into oblivion with glassy eyes. Now, look at her eyes in the Black Widow poster. She stares the audience down, daring you to fuck with her.
Moving on, her hair. I know this seems like a small detail but bear with me. Nat is supposedly headed for battle in Winter Soldier, but she looks like she stepped out of a Pantene commercial. Her hair in the Black Widow promo is braided. It looks cool, but the style is also practical.
Her body is the biggest tipoff that we’re peering through the male gaze in Winter Solider. Her waist has been photoshopped to be unrealistically tiny and her breasts are inflated. They’re also resting at an angle that defies the laws of physics, but I digress. Her arms are splayed, leaving her chest exposed and breaking rule number one of self-defense.
Now, look at the Black Widow poster. Her shoulders are squared, her waist and breasts are realistically proportioned, her chin is down as she advances on the viewer in her suit, which looks like it would actually protect her in a fight.
The difference between The Winter Soldier and Black Widow? The former was written, directed, and starred in by men and the latter was written, directed, and starred in by women.
Before we go any further, I want to clarify something. Nobody is saying every movie ever written by a heterosexual cisgender man is garbage.
There are plenty of wonderful films with male writers and directors with stellar female characters who are not present simply for the pleasure of the male viewer. Little Miss Sunshine (2006), Spirited Away (2001), Parasite (2019), Us (2019), Juno (2007), A Quiet Place (2019), Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), and Sorry To Bother You (2018) all come to mind.
There have also been a handful of MCU movies directed by men in recent years that break these toxic stereotypes. Black Panther (2018), Ragnarok (2017), Into the Spider-Verse (2019), and Shang-Chi (2021) all do a great job of not making their female characters 1D sex dolls or fodder for the development of the male protagonist.
The trouble is, for every one of these subversive films, there are ten films that fall into the trap of the male gaze.
Suicide Squad (2016) is a notorious example but is far from the only DC movie with this issue. Selina Kyle in The Dark Knight Rises (2012) is a compelling character, but as writer Janice Loreck puts it, “is still clearly there to be looked at.” Wonder Woman and the Amazons in Justice League (2017) are shot in a very different way than they are in Wonder Woman (2017) and are garbed in what appear to be metal bikinis.
Sounds familiar.
Beyond that we have the entirety of the Transformers, James Bond — yes, even the masterpiece that is Casino Royale (2006) — and Fast and Furious franchises. Star Trek, as much as I love it, repeatedly follows this pattern. Nearly every Tom Cruise, Michael Bay, and Tarantino movie is packed with objectified women. Pirates of the Caribbean, Resident Evil, Underworld…you get the idea.
Then we get into standalone films.
The Wolf of Wallstreet (2013), Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2019), Hall Pass (2011), Silver Linings Playbook (2007), Animal House (1978), The Social Network (2011), 500 Days of Summer (2006), Red Sparrow (2019), Passangers (2016), Jurassic World (2015), Grease (1978), Kick Ass (2010).
Oh, and don’t even get me started on the male gaze in horror. I swear if I have to watch one more woman get sexually assaulted and tortured to give the man something to be angry about I’m going to lose it.
If you doubt me, do me a favor and rewatch some of these movies. Notice the way women are shot and compare it to the men. Notice the differences in costume, in the size of their speaking roles. Ask yourself if these female characters would even exist if not to benefit the male protagonist.
And the thing is, I don’t think the male gaze is present in the objectification of women on screen alone. We also see it in the way men are portrayed.
The majority of the leading men in action movies are, in academic terms, beefcakes. Rippling muscles, zero percent body fat, and a hot girl on their arm at all times.
You could make the argument that shirtless scenes with Thor are present for heterosexual female audiences, and you might be right. However, I would posit that this is not the female gaze at play, but the male.
When the male gaze is directed at female characters, the male audience gets to imagine themselves getting the girl. But when the male gaze is cast on the male protagonist, it becomes not about the desire to have, but the desire to be. The archetypal male hero is thus not a female fantasy, but a male one. It is who Hollywood tells men they ought to want to be.
This is not only toxic as most men will never be able to replicate this body type, but it is also terribly ironic. They are essentially being told “look this way and you will get the girl” when in reality, most people I know who are attracted to men are not looking for a hulked-out gym bro. A lot of us prefer skinny guys, or dad bods, or women.
Which leads us to the female gaze.
The female gaze is not easily defined. After all, it is still a relatively new concept. It was only in the 70s that the idea of the female gaze came into existence as a subversion of its counterpart. Furthermore, these are broad concepts that do not always take into account things like race, sexuality, and the experiences of transgender and nonbinary people.
That said, there are signs of the female gaze that crop up in film time and time again.
As director Ashley Connor puts it, “the ‘female gaze’ is more a frame of mind, where the approach to subject material is more emotional and respectful…”
It is not only free of slow pans over the ass, gunslingers in bikini armor, and love interests killed off to catapult the male protagonist into heroism. The female gaze is blooming with empathy and intimacy. It can be brutal but does not make itself so to sate a thirst for violence. It shows women, and characters of all genders, as real people.
But by this logic, would Inside (2021), Moonlight (2016), and Snowpiercer (2013) — all films directed by men — not be considered the female gaze as well? Are they not thoughtful pieces? Are they not free of hypersexualized women with the personality of a cardboard box?
In my opinion, no.
The male gaze is rooted in stereotypes. It is not saying “all men make films that objectify women,” it is saying “enough men make films like this that it has become a pattern worthy of disruption.”
And remember, this is about more than just costumes and characters. Of the top 100 grossing films of 2019, only 10% were directed by women, only 19% were written by women, and most of those women were white.
Birds of Prey (2020) is an excellent example of the female gaze in action, especially when juxtaposed with its predecessor Suicide Squad.
In Suicide Squad, antihero Harley Quinn is, like her infamous baseball bat, a prop. She is present to be ogled by men on and off-screen, and she is. Skip to 3:50 if you want to see what I mean, but if you’d rather not, I think this still of Harley in her “battle gear” will suffice.
The problem with her characterization goes far beyond her costume, though. Harley is a complicated character with a troubled past, and in Suicide Squad she is reduced to her body and a few quirky comments. Because, you know, she’s quirky.
She’s not like other girls.
Birds of Prey, on the other hand, portrays Harley as she truly is: deeply flawed, uproariously funny, queer, morally gray, lonely, and at the bottom of her heart a total softie.
Her costumes, too, reflect the fullness of her character. They are bold and beautiful, just like her. Most importantly, the only fantasy they are designed to fulfill is the one Harley creates for herself.
The other female characters in Birds of Prey are equally rich, not to mention diverse. Their costumes match their occupations — we first meet Dinah, a singer at a club, in an elegant gown and Huntress, an assassin, in body armor.
Most of the dialogue between the members of the antiheroine squad that forms in the movie passes the Bechdel Test with flying colors, and they ultimately realize the only protection they have from their enemies is each other.
Birds of Prey is lead by women who feel at once fantastical and viscerally real, and my feeling watching this movie for the first time was oh, this is what it feels like.
This is a feeling I have heard many marginalized communities talk about in recent years as positive representation slowly creeps into film, and as happy as I am this is happening, it is still a drop in the bucket. Women, particularly women of color, are still wildly underrepresented and misrepresented in Hollywood.
So, what do we do about it?
Well, I am not asking you to burn and disavow every movie that has ever objectified a woman, except maybe Transformers. In this house, we hate Michael Bay.
You’re allowed to love and consume “problematic” content.
Perhaps a more realistic approach is to be willing to critique said content, hold its creators accountable, and support women in film — all women.
